Patrick went home that morning covered in ashes and gore. He took a shower, then flopped on the couch naked to finish off the last of his emergency stash. He swallowed the pills with half-priced Vodka, but even the burn of the alcohol couldn't banish the smell of scorched flesh from his nose or the taste of death on his tongue.

He thought about what Michael had said as they'd scooped ashes. "It was his own fault. Yeah, Arowenia is hot, and I'd like to bend her over a table ...