Chapter 4

Sebastian grinned at the sound. “Go on. The sooner you start…”

“The faster you finish,” Owen offered. “Never finished,” Sebastian replied. “Only gotten used to.”

* * * *

He was another three trips in, panting and wheezing like a dog left in the backseat of a sealed-up sedan, when Dennis met him on the staircase. “Did you know someone’s sitting on your couch down there?”

Owen nodded, using the break to set his ass down on the stairs and wrestle with heartbeat. “Baba. Apparently. He’s watching my stuff.”

“I’m not sure I’d trust some purple-haired freak—”

“There’s nothing left to steal, Dennis,” Owen said, exhaustion weighting the words as though the act of speech was even too much to take. “The good shit’s been sold, the mediocre shit’s already been carried up, and I can’t see a guy the size of a pixie walking away with my couch.”

“Pixie’s have fairy dust.” Dennis smirked and wiggled his fingers like his hand had become a five-legged insect. “Makes things fly.”