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I nod.
“I’m humbled. Do you feel humbled? I feel humbled.”
I think just to change the topic, Allegra says, “Have you learned anything new about black milk?”
“Don’t talk about that here,” I tell her. “And no. I’m still working on it.”
“I’d love to have more of it to test.”
“As would I,” says Vidocq.
I look around the room.
“I never want to see the stuff again.”
The crowd mills and flows through the bar. No one is paying any attention to us, even after Allegra mentioned black milk. I haven’t been this jumpy since planning my escape from Downtown. I assume everyone is listening, that every kid with a fake ID nursing a whiskey sour is a master spy. I need to stop looking over my shoulder all the time and deal with real things in the real world.
“Have I mentioned that Candy’s boss still hates me?”
Candy makes a face.
“She doesn’t hate you. She just gets . . . concerned.”
“But I’m not invited to her birthday party, am I?”
“Be quiet and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Tell her not to worry about me. I’m going back to the Sub Rosa council like a good boy and staying off the streets.”
“Really?”
“Not right away. I mean, eventually. Probably.”
“How about I don’t mention you at all?”
“That might be even better.”
Allegra looks past us.
“I think Brigitte came in. Who’s her friend?”
I look over. All I see is what might be the backs of their heads.
“Probably Marilyne,” says Candy.
The two of them head to a table with a couple of young guys in sharp suits. Film producers probably. They’re all smiles and air kisses. If they’re the ones financing Brigitte’s new movie, are they Wormwood or just show-biz schmucks? Either way, I don’t think Brigitte would appreciate me busting up her meeting, so I stay put.
“Marilyne is French,” says Candy. “When they’re done with the civilians maybe we can get them over and you can compare bouillabaisse recipes.”
“Not every Frenchman is a chef,” says Vidocq.
“It’s sad but true,” says Allegra. “He’s better at raising the dead than making breakfast.”
“Alchemists do not raise the dead.”
“And you can’t fry a damned egg.”
“Je suis désolé.”
