It was odd to realize we’d only been gone a little over an hour—my sense of time was starting to slip, which wasn’t good. And the clock was still ticking: somewhere, our killer was stalking another victim—or maybe had already killed him. I filled the others in, as I’d promised. None of them seemed much fussed about the Council; typical lonejacks, they didn’t expect any help from that quarter, only interference. So far, they hadn’t been wrong. “So it started in Montreal?” Sharon added that to the notes. “Sounds like it, yeah. A mentor-mentee slaying. Ugh.” Pietr looked a little green. We all did, actually, even Venec. “We need to get those files,” Venec said. “And not wait for the Council to maybe-yes, maybe-no share them.” “Uh-huh. And how do you expect to do that?” Sharon did the eyebrow-raising thing, and Venec raised his hands in defeat.
