Not good, not good, not good...

I'd been lounging off the side of Detective Leon Dobb's desk for the last thirty minutes, sinking as low as I dared to keep from attracting notice. How long would it take for all my lies to crumble? I knew somewhere in the mountain of paperwork in the precinct there was a case file with my name on it.

Dobbs and Jules had made it sound like Harry Dresden's involvement in cases was a rare occurrence. But it would be just my luck for Harry to stroll through at some point and spot me. Then there would be even more questions, and ones I would find even more difficult to answer than Dobbs' pointed interrogation.

Dobbs straddled the seat and folded his arms on the back of the swivel chair, squinting at me suspiciously. I smiled back, projecting as much childish innocence as I could muster. It was difficult to hold up under his scrutiny. He reminded me uncomfortably of Mr. Dresden. Tall, though definitely not as tall as Harry. A head full of dark hair, high, hollow cheeks, a nice sharp jawline edged with a sexy five o'clock shadow. Stubble rasped against his palm when he scrubbed his face tiredly, eyes flicking between Huber and I and back again.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," he said slowly. "You're telling me this is your niece, Huber? And that you called her to the crime scene?"

Huber sat straight-backed in the chair next to me, his face a mirror of mine. I got the impression that Dobbs didn't believe him any more than he believed me, but he was at least listening instead of throwing me into a cell. It was a start, at least. I'd take whatever punishment came from this, just so long as I stayed out of jail. The longer I was here, the more likely it was that someone would recognize me and contact my family.

"I forgot my lunch and knew today was going to be a long day," Huber explained again. "Catherine doesn't live too far away from my house, so I asked her to swing by and grab it. I don't think either of us was expecting that seizure she had."

The story sounded far-fetched, even to me, and I'd heard some whoppers from the Jawas over the years. I knew why Huber was going the extra mile to help me, though. He'd already betrayed that he knew me in front of a gaggle of cops. If my involvement with Torelli came out, they'd look into him next and then we'd both be up the creek. It was already butt-puckeringly scary that they'd impounded my car. If they'd searched it and found the bricks of coke and heroin I still had in the trunk...well then I would really be in for it.

Lash had already pointed out several escape routes. It would take no effort at all to escape from the bathroom under a veil and sneak out. But if I did that, I could kiss the normal life I wanted goodbye. I'd look incredibly guilty. They'd undoubtedly search my car and discover the drugs. They'd trace my address back to Anna Ash's place. The deception would get back to the Ordo, and I'd lose any and all the friends I'd managed to make since this whole mess started.

I'd also never discover who or, more accurately, what had killed Claudia Danforth. So I was going to stick to this cockamamie story, and sell it for all I was worth.

I could actually feel Lasciel scowl in the back of my mind. It was almost amusing, the picture of whatever part of my mind she occupied creasing down into an angry frown.

"You cannot be serious, my host."

"I'm dead serious, Lash," I hissed back at her. "You saw that thing that attacked her. It wasn't human. If there's something dangerous roaming the streets of Chicago, something has to be done about it. I don't suppose you're going to tell me what it is and save me time and effort? Give me a name and I'll slip the note into Harry's mailbox just as soon as we're out of here."

Lasciel remained stubbornly silent. I rolled my eyes. And she accused me of being inflexible.

Dobbs' scowl deepened and I realized my mistake a second too late. I was the only one privy to Lasciel's quiet negging so to Dobbs, it just looked like blatant disrespect. Those fierce dark eyes fixed on me. They were really something to look at when you were facing him head-on, as I was now. A syrupy brown that flashed a light tawny when the light hit them right.

Then the strangest thing happened. Though my body remained stationary, it felt like I was tipping forward, sliding into the dark center of his eye. When the world righted itself again, I found myself sitting in a space very similar to Dobbs' office, though significantly messier. The smoldering remains of a cigarette butt dangled from the end of his fingers. Smashed pictures littered the floor, glass crunching beneath my feet as I came to stand behind his shoulder. He clutched the torn half of what looked to be a family photo. What remained depicted Dobbs with his arms around two young boys. The portion that fluttered to the floor was burned black and swiss-cheesed by the cigarette butt and obscured most of a female face.

