“Speaking of music, Mr. Mandrake, we’re looking for a local band to play at a private party,” Ellen said. “An indie band, that plays original music. Not too pricey. I thought you might have a recommendation.”

“If you e-mail Patrick in my office, he’ll be able to send you a list, by genre,” Gabriel said.

Just then, McCauley banged his gavel. “We have a full agenda, so let’s get this thing started,” he said. He looked around. “I see lots of new faces here. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Seph McCauley, secretary of the council.” He nodded toward a young woman on his right,who glowed brighter than anyone else in the room.

“I’m Madison Moss, council chair,” she said. Madison Moss was a tall, rangy girl whose wavy hair was pulled back in a clip. She wore a long, divided skirt, cowboy boots, and a handwoven scarf wrapped three times around her neck. “That’s the Dragon Heir,” Gabriel murmured. “The source of power for all mainliners.”

Jonah had difficulty matching her up with the way he’d heard her described by wizards. She didn’t look much like a despot, to tell the truth. Just now the notorious Dragon Heir seemed to be doodling on a sketch pad hidden under the table.

“She’s not that much older than me,” Jonah said.

“She’s had to grow up fast,” Gabriel said. “She’s not entirely comfortable in this role.”

“I’d like to welcome back Leander Hastings and Linda Downey,” Moss said. “As y’all know, they’ve been cataloging the weaponry, manuscripts, and other heirloom items at Dragon’s Ghyll in the UK. They’ll be presenting a report on their progress.”

Hastings raised one hand in acknowledgment. He looks more like the despot, Jonah thought. Hastings had a hard, ruthless face under a tumble of dark curls. Linda Downey stood, briefly, so she could be seen. She was small, with exquisite features and spiky black hair. Like a flare of light in the darkness, she drew every eye in the room.

“They’re McCauley’s parents,” Gabriel said. “They were active in the underguild rebellion for years. Hastings is a wizard, Downey an enchanter.”

“Really?” Jonah had never seen an enchanter in the flesh—if you didn’t count looking in the mirror. He leaned forward, angling for a better view. Then, just as quickly, he shifted his gaze away. He knew what it was like to be stared at.

Madison Moss introduced the others around the table, which included representatives from each of the mainline guilds.

“We expect Rowan DeVries to be here as well, from the Wizard Guild,” McCauley said, gesturing at an empty chair.

“He must have been delayed.”

“Now,” Moss said, scanning some notes in front of her.

“Before we get into the agenda, are there any announcements?” Gabriel stood up. “We have a quick announcement,” he said.

“Of course,” Moss said, squinting to see who had spoken.

“Mr.—”

“I’m Gabriel Mandrake,” he said. “And this is my associate, Jonah Kinlock.” Gabriel motioned to Jonah, who reluctantly pushed to his feet. “We want to remind you all to buy your tickets for the annual Thorn Hill benefit concert, which will be held on March fifteenth, at the Keep.” A murmur ran through the sanctuary, mingled excitement and disapproval.

“As usual, we have a fantastic lineup . . . some great local bands, as well as rare appearances by Lisbet and Fallen Angels.”

“We’re going, Jack,” Ellen whispered, behind Jonah. “I love Lisbet.”

“Tickets go on sale next week,” Gabriel continued. “And they’re expected to go fast. In the meantime, I hope you’ll check out our silent auction online. You’ll find lots of rare and one-of-a-kind artifacts and donations by musicians from all over the world. And if any of you have donations for the auction or the cause, Jonah here . . .” Jonah raised his hand.

“Jonah will be happy to take your pledges.”

A buzz of excited commentary followed. Fragments reached Jonah’s ears. I wouldn’t set foot in that place. . . . Lisbet! Can you believe it—Lisbet!

“Let’s move on to new business,” Moss said, over the muted din. “Mercedes?”

The sorcerer Mercedes Foster stood. “We have a request from the survivors of the Thorn Hill disaster to be given representation on council. I support this request, and I would like to introduce this issue for discussion in preparation for a motion.”

“All right,” Moss said. “Is there discussion?”

Scavuzzo raised his hand. “There are representatives from every guild on the council already. Why single them out for special treatment?”

“I can speak to that,” Gabriel said. He stood. “We believe that the issues confronting the savant survivors of Thorn Hill are different enough from those of the mainline guilds that they could benefit from having a voice on council.”

