Chapter 36: Dancing with Danger, Dining with Doom.Violet Virgilson.

I was bored.

Not the ordinary kind of boredom—the restless, fidgety sort that comes from having nothing to do—but the heavy, suffocating boredom that wrapped around my chest like damp wool. The kind that made breathing feel intentional. The kind that came from too much thinking and too much sleeping.

“I am bored,” I told mum as I came out of my room, downstairs, sitting beside her on the couch in the living room.

The ...