Obviously murder gives a person an appetite, she thought.

“Not hungry, Agent?” Garrick asked her.

Chevie smiled tightly. “I’m feeling a bit off. Must be all the corpses.”

Garrick winked at Riley. “You grow accustomed to that. Look at my partner here, an apprentice no more. He’ll be tucking into his bacon like the hangman’s waiting for him in the square.”

“Yeah,” said Chevie. “Maybe he is. That’s what happens when you kill everyone you meet.”

“I haven’t killed you yet, Miss Savano. Perhaps after breakfast, eh?”

Riley was silent throughout this exchange. He wished only to sleep and perhaps dream of a beach and the red-haired boy.

Beware the undertow—it’ll have yer legs out from under you.

Had the boy really said that, or was his mind inventing a past for himself? Riley shook his head to dislodge the familiar fog that settled over his brain when he was in Garrick’s company. He generally let his mind float away, but today was different. Chevie’s life was at stake as well as his own.

The last thing Riley wanted was a fry-up, but his body was hungry and, as Garrick always said, Eat up, boy. Your next meal will probably be your last.

“You should eat, Chevie.”

Garrick’s hand darted across the table and clipped Riley’s ear. “Chevie? Who are you now, son? The Prince of Wales? Ladies will be referred to by their titles. This is Agent Savano or miss to you.”

Chevie was unimpressed. “Wow, manners. Cool. I had thought you were a murdering psycho, but now you’ve won me over.”

Garrick sighed, weary now of the girl’s comments. “This constant melodrama is so wearing. Isn’t there anything I can do to persuade you to be civil, at least while we are at table?”

Psychology 101: get the subject to talk about himself. Any information learned might come in useful later, if there was a later.

“You could tell me what you are, exactly.”

Garrick seriously considered this. It would be nice to share the details of his transformation; but then again, too much knowledge was too much power, so perhaps he would sketch in broad strokes. “I know that Felix went over the basics with you. Wormholes through time, and so forth. When Felix and I traveled the time tunnel together, we merged. I am still in control, but Felix is definitely a part of me.”

“You killed him?”

“I killed most of him. And it was self-defense: he did detonate a bomb.”

“So you can do stuff with what’s left of Felix? Tricks?”

“Ah, yes, of course. A trick. Ladies love the magic tricks. Think of a card.”

Chevie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”

“No, seriously now, mademoiselle. Picture a card. Visualize it, as you Americans are fond of saying.”