Chapter 22
After freshening up, putting more painkiller on board, and getting a proper set of clothes, I updated Bob on everything. I think he was most upset at the loss of the frost rod, which he'd put a lot of effort into of late.
We tried several things to try and track the Shroud down, but had absolutely no luck. I even called St. Mary's to see if Garcia had retained any pieces of it. She hadn't been willing to talk to me, but Forthill assured me that she'd left it wrapped up just like I had when I'd had it.
Short of selling my soul, I wasn't going to convince anyone in the supernatural community to talk. Murphy put out BOLO's for the Denarians, although that seemed like a long shot. I contacted Moss and did the same, but lightning didn't strike twice. The Streetwolves hadn't heard anything, other than what was being said on the television.
"You heard what?" I asked, so alarmed by his words that I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly.
"Word is out about the theft," Moss explained. "The heads on the telly have been going on about it for the last couple of hours."
"What's that you said about Acolytes?" I asked, rubbing my forehead as a headache started working its way deep into my skull. Maybe even more painkiller was in order.
"The Acolytes of Revelation," he repeated. "It's some fanatical terrorist group that's claiming to have stolen the Shroud. They've released a statement saying that they stole it to gain the world's attention."
"This has to be Nicodemus," I said, shaking my head. "He's up to something."
"The media's saying this group is threatening a large-scale attack. Tonight."
"But why?" I wondered aloud. "What is he gaining by this?"
"Not sure," Moss said. I could hear his shrug over the phone. "Just thought you'd want to know."
"Alright, thanks," I told him. "Let me know if anyone picks up any leads."
"Righty-ho," the man said, before hanging up. I headed back down to the lab, wondering why Nicodemus would bother with the ruse.
Monsters might not agree on much, but drawing the attention of the human masses was the one thing they all avoided. As massive as the supernatural community was, it was nothing compared to the billions of vanilla mortals with weapons of mass destruction and a penchant for hating things not like them. In an effort of self-preservation, nobody drew overt attention to the supernatural.
And yet it seemed Nicodemus was now inviting the world to watch and wait for his grand scheme to unfold.
I set myself to task, trying to find another way of tracking the Shroud. But I still hadn't found anything by the time the others arrived at my door.
When I went out, it was to find Murphy, Michael, and Sanya waiting on my front step. I held the door aside and waived them, to Murphy's surprise.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" she asked me, even as she looked around my foyer. It was her first time stepping into the place since it'd become mine.
"I was going to send you out to the garage," I replied. "But then I realized that'd make me no better than Charity." And besides, if there was anyone I could trust with crossing my threshold, it was two Knights of the Cross and the third Sword's current custodian.
Michael shot me a pained looked for disparaging his wife, but Murphy didn't give him a chance to lay into me. "Have you heard…" she began.
"About the terrorists?" I asked. "Yeah. I'm not sure what to think of that."
Murphy and Michael both looked to Sanya, who spoke softly. "I think I do."
I blinked in surprise at him. "Well, by all means, share."
The man sighed, shifting his arm uncomfortably. It was in a sling, presumably from the wound he'd taken in the hotel fight. "The Fallen are powerful in their own right. They have access to hellfire, a potent and destructive force exclusive to the warriors of hell."
I recalled the sulfurous smell from the alley when Ursiel's claws had started to glow with incredible heat. I'd been surprised at the time that the demon could melt Winter ice; the power of the mantle was tied directly to the wellspring of the Unseelie Court. There was little, at least from what I'd seen, that could go toe-to-toe with that power.
Perhaps this hellfire was responsible. Which said something of just how formidable it was.
Sanya continued, not waiting for any questions. "Hellfire is powerful, but it's not their only source of power. The Fallen are also strengthened by fear. By despair."
"You mean like phobophages or something?" I asked doubtfully. There were ways that some creatures could harvest spiritual energy from humans using such emotions. Such things were common among the Fae and other denizens of the Never-never, but for some reason it seemed beneath the likes of the Fallen.
"No," Sanya said somberly. "Not on an individual scale. On a global scale."
I took a deep breath, as I considered what he was saying.
"That's what this is about," I said, as things started making sense. "It was never about the Shroud itself, or some deadly curse. It's about power."
Michael nodded. "Nicodemus has always dreamed big. But this seems bold, even for him."