Dobbs wasn't composed, nervous, or even angry, the way I'd seen him so far. He was...crying. The entire room throbbed in time with his grief, like blood behind a bruise. My eyes welled with tears. He was hurting. Hurting so, so much.

I wasn't sure what this was or how to stop it, but I needed to get out. It wasn't right to stare at his naked grief like this. It wasn't something anyone was meant to see. Dobbs glanced up at me, his arms braced on his knees, lips parting to say something to me...

And then I was back in my chair, staring at him with my mouth swinging in the breeze. What the hell had just happened?

My arm was already half-extended toward him, as though I might have taken his hand and given it a reassuring squeeze. I let it fall limply back to my lap. How was I supposed to explain that I'd felt his pain in a very real, very disturbing sense?

Dobbs' Adam's apple bobbed a few times as he struggled to come to grips with...whatever I'd just done.

"See?" Huber said, jabbing a finger at me triumphantly as if I'd just proved his point. "You saw it, didn't you? That was an absence seizure. She gets them pretty regularly. They only last a few seconds at a time. You just had the misfortune to witness a grand mal seizure at the crime scene. I apologize for that. I wouldn't have brought her there if I'd known."

Dobbs nodded to himself, cleared his throat and finally tore his gaze away from mine, a look of deep disquiet plain on his face. How aware had he been of what I'd just done? And what had I just done? It felt like magic. But didn't that take intent? I hadn't gathered up my will.

"It was a soulgaze, my host," Lasciel informed me patiently. "I'm astonished this is your first. Your abilities are impressive, in one so young."

"A what?"

"A soulgaze. It's an extension of your wizard's sight. The third eye. A window into the soul. Whatever you'd like to call it. With direct eye contact, a practitioner of your ability can gaze upon the soul of another. It's indelible and any information gained cannot be faked. You have just witnessed the fundamental nature of Leon Dobb's soul. And he has now seen your true nature as well. A soulgaze goes both ways."

His soul? I'd looked at Dobbs' soul? It seemed like such an invasion of privacy. I wished I could take it back.

And exactly what had Dobbs seen in my soul that scared him so much? He hadn't looked at me directly in the minute and a half since.

Dobbs wiped his click palms on his trouser leg and swallowed convulsively a few more times before nodding to himself again.

"So to clarify for the report, your niece tripped and fell, which triggered a grand mal seizure?"

"Right," Huber said with an innocent smile. "And I cannot express how sorry I am for this hassle. You have enough on your plate as it is. I hate to be the reason for more bureaucratic nonsense."

Dobbs sighed. "Don't sweat it, Huber. I'm not getting home until the wee hours anyway. Just take Catherine and go. I think we're done here."

And just like that, we'd been dismissed. Dobbs turned back to his desk, rifling through the stack of papers on his overburdened desk. I expelled a quiet sigh of relief. Crisis averted, at least for now. I still owed Huber an explanation when we were clear of the precinct. He'd just put his backside on the line for me, after all. The least I owed him was a careful half-truth. I'd think up something plausible on the way out.

Huber offered me a hand up and I took it gratefully. My knees were still wobbly from nerves and phantom pains streak through my feet when I walk. Claudia has been in so much pain before her death. I hadn't experienced the half of it and I already pitied her.

"Let's get you home," he said in a warmly paternal tone that made my chest ache.

Just like Anna Ash, Huber was one of those few individuals that reminded me of family. It punched the raw, exposed patch of my heart that longed to see mom, dad, and the Jawas again. What I wouldn't give to be curled up on the couch watching television, playing catch with Alicia, or even cleaning my room.

I trudged after him, pointedly not meeting anyone's eyes. I was determined never to share a soulgaze with anyone else ever again. It just seemed fundamentally wrong to invade someone's mind like that. And what if someone with magical ability actually got into my head? Would they be able to see Lash? What sort of damage had she already done to my soul?

