6It's been twenty minutes since Legba did what he did to Dylan. Now the wee man's just lying there, for all the world just looking like he's having a deep and peaceful sleep. Trying to not think of what's just happened, and how close Dylan had come to dying right there in front of him, Aldo immerses himself in the sight of the wee man. Studying every curve, slope, fold and plane of his amazing little face and burning it into his memory. The way his dark blonde hair falls over his perfect, smooth forehead. His eyelashes, and the tiny scar above his left eye where he banged his face on the coffee table when he was two. Aldo'd been in a near panic to see him bawling indignantly, all tears and snotters and a thin trickle of blood running down his cheek. He'd been fumbling for his phone to call
