"I want out."

There was a pregnant silence on the other end of the phone. I could just picture Torelli with a greasy double cheeseburger halfway to his mouth, clutching the cellphone in the other hand, ready to crush it in his giant monkey paw. I leaned against the wall of my apartment, clutching the ancient landline as if my life depended on it. All the apartments were required to have a phone jack, and since I couldn't use it for anything else useful, I'd installed this dinosaur in hopes that I wouldn't have to tell the Ordo my new number every week.

"Not a chance, kid," Torelli said, and I heard the distinct crinkle of a napkin as he wiped his mouth. So I'd been at least partly right, then. He was eating lunch.

My hands were shaking around the receiver. I'd never played a high stakes game before. Now I was depending on my ability to bluff in order to save my own life. "You make it sound as if you have a choice."

The grinding of Torelli's teeth was audible. "I like you, but don't push me, Miss Carpenter. I will carry out that threat. You want your daddy knowing what you've been up to?"

No, I really didn't. But the drugs I thought he could forgive. Lasciel on the other hand…

"I've got magic Torelli, or don't you remember that? What makes you think I can't pull a disappearing act right out from under your nose?"

"I know where you live," he growled. "I will come over there and throttle you myself. You can't get away that easily."

"Already packed up," I bluffed. "I'm staying with a friend elsewhere. Next?"

"I can track the car,"

"Using someone else's."

He let out a long string of curses. I let him get it all out before I spoke again. "Look, I want to part on good terms, Torelli. There's no reason this has to get messy. I'm still going to do the weekly route and end in Louisville next Friday as we agreed. But after that, I want out."

"I'll give you forty percent of the earnings," Torelli's tone abruptly changed from furious to wheedling. "Is it money you want? Cause there's more where that came from."

"There's not enough money in the world to keep me doing this job," I said. There was more than one impetus for my decision. It had been a perfect storm of things, really.

First, Ken had somehow gotten ahold of my new number to inform me that Rosanna had overdosed once again, and was in the hospital if I wanted to visit. Shortly on the heels of that, I had discovered my first effective way to shut Lasciel up. When her voice and suggestions for what I could do for Rosanna became too much to bear, I had shoved her away, trapping her in a mental construct I'd hastily slapped together. I hadn't heard a peep from her in three days. The silence was almost stranger than anything else. When had I grown accustomed to her voice? To her constant presence?

This decision had been brewing for some time, but it was Anna Ash that made me believe that I had another option. The business she worked at was looking for a filing clerk, and she thought I'd be good for the job. It would be boring, and a pay cut from what I was used to, but it was an honest living. If I were buried in the bowels of a company, I was also less likely to be spotted by either the authorities or the many well-meaning individuals that had seen my photo on a missing child bulletin board. I tried to swipe my picture when I saw it, but there were too many stores in Chicago for me to catch them all.

"You're turning over every damn cent," Torelli said in a tone of deadly calm. "You're also going to turn in the ID Huber gave you. Have fun trying to create a new identity on your own. The car is to be turned into Huber as well."

"Fine." I'd anticipated some sort of retaliatory action, and if losing the car and my ID was the worst to happen, I'd take it. I'd portioned out my finances so I could break the lease, and still have enough left over to buy my ID from Huber. The research I'd been able to do before frying the library computer had told me that a fake ID could cost anywhere from a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars. Since Huber's stuff was such high quality, I'd be prepared to pay double that to keep the identity I'd constructed for myself.

Torelli called me an unflattering name and hung up. I slumped against the wall, sliding down until I reached the floor. A choked sound escaped me. He'd bought it. He was being an ass about it, but he did genuinely believe I had the power to pull off a disappearing act. I was also fairly sure that Torelli wasn't going to tell my parents where I was or what I was doing.

A knock at my door startled me out of my minor breakdown. I crawled over to the front door and opened it. I peered through the gap to see Anna Ash's shiny brown boots on the other side. "Come in, Anna," I said, trying not to let my voice shake.

Anna was too sharp to buy my act, and when she found me kneeling by the door, her expression shifted from purposeful to blatant concern.

"Catherine, are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, clutching my knees to my chest. There was a part of me, and I was ashamed to admit how large a part it was, that missed Lasciel's voice in my ear, assuring me that no matter what, I had an out.

