Mordecai diverted on his way back to Room 103 with the sandwiches. He knew if he yelled at Hyacinth to get the door, she’d just yell back that it was open. “Hang on, Calliope, let me get whoever that is…”

“Hey! Feed me and tell me I’m pretty!” snapped a voice from the bedroom.

He snickered and bent double, barely keeping the tray upright. “Cut it out! It might be a real person! They’re trying to get in the front.”

“It’s the cops!”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Cut it out!”

Calliope was being extra-amusing today, and he knew why. Ordinarily, that would make everything a lot less amusing. Ordinarily. But it wasn’t just that she had a hookup for the fun drugs, she was also a really nice person. She cared, but not like normal people, who often seemed to think caring entitled them to concessions. It was like he’d been eating in pubs for fifty-eight years and all of a sudden he found out there really was such a thing as a free lunch.

Except she let him make the sandwiches, because she knew he liked that sort of thing.

He opened the door, already bowing, with a smile. “Hello, welcome to Hyacinth’s house. We’re taking a vacation from the illegal school today. Terribly sorry, family matter. But if you have a medical emergency, I’m certain — Oh my gods.” He dropped the sandwiches.

“Sir, do these…”

Mordecai’s impaired focus drifted from the man in the blue uniform to the girl in the blue dress, “Dammit, why do you always have to do these things to me when I’m huh… haaaah… having extremely legal sandwiches? Good afternoon, uh, policeman. Officer.”

Erik was furiously shaking his head and waving both hands in front of him, but Erik wouldn’t turn Maggie in if she’d just killed the Prime Minister, so there was no point in acknowledging him.

Maggie was rather less animated, but she shook her head, too, only once. “I should have done something,” she said.

“What happened?” Mordecai asked of the policeman-officer. “Did you pick them up at the track — I withdraw that, I am not a revolutionary. These aren’t even my sandwiches. Jogging. Track. People jog on tracks. For sports. Is there a jogging track? I mean, I’m certain there is one. Somewhere. I’m eccentric. It’s the war. It’s cute. Normal people do not live here, just look at the state of this house! Oh, gods.” He clamped both hands over his mouth and shut his eyes.

“So they do live here.”

“Well, they are certainly not normal!”

“Sir?”

“Please excuse me. I’m a little upset. My sandwich died in the war. Yes, they live here. That one is mine, and the other one belongs to her mother. I think she’s at home, but she might be eating pigeons on the roof. It’s lunch. Do you need her?”

“Nooo,” said the policeman, doubtfully regarding the children. “I’m required to leave them in the custody of a legal guardian…”

“I’m absolutely legal!”

“…and they said they didn’t have a phone, so I just brought them with me.”

“Oh. Thank you.” He collected both children and yanked Erik in particular behind him, out of view. “Will there be anything else — I shouldn’t have asked.”

The policeman flipped open a small notebook. “Do you mind answering a few questions?”

“Yes.” Erik shoved him. “I mean, no. Ha, ha.”

“Are you acquainted with a Mr. John Green-Tara?”

“I never met the man in my life.” Erik pulled down his arm with a furious expression, standing amid the sandwiches. “We are best friends. He is a fine, upstanding young man who does not commit acts of violence unprovoked.” A small green hand almost twisted his shoulder out of the socket. “You are asking an awful lot of me right now, Erik!”

The policeman fixed him with a narrow glare. “Why do you say that about ‘acts of violence’?”

“I’m huh-uhhh… ungry. Low blood sugar, sir. My record skipped a groove. Terribly sorry. You can ask my personal physician, as long as she hasn’t had any brownies.” Mordecai smiled quite winningly.

“Hypoglycemic?”

“No, no, a lesbian.”

The police officer just stared, clutching his little pencil.

Maggie swept between them and planted both hands on her hips. “All right, will you listen to me now or do you want to go a couple more rounds with my friend Erik’s crazy uncle? I have been trying to explain this to you. It’s Erik’s birthday, so Uncle Mordecai asked our friend John to take him to the movies. As you can see, Erik’s uncle was physically and mentally incapacitated during the siege and is not capable of taking a little boy to the movies.”

“He has good days and bad days,” Erik put in.

