Then he was surrounded by black-clad nuns, and Melusine felt an unknown hand grab away her own sword. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. “All right.
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