“You should make her call you ‘Miss Georgina,’” added Hugh with a mocking southern drawl. “Or at least ‘ma’am.’”Niphon’s presence and Jerome’s lecture had put me in a grouchy mood. “I’m not doing any mentoring. She’s so gungho to take on the world’s male population, she doesn’t even need me.”The three men exchanged more smirks. Cody made some hissing and meowing sounds, scratching at the air."This isn’t funny,” I said."Sure it is,” said Cody.”

“What kind of sick bastard burns down a Christmas tree?”Hugh and I exchanged glances. “That’s an excellent question,” I said dryly.Peter looked startled. “Was it you?” he asked Hugh.“No,” said the imp. “It was Carter.”“Your Christmas tree was burned down by an angel?” asked Cody.“Yup. The irony isn’t lost on me”

“Cody?” I said. “Why are you dead?” Tact. I got it.”

“That would never do, I'm sure,' said Alice: `the governess would never think of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldn't remember my name, she'd call me "Miss!" as the servants do.' Well. if she said "Miss," and didn't say anything more,' the Gnat remarked, `of course you'd miss your lessons. That's a joke. I wish YOU had made it.' Why do you wish I had made it?' Alice asked. `It's a very bad one.' But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling down its cheeks. You shouldn't make jokes,' Alice said, `if it makes you so unhappy.”

“It was May’s idea,” Quentin added.“I’m sure it was,” I said. Sylvester started circling. I dropped into a defensive position. “I’m not really comfortable with this, May.”“Cope,” she said.“Maybe an audience will make you shape up,” Sylvester said, and lunged.I parried. “Maybe an audience will distract me and get me gutted.”“Let’s see some carnage!” hollered May, pumping her fist in the air.“This isn’t professional wrestling!” I snapped, trying to hit Sylvester’s ankle. He blocked, turning my thrust aside and nearly disarming me. “And I swear if you shout ‘take it off,’ I am coming over there.”“Take what off?” asked Sylvester.“Nothing, Your Grace,” Quentin and I said in unison.”

“You should do that more often,” he said. “Laugh, I mean.”“I know.” But that sounded sad, and she didn’t want to be sad, so she added, “I don’t often get to torture grown men, though.”“Really?” he murmured. “I would think you do it all the time.”She looked at him.“When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.”