"Yes, you are an evil, dangerous villain," Frederick said, waving the champagne glass toward Jean-Paul, one finger pointing. He took a long drink, keeping his eyes locked with Jean-Paul's. He coughed, covering his mouth with the glass and hand, clearing his throat. "But there is a problem, you see."

Jean-Paul quirked his eyebrows upward, allowing a bit of the flame to touch his own eyes as he glanced at Frederick. "Problem?" he asked.

"Yes," Frederick said, stepping forward, entering Jean-Paul's personal space. "Unlike my predecessor, I know you are a pathetic worm who will slip a dagger into the spine of a better."

Jean-Paul stiffened, his lip curling up over his elongating incisors.

"Oh, settle down, you pathetic lout," Frederick said, sweeping his arm out to encompass the room. "Nidhogg would look on you poorly if you showed your true form here among the rabble, don't you think?"

"Let her gnaw her corpses," Jean-Paul spat. "She is ancient, not omnipotent. She does not know all that transpires."

"And yet, you are still at her teats whenever I look," Frederick said with a grin.

Those who had not yet wandered into the auction room gave the two a wide berth. While they could not possibly know the truth about him and his kind, Frederick knew them well enough to see the hesitation, to smell the fear that encircled them like a barrier.

Several breaths passed as Jean-Paul brought his anger under control. "You are in your own domain," he said, brushing a bit of lint from his sleeve, as if to appear nonchalant. "But, if you ever cross the border into British Columbia, I will-" He paused, stabbing two fingers forward, and upward. "-gut you like a-"

"Wait," Frederick interrupted. "Don't tell me." He allowed the mirth to show thick on his lips. "Like a pig?" He burst into laughter. Jean-Paul turned and stormed away, parting the crowd as much with his anger as his swearing.

Frederick watched him with amusement. So like his doddering matron, that one-living in an ancient world of broken dreams and fearful fantasies. Despite the fairy tales and myths, there was no end time coming. Nidhogg would not rise up and smite the gods. She would die of old age, for even their kind had a limit to their span. When that happened, Frederick would sweep into Seattle, assume her base, and with any luck dear Jean-Paul Duchamp might fall backward on a pitchfork a time or three.

Frederick drained the wineglass and set it on a table as he walked toward the auction. Let the old hag have her warnings. Things were changing in the Pacific Northwest. He could feel it in his bones. He straightened his tie, then his cuffs, before walking into the auction. Time to appear magnanimous before his people. Let the sheep see how gracious he was.

Then . . . , he thought, then he'd see to the young woman with the pink bra. She would make a lovely end to this already delicious evening.

Nine.

KATIE HAD GONE OFF TO CATCH HER BUS DECKED OUT IN HER cute schoolteacher accoutrement. She would pick up her car at the forge after school. She always had an earlier start than I did. As long as I was at the forge by nine, Julie never even batted an eye.

I slipped down the staircase, the memory of Katie's good-bye kiss lingering on my lips. The creaks and groans of the stairs elicited a wicked smile. A song for the morning after, I thought. This old building had character, and a voice to be reckoned with. The door to the street, however, was as silent as a whisper, opening and then closing behind me with the cushioned snick of the magnetic lock. I fished the car key out of the front pocket in my jeans, hefted my pack onto my left shoulder, and skipped along the front of Elmer's Gun and Knife Emporium.

Yes, I said skipped. Give a girl a break.

The combination of me reforging the sword and all that mead made Katie a little wild last night. There were moments where I couldn't remember my name. I'm just glad the apartment next door was vacant. No one to complain about the noise. Suffice it to say, even the guilt could wait while I enjoyed the ephemeral tingle-that ghostly memory of her mouth on my skin.

I shuddered, my breath coming a little faster. It was a wonderful day to be alive. Today would be a damn fine day. I could feel it in the air.

I'd parked in the only available space last night. I'd been a little preoccupied when I slid the Civic in between the Dumpster and a beat-up Volvo. Luckily I hadn't gotten towed.

As I crossed the alley toward my car, a string of swearing drew my attention to the pair of filth-encrusted pants and broken boots sticking out of the Dumpster. Could only be one person inside those, I was fairly sure.

"Joe," I called. "You okay in there?"

