"David woke up."
Randall Grifford held the phone to his hear, and smiled. "I hoped, but to be honest, this is unexpected. I knew the boy was strong. You've apprised Bart Walker, and Karen Hutchinson?"
"I only just heard now from Karen."
Grifford frowned, holding his breath a moment. "...does anyone else know?"
"You mean the others?"
Citywalkers. Coven. Anyone who may have a vested interest in David's failure to recover. "Yes, Detective Polovotski."
"Allen did not wake up. Will likely expire before the opportunity arises he should wake. I am sure everyone has their own way to figure this one out on their own."
"I agree. Thank you for the update. I owe you, and Detective Fallon lunch." Grifford placed the telephone on its receiver. David was awake.
Grifford, in his nightclothes, sat at his desk. He turned in his chair to stare out the bay window. A thick, blurry web of lightning arced across the sky. Thunder roared outside, over his home. The window shook, as rain splattered steady against it, splashing against the thin sheet of water rushing down the pane.
Grifford coughed, and cleared his throat as cough turned to laughter.
There was fear in the air of Driftwood.
"You should be afraid." His voice filled his home office as lightning arced across the sky again. Everything was going to change now, and with it, the war would end, sooner than later.