It was a considerable walk from The Conjury to the Brindle house, though I admit despite being worn out by it, at least the time it took and the energy expended wore down my anger enough that I was less likely to explode at the mere mention of my adventure.

And good thing, knowing what I was likely to face the moment I walked through the front door. That thought actually made things slightly worse as I stomped my way through the dark and quiet back streets of London, the ...