The tall, dark wizard in the blue robe with white stars—who Evan would come to know as Falstaff—

plucked the slurpee off Evan’s tray with long boney fingers. He peered deep into its sugary murk. “Explain this foul potion. What are its effects?” “It’s called a slurpee,” Evan said. "It’s a refreshing drink. Especially when it’s hot out.” A round of knowing ahhhhhs circled the room. “A health elixir,” someone spoke from the back, nodding with authority. “Well, sort of.”…

A SILHOUETTE LOOMED OVER EVAN. FROM SOMEWHERE, A DISTANT, UNPLEASANT VOICE—ONE HE RECOGNIZED—SPOKE: 

“Hey kid. Kid. Wake up.”Evan stirred, the world coming into focus: the dark walls and ceiling of the Attic’s storefront, the towering bookshelves of games, a smacking sound as the figure hovering over him slapped at Evan’s cheeks. Evan’s bones and back groaned. Then Evan groaned at the sight of the City Surveyor’s weasel face.