“But how—” Letitia cuts me off by shoving her phone in my face. There’s Sastre in the background of someone’s selfie. And another. And another. And another. Letitia scrolls her finger, zipping through photo after photo. She’s shot from multiple angles in dim light and bright. Photobombing selfie after selfie as she makes her way toward her target.

Thank fuck for Millennials.

I already know that she did it. It was that last photo in the folder, the one taken at the border crossing. She had that taken for my benefit, because I’m the only one who’d know what it meant. Standing there, defiant, looking into the camera, smoking a cigarette.

Which she had lit with a battered Zippo inlaid with an elaborate jade and turquoise pattern on its side. I know that lighter. It’s the one Quetzalcoatl gave me to burn down Mictlan. The lighter holding Xiuhtecuhtli’s fire.

“The girl she shot and burned,” I say. I think back to the photos. Most looked to be in houses, or on sidewalks, but only one looked like it happened in a warehouse. Takes me a second to remember the name. “Amanda Werther, right? What’s her relation?”

“Attila Werther’s granddaughter,” Chu says.

“Wait a second. I don’t get it. If there’s all this photo evidence, why the fuck does Werther think I killed his granddaughter? And everybody else?”

“First of all, he doesn’t. Not about his granddaughter,” Peter says. “He’s seen these selfies. He knows it was a woman. He just hasn’t made a connection to the rest of the murders, yet. Second, he hasn’t seen the rest of the file. We’re part of the Cleanup Crew. It was easy to copy photos off phones and the internet and wipe them clean.”

“We wanted to isolate this and find the murderer before Werther and the big families got involved,” Chu says. “There would have been a bloodbath. The last thing we need are mages trying to kill each other in the streets of Los Angeles.”

“Yeah, because that never happens,” I say.

“Look,” Letitia says. “We didn’t make the connection at first. Everybody figured it was a rivalry, and as far as the Werthers and anyone outside this room knows, it was. Nobody thinks you did that one.”

“But they think I did all the rest? Then give them all this and get them the fuck off my back.”

“We can’t do that,” Chu says. “If we do, then whatever plan she’s got either goes down the drain or is accelerated. And given her predilection with magical fire, we’d really rather not push her into lighting up the whole city.”

“Fuck you,” I say standing up and heading toward the door, the folder in my hands. “Fuck all of you.” I get to the door and the folder evaporates into smoke.