Joe stopped his thrashing for a moment, and then slid backward out of the Dumpster. In his left hand he held a crushed pizza box that rattled with several pieces of what I hoped was crust. He was an old man, gray and shaggy, with a beard down the front of his chest, and a mop of hair thick and ratted down past his collar. His clothes were disgusting, and he walked with a limp. He'd lost one of his eyes at some point, and the scar tissue and empty socket gave him a totally creepy vibe.

"Find anything good?" I asked.

He sniffed when he turned my way, his head cocked to the side so he could look at me with his good eye. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve and sniffed again. "Looking for apples," he said, wrinkling his nose and sniffing like a rabbit.

"Got a cold, Joe?"

He pulled a crust of pizza from the box and stuck it in the corner of his mouth like a cigar. Made my heart break, him gnawing that stale rind.

Sweet Katie looked after the old bum, made sure he had some food and didn't freeze in the winter. He refused much else. He was a mainstay in the neighborhood, but he was known to wander. We've found him in the heart of Seattle and as far north as Everett-even out at the industrial park where Carl shot his movies.

He pulled the crust from his mouth and waved it at me. "You stink."

I took a step back. "Mighty big words, coming fresh from the Dumpster yourself," I said with a smile. "You sure it's me you're smelling?"

He shuffle-stepped away from the Dumpster, and deeper into the alley. For a moment I thought he was going to run, but he rocked back on his heels and let out a broken-toothed whistle, shrill and off-key. "Different, I say."

I smiled at him. Maybe he smelled Katie's sandalwood soap on me. Who knows. "You like apples?" I asked. "I could bring you a couple next time I'm over."

He was like a bird, tilting his head to the left, then the right, sniffing.

"I know you," he said, stepping toward me, keeping the pizza box between us.

"Yes, I'm a friend of Katie's."

He laughed then, a cackle that turned into a cough. "Pretty Kat. She's something."

"Gotta agree with you there," I said. It was getting to be time for me to head to work, but something about the way he looked at me kept me there.

"When the sky is black, and the wind howls, who do you cry to?"

For a moment, I felt as if someone had walked on my shadow. I looked around, expecting to see a large dog, or some bogey or other coming out of the Dumpster. The sun seemed to dim as Joe stepped closer. "You hear that?" he asked.

I listened, really straining to hear anything. All I got was his ragged breathing and the traffic out on Main. "You could hear," he said, nodding. "You stink like someone who's found her hearing."

The wound where he lost his eye had left a long jagged scar down the left side of his face. That scar made a lopsided cross across the socket, running up from his cheek and disappearing into the ragged hair, and then across his eyebrow and over to his left ear. The white of the scar stood out against the dark weathering of his face. My eyes kept being drawn to the empty socket, the puckered flesh and the gaping wound. It was as if something hovered inside that shallow hole, something twisted and broken.

Gooseflesh broke out across my arms and back. "You really know how to charm a girl," I said, taking a step back.

He walked past me, again with a side shuffle, carrying the pizza box against his chest like a shield. When he got to the beat-up Volvo he stopped and turned. "Can you hear the cracking?"

"What?"

He dropped the pizza box onto the ground and covered his ears with his hands. "Can't you hear the bones? The bones of the earth?"

I stepped toward my car and unlocked the door, keeping an eye on dear, psycho old Joe. "Nothing here," I said, although I doubt he heard me by that point.

"The hounds are gnawing the bones!" he shouted. "Cracking open the bones of the earth and sucking out the marrow."

A jolt ran through me, staggering me against my car. Then, the Volvo hopped sideways a few inches and the alarm in Elmer's Gun and Knife Emporium began to bray. A second jolt ran up my legs and I fell into the open door of the Civic to keep from sprawling into the alley, and to keep things from falling on my head. Down the alley, I heard something crash to the ground, a planter from an upstairs window, or a brick from the facade.

Joe curled onto the ground as the earthquake did a third stutter step and vanished like a breath. Car alarms joined Elmer's up and down Main Street. I looked around, seeing if anything was damaged, but it was a pretty small quake-was there and gone in a breath or three.

When I got out of my car, Joe was gone.

That was creepy. Gnawing the bones of the earth? Not his usual, mumbling shtick.

I walked around the Volvo and found the pizza box open on the ground. The pizza crusts had been scattered under the car.

He wasn't near the Dumpster, so I figured he had a bolt-hole to escape to. I picked up the crusts, put them back in the box, and placed it on the stoop of Elmer's back door.

