“I know what you’re thinking,” said Jan, with all the delicate elocution of a young girl called to testify at her own father’s military tribunal. “And I can assure you that you are mistaken.”

Evelyn snorted.

Raine cleared her throat. Felicity merely watched, tense in her silence, like a hound locked in a kennel with an unfamiliar fellow canine. Lozzie waited with innocent eyes. I resisted the urge to huff. July — lurking by the door like a bird of prey up in a tree — watched us all as if we were about to draw weapons and stab her mage in the back.

The demon-host had a point; Evee really wanted to do some stabbing.

We had made some hasty efforts to render the magical workshop more hospitable and welcoming. By ‘we’ I mean myself, Raine, and Praem. This was somewhat undermined by Evelyn’s parallel efforts to set the space up like an interrogation chamber. We’d switched on all the lights, organised and stacked the papers and photographs on the table, dusted as many surfaces as we could reach, and tidied up some of the more mundane detritus. Evelyn, meanwhile, had selected specific photographs of Edward’s house and laid them out at the edge of the table, like evidence on display, hoping to spook the suspect into a surprise confession. She had also removed the cushion on Jan’s chair. Praem replaced it. Evee removed it again. Praem replaced it a second time. Sour in defeat, Evee had then used the tip of her walking stick to shove the chair into the middle of the open space. Praem made tea, Evelyn vetoed tea; the tea got made anyway. Evelyn had started shooing the spider-servitors toward the front door, to act as a magical security gate, as they once had with Sarika; Praem and Tenny together somehow got Marmite to come downstairs and draw the spiders off elsewhere. Evelyn then decided that Mister Squiddy needed to be on display, in all his clay-slapping glory; Praem enlisted Felicity to help tidy him away again, neatly behind his tarpaulin in the corner of the workshop.

By the time Jan actually arrived, Evelyn was on the verge of having a blazing row with literally everyone else in the house, even Lozzie. She was stopped only by the appearance of her real target.

Jan had sauntered up the garden path at about four o’clock in the afternoon, with July hovering behind her in habitual bodyguard position, both of them seemingly rather enjoying the dense summer sunlight beating down across the city of Sharrowford. I wasn’t sure why, but we — me, us, I — had built up this mental image of Jan and July as best suited to dark, dank, damp places, like a pair of slugs who would dry out in the sun. Perhaps it was the con-woman aspect, or Jan’s usual choice of outfits. But no, she was sunning her face as she arrived, like a miniature sunflower in black and grey. July was in a tank top, toned shoulders exposed to the summer, hardshell guitar case over one shoulder, Jan’s sword safely contained within. Or, so one must presume.

Convincing Lozzie to invite her over had turned out to be far less difficult than I’d expected. I had insisted that Lozzie not lie; we didn’t want her to damage her blossoming relationship with Jan by pretending this was a social call.

“Yeah,” Raine had agreed, at the time. “Don’t honeypot booty call her, Loz. We’re not after that. That’s just low.”

“Honey pot booty call?” I had echoed, wrinkling my nose. “I know what each of those words means in isolation, but when combined … Raine, really?”

Lozzie had just giggled. She found that hilarious. And Jan said yes, just like that. Perhaps being honest about our intentions had helped a little; perhaps Jan felt less threatened.

We couldn’t have been more incorrect; Jan felt comfortable answering our summons because Jan was forewarned. She had plenty of time to prepare her defences. Knowing us for a little while — even getting close to Lozzie — had not somehow overwritten a lifetime of cat-like caution.

She turned up dressed for business, wearing her ‘good-girl’ disguise, both literally and metaphorically. Jan was all sweet smiles and polite little bobs of her head, hands folded in front, footsteps neat and dainty, like a well-trained young lady fresh from a finishing school.

“Thank you for inviting me to discuss this matter face to face, I appreciate the opportunity;” “I am certain we can straighten this all out with a few kind words;” “Thank you, Praem, yes, I will take tea. No sugar. Just a dash of milk;” “Lozzie, it’s so good to see you, even three days is far too long;” “Raine, you are too kind, yes, you may take my coat. It’s so warm out I hardly needed the layers;” “Felicity, yes, we met only briefly before. Pardon my poor memory. This is July, my associate and assistant. I think you met her too;” “Oh, a cushion, how delightful.”

I could hardly complain. She sounded like me at my most awkward. All goody-two-shoes, raised to be polite.

But it still felt like an insult, because it was fake.

She was wearing sensible black shoes polished to a high shine, with matching black leggings, a drab yet crisp grey skirt, and a starched white shirt beneath a well-fitting black cardigan. She looked like she’d stepped from the pages of some oppressive boarding school novel, a cautionary tale about the dangers of intense female ‘friendship’, with plenty of scenes in toilet cubicles and back alleys.

Jan’s mask was flawless — but why bother? We all knew her, we knew what lay beneath the constructed exterior. Maybe she just felt more comfortable this way. Maybe we were jumping to conclusions.

Perhaps we should not have spread our tentacles outward to catch glimpses of her from multiple angles, like she was a false-fronted building in an old Western movie. Try as we might, we found no hidden seam in her exterior, no secret back end with her real feelings staring at us.

She noticed that, though. She noticed the tentacle-drift, and flinched. She pretended not to. We pretended not to notice that she had noticed. But I still blushed, a little mortified by my own curiosity.

The rest of us were woefully under-dressed by comparison — except for Praem, who was starched and prim as always, even though she hadn’t yet obtained another maid outfit. Her previous one had been damaged during the siege of Geerswin Farm, torn and bloody beyond recovery, even with her sometimes near-supernatural skills with the washing machine. Her blue ribbed jumper and long cream skirt stood in for now.

