“And I can’t take her with me. Someone needs to care for her.” A grimy hand reached toward the doll, but Wit pulled it back. “She’s afraid of the darkness. You’ve got to keep her in the light.” The hand vanished into the shadows. “I can’t leave Mama.” “That’s too bad,” Wit said. He raised the doll to his lips, then whispered a choice set of words. When he set it down, it started to walk on its own. A soft gasp sounded inside the shadows. The little doll toddled toward the street. Step by step by step . . . The girl, maybe four years old, finally emerged from the shadows and ran to get the
...more
