Chapter 40. The sky above Toronto seemed to glow at the fires of sunset. The day had been warm and clear,

and there could be no doubt that spring had come at last. The pavement and the bricks of the city all

seemed to bleed the warmth of the day back into the evening air, and the people who might have

scurried back to home and hearth now lingered once

again, spoke to neighbors they had seen little love in the months before, and felt a rise of hope

within their hearts. It was hope that grew in the rocky ground of hard times, but it grew

nonetheless, and every man and woman felt it to some degree.

Certainly the man who stood calmly beside the edge of a high rooftop felt it.

By the dizzying height that might have caused most men to quake in fear, he stood casually

and gazed with a possessive pride over the city, from the great avenues to the slums and at every

point in between. The woman who reclined across the top of a nearby gargoyle felt it too,

and she gazed up at him a short distance away. She smiled to herself. You could hardly see

the bruises under his domino mask now, and she

might be the only person in the world who could tell just by looking that he was still a little stiff.

She flexed the fingers on her right arm almost without thinking. There were still some pins

and needles, but they would soon go.

He turned his head slightly and watched her watching him.

She dared him with her eyes to comment.

He declined and turned back to the embers of the setting sun.

She would follow him into hell if he asked and was almost certain he could tell.

He could face any danger if she fought by his side,

and he hoped that she knew it in spite of his silence.

...