Here they would be having lunch. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. Lead, worth nothing at all until Hoddy picked them up; then they became full of magic. “How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. . . One who—who—tres. My death, probably.
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