Standing closer to her than he ever had, he realized that she was a lot older than he had always thought—a good five years older than him, at least. Her thin, pinched visage looked even more stricken than usual. Her hair flew about her face and her eyes burned bright. She was holding a finger to her lips. Albert felt the breath catch in his throat, a reflex action that had little to do with the poignancy of the reunion. On the other hand, it had rather a lot to do with the object she held in her other hand—what could best be described an unnecessarily large gun—pointing straight at him.

For a long, interminable moment, they all stared at each other wordlessly. Then, predictably, Theo broke the silence. ‘Jus’ try an’ shoot me,’ she said scornfully. ‘You know who I am?’

Sorrow turned to Theo, keeping the gun trained unwaveringly on Albert. ‘Get inside,’ she said. ‘I’ll handle this.’

She was talking to Theo, but it was Albert who started. Almost. He’d often imagined what her voice would sound like, assigning to it all the attributes of all the voices he’d found most appealing over the course of his life, but now that he was confronted with the real thing, he realized that it was nothing like any of them. It was harsh, cold and very far from appealing. It had no effect on Theo, though. She still stood there glaring at Sorrow, as if it was she who held the gun and not the other way around.

‘Handle what?’ she said, the haughtiness still ringing in her voice. ‘’E’s with me!’

‘Get inside,’ said Sorrow. ‘Now.’

‘Either we both come in, or neither of us does, all right?’

‘Now.’

Theo was still opening her mouth to retort when a hand grabbed her, yanking her into the apartment. A second later, Sorrow stepped forward, keeping the gun trained on Albert, as she patted him down quickly. ‘Where is your communicator?’

‘I left it behind.’

She fixed him with a piercing look, and then gestured with the gun for him to come in, stepping back to give him space. When he had, she shut the door behind him and turned, still pointing the gun at him. He felt Theo push past him, standing between him and the gun, hands on her hips. ‘I’m—’

‘I know who you are. We’ve been looking for you.’

‘So yer are her, right? Yer June.’

‘I am.’

June. So now he knew. So what, he thought. The way he saw it, it mattered little whether he said ‘June shot me’ or ‘She shot me’ when he was asked why he’d reported for duty at the pearly gates out of turn.