I got in my car, started it up, and slipped a Judas Priest CD into the player, then donned my sunglasses and pulled out onto Main. I paused, catching a sudden movement in the rearview mirror. A pair of shadows flew from the alley behind the Dumpster, two large birds, black as a sinner's heart.

Ten.

I CALLED JULIE FROM THE ROAD. SHE DIDN'T ANSWER AFTER six rings, which told me she was working the forge. Or she just didn't want to answer the phone.

When the answering machine picked up, I left a message. "On my way, boss," I said, as I pulled in front of a pink Honda Odyssey. New color made me think of stomach medicine. Nasty. "Hope the quake didn't shake things up over there too much."

I hated talking to machines.

I tried Katie's cell a few times, but kept getting the all circuits are busy message The rest of the drive took forty minutes, as everyone and their sister was on the roads. I hoped Katie was okay. I tuned the radio to NPR, listening for news. Katie was in class by this time, so I didn't want to wreck her day by calling. I was just being silly. Overreacting. I'm sure she's fine. Really.

I pulled over at the convenience store to get some caffeine. I cut the engine and climbed out. The store was open; that was a good sign. I recognized the guy behind the counter, but he didn't give any indication of knowing I was alive until I set two bottles of soda on the counter.

I could see he was watching a small television and listening through an earbud.

"What's the news?" I asked.

He glanced at me and shrugged. "Few lights out. One of the buildings in Pioneer Square lost some bricks again, and they are considering closing the schools."

"Lovely," I said, handing him a fiver.

He handed me my change and turned back to the television.

Closing schools. Maybe Katie was getting out early. Now, if I could just get through to her cell, I'd feel better.

Back on the road, I could see that some of the lights were out in Renton, so getting through the 167 to 405 interchange was going to take a while. No good way to get from Kent to Redmond, frankly.

I didn't pull into the parking lot at the shop until ten fifteen. Julie's truck was parked at the diner across the street. I parked my car and Julie came out of the diner, waving her cell phone at me.

"Hey, Sarah," she called, motioning me to cross to her.

I waited for a break in the traffic and darted across. "What's up?"

"I've been trying to call the customers, see how they're doing with the quake. Not getting through too often, lines are all jammed."

"Yeah, sucks. Been trying to reach Katie, but can't get through," I said.

"Tried you a couple of times, save you a trip, but . . ." she shrugged.

"No worries. Any news on the magnitude yet?"

"Not yet, but Mary called from the Circle Q and the horses are all panicked. She asked if we could come out tomorrow instead."

Damn, I thought. No work, no pay. "We have anything else lined up?"

She paused, which let me know something worried her. She talked like she walked, a freight train in constant motion.

"Actually, I got Puget Gas and Electric coming out. I think we broke a seal on the propane tank out back. Not gonna light any fires until they give me the all clear."

"Want me to come do some paperwork or anything?"

"No, not today. Consider it a vacation day."

"Bank account can't take too many of those," I said with a laugh. Gallows humor.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," she said. She was well aware of my paycheck-to-paycheck existence. "Circle Q is a new gig for us. May end up with some overtime at first, if you are up for it."

"Sure," I said with a smile. Overtime was straight time, but she paid me for the hours I worked. "I'll be back bright and early tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. I'll see you at the crack of ten."

With that she walked back into the diner, waving at me as she went.

I stood there for a second, hands in my pockets, and contemplated.

If they closed the schools, Katie would likely head over to her brother's. I crossed traffic and pulled out my cell phone.

Katie's brother, Jimmy, was our seneschal-the leader of our little band of mercenaries, House Black Briar. We were affiliated with the Society for Creative Anachronism. If work was being canceled across the Sound, most of the group would head to Jimmy's for fun and frivolity. Like recess for grown-ups. Might be fun to get some combat practice in. The summer wars were a ways off, but it never hurt to swing some rattan.

It would take me a couple of hours to get out to Gold Bar with the crazy traffic, but I had the rest of the day to kill. I needed to call Carl at some point to see if they were shooting in light of the quake but I could do that. I didn't smell any gas, so I went into the smithy and pulled the black blade from the safe. Once it was ensconced in the lovely case I made for it, I carried the bundle out to my car. Off to crack some heads, I thought. Pleasant thought. Maybe Katie had her cell on already. I called her as I headed out toward Gold Bar, but it went straight to voice mail.

So I left her a quick message and turned up the music. Nothing like some hard-hitting metal to put me in the mood to hit people with sticks.

Eleven.