The ghost bobbled up and down in surprise, losing some small measure of control over bits of herself. An eyebrow detached from her forehead. “Oh, why, yes. Although not intimately, of course. Not from the actual assassination perspective but more from the sidelines. I lost one of my students because of it.”

“Oh?”

“Why, yes. Lost her to the mist of the moor. Lost her to duty. So promising, so strong, so . . . wait. What were you asking? What are we discussing? Why must I forget things all the time?”

“The Kingair assassination attempt,” Alexia prompted.

“Silly dogfight. Poor girl. Imagine having to take on that kind of responsibility. At sixteen! And over werewolves. Werewolves who planned a poisoning. So many things wrong with the very idea. So many things out of character. Out of the supernatural order. Was it ever put right, I wonder?”

Alexia pulled a measure of this rambling together. “Sidheag Maccon was your student?”

The ghost’s head tilted. “Sidheag. That name is familiar. Oh, why, yes. So hard to finish in one way, so easy to finish in another. A strong girl, good at finishing. But then again, strength in girls is not so much valued as it ought to be.”

Lady Maccon, as interested as she was in anything to do with her husband’s great-great-great-granddaughter, now one of the only female werewolves in England and Alpha of the Kingair Pack, felt she must still steer the ghost back onto more relevant matters. “Did you happen to hear, at the time, whether there was a connection between the assassination attempt and the Order of the Brass Octopus?”

“Connection? Connection? Of course not.”

Alexia was taken aback by the firm confidence in the ghost’s voice. “How can you be so certain?”

“How can I not? Imagine such a thing. No, no, not against the queen. Never against Queen Victoria. We would have known. I would have known. Someone would have told me.” Formerly Beatrice Lefoux swirled about in her distress, once more catching sight of Madame Lefoux’s latest project. She paused as though hypnotized by the imposing thing. “Oh, Genevieve, I can’t believe you would. I can’t. Not for anything. Why, child, why? I must tell. I must convince . . .” She ended up facing Alexia once more and, as though seeing her for the first time, said, “You! Soulless. You will stop everything in the end, won’t you? Even me.”

Madame Lefoux pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and gave a sad sigh. “There she goes. We won’t get any more sense out of her this evening. I’m sorry, Alexia.”

“Oh, no, that’s quite all right. It wasn’t precisely what I was hoping for, but it has convinced me that I must contact Lady Kingair as soon as possible. I must convince my husband’s old pack to reveal the details of the original plot. Only they can fully unravel this mystery. I can’t believe that the OBO was not involved, but if your aunt says so with such conviction, only the source of the threat itself can reveal the truth of the matter.”