Thump-thump-thump.

The rhythmic pounding spiked through the darkness in Nero's head, each beat setting off a fresh wave of pain.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

He wanted to plug his ears and bury his head beneath a pillow, but he wasn't entirely sure where his fingers were. Or the rest of his body, for that matter.

Thump-thump-thump.

He was reasonably certain where his head was, at least. It was the center point of the white-hot flare of agony that started anew with every instance of that sound.

Thump-thump. Tap-tap-tap.

This was the weirdest hangover he'd ever had, though. Usually the pounding in his head was connected to the rhythm of his own heartbeat, but this throbbing was too irregular to be purely physiological in origin.

Thump-thump-thump.

He couldn't remember the last time his head had hurt like this.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Oh, wait—yes, he could. It was when he woke up in Dante's shop that time, after Vergil had pitched him head-first into a concrete wall.

Thump-thump-thump.

Vergil. Nero tried to focus. Something to do with Vergil…

Thump-thump. Tap-tap-tap-tap.

He and Vergil had been fighting something, and Vergil had called out to him…

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

At last the complete memory surfaced through the cloud of cotton wool in his head. Nero groaned as he recalled the damage to his house and the army of Alto Angelos that had attacked them. He couldn't recall how the fight had ended, though…

The irregular thumping stopped abruptly. "Was that Nero?" Kyrie's voice came nearer. "Nero, can you hear me? Are you awake?"

Nero tried to answer in the affirmative, but it emerged as an indistinct moan. He heard the click of the bedside lamp, and a wash of warm light seared his eyelids. He flinched.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kyrie whispered. The light clicked off again. "Dante, pull back just the lower corner of that blanket to let a little light in, please."

The next wave of light was more gentle. Nero braced himself and managed to crack an eyelid. Kyrie's face hovered nearby, slightly out of focus. "What happened?" he mumbled.

"One of those creatures you were fighting pushed you through the front wall of the house." Something cool pressed against Nero's forehead. The pressure hurt, but the cold felt nice. "You were knocked unconscious. Do you remember anything?"

"Remember fighting," Nero managed. "Vergil?"

"He's fine. He wasn't injured. Can you look directly at me? I'm going to turn on the light again." Kyrie sat on the edge of the bed and stared intently into each of Nero's eyes, before and after flipping on the bedside lamp. "Good, your pupils are constricting normally. I was worried when you remained unconscious for so long, but it looks like you're recovering from the concussion, at least."

Dante, hovering behind her, seemed to have been waiting for this prognosis. "I'll tell him," he said before vanishing down the stairs.

Nero struggled upright in the bed, allowing Kyrie to help him when his balance wavered. The damp cloth she'd placed over his forehead fell into his lap, and he used it to wipe his face and neck. The cold at least helped him feel more alert, if it didn't do much to soothe the pain in his skull. "How long have I been out?"

"About half an hour."

"I must be developing a tolerance. Last time, I was out for two days." He glanced around the room, which was cast in dizzying stripes of twilight. It took him a moment to trace the source of the visual distortion to the patterned blanket that was stretched across the window, filtering the light.

Kyrie followed his gaze. "Dante and I managed to sweep up most of the broken glass, but I couldn't find anything else large enough to cover the window. We were just nailing the blanket up when you woke." Her forehead creased as she looked down at the hammer in her lap. "I don't know what to do about the front of the house, though."

The hammer explained the irregular pounding he'd heard, at least. "Nico's got a bunch of oilcloth tarps at her place. She'll let us borrow some. At least they only blew out the window, and not a structural wall."

Kyrie nodded, but the frown remained. "It will be awfully expensive to repair."

"We'll deal with that when we have to." Nero's head hurt enough without thinking about digging themselves further into debt. He changed the subject. "How'd you get me upstairs, anyway? I didn't think you could lift me."

Kyrie looked surprised at the question. "Vergil carried you."

"Oh. Right." Nero slumped back against the headboard and winced as his head came in contact with the wall. Apparently he had a matching set of goose eggs in front and back. "I guess he's gone off to find a new chair to read in, or something."

She gave him a quizzical look. "He's standing guard outside."

Nero wasn't through sulking. "I guess that's his way of making up for another 'momentary lapse in judgment.'"

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Nero shook his head, then winced as it set off another round of throbbing. "A couple of things came out during our little heart-to-heart earlier. Apparently he thinks it was a mistake to save me from the Nilepoch."

