us.”
“I’m surprised to see you two awake.” Dawn was finally lightening in the east, but Jean-Pierre and Noriko looked alert.
“We were preparing to spell Alastair out at the estate. Harris, your manners.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jean-Pierre’s sudden, deliberate charm put Harris off. “Gabriela Donohue, this is Jean-Pierre Lamignac and Noriko Nomura.”
Noriko bowed.
“Grace,” said Jean-Paul. “So, you are the famous Gabrielle. Doc’s description does not do you justice.” He bent to kiss her hand.
She watched this with a bemused expression. “You remind me of my uncle Ernesto.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. He’s in jail where he belongs.”
He straightened, his expression confused, and she turned away from him. “Harris, your friend Doc is in bed, all your fires are put out . . . it’s time for you to give me some answers.”
Gaby caught on faster than Harris had. “Wait a minute. When you say ‘Sidhe Foundation,’ you don’t mean the pronoun. You mean like in ‘banshee.’ ”
Jean-Pierre winced. “No. Daoine Sidhe. But like the Bean Sidhe, they’re almost gone.”
Gaby’s face was an interesting study; Harris could almost see the thoughts clicking through her head like coins through a mechanical change-counter.
She looked at him. “Pop’s half-Irish,” she said. “And a fireman. A great storyteller both ways. He had lots of fairy tales for all the kids.”
“So this means something to you.”
“Oh, yes. Either you slipped me a tab of LSD, or we’re in the land of the little people.” She glanced at Jean-Pierre and Noriko. “Only they’re not so little.”
Harris finished up his account: “So just as we were popping out he saw the old man and called him ‘Duncan.’ I can only guess that means the old guy is Duncan Blackletter.”
Jean-Pierre paled and lost all the charm he’d been beaming at Gaby. “Doc killed Duncan Blackletter.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“Gods.