The woman in the flowing purple dress was the fifth member of the Priory. Max and the other leaders called her Amy, but everyone else had to call her Lady Cyclone. She'd been a Hunter once. Rafferty supposed that she still was, even if she had retired many years ago. Lady Cyclone put one hand in the air, fingers spread. The murmurs in the room died out. She closed her hand into a fist, which always had the same meaning.

Shut up and listen.

Rafferty was standing in the Gallery, the name for the high ceilinged antechamber just inside the Abbey's big front doors. She was next to Blaspheme, who had rolled her eyes at the fist thing, like she always did, which earned her a hard nudge from Sheridan. D Hall was up front with them. Both halls would leave directly from this room. Pretty much everyone was here, though. Apparently they all needed to hear this. Vincent and the other Roughcoats were in the back of the Gallery. Rafferty thought Vincent looked just as impatient as Blaspheme.

"I love rules," Lady Cyclone began.

Rafferty had asked Gus once why Lady Cyclone looked different from the others. Gus had told her that her ancestors were from a place called Japan. When Rafferty asked if Japan still existed, Gus had gone very quiet for a moment, and said that the answer was probably that it did and it didn't. He had walked away after that, and seemed very sad.

"Do you know why I love rules? Because all of you think you're special.

"I don't blame you. We pluck you from your homes, and tell you you're basically magic. Of course you think you're special. Sadly, though, just like anywhere, about half of you are above average. The other half? Not so much.

"That makes it a simple truth that about half of the decisions you'll make have a real shot at success, and the other half have a good chance of killing everyone you know. And that's why I love rules. Because rules protect us from you and your rash teenager minds.

"Rules force your dangerously precious inclinations, you know, the ones that are going to save the world, onto a well worn path to success laid down by your elders and betters. Good God, do I love rules," Lady Cyclone said to the room.

Most of the girls were a little scared of Lady Cyclone. The stories they told about her painted her as a ferocious fighter, and she was very strict. Sheridan called Lady Cyclone a martinet, a word Rafferty had had to look up. Once she did, she realized that if Sheridan called you a martinet, you probably needed to lighten up.

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But Rafferty had heard other stories, too. The halls of the Abbey had long memories and big mouths. Those stories suggested that Amy the Hunter hadn't been all that good at following rules herself, might have even been a bit of a troublemaker. Sometimes there was a little twinkle in Lady Cyclone's eye that made Rafferty think that might be true.

"Today is about the spirit of cooperation. The Roughcoats have been useful in the past. They help a lot of people. They've asked us to go. We'll go. But what do the rules say? They say we'll help those in need. Perfect. They also say that we do not fight humans unless our lives are in clear and immediate danger. Clear, as in undeniable. Immediate, as in right now. Anyone need more help with either of those terms? " Lady Cyclone asked.

"But Alex with Malice is the bad guy. Everyone knows that," piped Harriet from D Hall. She'd even raised her hand. Of course, she'd raised her hand. Harriet always raised her hand.

"Does everyone know that, Ms. Pryce? I think that. You think that. Do you think Alex thinks that? What about the men who work for him? His mother?" Lady Cyclone asked in a way that suggested she did not expect an answer.

Vincent raised his hand.

"I happen to know Alex's mother thinks he's a real prick," the Roughcoat offered.

The look that Lady Cyclone shot Vincent suggested she'd like to grind his face in broken glass.

She walked down the row of Hunters, and stopped in front of Rafferty, which Rafferty thought couldn't be a coincidence.

"We start making those sorts of distinctions, and people can get nervous. Nervous people might show up at our doors looking to burn some witches. So what do we do, Ms. St. John?"

"We follow the rules, ma'am," Rafferty said.

"We follow the rules," Lady Cyclone agreed. "Always."

But she's got that little twinkle in her eye.

And I think she might be smirking.

Is she trying to tell me not to follow the rules?

Lady Cyclone held Rafferty's gaze for a moment before she spoke again. There was definitely a smirk there.

But maybe that's just her face.

"D Hall. J Hall. Make me proud. Everyone else, back to work. Dismissed," she said, and walked out of the room, a graceful flutter of violet flecked with gold.

Rafferty picked up her bag from the floor. She turned to Trevor, who was standing behind her, and asked without speaking if they had everything they needed.

Trevor nodded.

Time to go.

As Rafferty walked out of the hall, listening to Cody chatter to Blaspheme, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw Vincent. He leaned in close to whisper to her.

"You're prepared to ignore pretty much all of that, right?"