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" Her name in lyric seemed empowering. Certainly, she was as wild as the girl in the song.We met standing in line. Veronica sang that line, over and over, til she was called. In seconds, she was a screeching harpy, gouging flesh out of a civil servant's hide. I stood to one side and handed her things as the need arose—paper, pen, copy of the regulations, etc. I was the perfect contrast, standing quietly, but towering over the desk.Eventually, the clerk picked up his phone and progress was achieved. Roni hrumphed with feeling. I presented my paperwork for the clerk to stamp. That done, we left the office. Once the door was shut behind us, she threw her arms around me and said, "I don't know who you are, but I owe you coffee. They never give in that fast."Veronica bought two lattes to go, then I walked her home. She invited me in. We spent an hour on her sofa necking. Things might have gone further, but her roommate came home. Introductions were made and I left, promising to call. The. The team hitched to her own carriage were snorting and pawing the ground anxiously at the smell of it. Strewn about the ground, on the road and off it, she counted at least three or four human bodies… perhaps five. ‘Annabelle,’ she said, ‘I’m going to see what this is about.’ ‘Yes, mistress,’ Annabelle murmured. She opened the door, and Elise stepped out. Pierre was walking from one body to the next, probing one with a foot, bending over to listen at the chest of another. He straightened up as she approached. Most of the bodies seemed to belong to common ruffians, their faces bland and rough, hands calloused, clothing patched and stained with things besides blood. One, however was different — not so elegant as a courtier, but tastefully dressed, with a rapier, still in his hand, sporting a guard of sweeping metal that seemed a work of art in itself. ‘You shouldn’t be out here, mistress Elise,’ Pierre was saying, ‘This is no matter for a lady.’ ‘Are they all dead?’ she asked..
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