• Prologue:
    Wednesday, September 4th, 1998. John Asher’s home.

    The old man was dying. That was the truth of the matter. He had been in the hospital for weeks, but there was nothing the doctors could do for him. So they had sent him home to die, and there he lay on his deathbed. He had sent his daughter and her two young children away; he didn’t want them to see him die. Now only his close friend stood with him in the room.
    “You saw my daughter and grandchildren did you not?” the old man asked his younger companion.
    “Yes,” his companion answered.
    “Ever since they were born I’ve tried to take care of them. I’ll admit my daughter, Mary, is quite inept at taking care of her own kids. And her husband, Harold, is even worse. I’ve done the best I can to help the twins- taking them to my house every other weekend, doing things with them- but once I’m gone there will be no one to make sure of their well-being.” The old man stopped as a coughing fit came on, then continued. “Please, my friend, promise me something.”
    “Anything.”
    “Please, promise me you’ll take care of them. Promise me you’ll make sure they don’t turn out like their mother.”
    “I promise.”
    “And…”
    “Yes?”
    The old man hesitated. “Promise me you’ll never talk to them again, never tell them of the life that I led and that you lead. Promise me you’ll have no contact with them unless it’s absolutely necessary. Promise to make sure they don’t become part of this world.”
    “I promise.”
    The old man smiled. “Good,” he said, his voice softening and his eyes closing, “Now I can rest in peace.”
    With that the old man’s body went limp.
    His friend stood over his body, trying to hold back the emotions raging inside him. Finally he walked outside the room where a frazzled young woman and her two small children were waiting. The friend looked at the young woman, and they stayed silent for a moment.
    “Is he…?” the young woman asked, not daring to finish the question.
    The friend nodded, saying, “I’m truly sorry.”
    At that the young woman, Mary, burst into tears and fled down the hall, leaving her two young children alone with their grandfather’s friend. They were identical twins, actually; it took a trained eye to see the difference between them. They were both four years old, but one was very excitable while to other was on the more quiet side. But now both of them were silent, both too young to understand what had happened, but starting to realize they would never see their grandfather again.
    “Come on, let’s go find your mother,” the friend said, taking to two kids by the hand and leading them down the hallway.
    As the group stepped outside a while later, someone else was watching them. He lay on his stomach on a hill, his binoculars raised to his eyes. He smiled viciously as he spotted the grieving friends and family.
    “One step closer to a whole lot richer,” he said, smiling venomously. He had waited a long time for this, and he would have to wait a little longer still, but he knew it was worth it. In the end, for him, it’s always worth it.