Judas had decided to stretch his legs. Lace was following one of their suspects, Nora was tending to the invalid that was Wulfric, Warden of the Church Roads, and the Silent King had gone quiet. It was the calm before the hurricane, he could feel it in his old bones and he needed a coffee, and to be left alone long enough to drink it. The Hallowed Ground was his favourite coffee shop. It was owned and run by a group of ghosts. Their coffee was amazing, but their conversation was a little on the thin side. That’s why Judas loved it so much.
When he arrived, he found that his favourite haunt had been taken over by a group of South American tourists. At least that was what it looked like at first. Then Judas noticed the smell – it was faint, but he knew it well. It was the scent of the dead.
