“We could call ourselves the secret six?” Selander suggested.

“But there are only five of us,” Nahara pointed out.

“Then we’ll find another!” Selander declared, sweeping sheets of paper about his desk until he found a clean sheet. Then he started brainstorming a list of names.

Nahara sighed, as if all this were some huge inconvenience. Didn’t she know? The name of a secret society was crucial.

“Perhaps we’ll stay more… undetected if we were to refrain from using the word ‘secret’ in the title?” Nigella piped up from the corner.

Selander mentally chided himself. The botanist was so quiet, he often forgot when she was in the room.

“Does it even really need a name?” Masahiko asked, curled quite contentedly before the fireplace like a cat. “Surely an air of mystery would suffice?”

“Of course we need a name,” Selander replied. “All the best societies have names. How else will people know it’s us committing these crimes?”

“Sorry, but…” Nigella raised a hand. “I thought the whole point was that we don’t get caught?”

Selander paused, pen poised over paper. “We won’t get caught,” he said darkly.

Nigella ducked her head.

“This is ridiculous.” Nahara stormed towards the door. “If we can’t even agree on a name, what hope do we have of working together?”

Selander rose from his desk, a dozen ideas already lining up on his tongue, when Nahara opened the door and Oswin fell in the room.

“Christ!” Nahara knelt to catch the smudge of a boy before he could hit the ground. “He’s heavier than he looks.”

Selander helped her carry Oswin to the chaise lounge, gently laying Oswin’s head on the dark navy velvet.

“Make that four of us,” Nahara muttered.

“I’ve got it!” Masahiko clicked his fingers. “We could call ourselves The Sleepers.”

Selander lobbed a paperweight at him.