July wasn’t playing along either. I had half expected her to dress down to match her mage-slash-sister, but upon reflection July would look just as razor-edged and dangerous if dressed in a suit and tie. Perhaps more so. She showed up in trainers, jeans, and a black tank-top. Her long black hair was twisted into a practical braid. She said almost nothing, except to inquire about Zheng’s whereabouts, and ask where she should put down the guitar case. I felt the backwash of subtle disappointment when Raine informed her that Zheng was out, keeping watch, on the stakeout.

None of us knew what to do with Jan acting like this, except usher her into the magical workshop and offer her tea; only Lozzie was immune to her refined, ultra-polite exterior. Lozzie attached herself to Jan’s arm the moment she was through the door.

The false front peeled away only once: when she entered the magical workshop she paused and went pale briefly, eyes staring at the magic circle behind the table, the one Evee had surrounded with hazard tape. She’d only continued when Lozzie bounced in first, apparently proving that the room was not booby-trapped.

Once we got her sat down and primed with tea and a biscuit, Jan did her best impression of a teenage girl trying to answer police questioning.

So, despite all our best efforts, Jan Martense still managed to look like she was clapped in irons and locked in a grey-walled concrete cell, being questioned by leather-masked inquisitors. The dainty cup of tea in her hands didn’t help. Feet and knees together, back straight, chin high, defiant in the face of monsters and mages and me.

Evelyn snorted, again.

Jan tilted her head in silent question, pretending to be baffled. Evelyn was sitting directly opposite Jan, with nothing in between them but open air and lingering threat. Exhausted around the eyes, mouth twisted in a bitter little curl, leaning on her walking stick with her back bent, Evelyn would have seemed quite intimidating to anybody except a fellow mage — and to me. We kept one tentacle wrapped tightly around Evee’s arm, as if trying to hold her together, because we could tell — like we could tell that water was wet and fire was hot — that Evelyn Saye was coming apart at the seams. We longed to stop her, to get her to slow down, justify herself. But what if she pulled her arm free from our tentacle? What if she rejected that touch? We couldn’t have that. She looked like she needed to sleep, not conduct an interrogation.

She drawled at Jan: “Have you developed mind-reading powers, Miss Martense?”

We gave in and sighed, and said, “Evee, you know that was a figure of speech.”

Jan blinked those beautiful deep-ocean eyes. Even under the artificial light, hidden away from the blazing sun, her eyes held swirling sapphire depths. She cleared her throat. “Pardon, Miss Saye?”

Evelyn grumbled back, “You have no idea what I’m thinking. You’re fishing. Answer the question.”

Lozzie was draped over the rear of Jan’s chair like big fluffy living coat, her poncho swaying in an invisible current. She tutted softly and said, “Evee-weevy, puddin’ and pie — you did promise to be nice!”

Evelyn huffed through her nose, but she didn’t relent. “I am being polite. Your girlfriend is playing word-games with me.”

Lozzie let out a giggle-snort, covering her mouth with a flap of poncho. “Girlfriend? Janny, did you hear that? We’re girlfriends now!”

Jan had eyes only for Evee. “Miss Saye, I assure you, it is my intent to honest and—”

Evelyn hissed with venomous sarcasm: “Intent.”

Evee jabbed her free hand toward the table, indicating the row of photographs she had laid out earlier; she had selected a wide range of our clandestine snaps of Edward Lilburne’s house. By now we had every conceivable angle mapped out, including several photographs of the roof, taken from above. Apparently those were the product of Zheng and Twil having an improvised climbing contest when they’d handed over stakeout duty. Zheng had won, but Twil had taken the pictures.

“You know what these are?” Evee demanded, then didn’t wait for Jan to answer. “I don’t give a fu—”

Lozzie shouted: “Fudge!”

From the doorway to the kitchen, Tenny trilled: “Fuuuuudge.”

Evelyn slammed to a stop, cheeks flushing, eyes darting to Tenny.

Tenny was firmly barred from entering the magical workshop — but not from listening.

She had crammed herself into the doorway, listening to the adults, her tentacles flattened out like she was pressed up against a pane of glass. It would have been comical if the subject of discussion wasn’t so serious.

We had decided she had a right to understand what was going on, to understand what the rest of her family was doing — but she still wasn’t allowed in here, because of the extremely dangerous magic circle at the rear of the room.

Tucked behind the table, penned in by hazard tape strung between a semi-circle of chairs, the unfinished work was inscribed on a piece of stiff cardboard. A pair of paintbrushes and a pot of black acrylic paint sat next to the circle. Only Praem was allowed back there. Evelyn didn’t even trust her own hands with that one. I had to sit so that the unfinished magic circle didn’t brush against my peripheral vision; even a hint of it was enough to make us nauseated — all of us, me and all six tentacles.

How can a tentacle feel nauseated? Don’t ask me, I just know it makes me want to go lie down in a dark room.

So we sat next to Evee, our back to the table, tentacles all tucked in tight lest we inadvertently reach halfway across the room and trigger some kind of lethal magical blow back.

Evelyn cleared her throat and tried again, this time with less swear words. We gave her arm a squeeze, too. She needed it — though she didn’t squeeze back.

“I don’t give a fig about your intent.” Evee picked up one of the photographs, one which showed the front of Edward’s hidden home, with its gravel driveways and black beams and little windows covered in metal latticework. “You look at that house and tell me you don’t see anything. You study that and tell me it’s not a sigil. And then tell me: who was VB?”

Jan wet her lips gently. “I can see the pictures perfectly well—”

“Then you know what we’re looking at,” Evelyn snapped over her, anger building once more. “You’re a mage, the same as me. Same as her.” Evelyn jerked her chin at Felicity, who was standing by the doorway, slump-shouldered and glassy-eyed. “You’re involved, whether you like it or not. Stop pretending.”

