The mystery man waved the barrel of his gun impatiently in the direction of the parking lot. I weighed my options carefully. I could slip off my shoes and run. I risked tetanus and God knew what else running barefoot through the streets of Chicago, but at least I'd be alive. That was only a viable option so long as whatever this...thing I'd done held.

Even as I thought it, the shimmering haze that had been dancing before my eyes for the last few minutes died away. I blinked quickly, hoping against hope that I hadn't caused my protection to fail. The man's eyes focused and he took better aim. I was visible again.

"Parking lot. Now," the man ordered. He kept his arm tucked in close to his side, hiding the gun from plain view. Unless anyone was watching us closely, it wasn't going to raise any alarm bells.

"Why?" I asked, raising a brow at him. "You going to shoot me in front of the library entrance? This is a heavily policed part of town, and, as I'm sure you noticed, there's a detective looking for me."

His eyes tightened ever so slightly, and I knew I'd hit the mark. I was beginning to regret running from Harry. What was the worst he was going to do to me? Give me a dressing down and return me to the Carpenter household? I had no idea what this guy wanted from me. If he carried a gun and was afraid of the cops, he probably meant me ill. Explanations, each one worse than the next, spun around in my head.

What if he was a part of a human trafficking ring? I'd heard they took attractive, underage girls off the street and sold them overseas. It seemed risky, picking up a girl who knew his face and could identify him in a police lineup. I wasn't sure who I'd be appealing to. I was still developing. I had too much of a chest at fourteen to appeal to a pedophile, but I hadn't filled out enough to attract many men either.

Then again, I'd also shown him that I had to use a prepaid phone with limited minutes and no GPS tracking ability. Maybe I looked like an easy mark. But that didn't make sense either, the more I thought about it. He'd bought the slurpee on purpose. He'd seen me disappear. That meant he had to have been following me. And I'd never seen him before I'd tapped him on the shoulder to ask for the date.

"Get to the parking lot, now," he instructed, and I heard the distinctive click of a hammer being pulled back. "I just want to talk."

I cast one last desperate glance at the library. Maybe Harry had gotten his tracking spell up and running again. The last I'd seen, he'd gone wading into the crowd under the mistaken impression I was somewhere inside it. Maybe if I stalled, he'd have time to reach me.

Or maybe I'd just get myself shot.

The man fell into step behind me, putting a bracing hand on my back, curling me closer to his side. It would have been a warm, paternal gesture if the gun hadn't jabbed into my ribs.

"Stop that," I hissed. "You're not my father."

The man smirked down at me. I wanted to punch the grin off of his smug face. "Nah, that's a Mister Carpenter, innit? Thanks for writing your name down on the forms, girlie. Now I know what to call you."

"You could extend me the same courtesy, you know," I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. It probably wasn't a good idea to mouth off when there was a gun poised to shoot me in the heart if I misbehaved.

"All in good time."

He steered me into the parking lot. He began counting the rows as he passed, eyes scanning the crowd of parked cars for one in particular. Again, I had to bite back the urge to make a sarcastic remark. Had he really forgotten where he parked? That was a level of idiocy that deserved mockery. It was cold, and even the jacket I wore wasn't helping me dispel the shivers that seized my small frame. The weather didn't seem to bother the mystery man, and he finally led me down the last row of cars in the parking lot.

He led me to a silver van. It looked as if it had been chosen specifically for how generic it was. It would have been difficult for anyone to pick it out in the crowd. I spotted a dozen other vans just like it, parked closer to the library. I frowned. If he'd been here to pick me up, why would he park so far away from the entrance? The further he had to drag me, the more likely it was that I'd make a bid for freedom. The longer we took to reach the safety of the vehicle, the more time Harry had to catch up.

"Are you sure you don't want my jacket?" he said as we approached the car. I craned my neck to see a woman exiting her Volkswagen beetle. She shot us a questioning glance as she passed.

"I'd like you to take your hands off of me," I whispered.

"Get in the van," he said in an undertone. "And we'll talk."

The van was already running. Exhaust plumed visibly from the tailpipe, and a man stuck his head out the driver's side window as we approached.

"Who's the broad?" he said, sliding his Ray-Bans down his nose to get a better look at me.

