“Go and get him,” she said to me.
“Go and get him,” she said to me.“Why?” I asked her. “Do you think I fear losing him?”
“Why?” I asked her. “Do you think I fear losing him?”“No,” she said. “I fear it.”
“No,” she said. “I fear it.”FROM THE JOURNAL OF HISTORIAN RAZIEL DE PLAISIR
Jack opened his eyes.
He was in an oversized bedroom he did not recognize. The bed was large enough for three bodies, though he lay in it alone.
Given the sounds from the street, he thought he was in town again, though he did not know how he’d got there. He caught the scent of orange flower and fresh bread and knew they must be in Bloomsbury House, the townhouse on Seventh Street, as it was across from the bakery that specialized in bergamot cakes.
At the right side of his bed, Silas sat in a red armchair, a
