Book II – Chapter 23

The lights in the hallway felt too bright. Ferris was amazed he’d made it to his door, having missed his stop on the train home and then forgotten to select a floor in the elevator. He’d worked late again, trying to focus against the hum of the janitor’s vacuum. There was a lot of catching up to do and it took every ounce of patience in his heart not to blame Demos for it.

It was his fault, though.

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Book II – Chapter 22

The moment Ferris awoke, he wished he hadn’t. Lead seemed to fill his skull — dull, heavy. His temples throbbed as he tried to remember what he’d done to deserve this, and how he had ended up fully clothed in bed. His shirt smelled like gasoline. No, it was grappa. He remembered a piano, with one hand playing clumsily over the keys. Demos’ hand. Ferris had said something — something stupid. What had he said?

“Fer!” The voice hit him like a wall. It was Seamus, somewhere in the kitchen.

Ferris rubbed his aching forehead. “Not so loud, Seamus.”

“Oh, you’re awake. Finally.” The door cracked open, revealing his offensively bright-eyed roommate.

“Have you just been yelling my name all morning?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Seamus tapped his own head. “How’s that hangover?”

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