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and studied the dregs of her coffee. "It's true," she said in a low voice. "She does see things, things she couldn't possibly know any other way except through her powers. And . . . and she tries to help."
    "Help?" Guinevere prompted.
    Ruth nodded slowly. "Sometimes she can use her power to . . . to change things just a little. Enough to keep them from hurting you." Ruth seemed to run out of words at that point. She lifted her head to look at Guinevere. "I don't know what to think, to tell you the truth. Would you like to meet her?"
    Guinevere glanced at Francine Bates. "What do you think, Francine?"
    "I went to her a couple of times. Nothing much came of it, but it was kind of fun. Like going to a gypsy fortune-teller at a fair or something. I didn't take it seriously."
    "How much does it cost?" Guinevere asked.
    "Just twenty dollars for one visit," Mary answered. "I guess it's worth it just for the experience. As I said, I'm not sure I'll go back, though."
    "I think," Guinevere said carefully, "that I'd like to try it at least once. How do I set up an appointment?"
    "That's easy," Mary assured her. "One of us who's already been to her can call and set it up. She only takes referrals, you know."
    "That's interesting," said Guinevere. "The psychic business must be pretty good, if she can depend on making a living just on a referral basis."
    "She doesn't want to be pestered by a bunch of skeptics trying to make fun of her power," Ruth explained in a small voice. "She doesn't mind people who are seriously interested, or even just curious, but she sees no need to waste her time with casual walk-ins. She says she's not a carnival sideshow and she doesn't want to be treated as one."
    "I see," said Guinevere. "All right. I can't claim to be a believer, but I am genuinely curious. Go ahead and set up an appointment for me."
    Chapter Three
    The next day at Gage and Watson Guinevere deposited her shoulder bag in her desk drawer and went to work immediately. She had assigned herself this job in order to investigate Madame Zoltana, but that didn't mean she could stiff Gage and Watson. She had her professional ethics, and she would make certain the company got its money's worth from a Camelot Services employee. She was well into the document she was entering into the word processor, when Francine Bates arrived.
    "Hey, it's all set, Gwen," the older woman announced lightly as she went to her desk. "I just saw Ruth and Mary in the hall. One of them made an appointment for you with Madame Zoltana. It's for this afternoon, right after work. I wrote down the address. It's a small house up on First Hill."
    "I didn't know there were any houses left on First Hill," Guinevere said dryly. "I thought the hospitals had taken over most of the neighborhood." Several of Seattle's fine medical establishments had located in the district known as First Hill, an older area that looked out over the heart of the city toward
Elliott
Bay
.
    Francine laughed. "Not quite. There are a lot of apartments, and a few houses, still left."
    "You said you'd only been to visit this Madame Zoltana once or twice, Francine?" Guinevere opened her drawer and stuffed the slip of paper with the address on it into her purse.
    "That's all. I'm afraid I'm not a true believer. Or maybe I just don't want to believe, if you know what I mean." Francine paused thoughtfully as she started her word processor. Her voice grew more serious. "She really can tell you some incredible things. It can be . . . well, unsettling. But I think she helps some people."
    "Helps them?"
    Francine nodded. "Poor little Sally Evenson, who used to sit at the desk you're using, has really come to rely on her lately. Madame Zoltana has been a counselor and a sort of therapist for her."
    Some therapist, Guinevere thought grimly. One who left the patient in a far worse condition than the one in which she'd found her. Whatever Zoltana's game with Sally had been, as far as Guinevere was concerned it was the next