I made a reflexive gesture toward the breast pocket of my T-shirt; then I remembered I hadn’t put my smokes in it before I tore out of the apartment. My lighter was in my jeans pocket, but my cigarettes were on the windowsill at home. I made a little disgusted noise.

Hawthorn missed neither the gesture nor the sound. He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his inside breast pocket, shook one out for himself, and held out the pack.

“Herbal?”

He nodded. “Take a few to tide you over.”

“Captain—is there an elven equivalent for a saint?” I took two, and put the extra in my T-shirt pocket.

Hawthorn smiled and lit for both of us. “I don’t think so, but I understand the sentiment. You say you know where this bike is now?”

“Mmm. Thataway,” I told him, with a swing of my head.

“It would help if you could be more specific.” He sounded a little chilly, and I realized he thought I was withholding information.

“I can’t be more specific. I only know direction, not location. I have to go out in person and find the sucker. If somebody here can go with me and do cop things when we get there, there might be something useful in it.”

Hawthorn sat with his long, bony chin on his hand, looking thoughtful. “There might, indeed,” he said at last. “Unfortunately, Officer Saquash can’t leave the dispatch desk, as I’m sure he told you. And I’d need approval to act outside my jurisdiction. I can get it, but it will take a few hours.”

“The bike should keep. And even if somebody does move it between now and then, I’ll be able to follow it.”

“Well,” Hawthorn said. He seemed impressed. “Well. Is this feeling of yours something that wears off? Can you wait a little?”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose again, in reflex. “It wears off eventually, but eventually isn’t for a while yet. In the meantime it’s sort of uncomfortable. If you happen to have two aspirin and a pint of dark beer it would help a lot.”

“Won’t that—” He seemed to scramble for a phrase. “—make the feeling go away faster?”

“Won’t matter if it does. I’ll just find the bike again.”

The door at the back of the room swung open to let Saquash in. He was balancing a bowl and a cup, both giving off steam. When he saw Hawthorn he stopped and stared. “Hullo, Captain. Didn’t know you were still here.”

“I was working too hard to make any noise, I’m afraid. What’s that you’ve got?”

Saquash set his load down in front of me. “Food for the kid. He was starting to look fuzzy around the edges.”