gave a weird slippery sound, like it was straining.

“You accuse so easily, Anna.” Hiro was cold, cutting-calm. Roaring filled my ears. I felt light-headed. “And yet—”

Kir was suddenly there, between the svetocha and Hiro. His fangs were out, red hair thickly

streaked with pure gold as the aspect touched him. A deep thrumming sound tightened all the available air, turned it to soup. Bruce’s stance hardened, and he gave me an unreadable glance.

“Let’s all be reasonable here,” he said quietly. His tone sliced through the growling, and I realized

the weird skritching sound was the silk threads in Hiro’s jacket stretching and tearing a little at a

time. “Dru.”

Wait. She was about to say Elizabeth. Did she know Mom? My legs had turned to wet noodles. I

stood up, though, sweating and shaking. “Yessir?” As if he was Dad, and we were in a bar with a

bunch of Real World baddies and someone had just made the mistake of messing with him.

“How much did Reynard take? It hurt, didn’t it? How many times?”

“I . . .” I hated thinking about it. The shaking got worse. “Three. Mouthfuls. Gulps, whatever.”

Anna let out a hissing sound, like a kettle near full steam. Her face contorted and smoothed, and Hiro leaned forward a little more. Sooner or later that jacket was going to rip, and God alone knew

what was going to happen.

“That’s all right then.” Bruce’s grasp on me gentled. “You certainly have led an eventful life, Milady.”

“How do we know she’s—” Anna began.

“You don’t want to finish that sentence.” Hiro cut across her words. Some essential tension leaked

out of him, though, and Bruce obviously felt it too. Because he let go of Hiro’s jacket and braced

me. I was going to have a bruise on my arm, though. I could just tell.

“We don’t doubt a svetocha’s word.” Bruce was looking up over my head when he said it, but his

jaw was set. A muscle flicked once in his cheek, and his hawklike face had settled into a cruel,

beautiful picture, each plane and line pared down. His aspect wasn’t on, but I sensed it running under the surface, like a current under still black bayou water.

“That’s right.” Hiro straightened his sleeves. I don’t know how he did it, but he seemed a few inches taller. “We don’t doubt a svetocha’s word.”

Anna looked like she’d been slapped. Rosettes of feverish color bloomed high up on her perfect

cheeks. Her fangs peeped out, and I swear to God I heard a cat’s hiss, too. The prettiness she wore

like a shield slipped, and for half a second something ugly showed underneath it.

Then she was gone, moving too quickly to be seen. There was a sound like paper tearing and nasty