By Monday night, Tuesday at the latest, the police would figure out Molly was missing. By then they should have also made connections between Molly and Nina Rodriguez.

That week there should be two arson reports to review. The autopsies on Austin and Nina might be done by Wednesday. He was not convinced the verdict in the autopsies would matter to anybody except Molly. For her sake, he hoped the coroner could confirm she hadn’t caused Austin’s death.

Then there were those who would be searching for Molly in order to silence her. Molly had felt certain Russell had dictated Austin’s actions, and Maria had seen a link between the Seychelles file and their quarry. So it was logical to see a potential connection between Russell Sherman, the Seychelles file, and their quarry as well.

Sherman had wanted so badly to make friends and begin exerting influence over Josiah on the night of Hell Party. Now Josiah was inclined to let Sherman catch his prey.

The next morning he rose at five. After meditating and an intense tai chi session that had sweat pouring down the hollow of his back, he showered and ate, and checked and replied to coven email.

Then, even though scanning the city for sparks of magic was one of Anson’s duties, he did his own search as well. Every day he looked for threats or anomalies. Molly was such a statistical outlier, he didn’t expect to find any disturbance of her caliber again.

No, if his quarry made a slip, it would be something subtle and possibly hard to define, so he quietened his mind and listened carefully. Beyond the robust roar of the city waking to a new workweek, he felt nothing. A very minor magic spark here and there, but that was all.

In fact, that was the most remarkable thing about Atlanta—the lack of a major magical presences. Looking out his window at the sunlit city, Josiah smiled. He didn’t buy that kind of innocence for anything.

He pictured the face his quarry had worn over a hundred years ago, in a different place and a different life. But faces could be changed with plastic surgery. Josiah had altered his features, and so had Maria.

You’re here, he thought. You’re either in the city itself, or you’re living somewhere nearby. And you’ve killed off any other major Powers that might have been here, or you’ve imprisoned them and are draining them to extend your own life, just like you did to me.

Maybe you’re a sycophant, or maybe you’re the governor. You might be a prison warden. That could have its uses. Maybe you’re masquerading as a senator. You would like the taste of political power in Washington.