Kyrie stared at him in open disbelief. "That can't be right. Did he actually say that?"

"Not in those exact words, but it wasn't hard to read between the lines."

"I think you must have misread between the lines, then. He was very worried about you."

Nero rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so worried he didn't tell me that thing was coming for me until it was too late to get out of the way. And clearly he's been weeping and wringing his hands at my bedside, anxiously waiting to see if I even wake up this time."

"Nero." Kyrie's voice was a whip-crack, her tone so sharp that Nero jumped. "Your father was extremely concerned when you were hurt. Even when I asked him to watch the front of the house in case more of those things came, he refused to leave your side. He wouldn't have gone downstairs at all if Dante hadn't offered to go down alone and stand guard in his stead, and even then he made us promise to tell him the moment there was any change in your condition. That's where Dante went, a minute ago."

Nero wanted to believe she was exaggerating, but Kyrie didn't lie, and there was no arguing with the gravity in her expression. "Really?" he floundered. "He was worried?"

She nodded. "Even Dante was surprised by how much. He told me he didn't think he'd ever seen Vergil so upset."

"Huh." Nero wasn't sure what else to say.

Kyrie sighed and placed a hand on his arm. "Listen to me, Nero, because I'm only going to give this lecture once. Ever since Dante and Vergil returned from the underworld, I've mostly left things in your hands, because he's your father, and I think what kind of relationship you have with him should be your own decision. But for weeks now, I have watched you two try, and repeatedly fail, to communicate. I don't know what keeps going wrong, or why you can't seem to stay on common ground for very long, but I can see how much it bothers you whenever it happens—even when you try to pretend it doesn't. Now, admittedly, I don't know Vergil very well, and he's much more difficult to read than you are. But a little while ago, when he ran into the house with your bleeding, unconscious body in his arms, I recognized the look on his face—because I'd seen it on the faces of a hundred panicking parents when I was working as a disaster nurse after the fall of the Order. It was the look of a father terrified of losing his child." Her hand moved lower and tightened on Nero's fingers. "I know things are very complicated between you, and I understand why. But whatever problems you have to resolve, whatever Vergil may be guilty of, you cannot accuse him of indifference toward you."

Nero tried to swallow, but a sudden tightness had seized his throat. He'd hoped to someday achieve a cordial relationship with Vergil, and perhaps even a friendly one like he had with Dante, but he'd long since abandoned hope that Vergil would come to see him as a son—or treat him accordingly. The only person Vergil had ever exerted effort to protect was Dante, but if he'd really been as frantic about Nero's safety as Kyrie suggested, that would put Nero in the same category. Was it possible that Vergil had finally begun to think of him as family?

Kyrie was sitting on the edge of the bed, so Nero pulled his legs toward his chest, intending to maneuver them around her. The motion unbalanced him, and he would have toppled over had she not caught his shoulders. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Going downstairs." Nero braced through the wave of dizziness and managed to set his feet on the floor. "I want to look at the damage." And maybe find Vergil, he admitted silently.

"You, mister, are injured. You should be resting."

"Believe me, I'm aware." Nero probed the lump on his forehead and winced. "But you know I'll be fine by morning, regardless of whether I get up now or sleep it off. And given what happened today, I don't think I can really afford the down time. Lauda's playing for keeps, and I don't want to be caught unprepared if there's another attack."

Kyrie didn't release him. "Let Vergil deal with that, if it happens. You're in no condition to be fighting."

"Neither is Vergil," Nero countered. "He was barely out of his coma when those things showed up, remember? He'll deny it 'til the sun burns out, but I could tell he was struggling against them. And you know if something happens and I'm not around to back Vergil up, Dante'll rush right into combat after him, and then all three of us could be out of commission."

Kyrie sighed and lowered her hands. "If only we could stall Lauda for a few more weeks."

"Stall? What good would that do?"

"For one thing, it would give Dante a chance to grow up." Her lips twisted into a rueful smile. "I know it's wrong of me, since he's still so young, but earlier, when I saw how eager he was, I couldn't help wishing he could fight alongside you. And I know the Dante we first met—the one who came all the way to Fortuna to confront the Order—wouldn't have tolerated anyone meddling with demonic forces, or threatening children, or attacking our home. If that Dante were here right now, you wouldn't have to worry so much about protecting us. He probably would have tracked Lauda down and put a stop to his plans at the first sign of trouble."

