“It came through yesterday. Didn’t you get pinged? I thought Boston Sue would have sent it to you.”
“Maybe she did and I missed it,” I said. “Basics?”
“House Orange, hidden enemy, and coordinates.”
“Do you remember the coordinates?”
“No.”
“Was his message coded to me?”
“I don’t know. I caught it on a half-second scrounge banking off the hub at your place.” She glanced over at Abraham. “You’d better go.”
I looked that way too. He had moved into the next room, and four people stood at the door, keeping others from entering the room. He was both chatting with a woman with long, light brown hair who had her back toward me and throwing angry glances my way.
Crap.
“If you need anything,” Listra said again.
“I’ll find you,” I said. “May the earth rise to your feet.”
“And the wind at your back,” she finished.
She faded into the crowd quick as a drop of water in a stream, and I wandered my way through the traffic toward the door.
The lighted columns shifted from violet to white, and the crowd gasped and cheered.
House White galvanized January Sixth sashayed into the room like a celebrity. I caught a glimpse of a knockout figure and long, pale yellow hair before the crowd practically rioted to get closer to her.
No one seemed to be paying me much attention, which was good. The guards at the door ignored me completely, even after I’d politely tried to get their attention.
“Please let her in,” Abraham said behind them.
As soon as he spoke, it was like I was suddenly visible. They gave me that up-down look, and one of the men leered at me. “Good luck, sunshine,” he said, stepping aside.
They shut the door behind us. The room was nice, just this side of luxurious; couches and chairs coving up the corners, a table off to one side spread with food and drinks so fancy they looked like artwork.
There were also six people sitting on those luxurious chairs and eating those fancy artworks, staring at me.
A woman in her mid-fifties with long brown hair pulled back loosely from her suntanned, heart-shaped face walked over to Abraham and me.
“Bram,” she said, “put on your manners, boy.” Green stitches ran along her hairline and down beneath her cheeks, then mouth, giving her a slightly sewn-doll look. “Introduce us to this young lady properly.”
Abraham gave her a tolerant smile, then extended his hand toward me. “Matilda Case, I would like to introduce you to Dolores Second, House Green, Agriculture.”
“Call me Dotty, honey,” she said in a soft drawl. “We’re all friends here.”
Abraham pointed at the tall, rawboned woman with lavender hair who was curled up in a wingback chair. Her pale purple stitches made a map of her plain face.
“Clara Third, House Violet, Faith,” Abraham said.
She nodded.
“That daredevil,” Abraham went on, indicating the redheaded man next to Clara, “is Vance Fourth, House Blue, Water.”
“Daredevil? I don’t know what he’s talking about.” He was trim, shorter than Abraham and me, and wore a blue shirt. His stitches were dark blue and tracked a diagonal line from the corner of his forehead across the bridge of his nose and down his jaw, neck, and under the edge of his collar. More stitches fanned out from the bottom of his jaw and spread around to the back of his head. His red hair and beard made the blue stitches even more noticeable, and his green eyes shone.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
