63: HEROES AND VILLIANS

(William Ravenstone’s POV)

(EIGHT YEARS AGO)

I stir awake from a slumber I don’t remember slipping into. I’ve slumped in my study chair, the math textbook on my table still opened to the homework I have due tomorrow morning. I’m cold.

I sit up in the chair and sigh. This is the third time I’ve fallen asleep in the span of an hour. And although I’m used to it at this point, my narcolepsy still impairs the way I function to an uncomfortable degree.

Well, it could be worse. Luke claims mine isn’t even that bad. There were narcoleptics that dropped asleep up to forty to sixty times per day, or more. The most I’d dozed off in a day is twenty-nine times. I’m not scared of falling asleep —I used to be, but not anymore. Now I’m more scared of what I might wake up to.

I get to my feet and shuffle over to the windows I’ve left open. Outside, the wind is howling, the rain falling with a vengeance. I stare out at the fountain, at the marble statue of Ares; the Greek god of war in the center, donn