The baby had no breath. No warmth. No reflection in the water.
But it cried anyway.
When Agatha and Cecil bring home an abandoned infant from beneath a breadfruit tree, they believe they have finally answered years of prayer. But the child does not act like any living thing. A fly crawls across its eye-and the eye does not blink. As midnight approaches, the rosary snaps, the room grows hot, and the thing in the drawer speaks with a voice like sand on a coffin lid.
"You lucky," it rasps. "I would have hold you tonight."
