“Do all foster kids have the instinct?” Michelle asked naively. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. “You wouldn’t. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. Collins, you can go now. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. And he who opposes me in it shall feel the weight of my hand. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. They happen to a man. Fas du tout. Keep your eye upon the lad.
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