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came to your rescue yet again, did he?’
    â€˜Evading death seems to run in the family,’ Madame Destine said, twitching a smile – but only for a moment. She looked up at her son, now truly a monster in form as well as soul. ‘Your survival within the Whitehall Weir House did not come without its scars, I see.’
    Renard’s eyes flared. ‘The outer package may be damaged, but the inner rage burns within my heart just the same, thank you for your concern.’
    â€˜I do not look upon you with concern, Antoine… only pity.’
    â€˜Save your pity for Cornelius,’ said Renard. ‘And speaking of the old man, I expected him to be here… in fact, I was counting on it. I’ve been looking forward to showing him my new toy.’ The Frenchman took a porcelain vase from Destine’s dresser and crushed it to dust within his metal grip. ‘I have orders to deliver him to the Hades Consortium and my time is short, so where is he?’
    â€˜You have had a wasted trip, Antoine,’ replied Destine. ‘Cornelius is no longer here. In fact, by now he is not even in the country.’
    â€˜You lie!’ Renard considered the words, tapping out a rhythm with his metal fingers against his jaw. ‘Or… perhaps not. I can see that sickening look of triumph on your face. So… he is on his way to Rome, no doubt?’
    Destine gasped. ‘How could you know that?’
    â€˜A lucky guess,’ said Renard. ‘Well, an informed one. My master is aware that Cornelius has taken an interest in him. He said this might happen.’
    â€˜Your master?’ enquired Destine. ‘You refer to Remus?’
    Renard clapped his hands – the flesh of one striking dully against the metal other. ‘
Felicitations, mère
, right first time! Though I do not know the whys and wherefores, I know that if Cornelius has made an enemy of the Baron, it is the last enemy he will
ever
make.’
    Destine shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The clairvoyant had not foreseen this.
    â€˜Remus knows about Cornelius’s quest?’ she asked. ‘That he seeks to learn why his father was murdered?’
    â€˜An interesting choice of words, Mother,’ said Renard. ‘Your prophetic gifts are still functioning then, as are my own. Though not as polished as yours, I admit. I can still sense things as you can – voices in my head, instincts as sharp as a razor’s blade – and my intuition tells me many things. What paths to take, what choices to make… and especially warnings of imminent betrayals.’ Renard’s expression hardened. ‘I always knew you had skeletons in your closet, but giants too?’
    Destine’s head dropped. ‘You may as well come out, Prometheus.’
    The wardrobe’s door creaked slowly open, and inside stood the bearded Irish strongman, cramped within the enclosed space, almost bent double.
    Renard took a swift step closer to Destine and held his metal hand to her throat.
    â€˜I advise against any sudden movements, ape-man, unless you wish her death on your conscience. Now, be a good dog and come on out…
slowly
.’
    Prometheus ground his teeth as he stepped awkwardly out of the wardrobe. He looked to Destine. To his great surprise, the fortune-teller winked back at him… and then she pulled the embroidered shawl from her lap, revealing a pistol.
    â€˜It seems that your intuition has failed you, my son,’ she said, thrusting the business end into Renard’s stomach.
    â€˜
Très bon
,
Mother,’ he congratulated. ‘So… the giant was merely a ruse for my prescient gifts to focus on, masking the gun from my perception, eh? I’ll have to remember that one.’ He took a step back, seemingly thrilled at the recent developments. ‘You have me. I submit. What will you do now, eh? Shoot me? I hardly think so. We both know that you are far too
spineless
to pull