Will shone his torch through the frozen woods, his boots crunching swiftly along the narrow path as the beam swept over something slumped up ahead. He stopped running, dropped the torch and pulled out his camera instead. The trees pulsed in the glare of the flash and the digital screen confirmed what his eyes had already seen. It should have been impossible, yet there it was: a lifeless angel with broken wings shedding black feathers onto the breeze. Will noted the time and place, picked up one of the feathers and crouched down to study it in the torchlight.
Now he had evidence. People would have to believe him.
He snapped another picture, but this time the tiny screen showed something that he had not seen among the trees. A man dressed in black.
And he was watching him.