“No talking once we get inside. And keep your mask on.”

The man in the crow mask flicks off the ash from his cigarette. The smoke curls in a blue-grey plume up into the fog over the city.

Pale blue eyes meet mine from under his mask, half-shadowed by the high walls of the alley. If my heart weren’t thundering in my ears I might have found them beautiful. I wonder if this is the color they say th...