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yard at a surplus fabric store," I told her. "Tall men aren't exactly unheard of in a city of eight million, either."
    Priscilla narrowed her eyes. "Who was it, then?"
    Abby tittered, which made Toto wag his tail.
    I pursed my lips in a moment of thought. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't Murphy."
    Helen Beckitt snorted out a breath through her nose.
    "This isn't a joking matter," Priscilla snapped.
    "Oh. Sorry. Given that I only found out about a grey cloak sighting about two seconds ago, I had assumed the question was facetious." I turned to face Anna. "It wasn't me. And it wasn't a Warden of the Council—or at least, it damned well better not have been a Warden of the Council."
    "And if it was?" Anna asked quietly.
    I folded my arms. "I'll make sure he never hurts anyone. Ever again."
    Murphy stepped forward and said, "Excuse me. You said that three members of the order had died. What were their names, please?"
    "Maria," Anna said, her words spaced with the slow, deliberate beat of a funeral march. "Janine. Pauline."
    I saw where Murphy was going.
    "What about Jessica Blanche?" she asked-
    Anna frowned for a moment and then shook her head. "I don't think I've heard the name."
    "So she's not in the order," Murphy said. "And she's not in the, ah, community?"

    "Not to my knowledge," Anna replied. She looked around the room. "Does anyone here know her?"
    Silence.
    I traded a glance with Murphy. "Some of these things are not like the others."
    "Some of these things are kind of the same," she responded.
    "Somewhere to start, at least," I said.
    Someone's watch started beeping, and the girl on the couch beside Priscilla sat up suddenly. She was young, maybe even still in her teens, with the rich, smoke-colored skin of regions of eastern India. She had heavy-lidded brown eyes, and wore a bandanna tied over her straight, glossy black hair. She was dressed in a lavender ballet leotard with cream-colored tights covering long legs, and she had the muscled, athletic build of a serious dancer. She wore a man's watch that looked huge against her fine-boned wrist. She turned it off and then glanced up at Anna, fidgeting. "Ten minutes."
    Anna frowned and nodded at her. She started toward the door, a gracious hostess politely walking us out. "Is there anything else we can do for you, Warden? Ms. Murphy?"
    In the investigating business, when someone starts trying to rush you out in order to conceal some kind of information from you, it is what we professionals call a clue. "Gee," I said brightly. "What happens in ten minutes?"
    Anna stopped, her polite smile fading. "We have answered your questions as best we could. You gave me your word, Warden, to abide by my hospitality. Not to abuse it."
    "Answering me may be for your own good," I replied.
    "That's your opinion," she said. "In my opinion, it is no business of yours."
    I sighed and nodded acquiescence. I handed her a business card. "There's my number. In case you change your mind."
    "Thank you," Anna said politely.
    Murphy and I left, and were silent all the way down in the elevator. I scowled up a storm on the way, and brooded. It had never solved any of my problems in the past, but there's always a first time.

CHAPTER
     Seven

    T here was no time to do anything. Even if I'd been crouched, tense, and holding defensive magic ready to go, I wouldn't have beaten the explosion to the punch. It was instant, and violent, and did not at all care whether I was on my guard or not. Something that felt vaguely like an enormous feather pillow swung by the Incredible Hulk slammed into my chest.
    It lifted me up off the ground and dumped me on the sidewalk several feet later. My shoulder clipped a mailbox as I went by it, and then I had a good, steady view of the clear summer sky above me as I lay on my back and ached.
    I'd lived, which was always a good start in this kind of situation. It couldn't have been a very big explosion, then. It had to have been more incendiary than concussive, a big old