The fuchsia deepened.“You get in trouble walking across a room!You get in troublebreathing.You are basically the definition of—”
“Not this time.”
“I know not this time, because we’re going with you!”
“Where are we going?”Jen asked, coming over with a riot of shades of green across her arm, from a bikini to mod daywear to an evening gown with fur on the hem.
“Did you give Sebastian back his credit card?”I asked, suspicious.
“He hasn’t asked.”
“Jen!”
“You saved his life.It’s the least he can do, and most of these are for you anyway.”
“I don’t need—”
She rolled her eyes.“Don’t say you don’t need clothes.I was just in your closet, remember?Besides, Weres always need clothes—”
“Not these!”
“I don’t know,” Sophie said evilly.“I kind of like knowing your mood in advance.”She crossed her arms and looked pointedly at the rat fink of a sarong, which had just turned a bright shade of amber with a few black striations.
“What does that mean?”Jen asked, curious.
“I’m glad you asked,” Sophie took out a card she’d found somewhere and scanned down what I assumed was a list of colors.“Amber: Excited, nervous, or anxious.”She looked at me.“What are you anxious about?”
I decided that a little tough love was in order.“I’m going to see the Pythia,” I said bluntly.
“What?”
“Her court is right upstairs.”I held up the baggy with the evidence.“She’s supposed to be a touch psychic, so maybe she can tell me something about these.Wanna come?”
Sophie and Jen exchanged glances.I didn’t have the card, but I didn’t need it.All of their clothing items immediately flashed to a dark shade of brownish orange.
“Or, you could stay here and improve my wardrobe,” I offered.“Although preferably not in this shop.”
Another glance was exchanged.
“Cyrus said not to leave you,” Sophie repeated, but she sounded considerably less sure than before.
“We’re not leaving,” Jen pointed out.“She’s in the hotel; we’re in the hotel.And you aren’t going to get in any trouble.Right?”She looked at me sternly.
And I wondered, not for the first time, who the teacher was here.But it wasn’t the time to bring it up.Not when I was winning.
“Right.”
???
The Pythian Court was much as I remembered, except that the big vamp didn’t answer the door this time.A supercilious Frenchwoman did.She had a messy brown topknot, a beautiful face, and a small journal.
“You ‘ave an appointment?”she asked, looking at me over the top of some chic glasses.
“Uh, not exactly—”
“Zere ees no ‘not exactly.’Zere is an appointment ornon?Which ees eet?”
“Non.I mean, no,” I said—
