At first he could hear nothing but the didop-da-bidda-boom of cheapest louis vuitton damier ebene canvas his skipping-drumming heart, but near the useful end of that banked breath, he began to hear, as well, the dash of rain on slate.
     Aware that by his every noise he would locate himself for the stalking predator, Fric eased out the dead breath, coaxed in a live one, held it.
     Higher in the house, he was also higher in the storm. Here the lonely sighing of the rain swelled into the whispers of a multitude exchanging sinister secrets in the sea of night cheap authentic louis vuitton bag outlet that now submerged Palazzo Rospo.
     Yet in the same way that he had focused himself to hear the rain above the drumbeat of his heart, he tuned in to the footsteps of the mirror man. The attic architecture, the pendulum motion of the giant posters, and the whiffle of the rain served to distort the sound, to make it seem that the intruder was going away from Fric, then coming closer, then going, when in fact he most likely made steady progress toward cheap chanel bags his quarry.
     Fric had heeded Mysterious Caller’s advice to find a deep and secret hiding place. He had believed that he would need a refuge soon, but he hadn’t realized that he would need it this soon.
     Learning to breathe and listen at the same time, he took to heart [267] his dotty mother’s insistence that he was “an almost invisible perfect little mouse.” He crept with quiet quickness past the red-and-gold cardboard spires of a futuristic city over which his father—in cardboard—towered with chanel handbags outlet a fearsome laser rifle at the ready.
     At an intersection of aisles, Fric looked both ways, turned left. He scurried onward, analyzing the sound of the heavy footsteps as he went, calculating what route might best put distance between him and the man from the mirror.
     The intruder made no effort at stealth. He seemed to want Fric to hear him, as though confident that the boy couldn’t evade capture.
     Moloch. This must be Moloch. Looking for a child to take as a sacrifice, a chanel bags outlet child to kill, perhaps to eat.
     He’s Moloch, with the splintered bones of babies stuck between his teeth. ...
     Fric refrained from screaming for help, certain that he would not be heard by anyone other than the man-god-beast-thing who stalked him. The walls of the house were thick, the floors thicker than the walls, and no one was nearer than the second floor down in the middle of the mansion.