The cracked, broken voice spoke again. “You’re dead,” it whispered.
Felicity’s eyes closed as the darkness around the edges of her mind became too overwhelming to keep at bay; but just before it took her completely, she had one final thought:
So are you.
People he liked he referred to by their real names. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that the entertainment in the basement was better than the flower shop, particularly the drama between Felicity and The Blind One.