“No, Philip’s got something going on,” Gemma said.

“And Rod’s barely even talking. He seems upset about something. That reminds me, Katie, I was going to ask you—” Marcia cut off when she caught my slight shake of the head.

The last thing I wanted to do was play Sex and the City when my life was more like hex and the city, but that wasn’t something I could easily explain to Nita, and I knew Owen wouldn’t be up for a date night. “Sure, sounds like fun,” I said, trying to sound a lot more enthusiastic than I felt.

Nita clapped her hands. “Yay! We could start out at the hotel cocktail lounge. It’s very swanky, and I can get us an employee discount and give y’all a tour of the hotel.” Then she frowned at me. “Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

That was one of the good and bad things about having Nita as a friend. She seemed shallow and flighty, but she really saw people, and you couldn’t sneak a bad day past her. “I’ve just had a couple of crazy days,” I told her. “There was the conference yesterday, and I had a meeting out of town today, so I spent most of the day on trains. I don’t know how people who commute like that every day do it.”

“Oh, but starting every day by going through Grand Central is so inspiring!” she said. “I get off the subway one stop early so I can cut through the terminal on my way to work. I feel like Mary Tyler Moore.”

“Wasn’t that in Minneapolis?” Marcia asked.

“I think she means the feeling of making it in the city,” Gemma said. “Too bad they got rid of the old Penn Station, because that’s where my subway stop is, and it’s not nearly as inspiring as that must have been.”

That started a conversation about things that got them excited when they first moved to the city, and I didn’t have to answer additional questions about why I was out of sorts. There was only so much claiming to be tired could cover for when the real trouble was that my world was in danger of falling apart.

*

I went to the office the next morning because I needed to do some research before I tried the fire station. Perdita’s greeting when I entered the office wasn’t nearly as friendly, cheerful, or welcoming as it usually was. “Oh, I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because of—well, you didn’t come in yesterday, so I was wondering if maybe, well, you know.” She didn’t quite look at me when she spoke.

“After my boyfriend was accused of being the son of the previous generation’s bad guys, you thought I wouldn’t dare show my face around here, or I might even have been fired?”

She looked up guiltily, peering through the hair she’d let fall into her face. “Something like that. You didn’t know, though, did you?”

“He didn’t know. The boss didn’t know. It may not even be true. And he’s not evil, I’m pretty sure of that.”

“I didn’t think he was evil, but you can’t be sure, can you?”

“I suppose it depends on where you stand on the nature versus nurture issue. I’m a magical immune like my mother, but I hope I don’t share all her personality traits. And, as I said, there’s not even any proof that it’s true.”

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked sheepishly.

“Peppermint mocha, please. And make it a big one, extra whipped cream, maybe even some sprinkles.”

“Coming right up.” It appeared on her desk, and I picked it up. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

“Not right now. I’m working on something for the boss and I’ll probably be out of here soon.” I started to head into my office, then turned back. “On second thought, there is something you could do. You’re pretty tuned in to the network, aren’t you?”

“I get around,” she said, twining a ringlet around her finger.

“Then you could start a few rumors—ask where the proof about Owen is or how Phelan Idris knew about that. And you could rebut anything you see that you know isn’t true. Get your friends on board, too.”

“Oh cool! I can talk to my friends, and it’s work! Awesome! I’ll get right on that.”

At my desk, I looked up the location of the fire station and figured out the best way to get there. Then I searched for any photos of Ramsay from around the time of the war with the Morgans. I figured if he was the big hero, there would have to be something, and sure enough, there was. I printed one. There were no such photos of the Morgans. Owen’s pictures of them were tiny and I didn’t think he’d share them, anyway, if he knew what I was up to. I went up to Merlin’s office to see if he had anything.