"Miss Carpenter, say hello to my driver, Tony."

I glared stonily at Tony until he rolled his window up and put the car into gear. The mystery man finally took his hand off of my back and gave me a shove toward the sliding door. "Get in, girlie."

"What happened to Miss Carpenter?" I grumbled, but did as I was told. I got a good grip on the handle and pulled. The door was heavy, and I had trouble pushing it all the way back. I needed to get into better shape. The sprint through the library had proved I was fast, but I really needed to hit the weights, if I got out of this alive. With a final nervous glance at the gun, I climbed into the interior of the car.

"Backseat," he instructed, climbing in after me. I hesitated a fraction too long and received a violent shove into the bench seat. Only my quick reflexes stopped me from having a painful encounter with the window. The glass was thickly tinted and a shade past what was legal in the state of Illinois.

"Step on it, Tony."

The car backed up quickly and I had to brace my hands on the bench seat in front of me to keep from flying forward. The car really picked up speed then, and we went hurtling through the row of cars at top speed, barely slowing to take the corner.

"Buckle up, kid," the man said, not moving to do the same. "Don't want you crashing through the windows, do we?"

"What do you want?" I said, reaching for the seat belt. He still had the gun trained on me, and it just seemed safer to be wearing a restraining band while Tony was driving.

"What was that back there?" he asked, ignoring my question. "In the library? One moment you're standing there, and the next you're not. It was like magic, or something."

I blinked. Magic? Had I used magic? My heart picked up speed, and I felt a trickle of genuine elation seep into my veins. Despite the circumstances, the idea thrilled me. I'd always thought what Harry could do was amazing. It didn't' seem unnatural or evil. Not the way Harry used it, at least. If I had magic, what did that mean for me? Could I sling around fireballs, or sweep this creep off his feet with a gust of wind? I could at least become invisible. That was more than I'd ever dreamed of doing before today.

I shrugged. "I don't know what happened. I acted on instinct."

The man's eyes narrowed. "You can just poof right out of sight when you get nervous?"

"I don't know," I repeated. "It's the first time I've done it."

The man's lips pulled away from his teeth in a fierce smile. "Well, you're gonna do it again, kid. And this time, you're going to do it for me. I think that little talent of yours will come in useful."

"And if I refuse?" I countered, sounding braver than I felt. I didn't like having the gun cocked and aimed straight at me. What if we hit a pothole and it went off? I was beginning to think that this guy had more ambition than sense.

"You're gonna be useful one way or another, kid." He said, giving me a thorough once-over. I regretted applying a layer of makeup this morning. I'd just hoped to make myself look a little older. I was more likely to get a job if I looked sixteen instead of fourteen.

"Stop calling me that," I snapped. "I'm not going around calling you dude."

He chuckled, sounding genuinely amused by my outburst. "My name is Torelli, kid. What's yours?"

"Molly," I ground out. "And if you think you're going to hold me for ransom, you've got another thing coming. My parents don't care where I'm at, and they're not looking for me."

"Liar," Torelli snorted. "If they can afford to pay Dresden's rates to find you, they could pay what I'd ask to give you back. That's not the point, though. I don't want you found, Molly Carpenter. I want you to pull a disappearing act for me."

I twisted the hem of my shirt between my hands nervously. "I don't know what I did," I repeated slowly, hoping he'd understand. He didn't seem all that bright, his comments about my parents and Harry aside. I was sure he was doing this job pro bono.

"Well, you're going to figure it out in the next hour or so," Torelli said, reaching behind him for something I couldn't see. When he brought it up to eye level, I saw it was a case just like the one he'd been carrying inside the library. He opened the snaps with quick, businesslike efficiency and withdrew a small baggie. He tossed it into my lap.

It didn't look much different from the snack bags Mom used to put Cheerios in for Hope and Harry. But instead of a snack suited for a toddler, this baggie contained a powdery white substance that vaguely resembled baking soda. I nearly threw it back at him, revolted by what had landed in my lap.

"Cocaine?" I nearly shouted. "You want me to do cocaine?"

Torelli rolled his eyes. "You're not going to snort that, kid. It's worth more than you'd make in a year. That stuff is nearly seventy percent pure. People pay top dollar for this shit."