That made Jan wince. “I would really rather—”

Evelyn ground the words out through clenched teeth. “Who was VB? She is the only wild card in all this and I need to understand what I am looking at here.” Evelyn slapped the photograph back on the table, her voice rising into a shout. “I need to rule her out.”

Jan did a little sigh, dainty and precise, then pulled that false, oily smile, the con-woman smile that she’d worn when we’d first met. I could tell she wasn’t convinced.

“I assure you, you can rule her out. Move onto real strategic considerations, Miss Saye.”

“Then—”

“You think she was this Edward Lilburne person — a man, who, I am sorry to say, I will not acknowledge as Lozzie’s relative. You think she was him in disguise, or somehow connected with him. That’s what you’re thinking, Miss Saye. Call me a mind reader if you like. I’m actually just capable of basic deduction.”

“Stop Miss Sayeing, me, you—”

“You don’t trust me and you don’t trust what happened inside that dream,” Jan carried on. There was something firm and sharp hidden in the sweet precision and measured tone of her voice which made it hard to talk over her. “And while that caution is perfectly rational, even admirable, I can assure you that ‘VB’ is really none of your concern, unconnected with this … mess you people so love to make. But I don’t want to go into detail. It’s private.”

Evelyn hissed between her teeth like a venting steam engine, fixing Jan with the twin daggers of her glare. Lozzie slipped her arms over Jan’s shoulders in a protective gesture. From over on the sofa, Raine caught my eye with a silent question of her own — time to step in? We waggled a tentacle at her, feeling guilty: no, not yet, because Evee might fly apart with frustration.

Praem suddenly stepped forward, her presence looming at the edge of the gladiatorial space. She intoned, voice clear as a silver bell: “More tea.”

It was a statement, not a question. We would have more tea.

A mutter of polite thank yous and gentle declines went around the room, instantly defusing the tension. But as soon as Praem turned on her heel and clicked into the kitchen, followed by Tenny trying to be helpful, Evelyn’s eyes blazed at Jan. A gunfighter who couldn’t keep her hand off her revolver.

It was both endearing and mortifying — Evelyn was on the warpath, set and determined, and that was one of her most attractive qualities.

But she was also running herself ragged, running up steam with no rails on which to run.

And frankly, she was wrong.

But none of us had the heart to stop her.

Evee jabbed the head of her walking stick to indicate Lozzie, and said to Jan: “The only reason I am asking you politely is because of Lozzie. If it wasn’t for her, this conversation would be very different. It would be taking place in the cellar. With a blindfold. And a hammer.”

Lozzie whined, genuinely offended, “Evee!”

We tutted too. “Yes, Evee. Don’t threaten torture, what’s come over you? What—”

Evelyn would not look at me. “I will threaten whatever I like.”

Over by the doorway, July was suddenly staring directly at Evelyn.

The demon-host hadn’t moved a muscle or adjusted her stance by a single inch, but she suddenly reminded me of an owl who had just heard a mouse in motion beneath a bed of leaves. Perhaps it was all the long hours we’d spent admiring the same quality in Raine, the instant shift into readiness for violence. Or perhaps it was the time we spent with Zheng, skin-to-skin with a predator. Or perhaps it was just having more eyes.

Slowly, we spread our tentacles, snaking outward to catch July’s attention. The tall, athletic demon-host looked at us instead. She saw the threat, or the warning, or I wasn’t sure which I was actually doing. We quivered only a little under that predatory attention. We didn’t like her staring at Evee in that way.

We couldn’t blame her, though.

Evelyn was correct, technically. That wasn’t a very good kind of correct, but it was undeniable. Despite the blatant aggression and the unreasonable questioning, she had a point. We still had no idea who VB was, beyond that she was a skilled dreamer. She could have faked everything I saw and heard. She could have indeed been Edward in disguise — though that would surprise me. She could have gone to him with all our plans. She might not have been real. She might have been a demon, or something worse.

But Evelyn had concluded that she obviously knew Jan.

I’d told Jan and Lozzie all about the mysterious old lady, that first day after our shared dreams. Lozzie hadn’t recognised the description at all. Jan had pretended not to. The pretending was a little obvious. And here were the consequences.

“I am deadly serious,” Evelyn continued. “I know you have your secrets, Miss Martense.” She managed to turn Jan’s surname into a mocking hiss. “But we are about to go to war with another mage and I am lacking information.”

To my great surprise, Jan shed her mask.

With no fanfare, she sighed hard and lost the sweet little smile. Nothing changed about the exterior of her doll-body or the layers of pneuma-somatic flesh which made her look human, but she seemed by far the oldest person in the room, older than any of us, older than Felicity’s exhausted hyper-vigilance and Evelyn’s worn-down calloused exterior and Raine’s ready violence.

Suddenly, Jan was very much our senior.

“That’s not the only thing you’re lacking,” she said softly.

Evelyn lost her temper; she banged her walking stick on the floor and almost stood up. She only stopped because we anchored her so hard, dragging her back down into her chair.

“Evee, no,” we said. “Evee, Evee!”

Evelyn was spitting mad. “You— I have tried to be— you little fu—”

“No fight!” Tenny trilled.

Lozzie was biting her lower lip. Jan was staring defiantly. July was stepping forward, moving for Evee, and Felicity looked like she wanted to reach out to stop her, fingers already twisting into a worryingly unnatural shape. I raised my own tentacles, a hiss crawling up my throat to warn the demon-host off my mate.

Clap.

“Right then!” said Raine. “That’s enough of that.”