A seer stood up. “Will we have a representative for every kind of disability, then? How about nearsighted people?”

Linda Downey raised her hand. “It seems to me that the distinction is that here we’re speaking of magical differences, not physical or racial distinctions. If the savants are magically different from the other guilds, then that might warrant their being given representation on council.”

Morrison stood, claiming the floor. “It seems to me that residents of Thorn Hill are either in the magical guilds or out. If they are in the guilds, then they are represented. If they are out of the guilds, then they don’t belong on this council. Jack Swift, for example, is a mongrel of sorts, yet he is considered a member of the Warrior Guild.”

Jack snorted softly, behind Jonah.

Hudson chimed in. “Perhaps we should investigate the kinds of magical mutations present at Thorn Hill so that we can make a better decision.”

Jonah slid a look at Gabriel, knowing he wouldn’t like that idea. As Lilith had said, he liked to keep his secrets.

“We need to move on,” Moss said. “Is there a motion?”

“I move that we accept written comments over the next two months,” Mercedes said. “Madison can appoint a subcommittee to summarize them and present them to council in . . . um . . . February.”

And so, effectively, the idea was tabled. Gabriel looked disappointed, but Jonah figured it was better than having it voted down.

Moss seemed relieved to be moving on. “Now, to old business: Alicia Middleton and Mercedes Foster will update us on the Trinity Montessori incident.”

Mercedes and Leesha stood up, so that Jonah and Gabriel were looking at their backs.

Leesha took the lead. “I spoke with a reliable source in the Trinity Police Department. According to him, the Cleveland police are pretty much stymied. They did spot a suspect on the lift bridge with the children, but somehow he got away.”

A rumble of displeasure arose from the spectators.

“Why are the police investigating what is clearly a magical matter?” Scavuzzo shouted.

“The police don’t know it’s a magical matter, Mr. Scavuzzo,” Mercedes said. “If you don’t believe in magic, you don’t go looking for a magical explanation. That puts them at a tremendous disadvantage. As you can imagine, they are under considerable public pressure to solve the crime.”

Hudson snorted. “Since we all agree that the police investigation is a waste of time, what have you uncovered in your investigation?”

“There were approximately two hundred corpses scattered on the bridge deck and on both banks of the river,” Mercedes said. “I’ve examined the cadavers. They seem to be a mixture of fresh bodies and . . . ah . . . ‘seasoned’ corpses. Some of them apparently came from Mapleside Cemetery west of Cleveland. How they were transported to the Flats, we don’t know.” She hesitated. “The children mentioned zombies.”

A murmur rolled through the crowd.

“The tabloids have been having a field day,” Leesha said. “Several companies have sprung up, offering what they call Zombie Walks in the Flats.”

“The corpses . . . could you detect anything magical about them?” Leander Hastings asked.

The sorcerer shook her head. “If there was any flame there to start with, it was gone by the time I arrived. They had all been chopped into little bits.”

“How would that have happened?” Moss asked, looking mystified.

“We thought at first they’d just . . . you know . . . fallen apart, being old and all,” Leesha answered. “But some of the bones were sliced right through or battered into pieces. The children we’ve interviewed mentioned a boy with . . . with a big stick, but disagreed about whether he was allied with the zombies or fighting against them.”

Jonah looked down at the floor, feeling conspicuous.

“As you can imagine, the children have been difficult and inconsistent witnesses,” Mercedes said. “One other thing: shredded nightshade was found scattered over the bridge surface.”

“Nightshade?” McCauley said. “Then it’s tied to the other attacks on the gifted.”

Mercedes nodded. “We’re thinking it was either the same people, or someone trying to cast suspicion on them.”

“You should send a team to the Anchorage if you want to find the culprits,” Hudson shouted. She avoided looking at Gabriel and Jonah. Some in the crowd murmured in agreement.

Mercedes swung around to stare Hudson down. “Hilary, there’s not one scrap of evidence linking the Anchorage to the bridge incident.”

“We need to find evidence,” Scavuzzo said, openly glaring at Gabriel. “We should hold an informal lineup. Bring in our children, and see if they recognize any of the labrats.”

“We can’t put the children through that,” Hudson countered. “It’s insane. What we should do is collect DNA from the inmates at the Anchorage. See if we can make a match with what we find at the crime scene.”