Chapter Five Onwards Giles hadn't bothered to turn the lights on. He liked the dark better. It was soothing, something like numbness. Something like the way the scotch burned on his tongue, warmed his throat, and made his mind hazy. Made the edges of the hard world seem soft as artistic photography. The Council was gone. A heap of rubble and smoke stood in its place, and in that rubble, the bodies of most of the men he had worked with and worked for. And his father. Just... read more