"Then why-?"

Torelli cut me off. "You're gonna pull a your little Invisa-girl act and get this to one of my buyers uptown."

My stomach rolled as I stared down at the little baggie and everything it entailed. This was illegal. A dull throbbing was beginning between my eyebrows. I was going to have a wicked headache by the time we reached our destination. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing myself anywhere but in this car with this despicable man.

I should be at school right now. I'd be going into my freshman year of high school soon. My friends had been hinting they wanted to make me over for awhile. I could be scandalizing my parents with my risque fashion choices. The worst trouble I'd get in was a grounding. Instead, I was in a van with a drug dealer, his driver and, if the size of the case was any indication, a ton of cocaine.

I swallowed back the bile and steadied my nerves the only way I knew how. I drew upon the deep well of snark that exists within every smartass and fixed Torelli with an insolent stare.

"Invisa-girl? Really? Don't you know your comic books at all? You could at least have called me 'The Invisible Woman' or 'Sue Storm.' Invisi-girl just sounds like a lame sidekick."

The references flew right over Torelli's head. I sighed. Uncultured swine. It was going to be a nightmare dealing with this guy. He was a slimeball and completely ignorant of pervasive pop culture.

"The buyer will be waiting outside the Uptown Theatre, wearing a red sweater, a belt around the middle, and black skinny jeans."

"Will they also be carrying a sack and say ho, ho, ho?" I asked innocently.

Torelli's eyes narrowed. "Don't get smart with me, Carpenter. I've still got a gun on you."

"If you were going to shoot me, you'd have done it outside the library." I wasn't sure why that conviction was so strong, but I was certain of it. "You'd rather keep me alive so I can run drugs for you."

He scowled. "You do this job for me, and there's potential for work in the future. You'd like that, right? This gig will pay more than a retail job, that's for damn sure."

"I was a part of D.A.R.E. in elementary school. I'm doing this under protest."

Torelli shrugged. "You get these jobs done, and I let you walk away."

"Jobs?" I echoed. "As in, plural?"

"Five of 'em. Then I'll drop you back home, kid. I might even buy you a lollipop."

I glared at the back of his head as he finally turned around. Condescending asshole. I should use my powers to turn his head into goo. That was, if I had powers. And if I could do more than turn myself invisible at will. I sank lower in the chair, rubbing my head.

I really wished I'd stayed put in the library.

I'd never actually been to the Uptown Theatre. It was only now that I'd wandered outside of it that I realized that the scope of my life had been incredibly small. I'd been alive for fourteen years, and I'd only visited four out of fifty states. I'd rarely left the suburban neighborhood that I'd grown up in. The most familiar routes to me were the ones to and from the private school I attended, to Saint Mary's or the hospital and, of course, friend's houses.

I'd never had cause to travel the seventy-seven neighborhoods that made up Chicago, let alone the rest of Illinois. I'd been out of the country twice with dad, both times when I was young and Father Forthill had not been available to babysit Daniel and I. The world was a lot bigger than I was, and until this moment I hadn't really thought about it in just those terms. Put that way, I felt small and rather insignificant in the face of it all.

The Uptown Theatre wasn't the biggest building I'd ever seen, but it was quite pretty. A big red marquee declared "Uptown" in big block letters. Movie titles that were a few years out of date were still printed on the sides of the thing. The building was under renovation, and only a small portion of the molding that ran up the building was visible. It was early afternoon, but apparently the workers had decided that two o'clock was quitting time. There were tools left on the scaffolding that had been erected in front of the building. It looked like a safety hazard to me, but hey, I was no architect.

Cars lined the streets, and a big concrete barricade blocked off the entrance to the theatre. One of the cars, parked further down the street, was an unmarked police vehicle. Don't ask me how I knew, but it had that feel to it. The man sitting behind the wheel was staring resolutely ahead at the street, sometimes eyeing the interactions between passersby with suspicion. His clothing was too crisp. The German Shepherd was too well-behaved.

"I can't do this," I muttered.

"You managed it again on the way up." Torelli said dismissively. "You can do it a third time. You've only got to get the cash and get back to the van. Five minutes, tops."