Anna knelt by my side. "You're not fine, Catherine. What's wrong?"

"It didn't go well with my boss," I whispered, deciding a half-truth was better than an outright lie. "He's not going to pay me for the last week of work."

Anna's brow creased. "That's not legal, Catherine. There are channels we can go through-"

I shook my head. "No. I just want this to be over with."

And that was true enough. I'd felt dirty since I'd begun to deal. No matter how justified it had seemed at the time, I couldn't moralize it away now. Rosanna had overdosed again. What if it had been on a batch of drugs that I'd sold? Did that make me responsible for it? It had to, in part. None of us came away with clean hands.

I had one more route to run. One more favor that I owed Torelli. I could buy off Mr. Huber to keep my identity, and I could live a quiet life here, until I found a way to pry Lasciel's imprint off my grey matter.

"Then it's settled," Anna said, standing and brushing herself off. I jerked out of my reverie, sure I'd missed something.

"What's settled?"

"You're staying with me," she said, in the same sort of tone my mother might have used. It brokered no argument.

"But I'm fine," I protested. "I've got enough money to pay the rent for now."

"You won't for long," Anna said. "You're not due to start at the hospital until next month. You won't be paid for another two weeks at least, and the first paycheck is always a little short. You're not going to be able to keep up with your bills for long."

"Anna this is really nice but…"

"And what's more, it's partially my fault you're being fired," she continued. My heart sank. So everyone had bought my phony story at the last meeting. I'd told everyone that I'd have to leave work because my powers kept messing up our machinery.

"You didn't have anything to do with it."

"Your powers are growing. Without instruction, you might have been able to maintain this job. As it is, they think you're sabotaging equipment. You'll be lucky if they don't come after you for damages."

I put my head in my hands. Lies. Why was I always tangled in a web of lies? I'd never intended for things to go this far. I'd never intended to hurt Rosanna. I'd never intended to depend on Lasciel. I'd never intended to depend on anyone again. And yet here I was, dragging this nice woman into my problems. I was probably going to get her killed.

"There's no point to this. Just let them evict me."

"No," Anna said, hands on her hips. She frowned down at me with such a Charity-like expression that I couldn't help but smile.

"Fine," I said with a sigh. "But you're not going to be watching TV for a while."

"I'm sure I'll find something else to entertain me," Anna said wryly, offering me a hand up. "Come on. I'll help you pack."

Over the next few days, my furniture was stuffed into a rental unit, my food was sharing space in Anna's fridge, and my essentials for work and magic were all stuffed into a tiny suitcase that slid under the guest bed in Anna's apartment. It was depressing to realize just how little I was leaving behind.

I thought wistfully of my room at home, and all the trinkets I'd taken for granted while I lived there. Perfumes, makeup, and an abundance of clothing. It was all there. Maybe if I were less of a coward, I'd go home and take some of it. But chances were one of the jawas had moved in and conquered the space.

Now I bought my necessities travel-sized, hadn't worn perfume in months, and only shaved with the dollar razors when I absolutely had to, because razor burn was a nightmare.

Anna was an excruciatingly neat person. I was used to a house that felt lived-in, and had at least two layers of laundry on the bedroom floor. Even after cooking a large meal, Anna didn't leave much mess. I did the dishes when she'd let me, in exchange for her help moving me in.

"What's next on the agenda?" she asked me calmly, barely looking up from the morning paper. God Bless the weekend. I did feel a little better with someone living in the house. For a long time, my only company had been Lasciel, and I couldn't imagine what damage that had been doing to my psyche.

"Work, mostly," I said.

Anna tsked. "I'm not sure why they're dragging things out. You should just quit. Take the next week to relax and recoup before you get back into the swing of things."

If only. I was already behind on my route for the week and it wasn't an exaggeration to say that Torelli would probably kill me if I didn't finish what I'd started. With a sigh, I pushed away from the table and stuffed the remainder of an Eggo into my mouth. The sooner I got this done, the sooner I could stop sneaking into the building under a veil. Torelli's men would have to stop looking for me eventually.