"Hey." Nero took her hands in his. "It's not Dante's fight, or Vergil's, or anyone else's. I'm the one Lauda's after. Now, I'm grateful for any help they want to throw my way, because I've got enough on my plate without taking Lauda and his whole army on solo, but I don't expect anyone else to step in and handle it for me."

"I know." She looked down at their entwined fingers. "I just can't help being a little selfish, sometimes. This all feels so unfair to you. All you did was try to protect people—to protect me—and now you're suffering for it. You didn't do anything to deserve Lauda's wrath."

"You didn't deserve to be kidnapped by a power-crazed despot bent on world domination. Dante and Vergil didn't deserve to be orphaned and sent into hiding at eight years old. Credo didn't deserve to die, and we sure as hell didn't deserve to lose him." He sighed. "But nobody ever said life was gonna be fair. We just have to take it as it comes, and do the best we can with what we get handed, right?"

Kyrie searched his face for a few seconds before a gentle smile spread across her own. "You've come a long way from that little boy who was so angry at the world he couldn't go a full week without bloodying his knuckles."

Heat crept up around Nero's ears. "Yeah, well, the world fights dirty anyway. Besides, between you and the kids and devil hunting and the Sparda family circus, I don't have enough energy to stay angry all the time."

"I'm glad. You seem a lot happier this way." Expelling a decisive breath, Kyrie got to her feet. "All right. We'll take this slowly, and I insist on helping you down the stairs."

Nero stood, grateful for her steadying grip. "That's fine by me."

Nero wasn't certain whether the house had sustained more damage after he had been knocked unconscious, or if he'd just been too focused on the enemy threat to notice the extent of the devastation, but as Kyrie helped him into what had been the living room, he could scarcely absorb what he was seeing. The grief at the destruction of his home, of a room he'd held in almost sacred memory since childhood, was quickly supplanted by a firestorm of rage. Had it not been for Kyrie's grip on his arm and his own lingering dizziness, he might have charged out to challenge Lauda then and there, strategy and self-preservation be damned.

As he was, it took nearly a minute for Nero's blind fury to ebb sufficiently to recognize the evidence that someone had been at work in the ruined front room. Shards of glass and shattered brick had been scraped into a heap in one corner, and what furniture had not been outright destroyed had been righted and pushed against the wall. The children's books in the far corner showed signs of extra care: The little shelf had been cleared of debris, and the mismatched paperbacks scrupulously wiped clean. The film of plaster and brick dust coating the room's hardwood had been disturbed by the cleanup efforts, but the patch of floor in front of the bookcase still bore a clear set of boot prints. Nero didn't need to examine them closely to know whom they belonged to; there was only one pair of men's leather-soled field boots in the house.

The boots themselves, as well as their occupant, were just visible through the hole that gaped where the bay window had once been. Vergil was standing rigid in the front yard, gripping the Yamato at his left side. Beside him stood Dante, more relaxed in posture but equally alert as he scanned the street.

Kyrie started to help Nero over the low pile of debris at the base of the destroyed wall, but he waved her off. "I'm fine. Hey, Dante," he called. At the summons, Dante scrambled over the rubble toward them. Vergil remained where he stood, though his head turned sharply in Nero's direction—more reaction than he once would have shown to his presence, Nero thought. "Kyrie still needs help hanging that blanket upstairs. Can you give her a hand? She says I'm an invalid and won't let me do anything."

Kyrie started to rebut, but he pacified her with a wink and inclined his head toward Vergil. She nodded her understanding. "That's right. We need to clean up the hallway floor, too. I don't want anyone stepping on broken glass, and Nero shouldn't be bending over with a head injury…" She led Dante toward the stairs.

Nero climbed carefully over the rubble. He was glad to see that someone had propped Red Queen safely against the exterior wall, rather than leaving her wherever she'd fallen. Her case lay on the ground nearby; perhaps Dante had brought it outside. "Hey, she looks okay," Nero observed, running a hand over the flat of the blade. "I couldn't remember if she was on my back when I got hit."

"No," Vergil said tonelessly. He certainly didn't sound like someone who had recently been panicking over a family member's survival. "Your sword was in your hand."