“This is not a good day,” Maggie continued. “Erik and I live together in this boarding house, and John lives downtown, where Uncle Mordecai likes to play violin when he is capable. That is where they made friends. So it’s perfectly reasonable that we were all at the movies together, even though we are obviously not related. Now, the man that John punched in the face and over the course of the altercation accidentally pushed through a plate glass window…”

“Oh my gods, what?” said Mordecai.

“…was being verbally abusive to all three of us, and furthermore John had reason to suspect this man was associated with a street gang which had attacked and injured Erik and Mordecai previously. You can ask anyone in this house or John’s family about the gang and the injury, and they will all give you the same story. Except possibly Uncle Mordecai because he’s not feeling very well at the moment.” Maggie narrowed her eyes to gimlet points and skewered the red gentleman in the conservative vest and tie.

Mordecai drew out a crumpled tissue, shook it open to display the obvious blood stains, and coughed into it, just once. “Hem.”

Maggie’s glare trumped the policeman and brownies.

“So will you please just tell your friends at the station to let John off with a warning so we can all go on about our lives without overcomplicating this and getting lawyers involved?”

“A lawyer!” Mordecai said. He scurried past the children. “Calliope! Could you come here, please? We need…”

A small woman in a sloppy men’s shirt poked her head out of Room 103. Her whole face was slathered in white paint, with a carefully rendered green cartoon dinosaur on her left cheek, and a shooting star with a rainbow contrail on the right one. All this was surmounted by a bowler hat with a paper daisy in it.

“Oh. Ah-ha. ‘Feed me and tell me I’m pretty.’ I get it now.”

Erik frowned. “Did you buy your own paint? That better not be the last of my paint, Calliope.”

Calliope grinned at him and handed him a card.

Erik folded the card with a sigh and stuffed it in a back pocket, so he could save the stickers later. “Yeah, I know.”

Calliope noted the sandwiches on the floor. She made a theatrical frown, signed drawing both corners of her mouth down even lower with her index fingers, and mournfully honked the bicycle horn in her front pocket.

Maggie shook her head. “This… This really is not a good day for anyone.”

Marshmallow the Clown offered the cop a card and a smile.

“Uh, thank you?”

Mordecai frantically waved both arms, trying to flag her down. “Calliope, no! We need that intimidating lawyer shit you do!”

She turned and blinked at him. “What, right now?”

Mordecai regarded the dinosaur. “Well… Could you wash your face first?”

Maggie jumped up and raised a hand, as she had learned to politely refrain from doing in school. But this time she suspected she really was the smartest one in the room. “Calliope, we need your mom’s phone number! Marigold-Muse Law!”

“Which one?” Calliope said with a frown. “Mom’s probably not at the office, it’s Yule. You want her or Marigold-Muse?”

Maggie considered. She blew out a long sigh, shaking her head. “If we call Marigold-Muse direct, I think they’re going to hang up on us. Give us your mom.”

Calliope signed her a thumbs up.

“Mr. Green-Tara would like to call his lawyer,” Magnificent declared. “We’re getting her phone number, then we would like to go back to the police station.”

Erik nodded firmly.

Mordecai pulled him backwards. “Wait a minute! You are eight years old…”

Erik frowned and held up nine fingers.

“Nine years old! Nine and eleven years old and you are not going back to the police station! Responsible adults will handle this!”

Maggie looked him up and down. She turned and stamped up the stairs. “Mom! Are you home?”

“Oh, gods, no,” said Mordecai. He cupped a hand to his mouth, “Hyacinth! Are you home?”

“Why wouldn’t I be home?” shrieked a voice from the basement. “You think I’m gonna take this baby to a bar?”

Mordecai smacked a hand to his forehead. “Oh, gods, what are we gonna do with the baby…?”

◈◈◈

Hyacinth found herself voluntarily entering the back of a police car, as a trio of licensed sex workers waved bye-bye from the front porch with the kids and Calliope. Erik and Maggie did not feel they required a sitter, but neither did they wish to be left in charge of Barnaby. They were willing to abide Tania, Elizabeth and Adrian’s help. And Tania, Elizabeth and Adrian were willing to lower their hourly fee for the privilege of playing with a cute baby and a kitten.

Lower, not waive, lower. So this was still going to be expensive as hell.

But Maggie had chosen her champion and Mordecai had chosen his, and that used up all the responsible, sober adults in the house. So, once again, she was heading to a police station with the General to see if she could somehow get them to let a decent guy go home.

