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"Ever since the tour ended I've been craving a good Philly cheese steak sandwich and a gander of you in your Brannigan's T-shirt."She blushed in a manner very similar to the way her mother had just minutes before."How was the tour?" she asked. "I saw what happened in Cincinnati. What a horrible place that must be." I don't think I'll be moving there anytime soon," Jake said. "The freakin' villagers would probably show up at my house with battering rams and torches."She giggled. "I saw on the news the other day that the judge dismissed the charges against you. At least someone there has some sense." I'm sure he didn't like dismissing the charges," Jake said. "He just knew that the first court I appealed to would overturn him and probably issue a reprimand." So the system works?" she asked."Well, I've been arrested three times now for a variety of charges and so far... yes, I'll have to say that the system works. At least if you're rich and have expensive lawyers like I do." Justice. That was Jon’s voice. There was no mistaking the pain in that sound. I rushed to him. His forehead was beaded with sweat. With fumbling hands, I put my palm over his forehead. He had a fever like none I had ever felt. He cracked one eye open and gave me an unfocused stare. ‘Jon!’ I whispered. ‘What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?’ The butler’s teeth were clattering together as he convulsed beneath his coverings. I tore the bedding from his body with strength I didn’t know I had. Underneath, Jon lay in a tattered shirt. Burn marks glistened on his shoulder… broken only by red, angry wounds that oozed with green and white puss. ‘Wound…’ he managed to stutter. ‘Not healing, forgot about… the ring.’ How was he wounded? Did they fight the strange lady? How had a woman living alone in the woods managed to injure a five-hundred-year-old swordsman? ‘What do I need to do, Jon?’ I whispered. Jon wheezed for a brief moment. He did so quietly, biting his lip the entire time. We both intuitively.
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