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just saying that?”
    Of course I am. “It’s New York. People steal bodies all the time.”
    “I had no idea.”
    “Yeah, well, it’s not something the city’s proud of. Promise me you won’t stress about this.”
    A sigh signaled a cautious relief. She was too smart to believe the whole of everything he’d just said. He knew that. But if she was desperate enough to come here, she must be desperate enough to want to believe him. He had one job now—making that faith worthwhile.
    How though?
    Seriously, what kind of sicko stole a body? Not vampires. Even those freaks had a little more grace than that.
    Blood magic?
    Possibly, but there was no taint of it around Rosa. On the other hand, it could have been after the fact.
    They were screwed, but at least they were screwed together. He couldn’t imagine anyone he’d rather be truly fucked with. That made it better. Somewhat...
    Mind focused on the mess in New York, he was lulled into that dangerous comfort zone which came from driving on too-familiar roads for way too long. His eyes glazed, and only his wife’s scream brought him back. Tires squealed and burning rubber tinged his nose as he wrenched the steering wheel first to the left and then the right. He left a lovely trail of black ovals in the road before tumbling engine first into a ditch. Clumsy fingers fumbled with the seatbelt and everything hurt. Warm fluid drained from his nostril, but it wasn’t his safety he gave a damn about. “Rosa?”
    “I-I’m okay. I think. Is the car all right?”
    “I give two shits about the car, Rosa. Is anything broken? Did you hit your head? Can you move anything?”
    Her eyes were as big as his heart, filled with concern, and yeah, he called it, a little bit of love. “Fine, Fazil. Really. I’m fine. There was a lady...” She tried to turn around but hissed and grabbed her neck. “Maybe I ought to wish for...”
    Before she finished, he snatched her pain away.
    Very fucking notable to mention that the cause of her pain, stupid Janet Dickey, couldn’t be asked to walk a few feet and see if they were okay. Out of his rearview mirror he saw the klok gumma on her stupid little bike, dragging a stupid little cart, and sipping on something in an equally stupid cup. “It’s that bitch.”
    “Witch.”
    “Whatever.” And because of what she was, he couldn’t properly reveal what he was by fixing this little “situation” and her. He’d have had Rosa out of that car in seconds, if not for the woman just ... well ... hanging out. He slid out of the car rubbing his chest and wincing in faux pain. “You all right, Janet?”
    The woman readjusted her silvery bun and popped out her earbuds. “Didn’t hear you coming ’round the bend. Sorry about your car.” She stood on her tippy toes and peered around him. “Looks like it might take some time to fix. Unless you’re some sort of magician or something...”
    He tried to keep his face as impassible as possible. “You and your jokes. One might think you’re the magician. What with how you caused all this,” he said, waving his hands as a magician would above his head.
    She couldn’t have caused this, though. Nothing about this woman was that good. Talented with a capital T ? Sure. Resourceful? Yep. But she didn’t have the power to do this. Her Royal Jerk-ness was just really lucky. In all the generations of living on this earth, he’d never worked his mind around reading auras. Some things were best left to the professionals, but something swelled in old Janet. Almost like she fed off him thinking she had more power than she did.
    It left him raging and a little sick.
    “Maybe I did, Mr. Jones. If that is indeed your name.”
    He threw his hands up and turned back to the car. “My wife is fine. Not that you asked about her.”
    That actually stopped her. The milky, green eyes widened, and her lips parted in what might be mistaken for concern. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about Janet intentionally harming