I frowned as I thought things through. "Wait, does it have to be despair brought on by them?"
Michael looked to Sanya for some reason, who shook his head. "No. But their… gains, are greater if they are responsible. Especially if it targets the faithful."
If the Russian was right, then I didn't have to worry about just them. Any global level of despair would strengthen the Fallen. Which was a terrifying thought.
Had my failure with Aurora also strengthened them?
"Which explains why he's using the Shroud," Murphy added, unaware of my concerns. She looked to me, her face grim. "It's not just that it's a powerful object; it's an object of faith."
"One that is now known by the masses to be missing," Michael said with a shake of his head. "Which will only add to his madness."
I nodded sharply. "Not if we can get to him first." I looked to Murphy, eying the bag she carried. "Is that it?"
A pained look crossed her face as she handed it over. "You have no idea what this cost me," she said, her voice tight.
I looked to her in alarm. "You didn't get caught, did you?"
Her head shook firmly. "Yess, but not in the way you think."
I didn't understand, and said as much. Murphy sighed in frustration. "Everything was in storage over at the Crime Lab. Which means I had to go through someone in that department."
Still not understanding, I looked to the others. Michael looked embarrassed for her, while Sanya gave a small smile as he explained. "The technician blackmailed her."
"He what?" I asked, shocked. "What…"
To my surprise, Murphy blushed as she looked away. "I have to go on a date with him."
I blinked. "A date?"
Murphy's face was all but crimson. "Dinner and a movie."
I shook my head solemnly. "I'm sorry, Murph. That sounds horrible." I rested a hand on her shoulder. "Just know that the rest of us appreciate your sacrifice."
The bag of blood samples slammed into my gut hard enough to knock the wind out of me. "Just go do your thing," the tiny detective growled.
I nodded to the others. "I'll get to work. Luna will show you where you can wait."
The captain of the Guard swooped in to escort the three back into the kitchenette, while I headed downstairs to make with the magic.
Nightfall was creeping ever closer as I set aside the last blood-crusted crystal.
"Murphy's going to kill me," I said with a sigh.
"That seems likely," Bob said brightly, his eye-lights shining from within his marionette.
A pile of discarded crystals lay to one side of my greater summoning circle. Each was paired with a string, along with a smear of dried blood from the evidence Murphy had provided. A map of Chicago was unfolded in the center. The bag the samples had come in had been left in the other room, where I'd prepared the tracking spells.
I'd known as soon as I'd seen the samples that we were in trouble.
In my head, I'd been picturing vials of blood gathered at the scene. Something they'd keep on a shelf at the station, which Murphy could pilfer and deliver to me, which would then lead us directly to Shiro or one of the other Denarians.
Instead, they were all but worthless.
The police were clinical in their methods, taking great care not to contaminate the evidence. But their process of preserving the blood for long-term storage, which consisted of letting the blood dry out and chilling the samples, was also affective at making them useless when it came to magic.
To my surprise, some of the samples had worked. But as soon as I'd pinpoint a location on the map in the circle, a member of the Guard was sent to scout the place.
Each time they reported back, it was to confirm that the blood belonged to either Marcone's people or Bianca's. Those failures piled atop the others that never even twitched on the string.
Now that the last had failed, it was time to face the truth.
We had no way of finding them.
Bob walked around the circle, his wooden legs moving smoothly as he made his way to the pile of crystals. "Perhaps if we tried the failed attempts again, only adding some of the items he gave you?"
I'd already considered that, but had written it off. "Cassius was wearing his Vincent suit when he gave me the paperwork. Something tells me it's not going to have a trace of him on it."
Bob's marionette shifted, a wooden finger tapping against his jaw as he considered our predicament. I did the same, trying to think of something.
A couple minutes later, I gave up. "Damnit."
Bob's small skull tilted back to look up at me as I stood. "What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know," I said, as a hollow feeling started to settle into my gut. "Go upstairs and tell them that we're screwed? That I failed Shiro? That I have no idea where Nicodemus is going to strike? That he's going to use the Shroud to spread his plague, and there's nothing we can do about it?"
Before Bob could reply, a distant chime sounded. I glanced up in surprise, before looking back down to the marionette.
Bob's wooden skull was tilted to one side, as if he were listening to something I couldn't hear. "Someone's ringing the Never-bell," he said, before tilting his head again. "It's Grimalkin."
