CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“DID YOU GET A BOTTLE of champers so we can celebrate?” CJ asked Walker and Butcher as they returned from hitching a ride with a local couple to a nearby store, her VW being temporarily out of commission. It was Tuesday, the day of the archery competition, which I was grateful had gone off without any of Fenice’s or Bliss’s arrows exploding, bows snapping and taking out an eye, or any of the myriad other disasters I had spent the night before imagining.
“No, we didn’t get a bottle of champagne,” Walker said. The dark circles under his beautiful eyes gave his long English face a haunted look that wrung my heart.
“We bought two!” Butcher announced, bringing both bottles out from where he had been concealing them behind his back. “It’s not every day we have two members fini