The opposite door opened. Instead of the General, Mordecai dropped his skinny ass on the bench seat next to her.

“What the hell are you doing?” She glanced suspiciously towards the front seat. Even though the cop hadn’t come in yet, she metered her words, “You’re ‘crazy,’ right? That’s what we’re saying so you don’t get yourself arrested for Erik’s birthday? Go back and wait for Milo to get home with the cake, Erik sure as hell won’t blow out his candles without you.”

“Erik isn’t going to blow out any candles while his friend’s in jail, and he asked me to come.” He straightened his vest and tie. “I’ll just have to un-crazy myself on the way to the station… Where is my damn jacket?”

“Probably in Calliope’s room. Are you serious right now? What does Erik think you’re going to do?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Hyacinth! I’m not going to interrogate the boy on top of everything else!”

“It didn’t occur to you to ask,” Hyacinth said dryly.

“Okay! Also that. Yes.”

The General opened the front passenger door. “What is he doing here?”

“He has no idea, but he won’t leave because Erik sent him.” Hyacinth arranged her purse in her lap and drew up her knees, anticipating the discomfort of a distended seat back. “Let’s hit the road.”

Given the sparsity of cobbles plus the snow, it was more like the road hit them. At least it was warmer than walking, and the ride smoothed out once they reached SoHo.

The policeman refused to let Hyacinth play with the bubble light or the siren.

◈◈◈

John Green-Tara was sitting in a small room with a locked door and a metal table and hoping very much that someone would decide to let him out of this room, and not take him to a new room with bars on the door and window. And possible criminals. Like, prostitutes or drug dealers or murderers or whatever.

It wouldn’t be a room with bars and a lot of nice, normal boys who just screwed up sometimes. He was sure of that. There weren’t enough of those to fill a whole jail.

A man in a blue uniform with brass buttons opened the door. “There are some bizarre people here and they insisted upon giving you your lawyer’s phone number.” He smoothed a pink slip of notepaper out on the table. “But we don’t need to complicate this any more, do we?”

“No, sir. Please just let me pay for the window.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, son.”

John noted Hyacinth’s unmistakable block letter handwriting on the paper. RINSWELL SOAP FLAKES-OTIS. YOU’RE CALLIOPE’S FRIEND. (YES YOU DO NEED A LAWYER!)

“Um. I’m sorry. Could you describe these bizarre people?”

“A blonde woman, a fat woman and a coloured man.”

“May I talk to them? I’ll get them to go away.”

The policeman was already shaking his head.

“Um.” John sighed and regarded the paper. “I’m sorry. I think I really would like to call my lawyer. Is that okay?”

“This is a long-distance number, boy.”

“I’m sorry. Um. I’ll reimburse you for it?”

They brought him a heavy black telephone with a long cord that extended out the door and down the hall.

“Um. Can I… have a little privacy? No? Okay. That’s okay. Thank you.” He dialed shakily. “It’s ringing.” He waited, drumming the fingers of one hand on the table. “Hello? Oh, uh, I’m John. Uh. This is going to sound crazy, but are you my lawyer?”

◈◈◈

Stephen Marigold Otis plugged one ear with a finger so he could hear the phone over the Otis family’s winter festivities. “Who? Oh, Calliope’s friend!”

He clutched the phone in two eager hands and beamed. “How is my little princess? Did you say a clown? A real clown? That’s marvellous! You’ll have to drag her into a photo booth and take us a lot of pictures, all right? Yes, that’s right. Is she there? Well, let her know we’ll be there for the art show! Not all of us, obviously, ha-ha! Sorry? Oh, dear. Is Calliope in jail too? Oh, good. Well, not good. Unless you want to be in jail? Oh, of course, of course. Hang on.”

He scanned the kitchen for someone who might carry a message.

“Erato…”

“Dad! I’m emulsifying!”

“Right. Sorry. My son is a chef,” he informed the voice on the phone. “Well, that one is, anyway. Um…”

There was a small boy eating chocolate chips out of a cup and gravely observing from the corner.

