"That's not it. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she reminds me of someone. I just can't think of who."

"Whom." Sarah went to the window to look out. "Do you want me to ask him about Hope?"

"No. I can ask my own questions."

"Portia, honey," Sarah turned, her hands spread wide. "You know I love you like a sister, but if you have a failing, it's that you're invariably blunt when you want information."

I lifted my chin and looked down my nose at her. "I am not blunt. I'm straightforward. The difference between which you are clearly unable to appreciate."

"Call it what you will, it seems to me that this situation is going to need careful handling. Since I am the soul of tact and subtlety, why don't you let me handle it?"

"I would be insulted except there's not time for me to argue with you. Suffice it to say, I will be the personification of the word subtle. All right?"

She sighed, and looked out the window again. Silence filled the room, no sound at all penetrating from the rest of the house.

My mind, normally organized and orderly, squirreled around, randomly hopping from thought to thought, giving me an uncomfortable, unsettled sort of feeling. But behind all that, there was a nagging sense of having missed something again, something important that, if only I could concentrate, I could see. It was at the tip of my awareness, just beyond my focus…

"Here we are, then." The door opened for Milo, bearing a small red plastic tray adorned with coffee mugs, a milk jug, sugar bowl, and small yellow bowl filled with the tea cookies so beloved by the English. "Sorry for the wait. How do you take yours?"

"Black is fine, thanks." I took a mug from him, and waved away the offer of a cookie. "I apologize again for barging in like this, but I'm in a bit of a bind, and I was hoping you could help me."

"Certainly," he said, offering Sarah a cookie. His eyes were the same smiling brown eyes of the man who'd amused me the night before, but I was wise to his ways now. "Anything I can do to help."

"We're looking for a virtue named Hope, and I was told by someone in the Court of Divine Blood that you knew her."

"Oh yes, that's subtle," Sarah murmured.

We both ignored her.

"Hope?" Milo asked, his eyes mirroring the surprise on his face. "The Court?"

"Look, I know you used to be an archon there, and were later kicked out, only to have the charges against you dropped," I said, setting down my mug. "So, although I appreciate the fact that you don't like a couple of relative strangers poking around in your past, you don't have to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I've seen the Akashic Record."

Milo slumped back in his chair, one hand rubbing over his face before he opened his eyes and gave me a short nod. "It seems I don't have a choice. If you've seen the Record—but what was it you wanted from me?"

"Let's start with, why didn't you tell me you were a trial proctor last night, when you conducted the fourth trial?"

"It's a bit complicated," he answered, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward toward me. "I'm going to tell you the truth because you're a nice person, and I quite like you. It's true I concealed my position with the Court from you. I didn't want to, but I was told by someone high up in the Court that if I didn't, I'd lose my job."

"Someone didn't want me to know that I was undergoing the fourth trial?" I frowned when he nodded. "That doesn't make any sense. All the other proctors have announced who they were, and that a trial was about to start. Why wouldn't someone want me to know I was doing the fourth one?"

Milo stared down into his coffee, his thumb rubbing along the thick edge of the mug. "I wish I could tell you, Portia, I really wish I could. But I have my wife to think of. I've been banned from the Court before—I can't risk that again. All I can say is that someone doesn't want you to succeed as a virtue."

"Who?" Sarah asked.

"I can't tell you that," he said, giving her an apologetic smile.

"Well, can you narrow it down somewhat?" she asked. "Can't you give us some clue about who this secret enemy is? Surely Portia deserves that much consideration."

I sent Sarah a look of gratitude.

"Of course she does," Milo answered, rubbing his chin as he continued to gaze into his coffee. "I suppose it wouldn't be breaking any confidences if I was to tell you the person who wishes you ill is someone you've met here in England."

"Hmm. Someone I've met. Let's see, the first person who has Court ties whom I met is Theo."

Milo gave me a long look.

"There was Mystic Bettina," Sarah said, her eyes narrowed in thought. "And Milo and Carol, but obviously you're excluded from the list of suspects."

"Obviously," he said, smiling for a moment.

"Tansy and Leticia," I continued the list.

Milo's expression didn't change.

"Who did your trial after that?" Sarah asked. "I've got them in a muddle. Was it the demon woman?"

"Noelle the Guardian? No, she came after the second trial. That was done by Terrin. Following him was the demon—"

Milo's shoulders twitched. I stopped, mentally backing up. "Do you know Terrin?"

His face became as smooth as a mask. "Would you like more coffee?"

Sarah's gaze met mine. It was clear what Milo was trying to tell us between the lines. Which was very interesting, considering all that Terrin had told us.

"No thank you, I'm fine." I took a sip of the coffee before continuing. "I do have another question for you, if you don't mind my apparent nosiness. Do you know the virtue named Hope?"

"Hope!" His face brightened for a moment, then he shot a hunted look over his shoulder toward the door, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Yes, indeed I do know her. She's been a stalwart friend for several centuries. She stood by me when I went through my black time."

"Black time?" Sarah asked.

"Excommunication," he answered. "I lost a great many friends then, but Hope wasn't one of them. She spoke out on my behalf, and almost lost her own position because of that. Fortunately, I was exonerated before any action could be taken against her."

"I see. Do you happen to know where she is now?" I sat back, my hands on my lap, apparently at ease, but oddly nervous, as if some secretive thing lurked in the shadows.

He chuckled. "I'm glad to see you don't put any stock in that ugly rumor that she's dead. I knew you would see through those murder charges sooner or later. Unfortunately, I can't help you find her. I haven't heard from her since before you summoned her."

I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't knowingly summon her, but decided that point wasn't relevant to the conversation. "Do you have any idea where I can find her? We stopped by her flat just before we came here, but the janitor we talked to had no idea where she was. Obviously, I need to find her to prove to the Court that I didn't kill her."

"No idea, I'm afraid," he said, shaking his head. "I wish I could help, but I haven't a clue where she's gone to, although if she was feeling threatened by someone…" He paused a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. "If she was feeling that her life was in danger, she would take steps to make sure no one found her. I'd guess that she would leave the country, go somewhere no one would think to look for her, and lay low until she felt it safe to emerge again."

My disappointment must have shown on my face.

"I'm sorry," he said again, patting my hand. "I wish I could help you—"

"Milo!"

He jumped and looked around guiltily. His wife stood in the door, giving us a cold-eyed look. "Hello, dear. I was just chatting with our visitors."

"You said you were going to do the shopping before tea," she said pointedly, giving Sarah and me an even colder nod.

"Oh, yes…"