Hypatia cursed, and they moved, running fast down the hallway, careful not to make any more noise than they had to. They were out the back door, pulling it shut, when they heard voices from the front.

“Go!” Hypatia said, pushing them up the back stairs that led to her private rooms. They pounded up the steps, quick as they could, and didn’t stop to breathe until they were on the other side of the apartment door.

Celeste collapsed onto the nearest chair, heart hammering in her chest. Hypatia followed suit, falling onto her settee and motioning for the woman who had warned them to join her. Lilitha snuggled up next to her boss, eyes bright.

“That was exciting!” the saloon girl said.

“Too exciting,” Hypatia said. “My old heart’s not meant for exercising anymore.”

Lilitha ran a finger down Hypatia’s ample cleavage. “Oh, I think your heart’s holding up just fine.”

Face flushed, Hypatia giggled like a schoolgirl and leaned in for a kiss.

“Could you not?” Celeste pushed herself to her feet and stomped into the kitchen. There was a pitcher of water out, and she poured herself a glass.

She heard Lilitha mutter, “Why’s she got a stick up her backside?” and Hypatia reply, “Shhh, love. Her sister’s facing Azrael’s sword. She’s had a day of it. Be kind.”

“A day of it” was an understatement. Between having her sister arrested by Virtues, meeting with Abraxas, confronting the head of the Chamuels, and finding nothing at the murder scene but the fact that Mariel liked laudanum more than she’d let on and two didn’t fit on Hypatia’s love cot like she’d claimed, Celeste was feeling played out. And all on a few hours of sleep sitting in her kitchen chair. She needed sleep, and she needed a new idea, because the way it was going now wasn’t working out.

“Hypatia’s resting.” Lilitha sidled into the room, eyes cutting briefly to Celeste as she slithered over to the stove.

She made a show of poking at the embers and casting glances her way, until Celeste finally said, “Out with it, then. Say what you came in here to say.”

She thrust her pointed chin forward. “She ain’t no saint, you know. That sister of yours.”

“Never said she was.”

“But you worship her like one. Put her up on a pedestal. Always bragging about how pretty she is or that she could sing in the capital. Well, I’ve been to the capital, and there’s plenty of ladies there just as good.”

Jealousy. Celeste had seen it from the saloon girls often enough, especially those who had ambitions beyond slinging drinks and talking up strangers for tips. Her guess was Lilitha wanted to be a singer in her own right.

“You got something to say to help me, or you just want to run your jaw?”