I slid my silverstone knife back up my sleeve and ran water in the dirty bowl before I turned to face the college girl.

“Sweetheart,” I said in a cool voice. “That’s a butter knife. You couldn’t even file your nails with it. Put it down before I take it away from you.”

“Who are you people?” Violet Fox asked in a shaky voice, still clutching the pitiful weapon. She stepped back until her body pressed against the refrigerator. If the door had been open, she probably would have stuffed herself inside, like a box turtle retreating into its shell. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”

I sighed and looked at Finn. He was much better at making nice than I was. He stepped forward, his hands held wide. A charming smile showed off his white teeth to their dazzling perfection.

“You’re somewhere safe,” Finn said in a calm tone that could have soothed an angry grizzly. “We’re not going to hurt you. We saved you from that dwarf in the parking lot at the community college, remember?”

Shadows turned Violet’s eyes an even darker brown, and she twitched her nose, trying to see if it was still intact.

She remembered, all right. The knowledge bruised her features just like the dwarf ’s fists had. Jo-Jo might have healed all the physical damage from the attack, but Violet Fox wasn’t going to forget the emotional trauma anytime soon. If ever. Something else I was all too familiar with.

Violet Fox didn’t look anything like me, of course, but for a moment, staring at her was like seeing myself at thirteen again, just after the Fire elemental had murdered my family. I’d had the same haunted, wounded look that the other girl did right now. I pushed the memory away.

Finn crept a little closer and turned up the wattage on his smile. “We don’t mean you any harm. We just want to ask you some questions about your grandfather. His name is Warren, right? Warren T. Fox?”

Doubt flickered in her dark, haunted eyes. “Why do you want to know about my grandfather?”

“Because your grandfather used to be an old friend of my dad’s,” Finn kept up his calming tone. “His name was Fletcher Lane. You came into the Pork Pit today asking about him, asking about the Tin Man, remember?”

Some of Violet’s panic slackened, and she studied Finn with a lot more interest.

“C’mon,” Finn said. “If we wanted to hurt you, we would have done it already. We just want to talk. Promise.”