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Thoughts of Amenthia undressing me or taking advantage of my state of undress flashed in my mind and pleasant as they might be, I pushed those distracting thoughts away for now. I slowly and carefully made my way to the dresser at the far wall, taking staggering steps. Slowly I dressed, taking my time to ensure I don’t accidentally open any wounds that still needed to heal.I returned to my bed and smiled. There was a plate of food, and a cup of water on a table beside it. As I got closer, I saw that there was a note on the desk beside the plate. It was based off the Norse runic alphabet, but thankfully, it was in written using English. It said that, if she had not come back and I was able to move, this food was for me to eat to regain my strength. I would need to speak with Tyr to find out where the books with the native Norse languages were. They would be my best way of learning the words that most of the runes were normally written in. The next time I saw Amenthia I would have her. There wasn’t anything inside, but a litter of cheap whisky bottles; no doubt left by squatters seeking a handy place to drink. In many ways, the desolation of that place was a perfect analogy for my soul.Molly was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t expect her to be there. She had to live somehow. I had no idea where she was. But I knew where O’Brien lived. He had a fine house on Broadway near Washington Square. It was late afternoon when I arrived at his doorstep. I could have probably gotten the servants to let me in. I looked trustworthy in my cavalry finery, even if I was really nothing but a mounted infantryman. But I preferred not to be hanged. So, I wanted fewer witnesses.I just loitered around doing reconnaissance. I wanted to get the routines down. I would normally have seemed suspicious to the neighbors. But, I got a lot of approving looks. They appreciated the uniform.It was finally nightfall. At that point, the gas lamps were on. I was across the street from O’Brien’s house,.
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