I groaned at the news. "What does he want?"
"Perhaps Mab needs you?" Bob suggested.
"Worst timing ever," I growled as I started to clear away everything from the summoning circle. "And after what she pulled, I'm tempted to refuse whatever she wants."
"That's always an option," Bob said agreeably. "It's been hours since anyone tortured you, so you're overdo."
Rather than reply, I finished clearing the circle, and then prepared to open a way through my wards.
Most people aren't aware of just how easily the Fae can pass over their thresholds. The general assumption is that they wouldn't fare any better than any other supernatural beast crossing over without an invitation. But that assumption is most assuredly wrong.
In reality, the Sidhe and their fairy kin may come and go through most thresholds with ease. They can pop in and watch you sleep, as long as they abide by Guest Law. In short, as long as they don't act against the home-owner, they aide them if required, and use nothing they learn against the individual, the Fae can enter as they please.
That's the case with most thresholds, at any rate.
Knowing perfectly well what the Fae are capable of, and having at least one of the two major Courts sided firmly against my continued existence, I'd taken precautions. The wards I'd put into place around the mansion did more than just warn me of pending attacks and bar the darker things from setting foot on the property; they also kept the Sidhe out, unless specifically invited.
Seeing as the only fairies that had permission to enter were those serving in my Guard, it meant my home was very secure indeed.
The only way in for someone like Grimalkin was to either ring the front doorbell and hope I was foolish enough to let them in, or ring the Never-bell. The latter was nothing more than a magical construct I'd placed on the Never-never side of my home, which would let me know when someone came a'calling. In such an event, I could lower the wards within the summoning circle, which would trap them inside just as efficiently as it had with the oracle spirit.
I just hoped this visit went better than that one had.
When the way was open, the large feline fae appeared within the circle, his large bulk stretching as his eyes studied the barrier confining him.
"Greetings, Winter Knight," the malk purred. If he was offended at being trapped within the circle, he didn't let it show.
"Grimalkin," I said with a certain degree of frustration. "Now's not a good time."
"Indeed," Grimalkin replied, his tone somewhat wry as he looked over the pile of discarded crystals. "You seem most busy. As such, I will not waste your time."
"Great," I said. "What's Mab want?"
"Simply to convey her congratulations at seeing your name cleared," the malk said, his large eyes settling on mine in a most unsettling way. "The intermediary has delivered word that you were found innocent of any wrong-doing."
"I'm sure our esteemed mistress is doing back-flips," I replied. "Anything else?"
The malk's tail flickered in some mild annoyance. "The Queen will also be looking into the violation committed by Duke Ortega during the duel. But as it stands, it seems unlikely that she will seek any further recompense from the Red Court."
"Yeah, yeah," I said, waiving my arm in a hurrying motion. "She doesn't want to antagonize the Reds while she's busy with Summer. I get it."
Grimalkin's eyes narrowed. "Our Master also wished me to convey her regret that your servant's inability to serve as your second led to your present circumstances."
"I'm sure she's heartbroken."
"I would not go so far as to say that," Grimalkin said. "Still, she did not seem pleased with how the situation developed. Considering who you ultimately chose as your second."
"Well, she's got no-one to blame for that but herself," I countered.
The malk's ear twitched. "Perhaps. All the same, she would recommend that you not ingratiate yourself with such beings. While the Fallen may be members of our Queen's Accords, their intentions and goals do not align with those of our Master."
Something about the way he said it caught my attention. Bob's skull cocked sideways as well, so I figured I wasn't imagining things. "You're saying Mab doesn't agree with Old Nick's methods."
"Decidedly not," Grimalkin confirmed. "His methods incite chaos, something our Queen despises."
"Mab despises anything she doesn't control," I said absently. My eyes focused in on the malk. "You're telling me Mab doesn't like what Nick is trying to do."
Grimalkin didn't reply.
"Okay," I said, nodding my head slowly as I tried to figure out what the malk was really saying.
Maybe this visit wasn't worthless after all.
Although it's timing alarmed me. I'd have to review my wards, to make sure it was just coincidence that Mab's lap kitten showed up with helpful advise the precise moment my own attempts at finding the Denarians failed.