“Oh! Helix, sweetheart, could you get Grandma for me? Thank you, princess. It’ll just be a minute,” he told the voice on the phone. “So how are you, then? Yes, I know. Apart from that. Are you having a nice Yule? Now-now, I’m positive Rin will get you out. What did you do, anyway? Allegedly, I mean. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No, I’m sure you had a good reason! How is Erik? And Mordecai! Oh! Well, tell him Happy Birthday from Calliope’s family! How old is he? Nine! Well-well, imagine that…”

Helix was leading Polyhymnia by the hand.

“No, sweetie, I said Grandma, not Mommy.”

“Mom’s off exhibit,” Polyhymnia said. “This seems interesting. What’s going on?”

“One of Calliope’s little friends is in jail again. Could you hold this for a second, princess? I’ll see about Mom.” He gave her the phone.

Naturally, she put it to her ear and said, “Hello?” She shook her head. “No, I’m Polyhymnia Tadah Otis-de la Cruz. I’m a scientist but I quit my job. I’m in the humanities now. Has Calliope been putting sweaters on trees again?” She plugged one ear with a finger and asked it again, louder. “Well, if you heard me the first time, don’t say ‘what.’ What’s not to understand? Really? Okay, put him on the phone. Go on.

“Hi. Can I get a name and a badge number? Super. Just a minute.” There was no notepad, so she wrote it on the kitchen wall in hollandaise. “Are you trying to deny my little sister’s friend his right to an attorney, Officer Dupain? Okay, then sit down and be patient. There is, in fact, a lawyer here. We’re just in the middle of Yule and our family is, like, humongous.”

Helix had put his thumb in his mouth and appeared concerned.

“It’s all right.” She pulled a chair up to the counter, “Jump up,” and let him climb next to the phone. “I’m talking to a policeman. What do we say to the policeman, smart boy?”

“‘Am I being detained?’”

She laughed. “That’s cute. Did Uncle Terp teach you that?”

He nodded.

“Okay, but what else?”

“‘Lawyer.’”

“Good boy. That’s right. Huh?” She took the phone in both hands, pulled it away from her ear and frowned at the police officer, long distance. “That is blatant propaganda, sir. How dare you attempt to indoctrinate a three-year-old? The public defender is our friend! Unless they are burnt out from overwork, but that is not their fault, now, is it, Mister Unlawful-Search-and-Seizure-Pants? No, this is not a prank. I don’t even know that poor guy you’re detaining, but he’s Calliope’s friend so he obviously didn’t mean it, whatever it was.

“Sir, if you hang up on me my mother will come down there, it will take at least six hours, and she will be pissed. It’s the middle of Yule and she wants to play with her grandbabies and eat pie, but she’s already irritated with the SRPD since you committed my brother, so don’t push it.”

“Hey, sis, who’s on the phone?”

“Hey, Euterpe, it’s just the police.”

Euterpe called back over his shoulder, “It’s not Thalia, don’t worry.”

“Then tell them to call back after Yule!” Melpomene snapped, from the living room.

“Can’t! It’s the cops!” Euterpe replied. “Is the music too loud, Polyhymnia?”

“No, they’re harassing one of Calliope’s friends again.”

Euterpe took the phone and plugged one ear. “Hey, did you guys ever find my makeup bag? It’s a Fermé. My lucky egg salad sandwich is in there, and my bunny slippers…”

Melpomene grabbed the phone and snarled into it, “I turned down the record player! What more do you fascists want?”

When Stephen returned with Rin, Melpomene was lecturing either the police or Calliope’s poor friend about customs laws. “…Anyone can buy a magically modified exotic animal any time they like, all you’re doing is making them more expensive! It’s like a racket! If it’s not a racket, that’s even worse!”

“Oz, honey,” Rin said gently.

“Where is the justice, I ask you!” cried the accountant.

“I’m doing my best.” She smiled. “Can I have the phone?”

He gave it to her and stomped away, muttering. Polyhymnia and Euterpe went after him. Stephen helped Helix down from the counter. “Who wants cookies?” he asked at a whisper. “Come on, then.”

“Do I have to share with Sigma?”

“Well, it would be nice of you, princess…”

“Who am I speaking to, please?” Rin said. “Yes, I am a lawyer. Yes, a real lawyer. I apologize for the delay, I happen to be at home. Please put my client on the phone and leave the room. Attorney-client privilege, sir. You will not force my client to incriminate himself. Thank you. Bye-bye.

