9
“Silas, you’re drunk,” Abigail said.
And he was, happily so. Well maybe just buzzed, but it was hard to drink enough alcohol to get really drunk when you were a demon. He looked down at the twelve shot glasses stacked in a pyramid. It was a monument to his inebriation.
“Yes rock and roll is always a little better when you are less in control of yourself,” Silas said and winked at her.
St. Abigail turned to Mort for help. “We should be heading out to find this street preacher or even heading to the Undercity. Not sitting here at a night club.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! This ain’t a night club. You see some sort of DJ in the corner spinning? Do you see bright lights blinking on and off in time with the music, anybody with glow sticks around here?” Silas asked.
“I see a drunk at the
