Skylar.

Marlow's house was a tiny stone cottage at the end of a dirt road, with a vegetable garden out front and a sign on the door that read, No visitors. Unless bleeding.

We were all bleeding.

It was past midnight by the time we got there. Conrad carried Ace in himself, refusing to let anyone else take the weight, and Marlow met us at the door in a bathrobe, a thin old man with a grey beard and the temper of a wet cat. He took one look at Ace's face and stopped complaining ...