automatically checked for dents and scratches. Adding insult to injury, Adrian was actually smoking as he lay on the hood and stared up at the sky. Clouds were moving in, but a half-moon could occasionally be seen. “Relax, Sage. I won’t leave a scratch. Really, this is surprisingly comfortable for a family car. I would’ve expected—” He turned his head toward me and froze. I had never seen him so still—or so quiet. His shock was so thorough and intense that he actually dropped his cigarette. “Ahh,” I cried, springing forward, lest the burning cigarette damage the car. It landed harmlessly on
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