At six minutes to one in the morning there was a heavy thud from inside the the wardrobe and a door swung open. Gabriel opened his eyes just in time to see the wardrobe door shut itself again.
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Standing there, as bold as brass, was a witch as tall as the door - taller even - and she did not looked pleased. Indeed, her expression was remarkably disagreeable.
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The girl stared at him with something akin to incandescent rage, or was it chronic constipation? From his earlier resurrection cases the he had found both scenarios to be good guesses.
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It was lucky for Lilly that she did not wake up. For standing next to her bed, hidden from all adult eyes, was a witch of the night. She, was a creature of cold cruelty, and she bore a pathological hatred for all children.
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The one black eye of the raven queen blinked for the first time in a hundred years. Anger grew inside the bird as, from high in the forest’s branches, she felt the quiet whispers of the highwayman crawl their way up the bark of the tallest trees.
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