She stood up from the sofa in a rubbery roll of loose muscle, rubbing her hands together after the room-silencing clap, like a prize fighter chalking her palms. Raine had mostly stayed on the sidelines of this unwise experiment, lounging around in tank-top and pajama bottoms. But now she stepped forward, rolling her naked shoulders and letting the muscles make a wordless statement. She got in everybody’s way and grinned all around. I for one rather liked that, sighing inside with relief — and more than a little adoration. She stood tall in the middle of the workshop, all smiles and even a wink for Lozzie, but leaving no doubt that she would apply physical force to keep this situation under control.

“Right,” Raine repeated. “Let’s all just take a deep breath, hey? That means you too, squeaky,” she added for July, which earned her a tilt-headed look from the demon-host.

Evelyn huffed. “Raine, don’t get in the way. I am trying to—”

“Ah ah ah ahhhh,” went Raine. She raised one finger to silence Evee — and actually pressed it against Evelyn’s lips. “This is going really badly wrong, like stupid wrong, mutually assured destruction wrong. So, everyone is going to shut the hell up. That means you too, Evee. I love you, but shut the hell up.” She pointed at July without looking directly at her. “And everyone is gonna return to their places.”

July didn’t move. Raine kept pointing, then slowly looked round at her.

“What did I say?” Raine asked. Her tone was light and amused, but she bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to throw down.

Even after all this time, all we’d seen from her and her potential for instant, devastating violence, that look and that posture still sent a quiver of appreciation up my spine and down into my gut. Look at us like that, please, Raine.

“R-Raine,” we said. “There’s no need to—”

But Raine’s eyes found me next, amused and indulgent, but no less strict. I went quite stiff.

“Heather,” she said. “This goes for you too. All of you.” Her eyes circled us, including the tentacles. “Down, girls. Stop flaring, okay? Don’t make me tie you up.”

Lozzie giggled. Evelyn huffed. We blushed.

“Wha- what?” I stammered. “We were just— Raine, I’m sorry?”

“I know you’re not doing it on purpose, puffing yourself up and all. And with the lemons too. But cool it, okay? Relax, or I’ll make you relax. For me?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she turned back to July. “And you can back up, or I can make you sit. Your choice. Woof woof.”

I could only stare — first at Raine, then at the slice of lemon held delicately in one of our tentacles.

The worst edges of our food cravings had rounded off their sharp corners over the three days since the dreams. But the taste for lemon, soy sauce, and fish still remained. We were still eating one or two raw lemons every day, especially in moments of increased stress. This particular pair of lemons I’d been snacking on had been neatly peeled and sliced for me, by Praem; I was hardly skinning and devouring fruits in mid-air with invisible appendages anymore. But I placed the second to last slice back down on my plate regardless. Was I being rude without realising? Was I really that intimidating?

Raine had a point about the tentacle flaring. We reeled ourselves in, sheepish and mortified.

July still wasn’t moving. She said: “You don’t order me. Zheng can order me.”

Jan sighed and said, “Really, Jule? This isn’t the time for your crush.”

Raine cracked a dangerous grin. “Well, Zheng’s busy. You’re dealing with me. So unless you want me to put a boot up your backside, don’t advance on our Evee. Back off.”

“She’s threatening Jan.” July said this as a simple statement of fact, not a challenge or a complaint. Jan is threatened, therefore she protects. She didn’t move.

Jan cleared her throat. “Jule, it’s fine. Have some tea.”

“Yeah,” Raine said to July. “You’re right, Evee is being rude. Being a right bitch, actually, ‘cos she’s all wound up. But let me deal with that, okay? She’s ours, not yours.”

Evelyn huffed and muttered, “Well excuse me for trying.”

July considered this for a moment, then returned to her previous position, with her hands tucked behind the small of her back, as if standing to attention — or stowing her weapons. On the opposite side of the door frame, Felicity relaxed the odd position of her fingers, flexing the tension out of her hand muscles. I had no idea what she’d been planning, but it probably would have been messy. Raine caught Felicity’s eye and nodded — down, girl. Felicity coughed and looked away.

Finally, Raine turned on Jan.

The petite, black-haired little con-woman all but fluttered her eyelashes. “It’s quite all right,” Jan started to say. “I don’t hold anything against you or Miss Saye, I only want … to … ”

Raine smiled one of those dangerous smiles which she could fill with such dark meaning — just a small one, a boot-knife smile rather than a machete smile. Jan trailed off and swallowed, wrong-footed for the first time since she had arrived.

“Jan,” said Raine.

Jan swallowed again. “Yes?”

“Don’t make jokes about lacking body parts to somebody who uses a prosthetic leg.”

Jan froze, mouth a little ‘O’ shape. “Oh, oh, no. No! That’s not what I meant! For God’s sake! That’s not what I meant!”

Raine shrugged, grinning with deep, dark amusement. Evelyn seemed none too pleased by this particular defence of her honour. Felicity put her face in one hand. I sighed too — obviously that wasn’t what Jan had meant.

“Raine!” she was snapping. “You know that’s not what I meant! That was a low blow. My entire body is prosthetic. Head to toe. I’m the whole package deal. The last thing I’m going to be implying is a crude joke about Evelyn missing a leg!” Jan’s attention switched back to Evee, all hostility forgotten. “You know what? I apologise regardless. This is horrible now.”

Evelyn huffed too, and said: “Yes, Raine, that was more than a bit shit of you. Entirely uncalled for.”

“Quite,” we added — though somewhat tempered, because we could see exactly what Raine was pulling. Though apparently I was not the only one.

“Heeeeey,” Raine said, spreading her hands. “I call it how I see it. Just what I heard.”

Jan stood up, enraged. She didn’t flush, but looked pale with anger. Lozzie rose with her, making an ineffectual effort to get her to sit back down. She pursed her lips and frowned a mighty little frown at Raine, punctuating her words with jabs of a small finger.

