Zed asked, “What were we talking about again?”

“Your fascination with the girl with nice llamas.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘fascinated.’ I just want to know who’s going to be living in one of fair town’s beloved landmarks.”

“Mmmhmm,” Bael murmured.

“What is it exactly that she does for the League?” Zed asked.

“I know it has to do with the rift, but not much else. Jillian said it was really complicated and I tried not to be offended that she didn’t think I was smart enough to understand it.”

“It’s probably not so much a question of smarts, as that time she was trying to explain ‘ethnomusicology’ to you at dinner and you fell asleep with your face in your pasta.”

Bael cried, “That happened once!”

“You snored. Loudly.”

“Once!”

Zed patted his friend’s shoulder. “That’s the sort of thing a girl remembers.”

2

Dani

Dani liked the look of the maison de fous very much. Most of the waterfront houses she’d passed had look like cracker boxes on stilts, all faded paint and slowly disintegrating wood. The layers of faded blue-gray stories were accented with eaves dripping with rust runoff. Each story had its own wraparound porch, protected by the scent of hanging geraniums. The top floor offered a cupola, which she imagined gave the inhabitant an amazing treetop view of the bayou. A dock extended from under the “ground floor” to the water, and some thoughtful soul and had set out a ring of comfortable looking, mismatched chairs, so one might enjoy the sunsets.

Dr. Jillian Ramsay, her liaison with the League, was leading her on a room-by-room tour of the house. As its last inhabitant, Jillian was clearly fond of each little nook and cranny. She pointed out the small animals carved from peach wood standing guard on the window sills, meant to protect the house from negative energy. She mentioned how meticulously Miss Lottie had cared for her furniture. And when they reached the bedroom that was to be Dani’s, Jillian just blushed and gestured for Dani to walk in.

It was a beautiful room, with high cathedral ceilings, white-washed walls and a huge bay window looking out on the trees. And the bed was . . . hanging from the ceiling?

Dani tilted her head as she examined the thick white silk ropes keeping the bed suspended from the high ceiling. “Hmm.”

Jillian’s cheeks were still tinged quite pink, but she found voice enough to say, “Actually, it’s a few years old. Theresa Anastas helped spin the silk for the ropes herself.”

“On a spinning wheel?”

Jillian shook her head. “Theresa is an arachnaed, a spider-shifter from Greece. She made the silk herself. She was very fond of Miss Lottie.”