Chapter Sixteen
Hitting the street, we sucked in lungfuls of air. It seemed to clear Stevie’s head somewhat, but he still looked worried. We stood on the street corner for a moment, trying to decide where we should go, before picking a direction and crossing the road.
“Are you okay? Need a doctor?” He really wasn’t looking good.
“No.”
“You sure? A vet, maybe?”
“No.”
“A gynecologist?”
“Fuckity off.” Then after a moment’s thought, “Maybe an exorcist. Or a witch.”
“For a hangover?”
He looked me in the eyes for the first time since we’d left the flat. “It’s not a hangover.” He coughed. “Black magick.”
Aha. Time for me to spread a little enlightenment.
“No such thing,” I told him. He turned his head as if I had just sprouted butterfly wings from my eyebrows. “Magick is neutral. Like