We were almost to the entrance when a mismatched pair stepped through the double doors and into our hallway. The female police officer was incredibly short, even with a low heel of a boot to hoist her above five feet tall. Her blonde hair was mussed, as though she'd been running her fingers through it repeatedly. Her clothes were a little disheveled as well, and her tapered taupe suit coat had been pushed back to reveal her detective's badge.

The man was the other extreme. Tall, thin, and dressed entirely in black. His dark hair was overlong and he looked like he hadn't shaved in days. His looked a little sunken and his cheeks were hollower than ever. My heart lurched into overdrive and I threw up a veil without conscious thought, desperately exuding an air of don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me as Harry Dresden stalked down the hallway after the detective, one of his strides easily matching two of hers. I caught a snippet of their conversation as they passed my hiding place, my back pressed desperately against the wall.

"I'm sorry, Dresden. I don't have anything new. You know I'd call if I did. It's still on S.I.'s radar even if the rest of the department has pretty much stopped looking. We're doing what we can."

Harry made a sound in his throat that was practically a growl. Despite the dire situation, the sound tickled me in all the wrong places.

"That's not good enough. You haven't seen Michael recently. He's a wreck. And Charity..." Harry trailed off with a wince.

"It's bad, Murph. And I can't seem to do a damn thing about it, no matter how many tracking spells I've done. Nothing I've tried has worked. It's like she's just..."He splayed his fingers open and makes a small poofing sound. "Gone. And that should be impossible. There are ways of finding her even if she's..."

He couldn't bring himself to say dead. My stomach roiled. Harry's words bounced around the inside of my skull, swiss-cheesing my careful composure. I choked on a sob. My dad, a wreck. Mom in a state so bad that Harry didn't even have the words to express it properly. What had I done?

I couldn't force myself to listen in on the rest of the circular conversation. I was sure it would only make me feel worse. I crept to the front doors, waiting until Huber opened them to slip out into the thin Chicago air. The breeze coming off Lake Michigan made the air unseasonably cold. We still had a few months before winter settled in. It wasn't the wind that had me shaking though.

I want to go home. The thought felt pathetic. An admission of surrender.

"And tell them what, my host? How long do you think it will take your father to parse out what happened? What happens to us then?"

I didn't know. But I was on the edge of chancing it when Lasciel laid down her trump card.

"You will never solve Claudia's murder if you turn back now, my host. Surely you still want justice for her?"

Yes. Yes, I did. But that didn't preclude the possibility of going home. I'd do what I had to in order to find enough clues to justify the case being passed to S.I. and Harry Dresden. Then I'd go home and explain everything. It was only the shadow of the Fallen, after all. I hadn't taken up the coin. That had to count for something, right?

"Tell me what we're facing, Lash," I whispered.

She refused to answer, presumably trying to draw out what time she had left before I gave up and went home. The longer she could string me along the more opportunities she had to convince me to take up her coin.

"Fine, don't tell me," I muttered as I settled back into the visible spectrum. "It doesn't change much. I'm going home when we're done here."

Huber was staring at the place I'd just appeared, blinking rapidly. I cringed. There would be no lying to him now that he'd seen my little parlour trick. He was a smart man and it wasn't as though I could make him forget what he'd witnessed.

Wordless knowledge blossomed in my mind, offered up eagerly by Lasciel. Magic that she thought I was easily capable of performing which could give me the ability to pluck the memory right out of Huber's head. Psychomancy. I could see how it would be done. Carefully, with surgical precision, leaving only a short five-minute gap in his memory.

"No," I muttered to both myself and Lasciel. Huber had stuck his neck out for me. I'd tell him the truth, even if it cost me.

He arched a brow at me. "Well, that was interesting. What's the trick?"

I heaved a sigh. "Not here. I can't be near here when Dresden leaves."

Huber nodded with an easy smile. "Sure. How about we go for coffee? I know a place."

"Coffee sounds fantastic," I groaned. "You're a godsend, Mr. Huber."

His grin widened. "I try."