Lying on my cot, wrestling with the drowsiness that came after eating, I was racking my brain for a way to shield against the Elders that wouldn't rouse their suspicion. I had to make it through the round. If I had a later interview, I could sleep and perhaps, with a fresher mind, come up with a plan. But that hadn't been my multi-legged lot.

After the interview, I'd have about two hours to sleep. If I wasn't cut after this round, that, I thought optimistically, should get me through the night.

A scream resounded through the stone walls.

Instantly on my feet, I was the only one up and moving forward. Yanking open the door, my feet had me in the hall before I knew which direction to go. The sound of another door pulled me around to face the restroom end of the hall.

Mandy backed from the alcove, trembling. One hand covered her mouth, while the other was held before her like a loathsome thing. Footsteps resounded behind me; Lydia was hurrying toward us.

"Mandy." I eased toward her. "What's wrong?"

The holding room door shut behind me, then shoved open again.

"Mandy," I repeated.

Her frizzy blond head turned to me, her distress evident. She blinked. "Persephone," she whispered. She held that outstretched hand toward me. Blood was smeared on her fingertips. "She's dead—she's—she's dead."

Lydia stopped beside me; I felt the other finalists crowding behind us.

"Who's dead?" Lydia asked. "Where?"

Mandy shivered. "The… the one from Georgia. S-Suzanne." She began to sob and pointed to the shadowy alcove near the restroom. I could see nothing from where I stood.

I heard the regular tapping of staffs behind us and turned toward the sound; Morgellen and Elspeth were rounding the turn. "Finalists! Return to the holding room," Morgellen called. I did not obey quickly. Lydia went to them and they whispered together as they moved forward. "Lydia, take Mandy to the office where she can clean her hands. Call the police immediately. Elspeth and I will wait here to secure the area."

The next hour passed in what seemed like only moments.

The police arrived right away and quickly marked off the area with yellow plastic tape. We were all herded into the holding room while they "secured the scene." They photographed everything and dusted for fingerprints. From the doorway of the holding room, we watched the body bag roll by on a stretcher. We were all stunned, moved, and frightened. We barely spoke at all.

Until the police came in with fingerprint cards and ink, I don't think it occurred to any of us that we were suspects… or that a killer might be among us.

We were questioned individually in the kitchen by a short, balding male officer with glasses. His badge had the name Moore on it. During my turn, he wrote down my name and asked, "All right, miss, where were you when you heard Mandy scream?"

"On my cot trying to sleep."

He scribbled in his notes. "And for the half-hour preceding that?"

I explained about being in the kitchen, then returning to the holding room.

He scribbled more. "Did you go to the bathroom at any time?"

"No."

"You just laid on your cot and stayed there?"

"Yes."

"Did you see anyone else leave?"

"I was aware of the door opening and shutting a few times, of walking back and forth, but I didn't see who. My eyes were shut."

He let me go back to the holding room alone, after asking me to send in Holly. The doorless stretch of hallway must have been deemed safe enough for us to walk alone—and no one could escape from it. As I reached the last curve before the holding room door, I heard Morgellen arguing with another police officer. "We are conducting an Eximium! Every one of the contestants has been given a dagger. Every Elder has one as well, though I cannot be sure if any of us brought ours. I didn't bring mine."

"We will have to have everyone's dagger," the officer said. "For forensic testing." He radioed to another officer and requested thirty evidence bags be brought.

"You may take the daggers and proceed with your investigation, young man, but we must continue with our competition."

"That may not be possible—"

Despite the horror I felt that someone was dead, I was ready to cheer about getting out of the interview with the Elders. But Morgellen cut him off mid-sentence.

"I assure you it is," she insisted, her voice firm. "We will keep to the Great Hall. You may do your work here."

"In all likelihood, ma'am, one of them is guilty! I want them all confined to the holding room below ground for now."

"I don't doubt that, young man, but the rest of them are not killers and a high priestess will be chosen from among them. These women are foresworn to compete, and face dire consequences should they refuse to participate, let alone leave these grounds before the night is over. We Elders see no reason to halt the contest."

"Someone has taken a life, ma'am. Your consequences are clearly less of a deterrent to the killer than the threat of life imprisonment or capital punishment."

"Perhaps, Officer Detrick, but our prize is probably the motive for the murder. Our proceeding may help you find the murderer."

I stepped into view as if I hadn't been listening out of sight. Still, I felt the weight of Morgellen's gaze as I passed.

Rejoining the others, I said to Holly, "Officer Moore will see you next." She left as I sat on my cot.

Overhearing Elder Morgellen and Officer Detrick confirmed to me that Suzanne had been stabbed to death and one of the ceremonial daggers we'd each pulled from the cauldron was the most likely weapon.

Hot, I removed my sweatshirt, folded it, and laid it under my cot. I smoothed the copper Henley down.

Why would anyone kill her? As I understood it, none of us contestants knew each other, beyond what would be revealed in holding-room chatting. I thought about each person in the room, considering Morgellen's suggested motive. Who might have done it?

I noted Holly's empty cot; she was answering Officer Moore's questions right now.

As the runner-up, if one person was out of the running, she was in for the next round and therefore had a one in ten shot at advancing. If she remained the runner-up, she would compete, but it would not even be counted unless one of the other ten refused.

Or died.

I remembered how she had glared at Suzanne in the kitchen when Suzanne spoke of being "vigilant for our cause." Among us, Holly was the only one who seemed to have any benefit from Suzanne's death. Did the paper tiger have real claws?

Morgellen had convinced the police to let the Elders proceed with the Eximium. I had no idea how she managed it but the fact that she was an Elder left me wondering if she would use her power to compel him into giving his permission. Unethical, but considering the situation, I wouldn't rule it out. Even if she was sincere in her belief that we would aid in the killer's capture if we continued, allowing us to do so with a killer loose among us was quite a risk to take.

Another officer came to the holding room and bagged and tagged each of our daggers individually. A watchful and silent female officer stayed in the room with us when he left.

When I was called to my interview at ten after nine, my feet felt heavy. Escorted upstairs by Lydia and the dagger-bagging cop, I trudged along, my legs like iron weights. How could I shield? How could I hide? At the bottom of the steps to the Great Hall, I stopped. This was my formal meeting with the Elders. Nana had warned me about this.

Would they detect that I was the Lustrata? That I carried a stain? Would I, in the next few moments, be condemned to be Bindspoken? Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it would nullify the stain.