Waking up from that scenario left him with a strong desire to murder someone, anyone.

At that point he grew crafty. Whatever was happening to him, he would get well out of its way. He rented a small cruiser boat, went on a three-month carouse up and down the islands of the bay, and docked again at the City, certain that all the old newspapers would have been burned or pulped, taking any untoward news with them.

On returning to his lodgings, he made the mistake of lounging to gossip with a pretty chambermaid. He had been wrong to fear the old news. She had fresh news instead, straight from a respected source of scuttlebutt, her cousin’s friend’s sister who worked as a nurse. A noted professional of the legal community had been found dead in a suspected suicide by drowning after a long and difficult struggle to recover after a terrible accident.

Julian woke up chewing at his torn sheets and crying in vexation.

After his tantrum subsided, he got up, bathed, and dressed, but he found himself unable to go further. He sat on the bed instead and stared at the pattern on the curtains until he stopped thinking.

A tingling chill crept up his skin, forcing him to snap out of his depression. Brushing at his arms quickly became panicked clawing as he hauled up his sleeves. Cold darkness was unfurling around his wrists and arms like ribbons, deceptively gentle shackles that represented a compliance born of a shattered will. Grim-faced, implacable, the Trickster materialized before him, holding the other ends of the ribbons—no, drawing them into himself like pliable extensions of his being. Julian gazed up at him in total exhaustion.

“Now you’re ready to meet the real Miranda,” the Trickster said. “And after that, there’s only one more thing left for you to do.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It was evening at the villa. The majority of Miranda’s belongings had already been taken to her new residence. She walked out to the front patio—she was finally walking with the help of two canes. She had hired a cab over Khabir’s protests, and it was nearly time for it to arrive.

Khabir adjusted a chair for her so she could sit facing the driveway, then took a seat himself. He was very quiet.

“You’re getting your villa back,” Miranda teased. “Look happier.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you’re getting on with your life, but I’m still concerned about you.”

“Why? You tell me the case is wrapped up, you’re sending me off to a grand future as a defender of justice, and I’ve finally learned to take care of myself. Why the concern?”

Khabir paused, then shook his head.