Franny?” Rosy held up the four little Franks. “Could I keep one of these?” Franny looked at her hard for a moment then nodded. “’Course you can, hen,” she said, “But that’s not your daddy.” Rosy gaped. “It’s not?” “That’s my wee darling. That’s my wee Frankie before the devil twisted him into a monster.” She poked her finger into another hole where Frank’s face should have been. Her eyes glinted.