John, observed the carriage with some trepidation.<em>Black carriage, blackened windows to hide the route…wheels, the grit…from the docks, perhaps…the boots, scuffs…look at their boots to determine where they came from  and so find who they are…check their walk to find…</em><br/><br/>He closed his eyes briefly willing the inner machine that was his perception to cease, to quiet. This was an invitation, an offer, not to mention, a chance to step outside his little ring of self-pity and hunger. The shadows of the doorframe fled across the gray walls of the warehouse to hide behind him as the horses clopped to a stop and the porter appeared from the far side of the vehicle mysteriously.<br/><br/>The door opened soundlessly revealing the darkened interior with its tray, the goblet and the cheese.<em>Soundlessly…not from the docks then</em>. John moved to enter the carriage and the inky shadows of his passing rushed ahead of him stretching into the interior and then gripping black, flat fingers of darkness subtly around the frame of the door as he climbed in and settled into the padded bench seat.<br/><br/>The door swung closed with a click leaving his in a comfortable darkness. John could feel figures unfolding in the midnight around him, gazing at him with sightless eyes, nearly touching him with shapeless hands, twitching fingers of obsidian night just inches away from his skin everywhere, and inside his body, the cold hollow pit that was his constant hunger.<br/><br/>He pulled the goblet up to his mouth, sniffing the wine experimentally.<br/><br/><em>A newer vintage…not very aged at all and simple to trace...a mistake or a message…too much has been planned to slip on something so minor …especially if they had the sense to bank on his compliance…definitely a message… a message that said don’t get to cocky, investigator…they could clearly play this game as well as he.</em><br/><br/>Not for the first time in his lifetime, John Byron questioned his judgment in taking this latest risk. Then he took a long drink.<br/><br/><em>No sense in wasting it.</em><br/><br/><br/>