Chastity whispered again. It sounded like: "Nice to meet you." Or, possibly: "I hate you all.

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He ate when he wanted to, killed when he wanted to, and worked only when he wanted to. Unless, of course, he was with his mother, then he did everything she wanted to.

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He would never forget how that last tear trickled down her cheek. Her lifeless eyes and hand still reached to the busy crowd, as if they could save her from death.

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She was getting the warning signals, but years of social training - don't make a fool of yourself - overrode her survival instincts.

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The people hustling by her would never have guessed that less than twelve hours ago she'd looked like a cross between Carrie and Mrs Havisham.

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