HE LED ME BACK TO THE ROOM THAT HE'D POINTED OUT was Carbomb's office, pausing outside the door for an instant coffee.
"Come in," Carbomb's voice invited.
Fredward opened the door to a high-ceilinged room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were paneled again, in a darker wood—where they were visible. Most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves that reached high above my head and held more books than a library.
The room was how I'd always imagined Fredward's fake father's would look—only Carbomb looked too young for the part. Carbomb sat behind the huge mahogany desk in leather pants. As we entered, he was just placing a bookmark in the pages of the extremely thick