Whew. Guys, I gotta take a breather from this. My schoolwork is piling up on me.

Just read, you guys.

I wasn't sure what he was expecting.

Given Starr's clientele, it would not have been surprising if his guest was of the shadier side. Perhaps even a sneak thief with a commission for a burglary. But when Starr opened the door, he seemed taken aback. He stepped back from the doorway with a shocked expression on his face.

"Ah," he said. "Good… good to see you."

The guest emerged into the hallway.

I will say this for Starr's guest – he had great wardrobe tastes, the exact opposite of Starr. I'm not a clotheshorse (obviously, from my wardrobe's chosen color palette), but the guy's brown trench coat appeared hand tailored. A coat like that usually conveyed a lot of wealth, or just a preference to avoid clothes bought off the rack.

He wore it with a pair of black silk gloves and a white ascot, giving him a look reminiscent of a detective from film noir. And his face – from the profile, I could easily catch his flat nose, his dark eyes, his loose blond hair. But there was an ease to his movements that conveyed the message, don't worry. We're all friends here.

He glanced in the direction of the kitchenette, and I ducked, quickly – but not fast enough. He caught me.

His expression conveyed shock and surprise, along with… recollection? I tried to convey the message, nothing interesting here.

Then his head moved away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Starr throwing a blanket over the Palestine flag on the armchair. To be honest, I would not be so up front about my political alignments, but it seemed like Starr knew his guest's dislikes well.

He moved over, forcing me to duck (again). I could guess what he was doing: moving to switch off the music for his guest. It had shifted into another AC/DC song, which was grating on my nerves so much I was surprised they weren't shredded. I wondered how Starr even handled it himself. Then I realized – he was probably used to it. Wow, depressing.

"Now, now, leave it," the other man said. His voice was soft and gentle and deep, like Sonic's when he cranked up his Sirensong. I figured people didn't often question him with a voice like that. I also caught an undertone of distaste, and I didn't know whether it was directed at Starr's music or Starr himself.

But something else needled me. Why would he ask Starr to keep the music on if he hated it? But then I realized why – he'd definitely seen me and was covering up my presence. But why would he?

"Fine." Starr moved away from the counter. "I really wasn't expecting you, Horzvedt."

Despite the danger of Starr's presence, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. A trench-coat wearer named Horse Vet? You've got to be kidding me.

Horzvedt moved along the wall as I rose up, slowly to avoid catching Starr's attention. I caught a sudden jerk out of the man's head – straight toward the censer.

Did he want me to have the censer? He must have. I started moving towards it.

Turns out, moving in a kitchenette while trying not to be noticed is harder than it looks. I just about bonked my head on the oven door handle while keeping my head down. Also, the censer was on top of the counter, which meant I couldn't just grab it without Starr catching my hand above the counter and knowing someone else was in his kitchen.

I'd just approached the middle of the kitchen (which took five seconds) when the third problem came: from my pendant.

Now here's the thing: the pendant was my magical item, a dog-tag chain with a magnetic circular pendant. I almost never left home without it – especially after Norgate, when I discovered that, in addition to its ability to turn into any musical instrument I wanted, it could also shoot out protective barriers around anyone I threw it at – which was basically anyone I thought needed it. I didn't figure that ability would work in the close quarters of the kitchen – or the hotel room overall – so I wasn't keen on using it.

When I'd busted into the hotel room, it had kept up a running buzz – very quiet, but unnoticeable. But whenever I got close to Starr (or vice versa), its mark – a pink David's star with a daleth in the center – started flickering like crazy. Now, with Starr leaning over on the other side of the counter, it was threatening to fly off my chain.

And going into comm mode.

Yes, I had a mental connection with the pendant. It had started when I activated it at the end of the summer. The thing was that the pendant (which I was 95 percent sure was sentient) was selective about when to talk to me. And – go figure – this was the worst possible time to comm me, so naturally, that's what it did.

He's right there, dude, the voice spoke in my mind. You got your belt out, hit him. I know you hate the sleaze bag.

It wasn't the tone or "voice" I normally associated with my pendant, which rang my alarm bells. Besides, I personally thought "hate" was a stretch. Sure, I didn't approve of the guy's musical tastes – or that Palestine flag – but I'd just met the guy. It was a little early to be the judge. Besides, I got the feeling that attacking Starr would just get me killed.

And Starr was looking over right now.

Shut up, I scolded the pendant and continued moving.

Horzvedt must've noticed Starr's attention wavering, because he started talking. "Nice kettle you got there," he said, pointing in the direction of the sooty censer.

"That's not a kettle, that's a censer," Starr said, waving his hand in its direction. My pendant buzzed again, as if resentful, and tried again to yank off the chain. I had to grab it and duck it under my shirt.

"Oh, dear. What are the heavens going to think of it? Of you taking a censer just like that?" Horzvedt's tone sounded strangely eager. I caught him on the end of the counter, drumming his fingers. Some sort of nervous habit? I wasn't sure. "Why don't I spare you a little trouble?"

