“So,” Matthew said, folding his own arms behind his head. “With your new status as hero of the Clave, do you plan to make any demands?” He regarded the crack in the ceiling plaster. “I would ask for my own personal valet, and Oscar Wilde to be brought to me for conversation.” “Isn’t he dead?” said James. “Nothing wrong with the undead.” Matthew chuckled. “Wait until our next visit to the Hell Ruelle.”
Do not!
