I WAS TIRED. REALLY tired. Despite the new energy flowing through my veins courtesy of my recent psychic transfusion, I’d had enough. Sitting under the tree that grew through the ceiling of the Golden Banana – aptly named because of its bright yellow exterior that decorated the top of Nugget Hill – all I wanted was to curl up and sleep for a week. Death will do that to you.
Sacrifist and Groinchurn were booked to play the GB at the weekend. But this was just another quiet week night.
“Isn’t that illegal, though?” I asked.
Stevie shook his head. “I can catch a plane any time I like. Or a bus. Or a train. I don’t have to teleport everywhere I go.”
“Seems a complete waste of time. And money.”
“Usually, I’d agree with you. But until I’m sure that I’m completely back to normal, I don’t wan
