Sunday, October 30, 2016
Monday, 4:28 A.M., the narrow French Quarter room was smoky with cheap candles that smelled of honey. Daniel stared through broken shutters and shivering glass up the length of the alley, catching a thin slice of Jackson Square through curtains of gale-force rain that swirled though New Orleans like mad bats riding the storm. Daniel had never seen rain fall up before.
-Robert Crais, The Sentry