Chapter 24

Damn him, not anymore, I wasn't. I'd thought the dreams stronger of late. Could they get strong enough to manifest in real life?

That would suck. I turned to pastries for consolation. I let the sugar transport me back to my happy place. One where there wasn't an ocean trying to kill me.

The rapping against the window only slightly penetrated my forced blissful bubble.

The rapid staccato of something hard against glass popped that candy coma climax. I whirled and glared at the bird sitting on the sill, banging its beak, daring to disrupt my peace.

"Someone hand me a BB gun." I had a solution for the dirty pigeon that seemed determined to give itself a concussion.

"You would shoot a message carrier?" Conan sounded shocked. "But they are sacrosanct."

"If that means annoying, then yes, they are."

"It means they are protected."

"By who?" A bigger bird? Imagine how many people I could feed for Thanksgiving if I netted a twenty-pounder.

"They are protected by the governing laws."