“To the Mercenary Guild,” Julie said.

Probably still trying to settle the dispute over who was going to be running the Guild. They had a bit of a power vacuum and Kate, as one of the veteran mercs, had seniority.

“Did you pick up that check from the mechanic?” I asked. “For that woman’s vehicle?”

“It’s on your desk.” Ascanio turned to Julie and mouthed, “Bitch.”

Just couldn’t let it alone, could he?

“Is it me or does it smell in here?” Julie waved her hand in front of her nose.

Oh no, she didn’t. Accusing a shapeshifter of reeking was the ultimate insult.

“You’re so dirty, Ascanio.” Julie grimaced. “Be careful, you might get fleas if you keep going this way.”

Ascanio bared his teeth at her. “Be careful you don’t get lice. They’ll shave you bald.”

Julie rolled her eyes. “It’s not necessary to shave your head if you have lice. You simply use a solution containing an extract of pyrethrin or any other of the wide variety of antilice herbal compounds and then comb the lice out. Your ignorance is staggering. I sometimes wonder how you survived to sixteen years of age. I’m curious, did you live most of them in Bubble Wrap?”

That kid sounded more and more like Kate every day.

“I had no idea you knew so much about lice,” Ascanio bit back. “Speaking from experience?”

“Yes, I am. I lived on the street for a year. Remind me, where did you live?” Julie tapped her finger to her lips, pretending to think. “Ah yes, you lived in a religious commune, sheltered and coddled, where you spent your time trying to nail anything that moved—”

That’s enough of that. “Quiet!” I barked.

Two mouths clicked shut.

I looked at the check. It was a business check from “Gloria’s Art and Antiques.” Antiques. Why would an antique dealer visit a reclamation company unless she knew that they were bidding on a building that contained a vault full of antiques? Reclamation companies didn’t deal in antiques; they dealt in metal and stone. Not much else survived a fallen building.

“Here’s the address.” Ascanio handed me a piece of paper. “I looked it up.”

“Thank you. Very nice of you.” I looked at the address. White Street, Julie’s old neighborhood. Right on the edge of the Warren, a poor part of Atlanta where beggars, gangs of homeless kids, and small-time criminals of opportunity made their home. Most of them wouldn’t know what “antiques” meant, let alone buy them. This case was getting stranger and stranger.

“Please don’t leave me here with her,” Ascanio murmured.

I looked at him. “Did Kate tell you to stay put?”

“Yes.”

“Then stay put. Study your epic, get yourself straightened out, and I’ll take you with me next time.”

I turned and walked out of there before he did any more begging.