Mary was not bothered by the deluge—she would have someone clean it later. What mattered was the news the Sniffer brought back with him. And what news it was! “How marvelous! How absolutely marvelous!” she said after he told her what he had learned. It was exactly the information she needed. She now knew not only Nick’s location, but the size of his vapor, and where he was going. And as for this “Ripper” he seemed to have acquired, how much damage could she do, really? The ripper was just one against a thousand.

Mary stood up, her plan already taking shape in her mind. She would see Nick again, and she would see him soon … but it would be on her terms.

“Well, if the Chocolate Ogre has gone to Memphis to find Allie the Outcast, I think we should meet him there. A thousand of ours—against four hundred of his!”

Milos just stood there, a little shell-shocked by the sudden shift of direction. It was the first time she noticed he held a bottle of … was that champagne?

Speedo, as always, was wary. “You had a thousand last time … and you know what happened.”

The memory only made Mary more determined. “Last time he went behind my back. So this time, we’ll sneak behind his!”

“There’s one more thing,” the Sniffer said. “I smelled something … nasty … that was also moving toward Memphis. I’m not sure what it was, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was the McGill.”

It caught Mary off guard. She felt her afterglow sputter liked a burner low on gas. She hoped no one saw it. “The McGill no longer exists,” she proclaimed. “In fact, he never did. Speedo! Make a note that I should point out the nonexistence of the McGill in my next book.”

“Yes, Miss Mary.”

And then she turned to Milos. He still stood there dripping with the Sniffer’s unpleasantness. Even so, she found she wanted to embrace him, but restrained herself. “Milos, I asked you to be patient, and now your patience will be rewarded.” Then she went to her bookshelf. “We will defeat the Ogre in Memphis, and from there we will begin our crusade to unite the East and the West.” Mary ran her finger over the book spines, then pulled out the heavy volume on Civil Engineering.

Milos was amused. “Don’t tell me—you wish me to build a bridge in your honor!”

“Not exactly.” She held it out to him. “I want you to study this—because in this book are the blueprints for every bridge that crosses the Mississippi River.”

“Yes, but these are all living-world bridges,” Milos pointed out. “They are of no use to us.”

Mary put the book firmly into his hands. “Come now, Milos,” she said with a smile that, on anyone else but Mary Hightower, might be called wicked, “I think you’re much smarter than that.”