July 31

I grimace. So she knows Peter. “Eleven o’clock, right? I’ll be there.”
“Good girl,” she says. “You and I have a lot to discuss, and I’d hate for it to be interrupted by interference from the Order of Elegius. So, you can leave the trace beacon home, too.”
“How did you–”
“Peter and I go way back,” she laughs. “I guess you could say he thinks he’s Eliot Ness.”
“That makes you Al Capone, then,” I say mirthlessly.
“Only I pay my taxes,” she says. “Capone was sloppy. I have plans that can’t afford stupid mistakes like that.”
“Are you a terrorist or what?” I ask.
“The Order would like to have you believe that,” she says. “After tomorrow you can make up your own mind about it. Oh, and one last thing, Frannie,” she says. “That Anomaly on your chest? I didn’t put it there. It’ll get worse if you don’t come to our chat, of course, but I don’t know what’ll happen if you do. I’m as in the dark on that as you are.”
“How do I know I can believe you?” I ask.
“Killing you wouldn’t benefit me at all,” she says, “especially given what we’re going to talk about. Have a good night, Frannie.” The line clicks dead.

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