Chapter 6

“We don’t know,” Justin answered, “but someone will. Probably just age; it was an old venue…”

“Too old,” Kris grumbled.

“Justin…” Justin’s father Bill had always exactly matched Kris’s mental idea of a historian: tall and thin, all salt-and-pepper, scholarly and gentlemanly over a secret mischievous heart that’d once upon a time jumped into the pit at Kris Starr concerts and loved a demon wife and raised a half-demon son. Right now his eyes brimmed over with anxiety. “The news says you’re hurt?”

“I’m…” Justin hesitated. “Kris is fine. I’m…not physically hurt.”

“Yes you are,” Kris said.

Justin’s family got more worried.

Justin sighed. “It’s just burnout, okay? Nothing hit me or anything, I just over-extended myself. I’ll be all right.”

“That sort of psychic trauma can be—”