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I stared at him. He stared back, waiting. “Um, hi,” I said. “Listen. About the whole Elizabeth Factor thing. You’re right. You saved my butt, and I acted like a jerk. I’m sorry.”

Airboy blinked. “It’s okay,” he said. A tiny smile pulled at his mouth. “That makes this easier. Your friends know about you-know-what, right?”

I nodded, feeling better than I had for a while. “Yeah. We’re kind of stuck, though. There’s too much we don’t know.”

“I found out something that might help,” he said. “You guys going to the Mansion?”

“We could,” I said.

It took me a while to find Espresso and Fortran and Mukuti and Danskin, and then I had to persuade them. We hadn’t been to the Mansion since Stonewall had gone all East Side.

“It’ll be fine,” I told Danskin. “Stonewall probably won’t even be there. Besides, it’s important. Airboy’s got news about the mirror.”

Danskin rolled his eyes. “Oh, the mirror! Well, that’s certainly more important than my feelings, isn’t it?”

I didn’t want to be mad at Danskin. I really didn’t want him to be mad at me. I counted to ten and said, “No, it’s not. You don’t have to come. I understand. Really.”

After that, he said he might as well tag along. We walked the few blocks to the Mansion together, squeezed into our old booth, and ordered a pitcher of milk.

It was weird being there without Stonewall.

Danskin wormed a finger down inside his bandage and scratched. Someone, I noticed, had drawn feathers on it, like a wing. “So where’s Airboy?” he asked.

“He just swam in,” said Espresso, sounding grim. “With a couple of sharks. Did you know about this, Neef?”

I turned around and saw Airboy standing in the door. Behind him, like some kind of dishonor guard, were Stonewall and Bergdorf.

My first impulse was to jump up and run away. Of all the beings in New York Between I didn’t want to see right now, Stonewall and Bergdorf were right up there with the Mermaid Queen.

Except that Bergdorf probably knew where Tiffany was. And I’d have to go past her if I ran away, and how lame would that be?

Before he even reached us, Stonewall started to apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was horrible, I know. I did it because I needed to get in with the East Siders. The whole plan just came to me, like a flash of lightning.” Stonewall looked embarrassed. “I guess I was afraid if I explained, it wouldn’t work right. So I just went with it.”

“You went with it,” Danskin said. “Then go with this. What you did was mean, low down, and hurtful. It was like you’d suddenly turned into some kind of evil wizard or demon prince. You freaked us out.”

I got the impression Stonewall was counting to ten. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “Really and truly. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I didn’t mean any of it. Please believe me. It was totally Folk-like, and I deserve to be turned into a cockroach.” He took a deep breath. “Is everything copacetic? Neef?”

The kobold stumped over with our pitcher of milk, slapped it down on the table, and stumped away.

I looked at Stonewall. “I’m too mad to get over it just like that. But I’ll work on it.”

Danskin adjusted his sling. “What she said.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Fortran said. “But I do wonder what she’s doing here.”

Through all this, Bergdorf had been glaring at the painting of the bowling dwarfs as if it offended her. Now she looked at Fortran, her eyes as big and blue as Tiffany’s—the result of Elizabeth Factor’s makeover, I guessed. “Since you ask, Geek Boy, she is wishing you’d turn into the frogs you so gigantically resemble.”

Stonewall rolled his eyes. “Bergdorf, we’ve talked about this. You said you’d cooperate.”

Bergdorf shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I? Not that anybody seems gigantically excited about it.”

She obviously meant to sound snotty, but she only managed pathetic. Bergdorf was scared. And from the way she wasn’t looking at me, I figured it was me she was scared of.

I decided to show her the Wild Child could be nice—when she wanted to be. “We’re delighted you decided to join us, Bergdorf,” I said in my best Astris tea-party voice. “Please sit