“Where is she?” demanded the Cleaning Lady. “It’s a big house, and we need to find her before she starts really doing some damage.”

“I don’t know!” I yelled angrily. “I knew once, but it’s gone. It’s like a hole in my head, a dark space spreading. It’s like . . . my mind is going!”

“Aornis’ whereabouts are in there,” said the Cleaning Lady, “and can be accessed only through instinct— the subconscious working with forgotten recalls. Act now. Do or say the first thing that comes into your head. No matter how strange.”

I was furious now.

“What kind of shit is this?” I said, taking two paces forward, still with the gun pointing at the woman. “Do anything? No matter how strange? You’re crazier than Aornis, you know that? And what if you are Phlegethon?”

“Just let go, Thursday.”

“Let go? Let go? I’ll show you how I can let go!”

And so saying, I fired four shots into the sofa without looking or aiming.

“Happy now?” I yelled, my face only inches from hers. “I’m sorry?” she said, “My ears are ringing.”

“What was that?” said Landen, bursting in the door. He looked at me, then at Tuesday, then at the newcomer.

“Are you the Cleaning Lady?” he said. “The one who called Thursday ten minutes ago?”

“I’m getting confused,” I said. “She called me when?”

“Gunshots in a small space are loud,” said the Cleaning Lady, waggling a finger in her ear. “Hello, Landen.”

“Do we know each other?”

“You helped me sew the cell phone into Thursday’s coat at Image Ink this morning. It’s been a rough week for all of us.”

“What were those shots?” said Friday, running into the room.

“Mum shot the sofa,” said Tuesday.

“Again?”

“It’s stopped,” I said suddenly. “The kidnapping that didn’t happen. It’s halted half remembered.”

We all stood there for a moment, attempting to figure out what was going on. My mind was no longer falling in on itself. It felt clear—confused, but clear.

“Aornis has gone,” I said, “or at least for the moment. Will she be coming back?”

“No,” said the Cleaning Lady as she looked across at the sofa. “I don’t think she’s coming back.”

Landen cottoned on first and walked over to look behind the sofa.

“Straight through the eye,” he said. “Well done.”

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” I said. “Or I didn’t consciously mean to kill her.

“I better call SO-5,” said Landen. “They’ll be well pissed off that you got her before they did but pleased at least the job was done.”

I turned to look at the Cleaning Lady, who had sat herself in one of the armchairs.

“Who are you?” I asked.