’ Melusine sighed deeply. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again. The affair was thick with sinister suggestions. It is no problem. Now go.
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