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were some kind of parlor game, like Clue.
    I could already feel my heart sinking and desperation setting in. Things were already quite bad enough without an intervention from the Master of the Manor.
    I waited till it had drawn up beyond a squad car. The back of the Rolls was empty, but the driver was there beyond the windshield, in plain view.
    You would have needed a white stick and a guide dog if you couldn’t see him. The chassis groaned when he got out. This was Hampton, Woodard Raine’s trusted flunky, and the only person living at the Manor – still human at least – apart from Raine himself.
    He took off his cap and gazed at me in a refined, distanced manner that just oozed contempt.
    Well?
    “Master Raine would like to speak with you, Mr. Devries.”
    He had a high-pitched voice for such a large man. And in terms of girth was, literally, as broad as he was long. A hefty butterball of a fellow. Raine had gotten him all dressed up, though, in a tailored chauffeur’s uniform of the same color as the car. There was a trace of perspiration at his collar, from his wattled neck. But otherwise, he looked the very picture of a stern and loyal manservant.
    Two more things stood out about him. His face, as round as a full moon’s, was lightly tanned, a pale teak color. And the guy was walleyed, one iris bright green, the other a pale yellow.
    I took a step forward, to make myself better heard. And asked him, “What if I don’t want to?”
    Hampton remained very still, those mismatched eyes gleaming in his flat pancake of an expression.
    “He wishes to discuss with you this evening’s …“
    The man looked past me at the humble dwellings, obviously searching for the proper word.
    “Unpleasantness.”
    Which wasn’t it. That made me angry, and I wasn’t in the mood to bottle any of it up.
    “Man, he must be so upset,” I snapped. “He cares so very much about the ordinary people in this town.”
    There’s a big divide, you see, between the adepts, mostly born of Salem stock, and everybody else. And Woodard Raine epitomized it.
    Hampton let his head drop, peering at his shoes. He hated to hear his master being criticized this way. It occurred to me for a moment that perhaps I was being unfair. Could even Raine be unmoved by a tragedy like this?
    The chauffeur’s eyes were burning as he looked back up at me. But he managed to keep his tone reasonable when he piped up again.
    “Master Raine’s only concern – which I’m quite certain you share – is to get to the bottom of all of this. He feels a sense of duty, sir. An admirable trait, surely?”
    And then he waited for me to respond. I didn’t see what option I was being given. Raine might be a deranged flake, but he had an awful lot of power. Saw things that most other people simply couldn’t, except perhaps the Little Girl.
    I sighed and turned back to Cassie.
    “Looks like you’re getting all the legwork. You okay with that?”
    She made another grunting noise. I already understood how much she disliked me having anything to do with our community’s elite.
    “I’ll manage.”
    I hated leaving her alone out here. Knew how all of this had to be tearing her up inside. But choice can be a heavily-rationed commodity sometimes, in this quaint town of ours.
    The back door of the Rolls came open by itself, letting out a chilly gust into the mild night air. Me and Hampton both climbed in. There was no noise at all from the motor as it cruised back through the suburbs toward Sycamore Hill. Was that down to the fine engineering, or did this thing not even run on fuel anymore?
    But there was one sound that was irritating me. Hampton can be as oblivious to reality as his master, sometimes. And now, hunched over in the driver’s seat, his stout hands on the wheel, he was humming to himself. Snatches o f show tunes. On a night like this.
    He kept on at it until I told him to shut the damned hell up.

THREE
     
     
    Me and Dralleg sitting in a tree,