“You should be dead," he said, his voice full of wonder. "How is it that you're still alive?" Jaw clenched, I worked at his grip on me, trying to get my fingers between him and my wrist. "I work hard at it.”

“I was standing in a line, balanced between reality and the ever-after. I could go either way. I wasn’t his yet. “One day a week,” I said, knees wobbling. “I give you Newt’s mark, you give me my name,” Al said, then wiggled his fingers as if he needed me to take them to finish the deal. I reached for it, and at the last moment, Al’s glove melted away, and I found myself gripping his hand.”

“Come work for me, and I’ll tell you.”My eyes went to his. “You are a thief, a cheat, a murderer, and a not-nice man,” I said calmly. “I don’t like you.”He shrugged, the motion making him look utterly harmless. “I’m not a thief,” he said. “And I don’t mind manipulating you into working for me when I need it.” He smiled, showing me perfect teeth. “I enjoy it, actually.”

“You tried to slide his original curse back onto him?” Al said in wonder. “At the restaurant? And I stopped you? Sweet mother pus bucket!” he exclaimed, and I swear, dust sifted from the ceiling. “Rachel, we have to work on this communication thing.”

“If he betrays you, I will finish what I started with his fingers," he said, and I shivered. "Tell him that.”

“I staggered backward-her one hand gripping my shoulder, the other still holding my wrists behind her-and she followed until my back hit the wall.”

“Get your hand off me,” I exclaimed, voice loud with misplaced anger as I yanked away from his grip. “I’m a professional, not some distraught girlfriend.” Well, I was that too, but I knew how to act at a crime scene.”