“Come on, Quentin. It’s over. You’ve done your time.” Janet’s smile had a warmth in it that he’d never seen before, or maybe he’d just never noticed it. “Everybody’s forgiven you but you. And you are so far behind us.”

“You might be surprised about that.”

Quentin picked up the blue stone ball and studied it.

“So,” he said, “I’m gone for five minutes and you have to bring in a hedge witch?”

Eliot shrugged.

“She’s got chops.”

“Fuck you,” said Julia.

Quentin sighed. He unkinked his neck and stood up.

“Did you really have to break my window?”

“No,” Eliot said. “Not really.”

Quentin walked to the floor’s edge. Sprays of smashed window glass crunched on the carpet under his fancy leather shoes. He ducked under the broken blinds. It was a long way down. He hadn’t done this for a while.

Loosening his tie with one hand, Quentin stepped out into the cold clear winter air and flew.

ALSO BY LEV GROSSMAN

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