EIGHTEEN
Fight Knight was in full swing by the time I made it out to Bestwood’s garden.
Yellow police tape had been placed ten feet beyond the perimeter of the ruins, bolstered by hay bales, and tall orange traffic cones. Periodically along the yellow tape, signs that Alden and I had written warned visitors that they were straying into off-limits territory.
I turned my back to the black shell of the house, feeling that was something I couldn’t cope with when the world lay out before me like a glittering, wonderful map of everything good and happy and sexy.
Approximately a hundred and twenty people milled around the garden, a good number of them in plate armor, while the others (mostly women) trotted around with various bits of plate and weaponry in their hands. The main list had been s