“I was not implying anything about Evelyn’s body,” Jan said, tight and curt. “And you know it. Don’t think I’m blind to what’s going on here, or how much of a coward you’re being.”

Raine was so confident of her victory that she mimed a fishing rod. She rocked her body backward, winding an imaginary reel with one hand. Evee frowned at her, utterly perplexed. Felicity just blinked. Lozzie made a pouty face. I sighed.

“Coward?” Raine echoed, casual and unoffended.

“Yes!” Jan said. “You are acting like a coward. You should have had this conversation with her yourself, or three days ago. You clearly—”

“But—” Raine strained against her imaginary fishing rod. Jan was so incensed by the topic that she wasn’t even paying proper attention to the gestures. “What were you implying then? If not Evee’s missing leg, then—”

“I am implying she is a terrible strategist and a worse organiser!” Jan snapped. “And I think you know that, too! I think you know bloody well that this entire thing is a displacement activity because you people—” She whirled, pointing both fingers at Evee. “—specifically you, are careening toward disaster. You lot are going to get yourselves killed!”

The room rang with surprised silence. Jan stood there, panting, flushing deeply in the face. Raine hauled her imaginary catch into the air and caught it in one hand, then winked at me. I sighed, but I couldn’t help but smile at how incredibly silly that all was.

And Evelyn was scowling at Jan in an entirely new kind of way. “Excuse me?” she said, dark as coal dust.

Jan cleared her throat. “You heard me.”

Praem chose that exact moment to sweep back into the room with a tray full of fresh, steaming tea, in a variety of mugs. Tenny bobbed to the doorway after her, trilling out: “Disaster!”

A very awkward moment unfolded as Praem went around the room, passing out fresh mugs of tea and collecting up the empty ones. Raine thanked her with a wink. Felicity shuffled with great discomfort. I nodded a thank you as well, screaming inside with silent relief. Jan and Raine between them had finally said what I couldn’t.

Evelyn simmered just below an angry boil. Jan didn’t sit back down. Her exterior mask was gone. She looked weary but resigned.

We cleared our throat. “Um, excuse me, everybody. I want to make a suggestion. Tempers have run very high, so perhaps it would be better if we took a break. Perhaps Jan and Evee can talk in more privacy, perhaps … um, yes, Jan?”

Jan was staring at me with a look I’d not seen on her face before, an expression which demanded my attention — because it was all similar to Evelyn herself.

Jan said, “Why am I not surprised? You’re half the problem, Heather.”

“ … excuse me?”

“We’re not breaking this meeting up now. Heather, I can only imagine what you’ve been going through, what you’ve had to adjust to — but you people have stalled long enough. Lozzie informed me you lot haven’t made a real move in three whole days.”

Evelyn sat up straighter, frowning at Lozzie, who was still draped over Jan’s shoulders like a living blanket. “Lozzie, is this true? You were meant to invite Jan, that was all.”

Lozzie pulled the most impish little smile, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her bottom lip. “Oh nooooo, whoops!”

Jan said, “Did you really think I responded to your summons just to get interrogated?”

Then, in a total one-eighty of her attitude, Jan promptly buried her face in both hands. She let out a low moan of deep frustration. Lozzie hugged her around the shoulders, trying her best, but whatever Jan was in, she was in deep.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said into her hands. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this. Why? Why me? Am I really doing this?”

July spoke up, voice clipped and hard: “You were born for this.”

Jan raised her face from her hands to scowl at July. “I will sew your lips shut, so help me God.”

“No you won’t.”

Jan started laughing — or at least she tried to. The noise was halfway to a pitiful sob, though her blue-marble eyes were dry as bone. “Oh, I should not be doing this, I should not be doing any of this. I should be getting out of town. I should be running for the hills. Knowing what you lot are up to is bad enough. Being on the periphery is worse. But this is real involvement. God! I’m going to die.”

Lozzie peeked over Jan’s shoulder, easing her face forward until Jan could not ignore her. “No, Janny,” she crooned. “He’s gonna die.”

Jan froze, staring at Lozzie’s mischievous little look with a combination of muted horror and deep, gut-clenching admiration.

It was the same way I looked at Raine.

Evelyn cleared her throat, breaking the spell. “This is an awful lot of theatrical nonsense when you could simply explain what you meant.”

Jan gathered herself and focused on Evee again. “I already said it. This is a displacement activity.”

“What is?” Evelyn demanded. “Explain.”

“This!” She gestured around, at all of us, at the room, at me, at Felicity, even at Tenny. “You’re groping for anything you can find, at the most unimportant of straws, when your actual target is right in front of you.” She pointed at the photographs on the table. Evelyn opened her mouth to counter, but Jan rushed on, roused by true anger — and perhaps, we realised, by more than a flash of professional interest, of the master driven to irritation by the poor student. “The identity of ‘VB’—” Jan mimed a very exasperated pair of air quotes around the initials “—clearly doesn’t matter in comparison with your complete lack of strategy. You want to know who she was? Well, her real initials are not VB. I’m pretty sure she lifted that from a book, to avoid giving Heather her real name. Very sensible too, I might add.” Jan huffed. “She’s none of your concern. She’s somebody I used to know. And from what Heather said about the dream, she turned up because I was there. A bloody mage war is the last thing she would ever be interested in. So! Miss Saye. Evelyn. Evee. Put her out of your mind, and accept you need some help with your actual strategy.”

Evelyn was still frowning, but with significantly less anger. She just said, “I’m perfectly capable of determining our strategy—”

“You’re clearly not!” Jan shouted, hands in the air, shrill with exasperation. Lozzie hung on her shoulders, covering her own mouth with a flap of poncho — was Lozzie giggling? Jan went on. “What have you even been doing for the last three days? Hmm? What is all this, really?” She gestured at the photos again. “Staking out a mage? His atelier is right there. You’ve had three days. What are you doing?”

