After getting home so late and then studying before going to bed, Brand slept until five that evening. His dreams were filled with scattered but distorted visions of his time with Fedor. When he woke, he felt drained. A long, hot shower, followed by a cold one, helped to restore some of his energy.
When he got downstairs, he found Mag was home from work and had prepared supper, for which he was profoundly grateful. He needed sustenance if he was going to make it through his classes. And the rest of the night, once I figure out a way to home in on Fedor's hunting ground, so to speak.
If last night was any indication—and he thought it might be—Fedor had shifted from the uptown area to lower downtown, farther away from the central business district. He didn't find that too much of a surprise. With the cops clearing the streets and even the alleys, of all the homeless people around the retail shops and restaurants, they would naturally migrate closer to the train tracks and the creek.
Where they go, so does Fedor.
At least he hoped that was the case.
"Did you study?" Mag asked, turning from the stove where he was putting the finishing touches on the chicken Marsala.
"Yep, though I almost fell asleep over the nutrition book."
Mag chuckled. "Not your strong point I know, but necessary. You should be doing this—" he tapped the skillet, "—not me."
"Tomorrow night, I promise."
With a laugh, Mag replied, "Uh-huh. Which means you'll call our favorite Chinese restaurant and have them deliver."
Brand just shrugged, pouring coffee for Mag and getting one of the insulated containers that held his drinks from the fridge, before setting out plates and silverware on the small kitchen table. They ate quickly since they had to get to school, washed the dishes, and headed out.
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