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backseat. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I might have seen her before. I clenched my fist around the little book in my pocket where I wrote the things that I didn’t want to forget. I needed to record the hit on Boy and the meeting with my dad so I could add them to my files.
     
     
    I stopped trying to place where I’d seen the woman and instead watched the cab drive away.
     
     
    Zayvion said nothing.
     
     
    My whole body was stiff, and standing in the cold wasn’t making anything better. I couldn’t bring myself to give up and go home to my empty apartment. Not yet.
     
     
    Could I have been mistaken about my father’s signature? No, I just felt vulnerable right now because dear old Dad had used Influence, and Influence always made me jumpy. I was not going to let him get the best of me like that. Besides, it was still my birthday.
     
     
    I looked over at Zayvion. Okay, so he worked for my father. We all make mistakes. At least he had the sense to quit. And he was standing here, beside me right now, not in there with my dad. That suddenly meant a lot to me.
     
     
    ‘‘How about we get a cup of coffee?’’ I said.
     
     
    He looked a little surprised, then smiled that nice smile. ‘‘How about we do.’’
     
     
    I tucked my hands in my pockets and we headed down the sidewalk toward a deli I knew about. The coffee wouldn’t be as good as Get Mugged, but it would be hot and dark. Right now that was all I needed.
     
     
    While we were there I might even have a chance to find out what Zayvion knew about my father. I owed it to Mama and Boy to follow this trail as long as it was fresh. Going out with Zayvion was all about following the trail, I told myself. This was not a date.
     
     
    At the crosswalk, I glanced at Zayvion and decided he looked good in profile too. A strong nose to go with those high cheekbones, and an angle to his jaw I found intriguing. Okay, maybe it really was a little bit like a date.
     
     
    He caught me looking. ‘‘What are you thinking, Ms. Beckstrom?’’ he asked.
     
     
    My stomach flipped.
     
     
    ‘‘Nothing,’’ I lied. And we walked the rest of the way in silence.
     

 
    Chapter Two
     
     
    C ody did not like the man who came to visit him. The man stood by the door that would not open. The man watched as Cody sat on the floor and rocked. Rocking was good. Rocking made Cody happy. But the man did not make him happy. The man was quiet and had not moved for a long time. And even though Cody tried not to look, he could see what was underneath the man’s skin. Something wriggled and twisted there. Something like worms, but worse. Something bad.
     
     
    Cody rocked and rocked and looked at the gray floor. He could not remember how long he had been here, in the room that was just ten steps by ten steps wide. He did remember why he had been brought here. He had been bad. He had used magic wrong. He had used magic and pretended to be somebody else, somebody important and powerful and rich. And he had hurt someone.
     
     
    It had been fun to be a powerful man. But it had been wrong. He had to talk to a lady in a black robe. He didn’t tell her that the man by the door had told him he would hurt his friends. He hadn’t told the lady in the black robe the other things the man by the door had made him do with magic. Didn’t tell her all the other people the man had made him pretend to be. Cody was really good at pretending to be people with magic. He was really good at keeping secrets too. Better than any of his friends at home.
     
     
    The lady in the black robe had said he was guilty. So now he lived here, in this room. He missed home, and missed his friends who lived with him, and missed bus rides to the park.
     
     
    He missed the sky and grass and the wind and the sun. He missed the sun the most.
     
     
    But rocking made a little wind. And it made him a little warm, like sitting in sunshine. So he liked rocking.