Chapter Five

The Drunkard

The knock came just after ten.

I knew it was him before I opened the door. The building had a particular silence at that hour, and his presence had always announced itself in the way the air shifted. When I turned the lock and pulled the door open, Cassian stood in the hallway with his hands loose at his sides and no bottle in sight. The cut above his eyebrow had begun to heal into a darker bruise. His eyes were clearer than they had been in the rain, but the faint scent of whiskey still clung to him less a flood than a residual heat....