"Oh." Nero's gaze flicked from the sword to Vergil as he tried to think of something else to say. He really did want to have a proper conversation with his father, but he had no clue how to start one—or how to convince Vergil to participate. "That's good, I guess. She's harder to repair than I am."

"But significantly easier to replace."

Nero's head snapped up at that, but Vergil had looked away. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't want to start over with another kid at this point." He kept his tone deliberately light, leaning into humor to try to reclaim their easy banter of the previous night. "You might get stuck with diaper duty the second time around."

Vergil didn't smile; if anything, his grip on the Yamato tightened fractionally. "There won't be a second time."

Nero didn't let the terse words faze him. "Aww, there go my hopes of having a bunch of younger siblings to pick on."

This time Vergil didn't respond at all, and Nero sighed in defeat as he reached for Red Queen. Kyrie may well have seen Vergil express concern for his welfare, but that didn't necessarily translate to a desire to interact socially. Just because Vergil didn't want to see Nero dead didn't mean that he actually enjoyed conversing or spending time with him. There was no point in prolonging this awkwardness if nothing would come of it.

Nero bent forward to lay Red Queen in her case, but the sudden change in angle sent blood pounding into his head, and he toppled. He slammed Red Queen's tip into the ground and braced his weight against the hilt, resting there for several seconds until the throbbing in his forehead subsided. "Shit," he muttered.

"Are you…" Nero turned to see Vergil standing a short distance away—a couple of paces nearer Nero than where he'd started, but not quite close enough for his half-outstretched arm to reach him.

"I'm fine." Nero eyed the case at his feet and grimaced. "Well, maybe not fine, yet, but give me a few hours. I'll get there."

Vergil circled him, pulled Red Queen's tip from the ground, and knelt to place the sword in the case. "You shouldn't exert yourself so soon after an injury."

Nero snorted. "Why do I feel like we already had this conversation?"

Vergil's hands stilled on the case latch, but he didn't stand immediately. "I'm sorry," he said after a few seconds.

Nero blinked down at him. "For what?"

"For your injury."

"Why are you apologizing? You weren't the one who slammed me head-first into a wall."

"Not this time, no." Vergil straightened, and the rueful smile that had flickered across his mouth faded. "I intended to intercept it, but it's been so long since I've fought without the Yamato…"

His odd movements in the seconds before Nero had been knocked unconscious suddenly made sense. "You forgot you couldn't warp space without it."

Vergil gave a stiff nod. "I should have warned you sooner. Your injury was the consequence of my miscalculation."

Nero shook his head—gently, to avoid setting off another round of hammers in his skull, but firmly. "I know a couple things have happened since then, but I haven't forgotten that you were in a coma just a few hours ago. It's kind of a miracle that you were fighting those things at all, after having your brain and a lot of other parts scrambled. Under the circumstances, I think you're allowed one tiny lapse in judgment."

The instant the words crossed his lips, Nero wished he could pluck them back from the air. Vergil's flinch was nearly imperceptible, but his fingers curled tighter about the Yamato, and that tell-tale white line appeared about his lips. Nero groaned internally; he hadn't intended to bring up the harsh words that had derailed their earlier conversation, but the phrase had just slipped out.

At least Vergil hadn't snapped back a cold rebuttal, but that might have been less unsettling than the pregnant silence between them. After a lengthy pause, broken only by the agitated movements of his fingers against the Yamato's sheath, Vergil drew a long breath. "Nero… What I said earlier…"

His halting words were underscored by a distant hum, which grew steadily louder until it became the roar of a motorcycle engine. They both turned to watch Lady's bike roll up to the curb. Nero silently cursed the timing of the ladies' arrival. He had been so close to resolving that troubling conversation from earlier in the day, and who knew how long it might be before Vergil opened up to him again?

Lady cut the engine, and she and Trish simultaneously slid their sunglasses lower to take in the destruction before them. "Well, we had some big news to share, but I think it's just been trumped." Lady swung her leg forward over the handlebars to dismount. "I'm going to guess this wasn't a spontaneous remodeling project."

Trish hopped off the back of the motorcycle and followed Lady across the lawn. "Did you forget to pay off the local protection racket this month?"

"Ha, ha." Nero started to lean back against the wall of the house, but stopped when he felt a brick crack loose under his weight. He hastily moved into the grass in case more of the wall decided to crumble. "Apparently Lauda thought our house needed better ventilation."

