"Hmmm. No, I don't think so."

Lyra did not bother to search the crowd. There was no point. She was several inches shorter than Nancy, and even in her stiletto heels she would not be able to see over the heads of those around her. Besides, there was no need to look for Cruz. She already knew he was here. She could feel his presence with every fiber of her being.

She tried to fix her attention on the green quartz artifact in a nearby glass display case. The Swan Gallery's collection of alien antiquities was certainly respectable, but Nancy was right, the Swan wasn't a top-tier establishment like the Fairstead Gallery, which catered to the wealthiest and most exclusive collectors.

If the Swan had been such a high-end gallery, Lyra thought, she and Nancy would never have received invitations to the auction that was scheduled to begin in an hour. Neither of them moved in the higher circles of the art world. Neither of them was in a position to bid on any of the relics that would go on the block tonight. They were here only because they were friends of Harriet Swan, the proprietor. Harriet had been desperate to turn out a crowd.

"I still don't see him," Nancy said.

"That would be because he doesn't want anyone to notice him yet." Lyra downed another hasty swallow of champagne in a desperate effort to soothe her frazzled senses. "That's what all self-respecting predators do. They lie low, staying out of sight until they're ready to make their move. By the time you spot them, it's too late. Their teeth are clamped around your throat."

Nancy grinned. "Sounds interesting."

Lyra looked at her without saying a word.

"Sorry." Nancy had the grace to appear chagrined. "I know you have every reason to be well and truly pissed because of what Sweetwater did to you. But you've got to admit, those of us who didn't have a dust bunny in that fight have a right to be curious about him. I mean, he is a Sweetwater, after all."