She had never heard anything so unholy. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it.
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