“Hello? Don’t say anything until you’re alone. Okay. Cool. Listen, don’t let on, but I’m not really a defence-type attorney here. I’ll try to help you out, but if you’re really in trouble I might have to refer you to someone else. No, they will let you call another attorney no matter how weird my family is, or I will have the metaphorical testicles of the entire backwards-ass legal system of San Rosille for trophies. I’m sorry. Yes, it is personal. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault.

“So what happened? Mm-hm. Mm-hm. Wait, are you a minority? Me too! Where from? South Atria! How fun! Do you guys do Ghost Month or…? I’m sorry, we’ll talk about that later, go on. Oh, that’s terrible, he never mentioned that. I see. Did you ever find out if the guy was in this gang or not? No, it shouldn’t make any difference. Are you able to pay for at least fifty-percent of the window? No-no, I think fifty-percent is enough, under the circumstances.

“Wait, wait, are you over eighteen years of age? Yes, that counts, honey, don’t worry. A few minutes would be enough. They do not need to involve your mother. You’re a legal adult, you and I can handle this. Okay, put the cop back on the phone. Let me see what I can do.”

◈◈◈

John tapped on the closed door and held the phone up to the tiny window. The door opened. “Now what?”

“Uh, she wants to talk to you.”

◈◈◈

John Green-Tara peeked out of the front window first and noted three familiar backs of heads sitting on the bench outside. He sighed. It was nice of them to wait for him, but it wasn’t like they could give him a ride home. He’d have to start explaining right away instead of waiting for his mom to notice the blood on his shirt.

He opened the door and frowned at the happy little bell that engaged. It made him feel like he ought to run to the counter and take someone’s lunch order, and it was much too cheerful for the police. Like false advertising.

Hyacinth turned around first and stood up. She swore. Then the others turned and stood.

He rubbed his nose on his sleeve. He guessed he couldn’t try to sneak home and hope everyone would buy that he fell.

Mordecai grabbed Hyacinth by the arm and dragged her backwards. He was wearing a greatcoat that was somehow too short and too wide, and much neater than his usual model. He hissed in her ear, pointing.

“For gods’ sakes, it’s been over an hour,” she said, yanking her arm away.

“I ate it and you know that’s different!” he said. “It’s just weird, okay? It’s weird!”

She swatted him and shoved him behind her. “Pardon me, John?” She dipped half a curtsy and smirked. “Welcome to the free world, by the way. Did the police punch you in the face?”

“Huh?” He touched his face, as if making sure. “No, that guy did. He went out the back.”

“Uh-huh. And who’s the Prime Minister?”

“What’s-his-name? Bertie. Felix Adelbert.”

“Right, and we’re not in one of those mirror universes like the comic books, right?”

He looked pained. “Miss Hyacinth, I have no idea how I’m supposed to figure that out. Has Milo been altering the nature of reality more than usual? Do I need to be worried?”

“About Mr. Rose?” The General scoffed. “He thinks too small to be any real danger.”

“It’s nothing like that, Mordecai’s just having a little freak-out. You look like he did after he got arrested. You doing okay?” Hyacinth lifted a hand, offering to check. “Think anything’s broken?”

“The window.” He bowed his head and allowed her to check him. “My mother’s fragile trust in her weird son who hangs out with ma-magic-users. And in you, too, if she had any.” He looked away. “I’m sorry. I’m so grateful you got me out of this, but she’s not going to hear that when I tell her why I’ve got blood all over me. She’s only going to hear Erik got me into it. What a rotten thing to do to him on his birthday!” He kicked the cobbled street. “I should’ve just grabbed them and run into a store, but I thought he might wait around outside, like they got you.” He nodded to Mordecai and winced. “Do I seem mentally ill to you guys?”

“John, you are asking the wrong people,” Hyacinth said.

“If participating in a trial by jury, I would deem you responsible for your actions,” the General said.

“…the wrong people,” Hyacinth said.

“I’m sorry. Mrs. Otis said something like that to the police. Post-traumatic stress and the Marselline Disabilities Act. Also race prejudice, a brutal history of colonization and reparations for what Marsellia has done to my culture.”

“My gods, she’s like Calliope squared,” Mordecai said.

“Well, she did go to school for it,” Hyacinth said.

