“Right.” I was an excellent target in my current condition, and I couldn’t afford to turn down anything that might help. Squeezing my eyes shut, I chugged the contents of the cup.

It didn’t taste as bad as it looked. It tasted worse. Stars exploded behind my eyes as the mug slipped out of my hands to shatter on the floor. For a moment, I was halfway convinced that I’d been poisoned; then my headache withdrew, so abruptly that it left me dizzy. The ache in my wrist and hand seemed to worsen, filling the vacuum, but that was the sort of pain I could deal with. I’m used to it.

I opened my eyes. The world snapped obligingly into focus. “What was in that stuff?”

“Pennyroyal, cowslips, and wisteria, mostly,” Elliot said. “Are you all right?”

“No, but I’m feeling better.” Sometimes I hate our inability to thank each other. Tap-dancing around the phrase gets old, especially when I’m tired.

“Good,” said Tybalt, removing his arm.

I leaned back on my good hand, taking a breath. I still felt queasy, but it was nowhere near as bad. Straightening, I turned to Alex. He looked surprisingly good for someone that had recently been dead.

“We need to talk,” I said.

He nodded, slowly. “I think you’re right. Was I really . . . ?”

“As a doornail. How are you feeling?”

Alex shuddered, saying, “I don’t know. It feels like part of me is missing.”

“Part of you is missing, Alex.” I shook my head. “I don’t think Terrie’s coming back.” He looked stricken. I pushed on anyway, asking, “Do you remember anything about what happened?” You’d better, because I can’t do that again, I added, silently.

Alex licked his lips, looking between me and Elliot before he said, “I don’t usually remember what happens to Terrie.”

“But this time you do?”

“A . . . a little bit.” He grimaced. “She felt awful when you left. So she went for a walk.”

“Did she see anyone?”

“Well, yeah.” He sounded slightly surprised. “April. She said Gordan wanted me. Wanted Terrie.”

“So Terrie followed her?” I asked. I felt Tybalt stiffen beside me.

Alex hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Elliot. April is the interoffice pager, right? That’s her job?”

“Yes, exactly,” said Elliot, starting to look as uncomfortable as I felt. He was connecting the lines. I could see it in his eyes.

“So all of you, you just follow her whenever she asks you to.”

“Well . . . yes.”

“I see.” At least I thought I did, and I didn’t like what I was looking at. Maybe April couldn’t have been the one to kill Peter . . . but nothing said Gordan had to be working alone. “Where did she take Terrie?”

“The generator room.” Alex paused, expression twisting. “Where Peter died.”

“Then what happened?”