“It’s okay, I get that,” said Sarah.

“Touching as the threats of mayhem are, Dominic and I really do need to go and talk to Piyusha’s family. What are your plans for the rest of today, Sarah?” I handed her a baggie of gold dust.

She tucked the baggie into her pocket, replying, “I’m going to hang out here, if it’s okay with you. I promised the maid service I’d give them a few hours to clean my room before I locked them out again, and I’d like to catch up with the mice.”

“That’s cool.” I handed Dominic his baggie. He promptly made it disappear into his coat. “Can you do me a favor before you go?”

“What’s that?”

“Take Dominic on a Starbucks run? I’d kill for an iced coffee.”

Sarah glanced from my empty milkshake glass to the blood spiking up my hair. You need a chance to shower? she asked, as she said, out loud, “Your usual order is good?”

“Yes, exactly,” I said.

“No problem. Come on, Covenant boy.” She grabbed a startled-looking Dominic’s elbow, tugging him toward the apartment door. “You can buy me a scone.”

“Are you going to insist on covering it with ketchup?” he asked, glancing back at me with a question in his eyes. I nodded reassuringly. Either he was starting to trust me, or he could guess my real motives, because he didn’t fight her as she guided him out of the kitchen.

“Don’t be ridiculous; ketchup doesn’t go on scones.” Sarah stepped out into the hall, still pulling Dominic along. “Curry goes on maple scones, and steak sauce goes on blueberry scones.”

“What about chocolate scones?”

The closing door cut Sarah off mid-”Ew.” I smiled slightly, shaking my head, and turned to sprint for the bathroom. If I was going to tell Piyusha’s family that I hadn’t been fast enough to save her, I was at least going to do them the courtesy of doing it while not covered head to toe in gore.

Going by the clock, I was going to need to head straight to work after visiting Piyusha’s brothers. Dave would probably let me get away with working a half-shift, given the whole “dragon under the city and snake cult killing people” situation, but if I didn’t pick up some tips, I wasn’t going to be paying the power bill. Protecting the human race should really come with a per diem, I swear.

At least knowing that I’d be changing into my work uniform soon made it easy to get dressed, since I didn’t need to worry about looking good, just looking street-legal. By the time Sarah and Dominic made it back upstairs—both of them holding iced coffees, and Sarah gnawing on a sticky-looking maple scone—I was in the front room, emailing copies of the pictures to Auntie Jane and Antimony. I was wearing clean jeans, a dark gray tank top, and a pair of broken-in running shoes that would allow me to take my usual overland route to work without needing to worry about adding blisters to my existing collection. A little heavy-duty foundation was enough to hide most of my bruises, including the ones forming around my neck. Always an important consideration before a dance competition, or a night of cocktail waitressing. Covering the shiner would take more work, and I’d do that later.

“Here,” said Sarah, thrusting the iced coffee she was holding at me. “Dominic insisted on buying it for you, so you can thank him.”

“She was intending to walk out without paying!”

Sarah shrugged. “I left a tip.”

“Let’s not have the ethics of shoplifting coffee fight right now, okay, guys? Thanks for the coffee, Dominic. Sarah, the apartment’s yours until I get back. Don’t let the mice watch anything on Showtime or Animal Planet, feel free to eat anything you find in the kitchen and, if you’re going to be playing with the computer, keep an eye on my inbox, okay?”

“I’ll call if you get anything that looks important.”

“I’ll keep my phone on vibrate.” I grabbed my backpack as I stood, slinging its reassuring weight over my shoulder. I was carrying a few dozen more weapons than I usually found necessary for casual city running, but with a snake cult making things complicated, I couldn’t really be blamed for a little paranoia.

Dominic gave me a sidelong, half-amused look, commenting, “You’re clanking.”

“Damn straight.” I waved to Sarah, who was already sitting down at the computer, and left the apartment without looking back.

Once again, Dominic insisted on taking a taxi, and once again, it just wasn’t worth the trouble of fighting him. Besides, he probably had some sort of an expense account (thus explaining why I wasn’t getting a per diem; the Covenant had all the ready cash). If the Covenant wanted to pay to move me around Manhattan, that was their problem, not mine.

Gingerbread Pudding was still closed. That made sense. If it was a family-owned business, they weren’t going to open the doors until they knew what had happened to Piyusha. The researcher in me wanted to ask what their funereal observances were like, and whether they’d be willing to let me attend. The part of me that actually cares about being a decent person promptly punched my inner researcher in the jaw and stuffed her in a closet at the back of my head, to be retrieved later.

Dominic looked at the darkened storefront, frowning. “Are you sure they’ll be here?”

“If you’d just sent a total stranger into the sewers to find your missing sister, would you run off before she came back with news?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I also wouldn’t send a stranger into the sewers to find my sister alone.”

“Do you even have a sister?” I knocked on the window next to the door, peering into the gloom. I didn’t see any movement. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. “You know way too much about my family, and I don’t know anything at all about yours.”

“No. No siblings. No family of any kind.” He continued watching the storefront, expression not changing. “I was an only child.”

“That must have been nice. Nobody stealing your stuff while you slept, or setting snares on your bedroom floor, or digging pit traps in the front yard.”

“Your siblings did all that?”

“My sister is special.” That was putting things as mildly—and nicely—as possible. I knocked again, squinting into the dark. “I really thought they’d be here.”