"If you're offering a sales pitch, forget it," Starr said curtly. "I've already got a good offer for it. A good fifty thousand."

"Fifty thousand?" Horzvedt's tone went up to awed. "That's only half of its worth. And I don't reckon they'd just want to pay fifty thousand for it. That's worth taking it away."

He said it with a subtle enough stress that Starr wouldn't have noticed it, but I did. I moved in toward the censer, reaching it at last.

Under the soot, the sacred thing was far more ornate than the Oracle Orb's holographic show-and-tell had made it out. It looked a lot more like the thuribles I'd seen from pictures DJ had shown me of her church's masses, but this relic was a bespoke work of art. Angels lined around the bottom, their mouths lined up with the holes – perhaps so it would look like they were spewing the smoke of incense. At the top was a lily design – perhaps reminiscent of Aaron's staff, the one that bloomed to confirm his place as high priest.

It was beautiful. And entirely in the wrong place.

"I'll have better security for it," Horse Vet drawled on. "But I don't have much time." Again, with that subtle stress. Was he that keen on letting me have it? "Just let me buy it. I'll take good care of it."

My pendant tried again to go to Starr. I had to grab it again, which probably looked like I had a flea in my shirt.

Stop it, I thought to the pendant. Stop it right now.

Which was right when DJ decided to comm me.

"Royal to Rose! Do you read me? Over!"

"Oh, not now!" I whispered. I pressed the blue button – DJ's channel. "I know, Royal. Hurry up with it, we need to get out of here before Starr catches us. I understand."

"I especially emphasize it now. I saw his guest."

Drat. I peeked over to see that Starr's back was turned. Good. I turned off the comm, stood up and swiped the censer, stuffing it under my shirt as I did with my pendant as I ducked down.

The pendant buzzed again as Starr moved in. One little whipping. Just one. Please? Before we go?

Stop it, I thought again. Then I commed DJ.

"Package is secure, Royal."

"Good. Now let's vamoose."

I didn't need to be told twice. I scampered out of the kitchenette, staying along the wall. But then Horzvedt moved his hand – very subtly – and flicked it, indicating the door to the balcony. I took the gesture to mean, go while you still can.

If I'm being honest? I was so shaken up – by just about everything about this mission – that I didn't even ask questions about it. I just bolted, not even caring who saw me. There was a final scream of "Thunder–" from the Bluetooth speaker as I slammed the balcony door with a bang – which I found quite satisfying, even in my panic. DJ followed me out.

We quickly headed to the balcony, where DJ used Yellow to haul us back down to street level. I quickly let out a relieved breath. I hadn't realized how long I'd been holding my breath until we were out of the hotel.

"That was way too close," DJ mumbled. Her jewel was now a dull gray, indicating that it was spent. DJ didn't use Alter Egos often, as they drained the bracelet. It could recharge, true, but it often took a while to do so after channeling major powers like that. Most of the time she just used its force-field ability, which took less power.

"Agreed," I muttered. "I am never going to get the soot out of my shirt. Or that music out of my head. Or – well, everything out of my memory." It wasn't even that much of a joke. I showed her the censer.

DJ examined the relic. "Yep, that's the real deal, no mistake. And how'd it take you so long to get it?"

I bit back the retort that it was hard to do so with Starr walking around his hotel room. Of course, she'd probably been expecting the job to be difficult. But neither of us had been prepared for Starr to actually be home. (Do you say someone's "home" when they're in a hotel room?)

Nor had I been prepared for my pendant to get all aggressive on me. Did it really hold a grudge on Starr? For what? I'd only just met the creep, but it was obvious he'd done something to my pendant that it didn't forgive him for. Then again, the voice coming out of my pendant hadn't sounded like it normally did. I'd have to grill it once we were out of here, though. It was all too likely Starr was on alert. That last part of my escape had not been too subtle.

"You weren't concerned about Starr, were you?" I asked. "You were more worried about the Horse Vet."

"Horse…" DJ muttered some words her mom wouldn't approve of. "I hoped it wasn't–"

"You know him?" I asked.

"Unfortunately. That was Jasper Horzvedt. He's the most notorious con man on the West Coast." She paused. "What's he doing in Philadelphia?"

"Good question." It still bothered me. Clearly Horzvedt had been working the old con guy charm on Starr. But why? So that I could get the censer before it wound up on Ebay? Did he care that it didn't get sold? Or did he just not like the idea of a holy item in Starr's place? I sure didn't imagine it was doing too hot with AC/DC blaring out next to it.

I decided to stop thinking about it before my head exploded from too many questions.

"I wouldn't trust him," DJ said, as if reading my thoughts. "But it is weird. Why was he talking on and on like that? Almost as if he wasn't lying outright. More like he was trying to hold Starr's attention."

"Too much right now," I murmured. "Let's just head back to the Hangar. I'm going to ask Jay some questions. Then I'm going to punch him in the nose."

Wonder how that'll shake out.

Verse for the update: Baruch 3: 20-21. Stay tuned!