"Someone," Victor said, "start talking. Now."
The words hit the table like a fist.
Everyone looked at me.
I looked back at all of them — Victor's bloodshot eyes still sharp despite everything, Mariabell sitting straight-backed and composed in the way she always was when she was running calculations behind a calm face, Liliana with her arms folded and her chin up, the playfulness from earlier this morning burned clean off. Aisha with her hands in her lap, fingers laced tight. And Mephistopheles—
Mephistopheles wasn't looking at anyone.
Her gaze had gone elsewhere again. That particular unfocused stillness that meant she was reading something in the air none of the rest of us had the equipment to sense.
"One moment," I said to Victor.
"You've said that—"
"Victor."
He stopped. Looked at Mephistopheles. Looked back at me. Sat back in his chair with the expression of a man choosing patience over instinct, which I knew from experience was one of the harder things he did.