"Where are you going?" Anna asked, glancing up from the paper. The front page had a picture of a beautiful woman on the front. She looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn't place exactly where I'd seen her at a mere glance. The headline blared that she was a missing person.

"Out. I probably won't be back until late, so don't wait up."

Anna squinted suspiciously and I had to fight not to squirm. It was hard to believe she'd never been a mother before. She had the "I-know-you're-up-to-something" look down pat. I plastered on a patently false smile.

"I'm going to have a little fun like you said. Go out on the town, see the sights. Did you know until recently I hadn't ever left Bucktown?" More lies. I'd be glad when I could trim down my lies to a few stock lines.

Anna relaxed back into her chair and returned her eyes to her paper. "Alright then. Don't forget your key."

"I won't."

I changed out of my overlarge t-shirt and threw on jeans and a blouse. Dressing for this job could be an art form. Too frumpy and people noticed. But if I wore anything fancier than K-Mart clothing guys tended to stare. The whole point of my job was to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

When I was satisfied that I was unremarkable, I chowed down on the rest of the waffle and exited the apartment with a cheery wave to my roommate. Anna watched me go with a frown but didn't call me back and demand to know what I was really doing. Small victories.

Chicago traffic was infuriatingly slow. The car was hot and stuffy and I couldn't even listen to the radio, as I'd broken it months ago. I was dying for something to do or someone to talk to. Solitude was definitely not my bag.

"You could always speak to me, my host."

I jumped and nearly veered into the other lane. I received a serenade of car horns and many one-finger salutes.

"Damn it, Laciel! Get out of my head."

Her voice preceded her image like she was the infernal version of the Cheshire cat. Her eyes glittered with mirth and her dimples showed when she smiled. How was it possible that a Fallen had dimples, of all things?

"You're wound tighter than a two-dollar watch, my host. This isn't healthy."

"Why are you here?" I demanded. "I thought I got rid of you!"

Lasciel's airy chuckle made me wince. "Oh, Molly. You know better than that. And for your first question, I am here because you wished for company. I am an excellent conversationalist."

"I don't suppose you could make traffic go any faster if you're in a giving mood?"

"Shall I conjure up some hellfire? I think it would clear a nice path."

I winced and returned my attention back to the road. "No."

Her answering smile was nothing short of devilish. "Are you sure?"

She waggled her fingers teasingly at me, and I batted away her phantom hands on reflex. "Dead sure. Now leave me alone, Lash. I have one last job to complete and then I can be done with this shit for good."

Lasciel said nothing more and instead sang a country song I'd been hearing on the radio in an entrancing contralto, fulfilling my wish for entertainment. I wanted to get mad at her for it, but was too grateful for the company at the moment. Though she was always present, it somehow made me feel less alone to have her apparition in the car. I wasn't stupid. Torelli wasn't going to take the abandonment of my post lying down. He'd have men searching my apartment soon, if he hadn't already. Just because I hadn't noticed anyone out of the ordinary didn't mean they weren't there. I was gone the majority of the day five days a week. It wouldn't be hard for Torelli to stuff a goon or two into one of the recently vacated rooms on my floor.

The fact of the matter was, I was a lucrative tool and there was more than one way to ensure my cooperation. Anyone I associated with casually could be captured and used as a hostage. I'd been seen in the company of at least three women in the Ordo. The thought that my actions could end up getting them hurt or killed made me want to throw up.

"We need to shore up Anna's wards," I muttered to Lasciel. "Tonight, when we get back."

"If you wish, my host."

I glanced sideways at her before taking the turnoff that would lead to the Uptown Theatre. Call me paranoid, but I didn't trust this easy acquiescence. Not when Lasciel had been censorious about my interactions with the Ordo up to this point. She'd been vehemently opposed to my plans to become a basement-dwelling member of corporate druggery. I imagined it must have been just as entertaining as sitting on a shelf in a Tibetan monastery.

"Still preferable to the monastery," Lasciel sighed. "But only just. You are capable of much more than this, my host. If you would take up the coin-"

"Not happening," I finished before she could continue to wheedle me. Maybe if I lived the quiet life for a year or two she'd wither and die of boredom. Maybe eventually my life would return to some kind of normalcy.