The spell I'd cast in the library had only lasted three minutes. The second attempt had lasted even less time than the first, puttering out after only a minute and a half. I was sweaty, and my breakfast was trying to make a reappearance. The tuna sandwich that Torelli had chowed down on smelled revolting. The headache had only grown worse. Each heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer blow. I wasn't going to be able to do this. I was going to get out of the van, hurl, and get arrested for possession of a narcotic.

A woman strolled into view. She very casually propped herself against the barricade, eyeing the car down the street the same way I had. The guy must be new, because even this girl could tell what he was there for, and she didn't seem like she was the brightest crayon in the box.

She drew out a pack of cigarettes, shook them vigorously and then withdrew one. She produced a lighter from her purse and lit up. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, smiling as she released it a few moments later. I didn't understand the look of satisfaction on her face. The one and only time I'd tried cigarettes I'd coughed and spluttered like a fiend. The smoke hadn't tasted good either. I'd take one if offered by friends, but I didn't like the stuff.

The unknown woman had brown curls that were the result of artful hairstyling, rather than unstoppable genetics, like Mercy's. Her skin was too smooth to be completely natural, and I expected I'd see her face caked in makeup if I got closer. She was wearing a red sweater dress, a thick black belt, and black skinny jeans. Her boots nearly reached her thighs. The undercover cop was eyeing the girl with dislike. Smoking in front of the theatre wasn't strictly illegal, but it was frowned upon. After the laws had passed to prevent smoking in front of most businesses, public smoking had gone down some. The theatre wasn't open, and it didn't have a sign that prohibited smoking outside of its doors.

"Looks like we found our ho, ho, ho," I muttered.

Torelli smirked. "Showtime, kid. Don't even think about running off. I've got your name. My boss, John Marcone, knows absolutely everyone in Chicago. If you don't behave, I can arrange for one of your family to have a little...accident. Understand?"

"I understand."

My hands shook so badly, Torelli had to open the door for me. The baggie of cocaine in my back pocket felt like it weighed about a million pounds. I fought the urge to press my face into the side of the van. The metal was cool, and it would soothe the aching of my head for a moment or two. I couldn't afford the delay. If I stayed out of sight for too long, Torelli would think I'd run off. And if he thought I'd run off, he'd go after my family.

And I'd thought the Fallen was the worst thing that had happened to me this year. Life had a funny way of turning all your previously held assumptions on their head.

I squeezed my eyes shut. It was hard to focus past the fear and bodily discomfort. I mustered up all the willpower I could and muttered. "Abracadabra."

Nothing happened. I hadn't really thought it would, but just saying the word aloud made me feel a little less nervous. I might have laughed and tried every magical word I could think of if I'd been home. If it really was magic, it wouldn't work that way. I didn't know much about it, but most of Harry's spells seemed to be Latin-based, not made up gobbledegook.

I drew in a shaking breath. I was dangerously close to throwing up. It was difficult to swallow. Tony was staring at me, and I could practically feel Torelli's eyes on me as well. I just needed to get this spell down. If I finished this, Torelli would take me home. I had no illusions it would end here, but maybe I could follow through on my plan. I'd get out of town. I wasn't worth chasing.

Nothing was coming. I was pretty sure the casual observer would think I was constipated. I couldn't seem to force the spell a third time. Tears were gathering, and I couldn't swallow.

Oh God, I thought miserably. I'm going to die. Torelli's going to kill me. I can't do it.

I raised my face to the sky. The sun couldn't emerge from the thick layer of clouds. I was going to die on a dreary afternoon, just outside a theatre I'd never had the chance to visit. How depressing.

Help me, I pleaded. Whatever higher power was out there hadn't stopped me from picking up an evil coin that was bent on the destruction of my soul. Why did I expect they'd stop my untimely death? That seemed like too much to hope for.

I clenched my hands into fists. Maybe the words were what I was missing. Harry always spoke or shouted incantations. I didn't know the Latin word for invisible, or if there even was such a thing. I did know some Japanese, thanks to Shiro. The word came out of my mouth before I could even think about what I was doing.

"Kakusu," I breathed.

The shimmering barrier sprang up without effort, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't sure how long it was going to hold, but for now I was just grateful I'd been able to produce it. I rounded the back of the van and looked both ways before I darted across the street. The streets weren't busy at this time of day, but it was Chicago. There were drivers even more reckless than Tony the Tasmanian driver.

