Kazuo stared at the ceiling, his body sprawled on the couch but his mind far from rest. The girl's warning filled in his head, refusing to let him sleep. He tried to rationalize it away - just a prank call, right? But the specifics she knew... his blood, the escape from La Defense. That shit wasn't public knowledge.
From the bedroom, Siobhàn's snores rumbled through the safehouse like a goddamn freight train. How the fuck could anyone sleep through that racket? It sounded like a whale having an asthma attack.
He grabbed his phone, checking the time again. 11:50 PM. Ten minutes till the witching hour. Ten minutes till he'd know if that creepy girl was full of shit or if they were about to have some serious company.
"Fuck this," Kazuo muttered, swinging his legs off the couch. Sleep wasn't happening anyway. Might as well get a drink.
