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that depicted signs of the zodiac. It took her a moment to place the woman seated on the twin faces of Gemini.
    “Jesus, that’s Peabody.”
    Roarke shifted his gaze, focused on the woman in a long, sweeping dress in swirling hues of blue and green. Three long strands of beads sparkled to her waist, and earrings of varicolored metals jingled beneath the fringes of her straight, cropped hair.
    “Well, well,” he said and smiled slowly, “our sturdy Peabody makes quite a picture.”
    “She sure… blends,” Eve decided. “I have to meet with Alice alone. Why don’t you go over and talk to Peabody?”
    “A pleasure. Lieutenant…” He took a long look at her worn jeans, battered leather jacket, and unadorned ears. “You don’t blend.”
    “Is that a dig?”
    “No.” He flicked a finger over the dent in her chin. “An observation.” He strolled over, slid onto the stool beside Peabody. “Now, let’s see, what would be the standard line? What’s a nice witch like you doing in a place like this?”
    Peabody slid him a sidelong look, grimaced. “I feel like an idiot in this getup.”
    “You look lovely.”
    She snorted. “Not exactly my style.”
    “You know the fascinating thing about women, Peabody?” He reached out, tapped a finger against her dangling earrings to send them dancing. “You have so many styles. What are you drinking?”
    Ridiculously flattered, she struggled not to flush. “A Sagittarius. That’s my sign. The drink’s supposed to be metabolically and spiritually designed for my personality.” She sipped from the clear chalice. “Actually, it’s not bad. What’s your, you know, birth sign?”
    “I have no idea. I believe I was born the first week of October.”
    Believe, Peabody mused. How odd not to know. “Well, that would make you Libran.”
    “Well then, let’s be metabolically and spiritually correct.” He turned to order drinks, watched Eve sitting at a table. “What sign would you attribute to your lieutenant?”
    “She’s a tough one to pin down.”
    “Indeed she is,” Roarke murmured.
    From her table on the outer circle, Eve watched everything. There was no band or holographic image of one. Instead, the music seem to come from nowhere and everywhere. Windy flutes and plucked strings, a soothing female voice that sang with impossible sweetness in a language Eve didn’t recognize.
    She saw couples in earnest conversations, others laughing quietly. No one flicked an eyelash when a woman in a sheer white sheath rose to dance alone. Eve ordered water and was amused when it was served in a goblet of simulated silver.
    She tuned in to the conversation at the table behind her and was further amused to hear the group’s sober discussion on their experiences with astral projection.
    At a table in the next ring, two women talked about their former lives as temple dancers in Atlantis. She wondered why former lives were always more exotic than the one being lived. The only shot a person had, in her opinion.
    Harmless weirdos, Eve thought, but caught herself rubbing her still tingling palm on her jeans.
    She saw Alice the minute the girl walked in. Agitated, Eve thought. Nervous hands, tensed shoulders, jittery eyes. She waited until Alice scanned the room, spotted her, then she inclined her head in acknowledgment. With a last backward glance at the door, Alice hurried over.
    “You came. I was afraid you wouldn’t.” Quickly, she dipped into her pocket and drew out a smooth black stone on a silver chain. “Put this on. Please,” she insisted when Eve only studied it. “It’s obsidian. It’s been consecrated. It’ll block evil.”
    “I’m all for that.” Eve slipped the chain around her neck. “Better?”
    “This is the safest place I know. The cleanest.” Still darting glances around the room, Alice sat. “I used to come here all the time.” She gripped the amulet she wore in both hands as a server glided to the table. “A Golden Sun, please.” She took a