Evelyn pursed her lips. “There are preparations to be made.”

“Oh, yes,” Jan said, dripping sarcasm. She pointed over her shoulder — at the circle held behind hazard tape. “Like that? That — is terrifying. I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing. Does everybody else know what you’re building in a corner of the house they all sleep in every night? Does Heather, here, does she know? Does Praem, your daughter? Does Lozzie?” Jan gestured at Lozzie’s face peering over her shoulder. “By the way, I’m inviting Lozzie and Tenny to both come stay with me and July in our hotel room, until you get rid of that thing.” She jabbed another finger at the circle.

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. “It’s necessary.”

“Yes,” Jan said, suddenly cold. “I’ve heard that before.”

Raine cleared her throat. “Wait a sec, I don’t know what that—”

Jan interrupted, tight and cold, “Go on then. Enlighten me. What’s it necessary for? We’re all on the same side here. There’s no prying eyes or listening devices. Would you like me to strip off so you can check me for a wire?”

“Jan,” we said delicately.

“Oooh,” went Lozzie. Jan, to her credit, blushed only a tiny bit.

Evelyn huffed and shot a glance at Tenny, who was still standing in the doorway, tentacles playing across the frame. She swallowed, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure … ”

“Tenny sleeps here too,” Jan said. “Tell us what the circle does, Evee.”

Evelyn glared at Jan, but her eyes lacked venom. Somewhere along the course of this conversation, she and Jan had switched roles. Jan had drawn out Evee’s fangs, left her floundering in the mud, shamed. “You know full well what—”

“Tell everyone,” Jan repeated.

Evelyn stared at a point on the floor for a long, long moment. We murmured, “It’s okay, Evee. We won’t judge you. Please.”

That helped, a little. Evelyn didn’t look up from the floor, but she said, slowly and awkwardly. “It’s straight from Impia Methodologia. And it is insulated from this building. It won’t complete without being applied to a surface, it’s perfectly safe, it—”

“What does it do?” Jan pressed, with a little sigh.

Evelyn raised her eyes at last. “Asphyxiation. Room by room. Like a carbon monoxide leak.”

“If it goes right,” Jan said. “If it goes wrong—”

“It won’t go wrong.”

“I’ve seen it go wrong, Evelyn Saye.”

“Ahhhhh,” went Raine. “Right. Too dangerous, yeah.” She raised her eyebrows at Felicity — but Felicity looked away, ashamed by her involvement in all this.

I felt — numb. Of course Evee was building something lethal. What other option did we have? But to build it right inside the house, that felt somehow rash.

“So,” Jan went on. “What is your actual plan, here? What’s your strategy? You’ve built a nasty weapon. What are you going to do with it? Do you have a plan for approaching this mage’s house? What if he has guards? What if he has worse? Come on, Evelyn. Share.”

Evee took a deep breath — and deflated in my grip. She didn’t answer.

“Thought so,” said Jan. “God, I hate it when people wing things like this. Rather than facing up to the fact that your strategy is terrible, you have chosen to chase loose ends by harassing me about my past. You are burnt out, Evelyn Saye. You are a cinder, a crisp on the floor. You are stalling and procrastinating. You are not thinking straight, you are making terrible strategic decisions. And yes, that’s not your fault, it’s not your fault you’re so distracted—”

We saw, from the vantage point of three tentacles, Evelyn’s eyes flicker so minutely — toward us. She arrested the motion before the glance could complete. But we knew what it meant.

Jan was carrying on, “—but unless you admit it to yourself, you’re going to lose.”

Raine raised hand. “Hey, Jan take a sec to—”

Jan jabbed a finger at Raine. “You can shut up. You started this. You dragged me into this, so you can shut your mouth.” Raine, grinning, put her hands up. Jan moved quickly onto Felicity, which we hadn’t expected. “And you — look, I’ve barely met you, I don’t want to know what your deal is, but you’re clearly incapable of standing up to Evelyn and telling her when she’s going wrong. You’re just going along with all this because you’re … well, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

Felicity stared, dead-eyed with her one good orb. “I’ve fought other mages before.”

“Alone?” Jan asked, then pointed at Evee. “Or with her?”

Felicity hesitated. “Alone.”

“Well, there’s your problem.”

Felicity sighed, “Thanks. Sure.”

“You,” Jan pointed at Praem, then paused and cleared her throat. “Well, good job.”

“Good job,” said Praem. “I am good.”

I foolishly said: “What about me? Are we a problem, too?”

Jan turned a deeply tired gaze on us. “You’re a problem, Heather, yes. You’re too busy inside your mind to even recognise what’s happening. You need a week off — a month off, a year off. But you’re here and you’re involved. So pay attention.”

We swallowed, feeling guilty.

Evelyn sighed and said, “Have you quite finished?”

“No!” Jan said. “No, I’m barely even getting warmed up. Oh, I cannot believe I’m doing this. I cannot believe I am getting involved in another bloody mage squabble.” Jan turned her head and looked at Lozzie for a second, a fleeting moment of eye contact during which entire volumes passed between them. Lozzie chewed on her lip, almost embarrassed. Jan shook her head slowly, then muttered: “Je n'ai pas été impliquée depuis Caen.”

Apparently Lozzie did not understand French any better than I did, because she tilted her head like a confused puppy.

But July did. She repeated her earlier words: “You were born for this.”

Jan sighed and turned back to the rest of us. “No, I wasn’t. I was born for complicated romance, chocolate ice cream, and expensive clothes. But here I am, involved in another mage war, whether I like it or not. Wonderful.”

