"Yes. Well."

"I... sell drugs. Supernatural drugs. Sort of like an amphetamine, without the side effects."

"In 1933, we were... not producing enough supply to make up for our demand."

"I took the problem to... my deity. I--" she chokes up. "I told it I would do anything."

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

"It spoke to me. It demanded." She chokes up again. "A sacrifice."

"There is... a law of magic. The more serious the sacrifice, the more potent the power."

"I sacrificed half a dozen of my... employees. The drug began to dry up."

"My deity... informed me that it must be someone precious to me."

oh no oh no

"I... chose my daughter."

"I took her. Told her that I was going to show her her mommy's workplace. She was... so trusting."

"She never thought that I would hurt her."

"I... couldn't."

"I sent her back to the car and I-- and I--"

She can't speak.

And now Portia Sapienza is dead -- and Lela Donovan is in the hospital --

"....do you want a hug?"

...

"Yes."

He does.

"I killed my lover," she says.

"I killed her and-- and the Nectar started to flow-- and I had-- I had-- everything I wanted--"

"She thought we weren't going to do it after all and I--"

"I'm sorry," Mordred says, "that's awful," and doesn't stop hugging her.

She cries softly into Mordred's shoulder for a few minutes.

Then she sits up straight and composes herself. "Well."

"I can hardly tell my colleagues about this. As far as they are concerned I am a success."

"And-- it is not safe in my line of work, to be weak. To not be willing to sacrifice as much as you need for power."

"I imagine. That's -- I don't have anything better to say than I'm sorry --"

"Yes. Well."

She takes out a handkerchief and dabs at her eyes.

"Thank you. If I find out you have told anyone I will drown you."

She considers. Hesitates. "It is..... nice to talk to someone about it."

"I can keep listening."

"I don't have much else to say. This is what happened."

"And now my daughter Lela is sick and not getting better."

A long silence, in which Mordred weighs probabilities in his head.

And then he says:

"...I think I know why your daughter is sick. My favor is don't tell Peter Lukas I didn't actually die and don't tell Louise Fauche I'm not actually working for the cult in LA. Do you want help?"

Meanwhile:

Once Zoe let Anita in, her post at the front door has turned out to be really boring. At least the other guards get to walk around. She didn't even manage to succeed at tearing off one of the warding stones.

Until--

"Evening."

"Evening, ma'am."

"You're a new face. Recently hired?"

"Last Tuesday, Ma'am."

"Ah. Member of our... organization.... before?"

Ah heck ah heck.

"Not particularly, ma'am. My friend was, and he recommended me."

"Excellent. Lovely to see New Women rising up in men's professions."

Zoe smiles and nods.