As I'd suspected, the girl only appeared flawless at a distance. Up close, I could see that she was about fifteen pounds too thin for her frame, the skin around her nose was red and irritated like she'd suffered a bad cold, and her fingers were twitching restlessly around her cigarette. I took a seat on the barricade next to her, taking a moment to really get a look at Torelli's buyer.

She didn't look too much older than me. A handful of years and I'd be in my twenties, just like this girl. I wasn't nearly as well dressed. My shirt was clinging unpleasantly, and I looked and smelled like I'd slaughtered a cinnamon gummy and feasted on it's insides.

I scooted closer and nudged her gently. She jumped and dropped her cigarette. She swore loudly and bent to pick it up. I hopped off the barricade and knelt down with her.

"Those things will kill you, you know," I whispered.

The woman's eyes widened and she glanced around, searching for the source of my voice. In any other circumstances, it might have been fun to play with her, but I didn't have that luxury right now. I wasn't sure how long this spell would last, and I wanted to get out of the cop's sight.

"I'm throwing my voice," I lied. "I'm around the corner. Get your skinny butt over here if you want the candy I've got."

Torelli had told me to call it by any of its street names when talking with the buyer, and that one sounded the least icky. I still disliked the name. If I ever saw my family again, I would never be able to offer them candy again.

The woman's eyes brightened and she straightened up, flicking her cigarette into the nearest bin. She was tall, and I had to sprint to beat her to the alleyway. Even as it was, she still saw the spell fade off of me. She balked, knees locking like a startled colt's. Her painted mouth fell open and she stared at me.

"What was that?" she spluttered. "How did you-?"

I was getting really tired of that question. When I had the answer, I'd let someone know.

"I'm Harry freaking Potter," I snapped. She stared at me uncomprehendingly. I snorted. Mercy would have appreciated the joke. "Read a book, people. Do you want this stuff or not?"

The woman nodded eagerly. She reached into her purse and withdrew a wad of bills. It was my turn to stare. I had never seen so much money in one place. The outer bill was a hundred.

"How much do I owe Torelli?" she asked in an undertone, glancing further down the alley. I was facing forward and saw the car pull forward by inches. As soon as I'd registered it, I tried once more to disappear. It took me a precious few seconds to manage it again. The woman let out a short, surprised cry.

"Stop doing that," she snapped. "You're freaking me out."

"Cop," I said, by way of explanation. "Just put the bills behind your back, and I'll take the amount I need. You'll get the drugs, I promise."

She eyed the space I'd been in suspiciously. "I don't believe you. You're trying to pull something."

"I'll only take the amount I need, scout's honor," I whispered. "Bills behind your back or you'll be the one pulling something when you run from the cop."

She sighed but finally did as I asked. She shoved her hands behind her back and leaned against the wall, as if she were waiting for someone. I slipped my hand behind her back and took the wad of bills, peeled off three of them and replaced it.

"Three hundred even," I told her. I fished the bag out of my back pocket and placed it in one of her waiting hands.

'This stuff better be good," The woman muttered, glaring at the far wall.

"Seventy percent pure, according to Torelli."

The woman snorted, shoved her hand back into the purse. When she withdrew them, both money and cocaine were nowhere to be seen. Then she stalked off, leaving me alone in the alley. The cop car inched forward again, following her at a snail's pace.

I made my way out of the alley. The urge to throw up had passed, but my head still ached. I was in desperate need of Tylenol or baby aspirin. I trudged back to the van, knowing I was going to receive neither.

It was going to be a long freaking day.

Torelli seemed to have an assigned area, because we didn't stray too far away from Uptown. There were two buyers in Lincoln Square, and two more in Lakeview. Each time I used the spell, it sapped still more of my non-existent energy.

By the end of the day, I was having trouble hobbling up the front drive of Rosanna's apartment complex. Torelli got an arm under me and half-carried me forward, pressing the button I indicated when we reached the fence. Torelli began jamming all the other buttons as well when neither of my roommates responded.

"I hate these damn things," Torelli muttered. "They're such a pain."

