Chapter 5

Did he truly believe Andras was Satan incarnate?

No. He was a man. Every instinct within Don told him this. A man who was…tainted, somehow, perhaps.

But still a man, nonetheless. And hadn’t Christ come to bring the message of salvation to all men?

“No. I don’t think you’re evil,” Don told him, feeling a sudden rush of strength. “And I guess there wouldn’t be anything wrong with me coming in for coffee.”

Andras gave him a searching look, then pushed open the street door, its lock broken. He led Don, via a dingy hallway and myriad flights of stairs stinking of garbage, to an apartment at the top of the building. It was cramped, mean and sparsely furnished, as was to be expected. There were no photographs upon the narrow mantelpiece.

Don couldn’t think of a single thing to say about the place that wouldn’t be either patronising or a lie. “Is your mother…?”

“She died. Liver failure. I forget where we were at the time.”