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Once again, Conguise sat in the parlor of the whorehouse. He was almost growing accustomed to the tacky opulence of the décor. “I need your assistance with Stella. She"s proving to be more stubborn about leaving her apartment than I’d expected.”
He’d dropped whispers in all the right ears. The girl was now totally alone—ostracized from the little polite society that was left—and yet she hadn’t once asked for help. Jethro had been released from prison. He couldn’t have her clinging to him. The boy was softhearted enough to end up ensnared by her and that wouldn’t do at all.
“What we need is for someone to scare our little Stella right out of her home,” said Meesus.
“That would work.” He studied the Servant. “But she mustn’t be hurt.”
“Of course not. She is an Almighty.” Meesu