Evelyn looked so shrunken in her chair when she spoke up. I wanted to wrap her in our tentacles, but I suspected the one around her arm was already too much. “You don’t have to be involved, Martense. I’m not asking you to be. You’ve made your point. I’m … ” Evelyn gritted her teeth around a sour taste. “I’m making a real pig’s ear of this situation, yes, I know, but I have my … reasons, and … ”

Jan waited for Evee to trail off, though I doubted Evelyn’s discomfort had anything to do with Jan’s unimpressed look. Jan said, “Clearly I do need to be involved. You need an outsider — ha! Pardon the pun, bloody hell — an outside, expert opinion. A consultant. My fee is ninety pounds an hour.”

“Done,” said Evee.

Everyone did a double-take at Evee, save for Praem. Even Raine and Felicity were a little surprised. Even Tenny — who was not fully privy to the depths of Evelyn’s stubborn nature and habitual paranoia — trilled in surprise.

“Evee?” we murmured, squeezing her hand in one tentacle. She wouldn’t look at me.

Praem intoned softly: “A fair fare.”

Jan huffed. “Yes, well, I’m not some McKinsey ghoul.” That went completely over my head, but Raine snorted. “That was a joke, by the way. The fee part, not everything else. You people are careening toward disaster — a big one — because you don’t have a plan and you’re all burnt out and exhausted.””

Felicity said: “Evelyn, are you sure about this?”

I added, “Yes. Evee, this isn’t like you. And you, Jan, you—”

“She’s right,” Evelyn snapped. She stared straight at Jan, her hostility burnt down to embers and capped over with the cold stone of practical necessity. “Myself, Felicity, and Kimberly, between us we can work magical wonders. But I am … emotionally compromised.”

Jan nodded. She visibly relaxed, as if the worst was over. “I’m glad you acknowledge it.” She pointed between us — between me and Evee. “You two need to work out whatever is going on between you, and then—”

Evelyn interrupted: “It’s not that.”

Evelyn straightened, spine once again stiffened by a rod of iron. She put on a good show, but it was only that — a show. Through the tentacle we had wrapped around her arm, we could feel her shaking.

“I am trying to avoid a magical duel,” she said. “I’ve been in one before. I have no desire to experience another. I do not want to fight this man face to face.”

Jan’s expression changed, softening ever so slightly. “Ah. You … survived. I see.”

“Lacking the necessary resources to organise a truck bomb and drive it into that house, I have resorted to the next-best hands off measure I could think of.” Evee held her chin high. “But you are correct. My judgement is compromised. What are your suggestions, consultant?”

Jan went a little stiff. Her own fires had died down too, now that she’d had a good rant. “Right now?”

Evelyn nodded. “If you expect your fee, I expect you to work. You are also correct that we have wasted time. Yes, I would like to start right away.”

Jan glanced back at Lozzie, who was still hanging over her shoulders, her chin on Jan’s collarbone. Lozzie just raised her eyebrows, perfectly relaxed, as if we hadn’t just conscripted her girlfriend of barely a few weeks.

“The … the fee was a joke,” Jan said. “I’m not accepting payment. I … I don’t … Lozzie, do you really want to be here for this?”

“Mmhmm!” Lozzie nodded. “We’re gonna win!”

Evelyn cleared her throat. “I will pay you regardless. We’re already going to pay you for Maisie’s new body. Now, consultant, what do you suggest we do?”

Jan sighed a big sigh, put her hands on her hips, and glanced around the room at everybody present. “Look, you need to be having a strategy meeting. A real one.” Jan waited a beat, then made a come-on-then gesture with one hand. “So? Strategy meeting? Let’s do it, right now, before I completely lose my nerve and run for the hills.”

Raine clicked her fingers and pointed double finger-guns at nobody in particular. “You got it.”

Praem intoned in agreement, “Strategy meeting. For meeting strategies.”

Tenny joined in: “Strategyyyyy.”

Felicity nodded too. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m with you on this. Let’s do it.”

July just watched in silence, happy to go along with her mage.

I felt like an additional wheel on an already over-laden lorry. Was I really needed for this? Our tentacles bunched and coiled, like a squid trying to shrink itself so as to squeeze through a gap in the rocks. Perhaps we should retreat to the rear of the room and stay silent, perhaps our own internal issues were too much of a distraction. My cheeks burned with a slow, private shame. Jan was right, I’d been so wrapped up in myself when I should have been taking care of Evee. We all wanted to hug her and pull her out of the room, to do — something I couldn’t put words to.

But Jan must have seen my desire to retreat. She pointed at me suddenly. “Ah, you’re not going anywhere, squiddy. You stay right there. Your friends need you.”

“I-I’m sorry? I don’t see how. I found the house, but I’m sorry for … delaying us … ”

Jan’s eyes glinted like twin windows on a deep-sea lava flow. “And this isn’t everyone, I know this isn’t everyone. I want everybody involved, here.” She pointed at the ground with both index fingers. “We’re not having this conversation twice, or three times. We are having an all-hands strategy meeting, with no surprises for later, no lingering objections, no unanswered questions. Besides, if I have to do this twice I’m going to have a coronary event.” She rubbed her chest. Lozzie joined in.

“Fair point,” said Raine, nodding sagely. “We should call Twil and Zheng in.”

Evelyn sighed. “They’re watching Edward’s house. No, we can call one of them back, not both. Somebody needs to keep eyes on that place.”

“I said everyone,” Jan announced. “Get everyone.”

“Everyone?” Lozzie chirped over her shoulder.

Tenny echoed that too, trilling softly: “Everyoooooone-uh.”

“Everyone! Yes!” Jan repeated. “I don’t care about your stakeout. It’s a waste of time and energy. Call them both back. Call them both here. And this … Church. God I don’t want to think about that. Can we get one of them in here, too? A representative?”