Trish started. "He was here?"

"No, but a whole flock of his pets were. Surprise attack. Vergil and I took them out, but the house was their opening salvo."

Lady cast a critical eye over Nero's bruised face and blood-stained T-shirt. "It looks as though they nearly took you out, too."

Nero shrugged and jerked a thumb toward a human-sized indentation in the bricks. "Had a little run-in with the wall. Got a short nap out of it, but I can't lie around all day when there's stuff to do."

"Right." The look of concern didn't entirely vanish from Lady's face, but at least she seemed to recognize that Nero wasn't interested in sympathy. "Was anyone else hurt?"

Nero shook his head. "Kyrie and Dante were back in the kitchen when it happened, so there was a wall between them and the blast. And Vergil…" Nero hesitated. Vergil had been sitting in the armchair directly in front of the bay window. He must have been caught in the explosion, or at least struck by shrapnel—but if he'd been injured, he certainly wasn't letting on. "Vergil could lose both legs and still wouldn't admit he'd been hurt, so there's no point in even asking him." Vergil's eyes slid toward Nero, and though his expression didn't change, he gave a soft snort. Nero took that as a hopeful sign that things were more settled between them. "So what's your big news?"

Trish shrugged. "Just that we found Lauda."

Nero jerked to attention. "You did? Where?"

"The one habitable place on this rock we hadn't looked yet."

Fortuna was not a large island, but it still took Nero a moment to cycle through its various regions. "Shit. He's in the castle, isn't he."

Lady nodded. "On our way back, Trish remembered that she'd sensed something in that area when she was out camping with the kids."

"So we took a detour, and lo and behold—there were Alto Angelos standing guard at the castle gates," Trish continued. "The only times we went near there, we were hunting the Nilepoch, and we only searched the laboratory levels. While we were underground, Lauda could have been setting up camp right above us, and we wouldn't have known. There's enough arcane shielding in place to conceal a relatively minor presence like his."

"And that was before he'd powered up that unit of Angelos, so we wouldn't have spotted them, either." Nero swore under his breath. The only place he loathed more than Order headquarters was the castle itself, with its torture chambers, circuitous tunnels, and trapped walkways. Of course Lauda would have holed up in the very place his paragon Sparda was rumored to have lived and watched over Fortuna in centuries past—though Nero doubted if the structure had been crammed full of gyro blades or spike traps back in Sparda's day. "We'll need a plan before we go in there after him. That place is a maze, and who knows what he's added to it since moving in."

"You want to beard the lion in his den?"

"It's that, or wait for him to come after us here again, and I don't want anything else coming into the city. Too many innocent people could get hurt."

"Well, let's go inside and talk it over, unless there's a reason we need to stand out front." Lady began to pick her way through the debris that littered the yard. "You need a hand, Nero?"

"Nah, I'm good." Nero glanced uncertainly toward the sword case at his feet, but before he could speak, Vergil swept it up with one hand. Nero gave him a little nod of thanks before turning to the others. "As far as I know the kitchen is still in good shape, so let's move in there."

The hallway floor had been cleared of glass and plaster dust when they entered the house, and Nero could hear Kyrie's hammer tapping away upstairs, so he assumed she was still keeping Dante busy. He led the group into the kitchen and sank into a chair. He wouldn't have admitted it—especially in front of Kyrie—but standing for even the few minutes he'd been outside had tired him out.

Vergil had split off from the group to stow Nero's sword in the garage, but joined them a moment later. He put the kettle on the stove to heat, then filled a glass from the tap before coming to the table. "Drink," he instructed, placing the glass in front of Nero. "You bled considerably from that head wound."

Nero blinked up at him in surprise. For some reason it hadn't occurred to him that Vergil, sharing his peculiar blend of human and demonic physiology, would be aware of what was necessary for his recovery. "Uh, right. Thanks."

Lady was also giving Vergil a curious look, though he opted to ignore her. After a few seconds she shook it off and returned to the topic at hand. "So, first question, what's our time frame? No offense, Nero, but you look like you could use some recovery time before we go pick another fight."

Nero paused to drink before answering. "I could definitely use a couple more glasses of water and a solid night's sleep before we go kick down any doors. I don't want to leave it more than a day or two, though. The longer we wait, the more time we're giving Lauda to regroup and ambush us. And we don't know for certain that he hasn't found a way to manufacture more soldiers up at the castle. There were Bianco Angelos in the group that attacked the house, but there weren't any of those missing from that storage room I saw. I'm not sure where they came from."

