doesn’t like addicts of any kind. The House doesn’t make mistakes, but people change, especially here. I’ve had the unpleasant duty of finding reasons to evict some of the tenants in the past who thought that artists had to debauch themselves in order to be artists.”
Eric winced, since he had come rather too close to that line himself a time or two. Looking back on it now, he’d been on a collision course with oblivion before he’d stum­bled into Kory. All the freedom in the world, and no place to go but down. “Right then, I’ll see you all Saturday night?” He swigged down the last of his now-cool tea and stood.
Toni Hernandez smiled, and held out her hand and shook his. Her grip was warm and quite firm. “Once you meet them, I think you’re going to find that you fit in here quite well, Eric. Even if you actually turn out to be an elf or something.”
Eric managed not to wince. “See you Saturday, then.”

Over the course of the week he found that he had cause, more than once, to look forward to that party on Saturday. Fitting back into the student life was much harder than he’d expected.
His alarm clock jarred him awake at seven a.m. Monday morning. It was set to an all news, all the time station, and a woman who sounded far too perky for this hour of the morning was chattering on about tie-ups at various bridges and tunnels. Eric staggered out of bed, groping for the “Off” switch.
A cold shower jolted him awake, but his brain didn’t seem to want to take the hint and join the rest of his body. He dragged a comb through his hair and tied it back with a strip of rawhide, then grabbed the first things out of his closet—chambray shirt, featherweight suede vest in a deep rich burgundy, and well-broken-in jeans.
Not bad, if I do say so myself, he decided, glancing into the mirror.
His stomach was too jumpy for breakfast to seem like much of a good idea, so he grabbed a handful of granola bars and stuffed them into his messenger bag for later. Fortunately he’d made most of his preparations the night before, so his course schedule and the paperwork he’d need for today was already stowed away, along with his flute in its case. With one last look around the apartment—­amazing how much it had started looking like home in just a few short days—he headed for the street.
The hot weather had broken overnight—though according to his friends uptown, it would