There’s too much to say. Elena’s journal pages are still crumpled in my jacket pocket. Kir’s face as he shoved through the crowd keeps flashing behind my eyes. There’s a trial coming, and it’s sure to be ugly. There are a hundred fires burning and not a single one of them is out.
But right now, his arms are around me and mine are around him.
The brownstone feels different when we step inside.
The air is still stale and the furniture still wears its white sheets. But something else feels more open. Maybe it’s the ghosts making way.
Lukas moves through the front hall. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it over the back of a covered chair. I follow him into the kitchen, drag out a stool, and sit, as he reaches for the whiskey bottle on the shelf above the sink.
“What happens nex
