Something inside me welled up and I reached down and smacked the swollen hand that held the glass of Scotch.
What remained of the Scotch splashed across the vast expanse of his face,
the glass bouncing off his nose and then spinning balletically through the air,
landing with a shattering crash on the ancient hardwood floors.
“Lidewij,” Van Houten said calmly, “I’ll have a martini, if you please. Just a whisper of vermouth.”
“I have resigned,” Lidewij said after a moment. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
I didn’t know what to do. Being nice hadn’t worked. Being mean hadn’t worked. I needed an answer.
I’d come all this way, hijacked Augustus’s Wish. I needed to know.
“Have you ever stopped to wonder,” he said, his words slurring now, “why you care so much about your silly questions?”
“YOU PROMISED!” I shouted, hearing Isaac’s impotent wailing echoing from the night of the broken trophies.
Van Houten didn’t reply. I was still standing over him, waiting for him to say something to me when I felt Augustus’s hand on my arm.
He pulled me away toward the door, and I followed him while Van Houten ranted to Lidewij
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