"If she doesn't like what he's doing, why not offer up some help?" Before the malk could spit at the mere thought of helping me out of sheer goodness, I quickly added. "As compensation for the inconvenience with finding a second."
Grimalkin's head tilted to one side, so far that I thought it might roll all the way around. "Such a thing might be appropriate," he said, before righting his head. "Unfortunately, our Master does not wish to involve herself in these matters."
I ground my teeth in frustration. "Damnit, Grim…"
The malk smiled a slow smile. "Good luck finding the snake in your garden, Winter Knight. It's a shame you do not have someone to help root out the problem."
As the feline fae spoke, his body slowly began to disappear, until the only thing left visible was his Cheshire cat smile. After a long moment, that too disappeared, leaving behind only an echo of a chuckle.
I stared at the empty circle for a long moment, before reaching out with my senses. It was apparent that the Sidhe was gone, so I put the wards back into place. "Fucking malk," I grumbled. "I'm going to find a vet that'll cut off his—"
"Harry."
"What?" I asked Bob, irritated.
The skull's head tilted up at me. "Stop whining for a minute and think about what he said."
I paused from gathering up the crystals. "What who said? Grimalkin?"
Bob's wooden head nodded. "What are we looking for?"
"The Shroud," I said flatly. "The Denarians. Shiro. Any of the above."
The marionette's head shook. "Shiro, yes. But not just who Shiro is, but what he is."
That threw me for a loop. "What are you talking about?"
"Shiro isn't just a captive; he's a sacrifice," Bob explained, his eye-lights seeming to grow more excited. "He's fuel for the plague curse; that much is obvious. Just like Father Vincent was for their test run. Just like you were supposed to be."
"What's that—" I started, before I realized what Bob was getting at. "Oh. We're not just looking for Shiro. We're looking for thecurse."
It's true I'd been focused on finding the individuals, or the specific power of the Shroud, rather than considering what the Denarians were doing. Nicodemus himself had said he needed me not for simply revenge, but as a sacrifice with a certain degree of metaphysical value. Which explained why he'd taken pains to make sure I hadn't broken my word, and thus weakened myself.
Shiro didn't have my power, but he'd probably been a Knight of the Cross for a while. When it came to mortals without power or resources, I couldn't imagine any that would be more suitable than a Knight, who had channeled the will of Those Above on a daily basis.
Shiro wasn't just a victim; he was fuel for a curse that I'd already seen enacted. A curse that had left its first victim saturated in dark magic. The kind detectable by a scant few on the same wavelength.
"Snake in the garden," Bob repeated. "Help root out the problem."
I shouted as I shot to my feet and ran for the chamber door. "Lacuna!"
It didn't take long for the tiny fairy to appear, hovering in the air before me. "What is it, my lord?"
"Where's Snakeroot?"
The suspension in Murphy's sedan groaned and creaked as she took a corner at speed. Maybe it was due to the age of the vehicle, but I think it had more to do with the presence of over seven hundred pounds of warriors, weapons, and armor packed in the tight confines.
With three of us well over six feet in height, two-thirds of whom were heavily laden with muscle, there wasn't much room to spare. Especially when you added in the Swords, Michael's plate mail armor, Sanya's Kevlar, and my wizard staff. At that point the Russian's assault rifle and Murphy's collection of firearms seemed almost silly.
Even the dash was packed tight, with half a dozen fairies crouching down to stare intently out the window. Over a dozen more were in the rear window well, jostling for room amongst themselves. I'm sure it would have been pure comedy gold, had it not been for the dire situation.
"I can't believe you brought snacks!" Lacuna hissed, her glare almost enough to make me worry about her casting her own plague curse on the subject of her ire.
"Ih'm ah nerphus eater," Toot replied, his mouth full of pretzel stick.
"You barely fit into your armor!" Lacuna snapped, rapping her knuckles on the titanium plate mail he wore.
Seeing as I knew that Toot's stomach could expand to accommodate quite a lot of food, he'd never be overweight. The little guy's metabolism was that of a hummingbird.
The other members of the Guard all leaned back and forth as the car weaved around traffic, the siren and roof light doing what they could to open a path for us. Almost every other fairy in the car was similarly munching on pretzel sticks.
The only other hold-out was Snakeroot, who stood atop the air vent beneath the window, his long and curving nose sniffing at the air coming in from outside.
