shapes and sounds. I, Michael, once a respected SAT proctor, now kneaded knots out of tired backs in a small clinic in a mid-sized American city. My hands were my eyes, sensitive, skilled

like that. Massage therapy, a trade

nt' s shoulder. Then, the door chime announced new arrivals. Two young men, their voices too loud for

id, booming with unearned confidence. "Espe

lled on my c

rper. "You only say that because

one boasted. "Proctor went blind at the perfect moment fo

remembered that name. A rich ki

poke again, his words a chill down my spine. "Lucky isn't the word, Vic. I know e

Not an accident. Not a medical

led an apology, my mind reeling. Vic Stone. Dav

lot, my thoughts racing. The cul

ghed, a harsh, grating sound. "Whateve

fade. I had to know more

lling David' s name. He turned,

rp pain exploded in my side

t kind of darkness than the one I' d li