* * * * * *

Grey eyes glittered with an unearthly glow, even in the dimness of the alleyway. A lone figure, clothed all in black, moved silently down the darkened, deserted streets, blending in with the dingy surroundings. Midnight was rapidly approaching, cloaking the city in a blanket of darkness and fog. The only light around came from streaked windows and dirty street lamps, but the phantom-like form didn't seem to notice as it moved out of the alley and onto the empty, cobbled street.

The night was cold, too, and the air was heavy with moisture and frost. Silently, the man walked on seeming to pay no heed to any discomfort. The only sounds to be heard were the crunching of gravel as he walked and the rhythmic lapping of the river in its banks. Steam rose up from the water in wisps, ghostly and smoke-like. The shadowy figure stopped to stand and gaze out at the onyx river briefly, before continuing silently down the cobble stone street and growing swallowed up by night and mist.

* * * * * *

Lawrence Mullen Jr. felt a tremor wrack his body as the cold permeated his many layers of clothing. He sighed, coming to a halt in the middle of an old stone bridge. Idly he ran his bare fingers over the thick, smooth stone railing, shivering as the added cold was absorbed into his skin. His fingers were numb by the time he removed his hand from the ice cold stone and began to pat down his pockets in search of something. After much fumbling, he managed to extract a half-collapsed package of cigarettes and a lighter. He tapped the pack against his upturned palm and slowly shook out one long paper tube. Larry sighed again, the air leaving his mouth in a cloud of steam, as he brought the cig to his lips with one hand and shoved the rest of the pack back into his pocket with the other.

Then he lifted the lighter back up and moved to cup both hands around the end of the cigarette. With a flick of his thumb, he flipped the lighter open, the small flame flickering to life, to glow dimly and blow as the breeze stirred. The pinpoint of light danced, orange, over Larry's face, illuminating the surprisingly youthful and flawless features for a moment. Then the cigarette was lit and the lighter was closed again with a decisive click.

Larry took a long pull, holding the smoke in for a bit, then exhaled it all in a hard burst of breath. Absently, he rolled the smooth silver lighter over and over again in his cold hand, contemplating the metal object as he took another drag. Leaning his body more comfortably against the solid fieldstone railing, he let his thumb skim over the polished metal surface resting in his palm. He paused for a moment then flipped the lighter open again to watch the flame.

The wind picked up, making the small firelight hiss and blow wildly only to settle again and burn upright a second later. Eyes narrowing in concentration and cigarette poised in his lips, Larry studied the flame then brought his other hand up to shield it. Slowly, he risked a glance around making certain that no one else was traveling the streets; he was alone. With a small, secretive smile, he cupped the glowing little fire in his hand and held his breath.

Sputtering, the flame seemed to lash out at his palm, but it didn't burn him. Instead, the fire began to grow in size, slowly shaping itself into a sphere. Larry tilted his hand away from the still-burning lighter and released his captive breath as the palm-sized fireball came with it. He held his hand aloft watching the dancing ball of flame; he snapped the lighter closed once more and placed it in his pocket with the carton of cigarettes. The cigarette he had been smoking was now almost burned down to the quick, so he removed it from his mouth and dropped it to the ground. The bright orange embers skittered across the flagstones, but Larry ignored them and turned his attention back to the orb of flame burning in his cupped hand. He brought his unoccupied hand up to meet the other and let the fire warm them both. The flame didn't hurt him; it couldn't. It burned pleasantly in his hands, sending a slight tingling sensation shooting up his arms and through his body, warming him throughout.

Concentrating on the ball again, he narrowed his eyes then watched as the fire began to dance and change color with each flicker. From orange to yellow to red to blue, the fireball shifted and swirled and burned so brightly. Finally, in a sudden flash, it began to glow with a pure white light. Larry gave a half-laugh and smiled at the sight, before languidly closing both hands over the hovering flame and extinguishing the light completely. When his hands parted, all trace of fireball had vanished and he looked around him, relieved to see that he was still alone.

Somewhere off in the distance he could hear the great clock tower chiming midnight. Warm again, Larry huddled up under his long black coat and started walking once more in the direction of his hotel. Before long, the murky fog thickened and closed around him, obscuring him from view.

tbc