"Turn right," the little fairy rasped, the odd sprouts of white hair atop his head waiving back and forth like dandelion seeds.
"Now?" Murphy asked, her voice tight.
"Of course now," Snakeroot snapped, his voice filled with disdain for the five-foot tall woman that dared to question him. That he was a mere three inches didn't seem to weight into his reasoning that he was the more dangerous of the two. "If I wanted you to turn later, I would have told you later."
Murphy's teeth appeared as she bit back a reply, instead steering the car into another turn. The rest of us held on, although I heard a chorus of "Oh's" from the back, followed by what sounded like a dozen fairies falling over like bowling pins.
"Easy," I said softly, wary of inciting Murphy's wrath.
The detective shot me a dark look, but it was short-lived as she returned her attention to the road. "I'm going to trap him in a coffee tin and put him in the dryer if his tone doesn't improve."
I knew her anger was rooted in her frustration. She really hadn't liked hearing that the evidence she'd stolen had been worthless. It didn't help matters that the alternative navigation system was a surly and venomous little cuss.
"We grow close," Snakeroot hissed, turning his head to look at Murphy. "Silence your banshee."
A growl erupted from Murphy's throat. I turned to her quickly. "He means the siren."
"Damn right he better mean the siren," Murphy hissed as she flicked the switch for the siren with more force than was strictly necessary. That was followed by another flick that cut off the flashing light she'd attached to the roof.
"You smell like antiseptic," Snakeroot spat at her. The way he said it made it sound as if it were the worst possible thing in the world.
I could hear the leather groan beneath Murphy's death grip on the wheel. But before she could say anything else, Snakeroot sniffed the air and pointed out the front. "Stop there."
Seeing as he'd been pointing about twenty yards in front of us, and we were going close to fifty miles per hour, there was nothing Murphy could do to stop in time. Breaks squealed as the car swerved toward the curb, coasting past the spot Snakeroot had indicated and leaving a trail of burnt rubber on the pavement in the process.
The sound of more tumbling fairies in the back accompanied a startled yelp from the Russian. Those in front all slammed into the glass, save for Lacuna and Snakeroot, neither of whom were distracted by pretzels.
The latter turned, directing a scornful gaze toward Murphy as he shook his head in exasperation. "She passed it."
"Why you—"
"Close enough," I said by way of compromise. I turned to the back in time to see the tiny fairies climbing all over Michael and Sanya, trying to regain their balance. The Russian was busy trying to shake pretzel crumbs out of his Kevlar vest.
"Where is it?" Michael asked.
Snakeroot motioned for the door, and I opened it. The fairy flapped his translucent bat-shaped wings and took to the air, with Lacuna hot on his heels.
Night had almost fallen by the time we'd tracked down the hateful little fairy. As we exited, the last traces of dusk were fading from the skyline, leaving the city shrouded in dark clouds.
Murphy and I quickly slipped out of the vehicle while the others tried to dislodge themselves from the back. Seeing as I only had my wizard staff to worry about, it was a fairly easy process once I found the right angle.
Of the four of us, I was the only one that might pass for normal. Which was a bit disconcerting, to be honest. I mean, I'm used to getting looks due to my height and duster. It fuels my inner Gandalf when people pause to let me stride past.
But that night, I would fit into a normal crowd, save for my staff. With my duster missing in action, I'd donned the same dress suit I'd worn to the auction. It was a little wrinkled, but I wasn't looking to impress a date. The protection spells worked into it were still mostly good, and would help in a fight.
By comparison, the others looked like an odd assortment of cosplayers. Murphy was dressed in street-clothes, but had donned a police Kevlar vest. With her Glock in her holster and her badge on her vest, she would have passed for a normal cop, if it weren't for the katana on one hip.
I knew she had a collection of such weapons, but only the sheath was hers. The Nail in the hilt identified it as Fidelacchius.
When I'd asked her what she intended to do with it, she'd insisted she would return it to Shiro when we found him. Michael and Sanya hadn't taken issue with her bringing it, so I let it go.
The Russian was the next closest to normal, although that was only by a stretch of the imagination. The man was wearing full body tactical gear. An illegal assault rifle was slung over his shoulder, and Esperacchius hung on a hip. He could have been cast as SWAT member #5, if it hadn't been for the arm in a sling.