Lasciel's lips thinned into a line and she arranged her hands primly on her lap, as though she's somehow taking the high road by refusing to argue with me. It only managed to further piss me off. As if I didn't already have things to be pissed about.

I had five stops in Chicago and then I'd be hitting Rockford, heading down Springfield, and then from Springfield to Peoria. I always met Miss Ho-ho-ho at the theatre. I'd since learned her name was Claudia Danforth and that she was the entitled daughter of a businessman who'd recently gotten into bed with Marcone. She was flush with cash and always bought enough from me to share with her friends. She'd gotten used to my disappearing act by now and didn't even blink when I met her in the alley anymore.

I expected to find her leaning against the stone, lounging in the shadow of the marquee smoking a cigarette when I rolled to a stop outside the picturesque building. But she was glaringly absent. I had to wait for several minutes as the rush of early morning traffic spilled past my driver's side window. When I thought it might finally be safe to open my door without dinging a passing motorist I shoved out of the car, stuffing her usual amount into one of my pants pockets. I didn't like the idea of a delay, given how much I left to do this week, but I couldn't just skip out on this. One wrong step and I was going to be in even deeper shit than Torelli.

The low drone of conversation off to the side of the building caught my attention. Creeping quietly, with Lasciel hovering like a protective parent just over my shoulder, I approached the edge of the building and edged my eyes and nose ever-so-slightly around the corner. I yanked them back almost as quickly, heart adopting a gallop to rival Seabiscuit's.

There were about a dozen cops milling around the alleyway where I was supposed to meet my client. My first, wild thought was that Torelli somehow arranged this to get some of his own back after I told him in no uncertain terms I'd quit. But that didn't track, when I took a second to really think it through. None of them were looking at me, for one thing. If this was a sting, they'd be doing more to look unobtrusive. There'd be a few plainclothes officers waiting for me. All of these are in the light blue of regular Chicago PD.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, doing my best to look casual as I strolled past the mouth of the alley. None of them ever looked my way. All their attention was focused on figure crumpled at the base of a dumpster.

At first, I didn't recognize her without her distinctive salon-styled brunette curls. Her look had shifted radically from when I'd seen her a few weeks ago. Gone was the expensive clothing. She was almost bare, stripped down to nothing but a scrap of cloth that could barely be called underwear. Gone was her brunette hair. Someone had inexpertly dyed what remained of it blonde. Someone had done a hack job, sawing it off near her chin in a lopsided bob.

And gone was most of her face. She looked like an anatomical model, with the fleshy muscle exposed and the right side of her jaw bone standing out startlingly white against all that gore.

I shoved my knuckles halfway into my mouth to contain a sound of horror. It also served the dual purpose of keeping me from heaving my breakfast all over the pavement. Because I now knew why the missing person's photo on Anna's paper had been naggingly familiar. It had been Claudia Danforth, my irritating party-girl client.

Well, she wasn't a missing person any more.

Who could have done this?

I didn't give voice to the question. I didn't want to draw the eyes of the milling cops onto myself with so many ounces of cocaine on my person and bricks of the stuff in the trunk of my car.

Lasciel made an amused sound in her throat.

When I turned to her, I found an almost predatory glint in those bright eyes and serpent's smile on her lips.

"Do you truly want to know, my host?"

I narrowed my eyes, anger eating holes into me like I'd been doused in something corrosive. I wanted to hit myself with something for indulging her, for forgetting for even a second that she's a manipulative bitch who's bent on my damnation. A woman I knew is dead and her body was displayed in one of the most degrading ways possible. Someone tortured her and then tossed her away like trash. I didn't care if she'd been a bourgeoisie asshole. No one deserved this.

"I don't suppose I can appeal to the angel of your better nature?" I bit out bitterly, keeping my voice at a pitch that's almost inaudible.

Her tinkling laugh grated on my already stretched nerves. "There's always a price for knowledge, Molly. You know mine."

My hands balled into fists at my sides. My body shook and my teeth were clamped so tightly together that I feared I might snap my jaw. Furious tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Shaping all that raw emotion into power I drew my veil over myself like a cloak and strode forward, doing an inelegant two-step to avoid the officers as they continued to circle the body.

Lasciel didn't want to give me the answers? Fine.

I'd solve Claudia's murder on my own.