Mary-Alice’s worst trip ever plunges her deeper into the unknown - to her at least, and that’s all that counts.

She’s not in charge. She’s not even in the know, and both would have been unthinkable just moments before ... Moments? Or ... Look, ignore Time for a moment. It’s being weird.

And this place!

One moment ... hang on ... yes, that tracks, one moment she’s looking down on the unsophistication of an evening in the country, whichever one this is, and the next moment (yes) she’s hurled into a world of noise and terror, clonked on the head, and wakes among rustic, unabashed admirers.

But her Dark Companion shatters the moment just as she’s having it, and now there’s a crime scene to flee. Edmond Locard would have things to say about this moment, but his hasn’t arrived yet, and the point is moot.