Michael rounded out the group, winning the prize for Most Authentic Crusader Knight. His plate mail wasn't exactly ornate, being of a simple metal without much filigree. But the crosses worked into it went well with the blood red cross stitched into the white cloak. An assortment of blades were tucked across his person, if the massive blade of Amoracchius proved to be not enough.
As our motley crew disembarked, Snakeroot sniffed at the air. Thankfully there wasn't any foot traffic on the street, most of which consisted of residential housing. The lone standout seemed to be our destination, which the tiny fairy drifted towards as he followed the scent of the dark magic.
"There," he finally said, indicating the large stone building set back a few meters from the road. The rest of us looked up at its profile, the building's odd design making it seem out of place.
The street-facing facade looked like a government building, with its white stonework, peaked roof, and Corinthian columns. The front wall was concave, with the corners tapering backwards to the main entrance. The front was easily two stories high, with the barest hint of the large dome visible further back.
"A church?" Murphy asked as she looked it over.
"St. Stephens," I informed her. "It's been abandoned for years."
The only reason I knew about the place was because it was in the Streetwolves' old territory. The Full Moon garage was only a couple blocks to the east, while the University sat to the west. I'd scouted the old church while I'd been on the run from the Council; the energies around places of worship were handy to disguise my own magics.
I hadn't bothered hiding there due to its location. It was on a well used road, with lots of residents that would note any odd noises and lights appearing in the abandoned building. But whatever qualms I'd had with squatting on holy ground, it seemed the Denarians didn't share them.
"Their blasphemy knows no bounds," Michael muttered as he looked up at the place.
"They're Fallen angels. What'd you expect?" I said smartly. "Although I'm surprised they can set foot in the place. Even though it's been shuttered for a while, it's still holy ground."
"Holy ground does not deter the Fallen," Sanya said, once again surprising me with his knowledge of them.
"What do you mean?" I asked with a frown. "In my experience, a church's threshold will stop just about every supernatural creature."
"That is true," Lacuna piped up. "We had to get special permission."
I glanced at her, having no idea what she was talking about. But before I could ask, Sanya continued. "The threshold of a church might limit their power, but it will not stop them."
"What kind of bullshit is that?" I asked angrily, looking to Michael.
"They are human," my friend replied softly. "Any mortal may cross into a church; where else could they seek salvation?"
I found myself grounding my teeth. "The things in the coins aren't human. They're the farthest thing from."
"Shiro once speculated that the Fallen were allowed in, so that they might seek salvation as well," Sanya said, before shrugging. "Not that such a thing is possible. In my experience, it's that they find such places to be uncomfortable reminders."
I glared at the Knight of the Cross. "Since when are you an expert on everything Denarian?"
Sanya met my gaze. "Since I used to be one."
I don't think the man could have said anything that would have shocked me more.
I looked to Michael, who gave a slight reassuring nod. I wanted to ask him what he meant, but the detective headed off my plethora of questions.
"We don't have time for this right now," Murphy hissed. She turned to me, as if to make sure I let the subject go. "What are we dealing with?"
It took me a moment to get my mind back on track. "The place is empty," I informed her, stealing only a couple glances at the Russian. "From what I've seen previously, it consists mostly of a large nave. The pews are long gone, along with anything else of value. There's some administrative rooms off to the sides, but the bulk of it is just the main hall under the dome," I said, nodding toward the roof.
"Other entrances?" Murphy asked.
"Several," I confirmed. Turning to Lacuna, I nodded at the building. "Have the Guard scout it for us. No-one's to enter."
The captain of my Guard nodded and turned to signal the other fairies, most of whom had disappeared after exiting the vehicle. Only Lacuna, Toot, and Snakeroot remained, but as Lacuna set the others to work, I saw lights flicker back and forth.
"What is the plan?" Sanya asked.
I pursed my lips at him, while trying to ignore the questions rattling in my brain. "Let's see what they find, and then we'll go in."
"Should we not hurry?" the Russian asked, sounding irritated with the delay.
"Yes, we should," I replied shortly. "But I'm not rushing into a trap."
The big guy seemed like he wanted to argue, but Michael put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Patience, my friend."
Sanya's jaw tightened, but he gave a short nod. I turned back to the building, to await word from the fairy scouts, all while fighting a growing dread that we were too late.