John was staring into space as if recounting a recent carpet bombing from among the rubble. “…So they said I just had to shake hands with the guy and they’ll bill me for the window, then they gave me the phone back so she could ask me if we do Ghost Month. I-I have no idea if we do Ghost Month. And she said, ‘You see what they’ve done to your culture?’ And they all sang happy birthday to Erik and I’m supposed to tell Calliope they’ll be here for the art show.

“I don’t know if I’m going to see Calliope again. Or Erik. I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Please give me just a moment,” the General said. “I don’t want to damage the fabric. Is that silk? The shirt, Mr. Green-Tara.” He had been looking around at the ground.

He plucked at the fabric. “It’s that synthetic stuff. Silk is expensive. The embroidery is silk. Mom does it.”

“Ah. Thank you very much.” She waved a hand and the blood and mud stains disappeared from his jacket, trousers and shirt. “Hyacinth, what about the rest of it?”

“Nothing’s broken except the blood vessels. It’s going to bruise like crazy, even with ice.”

“Ah, yes,” said the General. She drew a clean handkerchief from her purse and cupped her hand over it. It filled with white snow. She tied the corners together like a little bindle. “Here, Mr. Green-Tara. This is a special kind of snow that does not melt. Hold it against the bridge of your nose between the eyes for maximum efficacy, and after ten minutes move it down to your mouth. Then back to the bridge of your nose. ‘Lather, rinse, repeat,’ as my daughter would say.”

He followed instructions, but he was shaking his head. “You guys, she’s still going to…”

“You walked into a sliding glass door,” Hyacinth said. “An automatic sliding glass door. It had a sign on it saying ‘out of order,’ but you didn’t notice. You hit it face-first and broke it, and when the bill comes, that’s what it’s for.”

John blinked. “Oh.” Maybe that would work?

“How did you get so damned good at lying when you never bother to do it even when you should?” Mordecai said.

She shrugged. “It was like a game David and I used to play. I still lie sometimes, you’re just not paying attention.”

“You’re trying to make me paranoid,” the red man said. “It won’t work.” He glanced aside at her as he brushed past. “John, I got wasted for Erik’s birthday and you already know why, so I’m just going to make sure. Did all this mess happen because you thought somebody might hurt Erik?”

John shrugged. “And Maggie.”

The General snorted. “Idiot.”

Mordecai offered his hand to shake. “I tried to kill you once, but I’m pleased to know the person you grew into because I didn’t.” He frowned and looked away. “That makes sense, doesn’t it? Does that make sense to you?”

John managed a weak smile. “Yeah.” He accepted the handshake. “Thank you, but it’s not… I don’t know. It’s just something that happened. I didn’t go out of my way. I just screwed up less bad, then you guys helped me fix it.”

Hyacinth laughed. “Oh, did you hear that? The poor kid’s part of the family. He’s screwed now!”

Mordecai suddenly tightened his grip. “You’re an arsonist!”

The General put a hand on each of them and shooed them away, “Lower your voice near the police station or choose a different metaphor, if you are able.”

“I like the one with the arsonists, we don’t need a different metaphor,” Mordecai said, though in a somewhat lower voice. “John, I don’t know if Erik asked me to come along with this in mind and he probably doesn’t know, either, but how would you like to come home with us and make it official? Your mother thinks you’re going to be at the movies all day and then go back with Erik and have cake anyway, doesn’t she?”

John pulled back his hand and folded both under his arms. “Are you… It sounds like you’re asking me to marry you.”

Mordecai turned away with a scowl. “Damn it, what is it about me?” he muttered. “I talk with my hands, right? Is it the gestures?” he asked, gesturing. “Real men don’t have wrists or elbows, is that it?”

“Uh…”

“I believe the man is asking to incorporate you,” the General said. “Calliope is at least a semi-lawyer and she incorporated the household as a joke for Hyacinth’s birthday, months ago. We may be known, jointly, as Recovering Arsonists Limited, although the children are provisional. Limited liability, in this context, has no practical value, but it is cute.”

“Recovering Arsonists…” John snapped his fingers and pointed. “Calliope said that when she drew up that friendship contract. With the pink seahorsie. Like that sign in your kitchen!”

