I helped Nick unload the suitcases. Nadine stepped out of the cab and pulled off her headphones. She gave the building a withering look. Her bag caught my eye, from a New York designer. That would have to go. American items sold like hotcakes in the Garden. I’d expected her to have an instrument case, but there was nothing. Maybe she wasn’t a whisperer. There were at least three other strains of sensor she could be.

I used my keys to open the red door, which bore a gold plaque reading THE LENORMAND AGENCY. To the outside world, we were a respectable arts agency. Inside, we were not so honest.

At the top of the stairs was Jax, dressed to impress: silk waistcoat, stiff white collar, shiny pocket watch, and glowing cigar. He had a small glass cup of coffee in his hand. I tried and failed to work out how cigar and coffee could make a compatible pair.

“Zeke, Nadine. Good to see you again.”

Zeke shook his hand. “And you, Mr. Hall.”

“Welcome to Seven Dials. I am, as you know, mime-lord of this territory. And you are now members of my elite coterie.” Jax was looking at Zeke’s face, but I knew his focus was on reading his aura. “I presume you left Gower Street in a surreptitious fashion.”

“No one saw us.” Zeke tensed. “Is that a—spirit, over there?”

Jax glanced behind him. “Yes, that’s Pieter Claesz, Dutch vanitas painter. One of our more prolific muses. Died in 1660. Pieter, come and meet our new friends.”

“Zeke can do the honors. I’m tired.” Nadine wasn’t looking at Pieter, who’d ignored the order. She wasn’t sighted. “I want my own room. I don’t share my space,” she said, looking hard at Jax. “Just so that’s settled.”

I waited to see how Jax would react. He didn’t have the most expressive face, but his nostrils flared. Not a good sign.

“You will have what you are given,” he said.

Nadine bristled. Sensing a confrontation, Nick put an arm around her shoulders. “Of course you’ll have your own room,” he said, giving me a weary look over her head. We’d have to put Zeke on a couch. “Eliza’s just sorting it. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yes, you can.” She raised her eyebrows at Jax. “I see some Europeans know how to treat a lady.”

Jaxon looked as if she’d slapped him. Nick led her off to the kitchenette.

“I am not,” he said, with gritted teeth, “European.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll make sure nobody disturbs you.”

“Thank you, Paige.” He drew himself up. “Come through to my office, Zeke. We’ll talk.”

Zeke went up the next flight of stairs, still staring at Pieter, who was drifting opposite his newest painting. Before I could speak, Jaxon took me by the arm.