There was a feast of crossed food—not all that much to eat, for even in Chicago edible pickings were slim, but it was the idea that counted, and everyone was in good spirits— even the Chicago kids, who, for once, had reason to cheer rather than to despair.

Mary allowed her children to mingle with the Chicago Afterlights, knowing that at the end of the celebration they would happily return to the comfort and routine of the Hindenburg.

Pugsy’s three henchmen now treated Mary with the utmost respect, and would attempt to stand behind her and fold their arms as they did for Pugsy. Mary would have none of it. She didn’t need bodyguards.

“Go practice your intimidation elsewhere,” she told them.

“Of course, Miss Mary,” they would obsequiously reply, as if being irritatingly polite would win her favor.

The skinjacking girl was a different matter. She moved in Pugsy’s inner circle, but seemed immune to his rules. In fact, Mary noticed that Pugsy rarely ordered her to do anything, probably for fear that she would say “no.” The girl was like a cat, doing as she pleased, knowing she could get away with it.

It was toward the end of the celebration that she sidled up to Mary, to engage her in conversation for the first time.

“It took only two revolutions of the wheel for you to get Pugsy in your pocket,” she said. “You must be a witch after all.”

“I could say the same about you,” said Mary. “You certainly look the part.”

The skinjacker fluffed her tangled hair, but not a single nettle fell from it. “Didn’t you write ‘It’s patently wrong to hold an Afterlight responsible for the circumstance of their demise, and one should never make fun of unfortunate clothing and unexpected accessories’?”

Mary was not pleased to have her own words used against her, but the skinjacker was right. Mary was breaking one of her own rules of etiquette. She took a moment to compose herself. “I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot,” Mary said. “You know who I am, but I’m afraid we’ve never been properly introduced. May I ask your name?”

“I’m Jill,” she said. “My friends call me Jackin’ Jill.”

“Well, Jill,” said Mary, “I suspect things will be changing around here. I sincerely hope you do well with change.”

Jackin’ Jill nodded, but said nothing. Even so, Mary felt that they were both on better ground than when they started. Of course it didn’t change her opinion of skinjackers, but if there was to be a shining new world order, everyone would have a part to play.