The French Quarter is shuddering.
The first fingers of Katrina are tearing at New Orleans. But it is more than that.
The ShadowLanders know.
Can you not feel the tremors in the marrow of your bones?
Can you not taste it on the winds of the night?
Can you not see the shapes writhing in the shadows of the windows you pass?
THEY are returning to once more cover this world in the blood of Man.
A bus from Hell itself has just pulled into New Orleans,
bearing the strangest, frailest champion of life this wayward city has ever seen.