<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bf00bf">"Dammit, Danny! I told you to be careful." Joanna Marie DeBraux stood behind the counter of the tavern she ran in a tiny town at the base of the mountain. The man she'd just been yelling at was, in fact, quite unaware that she was upset. In fact, he was dead.  Someone, up in the mountains, probably in that damn mansion, kept outing her spies. Danny was the third this week, and the seventh this month. It wasn't because her spies didn't know what they were doing; Jo trained each of them herself. No. Someone knew who they were, each and every one of them, and he was telling Alexander. There was no doubt in her mind that Alexander was the one doing the actual killing. She knew what he was capable of. She had the scars to prove it.</span></i>