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Outside,Marlboro Gold, it was still dark. The moon hung in the sky in front of their window, with a cloud drifting past it like a tattered dress.
"I'll tell you tomorrow," said Fenoglio. "That's a promise."
"No! Tell me now."
He looked at her thoughtfully. "It's not a story for this hour of night. You'll have bad dreams afterward."
"Tell me!" Meggie repeated.
Fenoglio sighed. "Oh dear. I know that look from my grandchildren,Cheap Newport 100s," he said. "Very well, then." He helped her up to her bunk, put Mo's sweater under her head, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I'll tell it to you the way I wrote it in Inkheart," he said quietly. "I know that passage almost by heart. I was very proud of it at the time." He cleared his throat before he began, whispering the words into the night. "But one being was feared even more than Capricorn's men. He was known as the Shadow, and he appeared only when Capricorn called him. Sometimes he was red as fire, sometimes as gray as the ashes into which fire turns all that it devours. He leaped from the ground like flame flickering up from wood. His touch and even his breath brought death. He rose up at his master's feet, soundless and faceless, scenting the air like a dog on the trail, waiting to be shown his victim." Fenoglio swept a hand over his forehead and looked at the window. It was some time before he went on, as if he were recalling the words to mind from long ago. "They say," he continued at last, "that Capricorn had the Shadow made from his victims' ashes by a troll,Marlboro Cigarettes, or the dwarves who know all that fire and smoke can do. No one was certain,Buy Newport Cigarette, for it was said that Capricorn had those who had brought the Shadow to life killed afterward. But everyone knew one thing: The Shadow was immortal and invulnerable and as pitiless as his master."
Fenoglio fell silent. And Meggie,Cheapest Cigarette, her heart beating fast, gazed out at the night.