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.