Lady nodded. "What needs to be done about the house? You don't want to leave it open to the elements indefinitely."

"Not with winter storms coming on, no."

"Trish and I can help with that while you're resting. Do you have anything we can use to board it up?"

Nero shook his head. "Construction materials have been in pretty short supply here ever since the collapse, since there was so much damage and not a lot of funds for repairs. Pretty much all lumber has to be ordered from the mainland, unless we go scavenge from the closed buildings around town. Best I can source on short notice is a tarp."

"That's better than nothing, I suppose. Not much in the way of security, but at least it'll keep the weather out for a while."

He smiled grimly. "I guess it's a good thing we don't have much worth stealing, then."

The kettle whistled, and Vergil stood and busied himself with tea preparation. "I haven't visited the castle since my first visit to Fortuna. How well defended is it?"

Nero wondered what business Vergil had conducted at the castle twenty-five years ago, but that question would have to wait until later. "The Order maintained a pretty high level of defense—both structural and arcane—but as far as I know it's been sitting empty for the last six years."

"Unless Lauda's been squatting there all this time," Lady pointed out.

"Even if he has, he was probably alone for most of it, recovering from that busted leg. I don't think he'd be making fortifications on his own." Nero shrugged. "But that's not gonna help us all that much when it comes to getting inside. The outer walls are over a thousand years old; six years one way or the other won't make a bit of difference. The only stuff that might have deteriorated in that amount of time are more recent improvements like electrical or plumbing. Nothing that will give us a real strategic advantage."

"And given what we've seen so far, we have to assume that Lauda is capable of using arcane defenses, as well," Trish added. "We'll have to be prepared for traps at every step."

"Traps he is no doubt setting and reinforcing at this moment, since his soldiers failed to return." Vergil joined them, carefully balancing four mugs in his hands. He placed them in the center of the table and fanned three of them out toward the other seats. "We can only assume that he's expecting us to launch a prompt counterattack."

Lady stared at the mug in front of her with wide eyes, while Trish regarded hers as though it might spring from the table and attack her at any moment. "You… made us all tea?" Lady managed after a few seconds.

One of Vergil's eyebrows arched. "I assumed you would desire something to drink after riding across the island and back."

"I… er, yes." Lady's gaze continued flicking between Vergil and the tea for a few more seconds, but at last she lifted the mug to her lips. "Thanks," she murmured behind it. Vergil gave a stiff nod in response and quickly sipped his own beverage.

Nero drained the last of his water, using the glass to conceal a smile. Maybe Vergil had taken what he'd told him about Lady that morning to heart, after all. "So outside of the obvious—" Nero tapped his bruised forehead. "—which should be fixed by tomorrow morning, how much time does everyone need to prepare? Are we looking at launching our offensive tomorrow, or waiting until Wednesday?"

Lady shrugged. "I'll want to refuel my bike and load up a few extra mags, just to be on the safe side, but I can probably get everything ready to roll in an hour or two this evening."

"I can go any time." Trish flashed a sly smile. "My weapons never run out of ammunition."

"Likewise," Vergil said. His gaze slid to Nero. "But perhaps we should allow the extra day for your full recovery."

Nero was about to protest the need for an additional day of rest, but hesitated as he caught Vergil's eyes on him. While he was reasonably certain that by the next morning the only symptom he'd have was a mild headache, he recalled that Vergil had been comatose just half a day ago, with shattered bones that were only freshly knitted together. His recently-closed wounds were probably still tender, as well; Nero knew the ache from a severe injury could linger for days, even after it had healed. Vergil wasn't likely to let a little thing like pain stand in his way, but given how many unknowns awaited them at the castle, Nero didn't want any of them going in at less than full strength.

Not that Vergil would admit to any weakness on his own part—but in this case, Nero didn't mind taking the hit for the sake of his father's pride. "That's not a bad idea," he conceded. "No point in giving Lauda the advantage before we start."

"Wednesday it is, then." Trish finally sampled her tea, and seemed surprised when it proved potable. "What, exactly, is our plan?"

Glances were exchanged around the table. "That," Nero sighed at last, "is an excellent question."