Chapter 41Morning arrived in a haze of mist, damp and vaporous as a cloud. It seemed to cling to the fabric of everything living or artificial, plants, people, buildings, cars. The forecast was for a fine sunny day, and it would be once the sun had burned the mist off, but for now, Glastonbury was grey and quiet, as though the souls of the monks whose sandaled feet had trod the Abbeys' vaulted halls so many years before had returned in the night to haunt the streets of the ancient little town.
Joe Cutler shivered as he pulled the curtains open and looked out upon the mist shrouded vista of the street that met his eyes. Was there malevolence in the air? It certainly felt like it to Cutler. He couldn't say why, but he just knew that something was going to happen that day and there would be
