November 1, 12:20 a.m. GMT
Duncan stood at the urinal, eliminating a portion of the night’s beer. With his eyes closed, he tilted his head back. He was unfortunately far more inebriated than he had planned on being by this time. While it was after midnight, he had hoped to extend his evening.
“Why do you want to go to the Forum?” Archie asked from the neighboring stall. “Why go slumming with the commoners when there are plenty of fit birds right here at the Lemmy?”
Duncan tapped off and zipped up. “I’m already tired of this place,” he lied. “It’s getting too crowded and lairy in here. I could use some air. And it’s only a ten-minute walk to the Forum.”
Archie finished and followed him out of the restroom. “I’m game enough. As they say, horses for courses. But I’m not sure about Seb or Dom. Both of ’em are still chatting up those two girls. No doubt it’s a wasted effort on their part, but those two will not cut bait this early.”
Duncan shrugged. “Just as well. I’m fine going by myself.”
In fact, he would prefer it. He’d have better chances of “chatting up” someone at the Forum if he didn’t drag along an entourage of drunken hooligans.
Unfortunately, Archie failed to take the hint. “And leave you wandering the campus alone? In that get-up?” He sized Duncan up and down. “Someone might think you went AWOL.”
Duncan scowled. He had decked himself in a wool Army jersey with reinforced epaulets at the shoulders. He had paired it with regulation trousers in desert camo and a matching cap. The gear was no rented costume, showing ragged repairs and significant fraying. He had collected the military fatigues from his grandfather’s wardrobe after the man had passed at the age of ninety-five.
By donning the uniform, Duncan had wanted to honor his grandad, but at the same time, it felt like stolen valor. Still, when Duncan was a teenager, the old man had once caught him sizing up the former uniform and encouraged him to wear it:Our history shouldn’t be resigned to dusty bins.... I’d be chuffed to see my old kit out in the world again.
Archie nudged Duncan in his shoulder. “I’ll let Seb and Dom know we’re headed off.”
Duncan sighed, accepting that he could not shake loose his friend. Archibald Bailey had been his roommate going back to his first term at Oxford. The two had also been teammates on the same university rugby team, the Men’s Greyhounds. Though that name was a poor fit for Archie.Pitbullwas the more apt description. Archie had been the team’s tighthead prop, one of the roughest positions, requiring a bullish strength in shoulders and legs. While a head shorter than Duncan, Archie outbulked him by a third.
“If we’re heading outside, I better grab my warmers,” Archie said. “It’s getting to be brass monkeys outside.”
The stocky man shoved through the packed crowd, as if fighting a tough scrum.
For Halloween, Archie had simply donned his old rugby kit. Once inside the nightclub, he had stripped to his jersey, shorts, and ankle-cut boots, abandoning a woolen track suit at their booth.
Duncan considered using this distraction to sneak out of the club, but he knew such an Irish goodbye would wound his friend. As much as Archie looked like a tough-skinned pugilist—with a crick to his nose and his hair shaved to a stubble—he had a big heart that could be easily bruised. Archie took great stock in their friendship, far more than Sebastian and Dominic. Duncan suspected Archie had only enrolled in Exeter to dog along with him. Archie’s father had served with the diplomatic core and changed embassies every three years, which made it difficult for Archie to find a circle of friends.
And now that he had, Duncan refused to break it.
While waiting, he took in the chaos of the Lemon Grove. Partiers, most of them in costume, packed the small dance floor. The music pounded his ears and thumped his ribcage with each bass beat. A pair of fog machines wafted misty clouds throughout the club, reflecting the swirling lights, while masking groping hands and grinding hips.
Archie finally fought his way back, tugging on his jersey jacket. He carried his track pants over a shoulder. His eyes shone with his usual excitement.
“Like I thought, Seb and Dom aren’t budging. They’re dug in deep. But I come with news about the Forum.”
“What news?”
“People are saying the Old Library caught fire. Bunch of sirens, flashing lights. They’ve cordoned off the road and cleared the party at the Forum.”
Duncan turned to the club’s doors, doing his best to hide his disappointment.
I waited too long. Should’ve left earlier.
Still, guilt twinged through him for such a selfish misgiving.
“Anyone hurt?” Duncan asked.
Archie shrugged. “Don’t know. But I wouldn’t mind legging over there and taking a looksie.”
Duncan had the same thought and headed toward the exit. “Let’s go.”
He pictured his visits to the library over the past weeks and hoped its treasure trove of old books and manuscripts had been spared the flames.
“Weren’t you just there today?” Archie asked.