Finally, someone buzzed us through, and Torelli escorted me forward. I made a brave attempt at trying to walk forward under my own power. It just wasn't happening. I was no Harry Dresden. Trying to summon the invisibility spell eight times in one day was too much for me. Whatever strength I'd drawn from the invocation was gone now.

"You going to be okay, kid? You really have to get better at this disappearing act. I can't have you wimping out on me in the future. You barely held it up during that last deal."

"There is no future with me," I panted, supporting myself against the door. Not only was it illegal, it wasn't feasible. Torelli said this was one of his shorter days. I couldn't pull this trick out of a hat day in and day out and stay conscious for very long.

Torelli watched me struggle with the door, an amused look plastered all over his big, dumb face. I had the violent urge to turn him into the monkey he so resembled. Of course, nothing happened. Torelli remained human. My hands were shaking badly, and my ears were ringing. I needed to get upstairs before I passed out. Torelli took pity on me and opened the door after a few more minutes.

Torelli stuffed something in the pocket of my jeans. He stepped back from me and gave me another fierce grin. "Just a little something for your troubles, kid. I jammed my card in there, too. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Give me a call when you make up your mind."

I glared at his retreating back for a few moments before shuffling inside. I couldn't even muster the strength to slam the door behind me. It closed with a soft whisper, plunging the hall into gloomy darkness. I fumbled for the switch. I found it already in the on position. The power was out. Just peachy.

I dragged myself up the stairs to our floor and dug my keys out of my pocket. Whatever Torelli had shoved inside it fell out as my questing fingers found the keys. I knelt and picked it up. In the weak light from one of the hall windows I saw that it was the three hundred I'd collected from the first buyer. Torelli's card was lying on the ground next to it. I fought the urge to stomp on it. The slimy bastard was going to blackmail me into working for him again.

I tucked both back into my pocket and slotted my key in the lock. I opened the door and found our apartment as dark as the rest of the building. I just hoped that they'd called someone to fix the breaker soon. Most of the stuff in our fridge would spoil by morning if we didn't have power.

I battered my shins on the way to the kitchen. Rosanna had a utility flashlight on the top of the fridge for just such an occasion. Unlike Rosanna, I didn't have to strain to reach it. I'd find a few candles and wait up for Rosanna and Ken. I should probably shower first. My blouse was ruined. Maybe if I got them in the wash by the end of the night, I could salvage the jeans. I stripped off the shirt and left it on the kitchen floor. I smiled wearily. Maybe this was why Ken was a slob. He was just too damn tired after work to pick any of his clothes up. I found myself more sympathetic to Ken and Rosanna's plight than ever before.

It was easier to avoid a collision course when I could see the objects in my way. There wasn't a ton in the apartment to trip over, and it was sheer dumb luck that I'd managed to crash into the things I had. I crept past the curtained off space that passed for Rosanna and Ken's bedroom and opened the door to their bathroom soundlessly.

Rosanna lay on the floor, the tub the only thing propping her up. The desire to throw up came roaring back and I choked, bending over the toilet. It was covered in red, just like everything else. The smell of it was overwhelming. It stirred memories of a slaughter house. Blood and decay hung heavy in the air.

"Oh God." I whispered, dropping to my knees. I set the flashlight upright so the wide beam would hit the ceiling. The blood seeped into my jeans.

"Rosanna," I shook her gently. Her head lolled like a rag doll's. I shook her again. What had happened? This wasn't right. There was too much blood. Where was it all coming from?

She groaned. She was alive, thank God.

"Rosie, sweetie," I coaxed, pushing her curls away from her face. She was pale and sweaty. I pressed a hand to her forehead the way mom used to do to me. She was clammy. "Sweetie, talk to me. What's going on?"

"I just wanted a little," she mumbled. "I just needed….a little bit. I didn't mean to…"

"A little what?" I wanted to shake her again.

She began to cry softly. "I just did a little with Nelson after work. He said it would be fine. I started bleeding when I got home. There's so much blood Molly…"

That was my tipping point. I shuffled backward, leaned out of the bathroom and threw up. It didn't make me feel better. There was nothing for my stomach to expel except acid. It burned on its way out. I wiped my mouth, belatedly realizing I didn't have a sleeve. I wiped the slime on my jeans. It wasn't as if they could get any dirtier at this point.