Evelyn answered that. “Twil can serve as that.”

We cleared our throat. “Evee, no. Twil isn’t … I mean … if we’re planning a move, Cringe-dog should be informed.”

Jan wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, ‘Cringe-dog’?”

Evelyn sighed and waved a hand. “Better that you don’t know. We could see if Miss Amanda Hopton is available?”

“On it,” said Raine. She made for the kitchen, to fetch her phone — then turned at the last moment. “Wait, am I calling Nicky, too? She’ll want in. Maybe.”

Jan blanched. “The police officer? Absolutely not!”

“Ex-copper,” Raine corrected. “She’s a P.I. now. Got connections though.”

Jan chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Can she be trusted?”

I spoke, much to my own surprise: “Absolutely. Nicole has helped us before. I trust her.”

Jan sighed and shook her head. “All right. Her too.” Raine nodded, then slipped past Tenny and into the kitchen. Jan added: “But if we all get arrested, I don’t know any of you. Right. Now what about your third mage?” Jan clicked her fingers. “The … what’s her name?”

“Kimberly,” said Felicity. “She’s at work.”

Jan squinted. “Work?”

I cleared my throat. “Kimberly has a normal, regular job. Unlike most of us here she’s neither a student, nor … ” We smiled awkwardly, letting the silence speak for itself. Two tentacles bobbed up and down in a silent pantomime of laughter.

Jan sighed and rolled her eyes. “See, that is exactly what I’m talking about. A distracted mage will not win this kind of contest.”

Felicity said: “She’ll be back at about half five. So, not too long. We should wait for her.”

“Fine,” Jan snapped. “God, this is far too many mages in one place, it cannot be safe. I’m half expecting the universe itself to punish us for this hubris.” Jan’s eyes flickered to Tenny, who was still filling the doorway to the kitchen, fluttering her silken black tentacles over an imaginary barrier of permission. Jan suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable. “Is, um … is Tenny … ?”

Lozzie piped up: “Tenn-Tenns is allowed to listen too.”

“Yah!” Tenny trilled.

Evelyn said, slowly and thoughtfully: “A child she may be, but no child should be excluded from deliberations over the fate of her family. Tenny is old enough to understand what we’re doing. Isn’t that right, Tenny?”

Tenny bit her lips together, as if thinking very carefully. “Yaaah.”

We said, “If we have to discuss grisly things, Tenny, we might have to ask you to go upstairs.”

Lozzie pouted at me, “She’s not going alone!”

Jan held up a hand. “Before I lose my nerve — when I said everyone, I meant everyone. Even the terrifying one I’m trying not to think about.”

And with that, black and yellow stepped from the shadows.

Seven-Shades-of-Suspicious-Stealth ghosted into the room from a dark corner, in her yellow princess mask, hand-in-hand with a figure too slender and slight to be a human being, a figure wrapped in lace from head to toe, faceless behind a matching black lace veil.

“Speak of the devil,” said Sevens, “and she will appear.”

Aym went sreeeetch, like a single nail down a chalkboard.

Jan all but jumped out of her skin. Lozzie did a half-decent job of calming her, mostly with physical embrace and a few muffled whispers in Jan’s ear. As Jan panted and stared, we wound one of our tentacles out across the open space and reached for Sevens’ free hand. The Yellow Daughter took it without hesitation, Aym in one, me in the other.

Evelyn drawled, “Was the dramatic entrance really necessary?”

“Always,” said Sevens.

Aym cackled like a bucket of live crabs. “The look on your face, doll-bitch!”

Lozzie finished whispering in Jan’s ear. Jan swallowed again, then said, “You … you are also the little one with the black hair and red eyes, correct?”

Seven-Shades nodded once, polite and graceful. “At your service, general.”

Jan winced, hard, as if struck across the cheek. Aym, little more than a scrap of black lace, giggled.

“Don’t call me that,” Jan said. “Look, I don’t want to know what either of you are.”

Tenny trilled: “Friends!”

Praem said, “Good girls, if they know what is good for them.”

Aym shivered, as if she’d been about to deliver some insult and had to slam her mouth shut at the last moment. But Sevens simply nodded again. “Don’t ask me and I will not tell you.”

Jan snorted. “How primitive. One question, for the pair of you — how far do your powers extend? Can you solve this by just plucking the damned book from the mage, or killing him for us?”

Aym screeched, “Get me inside the house and I’ll have him weeping for his childhood bedroom.”

Sevens straightened up. “No, general. I am weaker than I seem, but happier this way. Though … attach me to my beloved—” she nodded toward me “—and we may make miracles together, if we are pressed against the fulcrum.”

Jan let out a shaky breath. “I’ll take that as a no.” She turned back to Evelyn. “Does that account for everybody?”

“Badger,” we said. “Sarika? Neither of them are in any state to help, though.”

Jan shook her head. “No, leave the ex-cultists out of this. Anybody else?”

Evelyn took a slow breath. We squeezed her arm. She glanced at us, just once. “No,” she said. “Nobody else. That’s us.”

“Good,” said Jan. “Time for a real strategy meeting. I hope to God I don’t end up regretting this.”

Lozzie chirped over her shoulder: “You won’t!”

“We’ll do our best to make sure you don’t,” somebody said. “Our best.”

A moment later, I realised it was me who had spoken.

Our best — without dissolving into a disaster. But no plan survives contact with the enemy, as Raine had taught me all too well. The answer was to have as little contact as possible. Because mistakes meant friends getting hurt. Mistakes meant a duel with a mage. Or worse.

Our best. Our best. That could only mean one thing.

As far as we were concerned, we didn’t need the strategy meeting at all. We knew exactly what to do. We were just scared.

Perhaps Jan would suggest it for us. At least then the burden would be shared.