The night was young. Fresh and clean the darkness had a crisp quality to it that seemed to make things stand out more strongly. Tree's and scrub loomed, framing the parking lot. Lights and noise flashed by along the Highway. Light pooled under street lights and splashed the walls of the warehouse a jaundiced yellow. Gravel ground under their car as they approached, the loose stones chewing noisily at the tyres. In the distance, an ambient glow marked where the college town of Davis lay before them.
Roberts Cave of Wonders stood at the very back of the lot: a careworn warehouse with a big, fading sign reminiscent of the Arabian Nights. Light blasted forth from the large window at the front. Evidently, someone was still at work.
Gerald Baker Travisc06489 Chris Wooding Dark Passenger