“We start fires and help each other put them out,” Hyacinth said. She also offered her hand to shake. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather smite with a membership, unless Calliope’s family wants in. You’re real quick with a match and an extinguisher, you know? What do you say?”

“Are you sure?” he said. “I mean, all three of you. Milo and Calliope seem like they like me already. Er, and Ann.”

“Do I not seem like I like you?” Hyacinth said.

“To be less delicate about it,” the General said, “Milo and Calliope, and Ann, seem like they lack judgment. Whereas we three do not.” She aimed a glance at Mordecai. “As much.”

John shrugged. “You guys seem like you’re in charge, is all. They’re your kids.”

It was ambiguous whether he meant to include Milo, Ann and Calliope (and Sanaam, come to think of it) with Erik and Maggie. The General decided to let it slide, under the circumstances. “Given that it seems we will be putting out your fires and you will be putting out ours, regardless, it seems only logical,” said the General. “I have no objection.”

“I just wanted to keep an eye on you in the first place, but now I like you,” Hyacinth said. “I do still want to keep an eye on you, but it’s kinda like I’m in the middle of a project and I want to see how it turns out. I think you’re going to be interesting.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind you hanging out, is all. And the arsonists thing is cute.”

Privately, examining the sign alone in her kitchen, she often wondered if Calliope had done that because she couldn’t make them be a real family. A piece of paper with complicated legal entanglements was permanent in a way they weren’t. It wasn’t, of course. Permanent. But Calliope was young and naive and it really was cute. She wouldn’t mind adding John’s name in a clause, he was right about that.

And Hyacinth didn’t mind Calliope not-minding.

“What about you?” John said.

“I’m the one that asked you to marry us!” Mordecai said. “Well, in a manner of speaking.”

“Yeah,” John said. He unbuttoned his coat and offered it. “You can give the General hers back. We’re about the same size and it’s not far to the bus. I’ll come with you for cake and everything — I want Erik to know it’s okay — but I think I’ll wait on the arsonist thing until it’s not his birthday and you’re not wasted.”

Mordecai held up two fingers a dramatic quarter of an inch apart. “I was only very slightly worried about the mirror universe thing, the brownies were hours ago, and I have almost all of my brain.” He held his fingers higher. “It is this close!”

He dropped his hand and pointed firmly at the cobbles between his shoes.

“I am standing outside this police station again because you were willing to burn your relationships with all of us, and your mother to the ground in order to keep Erik safe when it looked like he needed it, and that is something I will never stop respecting. So you can wait if it makes you feel better, or if Calliope ate more brownies and she can’t lawyer right now, but I’m not changing my mind. Thank you for the less-embarrassing coat, let’s go see if Milo’s come home with the cake.” He turned and began walking.

“Bus stop’s the other way,” Hyacinth said, without even looking over. The General hid her eyes in her palm and gave a low groan.

Mordecai held his fingers over his head. “It is this close!” He turned and walked back the other way, hands in pockets and head down.

Hyacinth nudged John and fell into step beside him. “It’s not like we couldn’t use the help.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow, and if he still feels the same way, then okay.”

“Yay,” said Hyacinth.

“Basic operating instructions!” Mordecai declared. He slowed so he could walk beside John and gesture. “You need those! Horses aren’t safe, but donkeys are. Cows aren’t safe, but oxen are. Sheep aren’t safe, but goats are. Dogs aren’t safe, except Samantha. Hyacinth broke Samantha. Cats are safe. Have you met Digby? Ah! And never let Erik anywhere near a battery! That’s new. I just found that out. In the worst way, but that’s Hyacinth for you.

“He knows all this stuff himself, but you know how he is, you have to watch him, he’s eight. Nine, sorry. He turned into a bird this one time and scared the crap out of me. He is way too good at calling gods with no sense of self-preservation!

“Now, the only hospital that takes coloured people is Sol Invictus, uptown, and it is expensive. It’s also a storm shelter, but we don’t go there. I mean, why would we? So let’s talk magic storms…”

“It has been ten minutes, Mr. Green-Tara,” said the General. “It is time to move the snew.”

“What’s snew?” John said.

Hyacinth swatted him playfully on the back. “Your Recovering Arsonists Limited membership!”

He had walked all the way to the bus stop with them, and failed to absorb multiple facts about innate magic-users, before he gathered the courage to say, “I’m sorry, what?”