See, the one nuance of the whole prophecy game that not many people understood, was that the foretellings, while true, were colored by the beliefs of the speaker whether those beliefs were true or not. So the events would come to pass, but inference was a dangerous thing in this line of work. Knowing the details could change everything about a case. Causality was a strange mistress; did knowing the play-by-play of your own death, or somebody else’s, work to actually make that event happen? Could it change the circumstances of the event, prophecy being true in those final utterances, but filtered down and frayed into a thousand strands by the time it actually came to pass? I was good at telling the difference, it’s the only reason I had survived in this line of work for so long. Most of the private dicks that took up prophecy work ended up tripping on their dicks, getting tangled up in the circumstances of the prophecy, causing the very event they were trying to investigate, or ending up the victim of some related prophecy that they never even got the chance to hear. I usually operated on instinct, it had served me well to this point. This time though, I needed to make sure I put Bonnie underground for good, and stayed the hell away from any beds that featured, as the main attraction, one Maggie Free.