Nelson Lenhardt, once a prospective boyfriend of mine, was bad news. I'd always known that objectively. He was good-looking, and reminded me of Harry in a way. He had the mysterious reformed bad boy vibe going on. Apparently, Nelson hadn't reformed as much as I'd thought.

"He gave you heroin?" I demanded. My voice came out hoarse and lacked the volume I wanted. I wanted to scream at her, at him, at the whole damned world for being so messed up. How had I landed in the middle of all of this chaos? I should be back home cleaning up the April Fool's day pranks the Jawas had pulled.

Rosanna could only nod. I had a sickening feeling I knew what was causing the bleeding, and if I was right, this wasn't normal. There shouldn't be this much blood, even with a miscarriage.

"How long have you been bleeding, Rosie?"

Her eyes focused on me finally. Her pupils were the size of pinpricks. She was still high. "I don't know...an hour or more…"

Damn Torelli. Damn him to the blackest pits of hades. If I'd been here, I could have gotten her to the emergency room sooner. The power was out, the landline was down, and Rosanna was bleeding out all over our bathroom floor.

With shaking fingers, I drew my prepaid phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.

"911 Dispatch, what is your emergency?" A calm female voice asked.

"I think my friend is having a miscarriage." It came out in a rush. "I just got home and found her on the floor. There's a lot of blood. I think she's hemorrhaging."

I heard a keyboard clicking on the other end. The woman's voice didn't change when she responded. "What is your location?"

I gave her the address. I had to repeat myself a few times to be understood.

"Is your friend conscious?"

"Barely," I said, glancing back at Rosanna. "She's also high, I think. Heroin. I think that's what caused the miscarriage."

"What is your name?"

"Molly Carpenter," I said without thinking. I chewed the inside of my cheek. I wasn't sure it was wise to give anyone my real name. But what else was I supposed to do in this situation? Rosanna could die if she didn't get help. I barely had enough strength to amble forward. My last great plan had been to take a bath. I couldn't support Rosanna down the stairs in the state I was in.

"Okay, Molly. An ambulance will be sent to your location shortly. Please stay on the line. I have some instructions for you…"

It felt like a long time. In reality, the ambulance made its way to the apartment in a little under thirty minutes. My minutes were dangerously low by the time I hung up the phone. The building's power had finally flickered back on five minutes before the paramedics arrived. I put on my ruined shirt, too dazed to search for a clean one.

I accompanied them out, trying to ignore the sea of faces. Everyone poked their head out of their door when the paramedics passed, carrying Rosanna out on a stretcher. The only one that stood out to me was Mercy's pale face. I shook my head at her as we passed.

"Not now," I whispered. James Pearson shot me a dirty look and slammed the door shut, barely missing Mercy's nose.

The trip to the hospital passed in a blur of lights and sound. I was shunted almost immediately into a waiting room. I sat down in one of the uncomfortable padded chairs and put my head in my hands. No one would tell me what was going on. I wasn't allowed back to see her until they were through.

I needed to wash up. I looked like I'd fled a murder scene. Instead, I stared at the drying blood on my hands. Could I really have been asking for job applications only this morning? The library chase seemed like a lifetime ago. How could so much horror fit into one day?

I let myself wallow for a good long while, until the nurse came to give me an update. Rosanna had suffered a miscarriage. The fetus had been ten weeks, five days old. Not quite out of the first trimester. Barely the size of a kumquat. The nurse spotted my tears and very quietly asked how Rosanna wanted to handle her copay. I reached into my pocket and withdrew the three hundred dollars Torelli had given me. I carefully plucked his card from the wad of bills and set it in my lap.

"Will this work?" I asked. My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears.

The nurse nodded, and informed me politely she'd return shortly with my change. I didn't care. I eyed the card in my lap. I knew how hospital billing worked, after so many years in the church. My parents had taken care of bills for those in need. Every single doctor who looked at Rosanna would be attaching their own fee. She could easily owe hundreds, even with insurance. Maybe it was time I started helping out too.

I dialed the number slowly and lifted the phone to my ear. This was going to wipe out my minutes.

"Torelli." The man grunted into the phone.

"This is Molly Carpenter," I informed him. "I'm in."