“And before you ask, Miss Early, we’re restructuring the newsroom and eliminating the online editorial position as part of a further round of cost savings.” Dick sat back in his chair and put his hands on the flanks of his protruding stomach like he’d just eaten. “Going forward, we’re outsourcing all our online support. It’s the wave of the future. So there is no way you can frame this in any other fashion, and I’ve already cleared it with our lawyers. If you try any kind of retaliation against me personally, regardless of what you may think the grounds are, I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you a reference—”

Jo got up. “Do I get severance or am I filing unemployment right away?”

Dick blinked like her pragmatism had stunned him. “Two weeks’ severance, effective today, and you’ll have health benefits through COBRA for eighteen months. But I want you out of the newsroom right now.”

“Fine. Do you have anything for me to sign?”

“My lawyer is mailing everything to your home address with instructions. But you have the termination letter on your email as we speak. It is nonnegotiable, however.”

“All right, then.”

As she turned and walked away from him, she could sense his confusion. But it wasn’t the kind of thing she was going to bother clearing up for him.

“I’m serious, Early,” he belted out. “Don’t try anything. You won’t like what happens to you.”

With her hand on the doorknob, she looked over her shoulder. “I’ll sign everything and you won’t hear from me again. And you won’t last long at that desk. It’s a race between the paper closing and your heart clogging from that diet of yours. Either way, I’ll leave you to your fate.”

She didn’t wait for a response, and closed the door quietly behind herself. Heading over to her desk, she sat down and glanced at Bill.

Her friend was staring at the monitor in front of him, clearly not seeing the email displayed on it.

“So I’m going now,” she said.

Bill jumped and glanced over. “Sorry, what was that?”

She swiveled her chair to face her friend. “I’m leaving.”

“It’s early for lunch—”

“They’re eliminating my position.”

“He just fired you?” Bill said with a recoil.

She put her hand out before he could entertain any thoughts of trying to be a hero. “No, it’s okay. Really. I’ll find something else. I’d rather you keep your job than have my own.”

Bill glanced at all the empty desks around them and then pedaled his rolling chair over to her. As he kept his voice low, she was tempted to tell him not to worry about discretion. It wasn’t like there was anybody else to hear.

“You should fight this,” he whispered. “You’ve done tremendous reporting on the—”

“Like I said, I’ll find something else. The economy’s good, you know? And at least I have some bylines now.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll land on my feet. I always do.”

“This isn’t right.”

“Actually, it’s good timing.” She looked at her uncluttered desk and realized she didn’t need a box to put her personal things in. She had no “personal things” to box. “I feel the need to reinvent myself.”

“Away from Caldwell?”

“Yes. And Pennsylvania. And . . . anywhere else I’ve ever been.” Jo looked at her friend and knew she was covering her bases. Whether she went through the transition or not, she was not staying where she was. “But we’ll still keep in touch, I promise. You and Lydia have been beyond good friends to me.”

As her phone went off, she didn’t bother checking to see who was calling. It was undoubtedly another scammer. Telemarketer. Survey about nothing she wanted to be surveyed about.

It sure as hell wasn’t going to be Syn.

“Let me send you all my notes and drafts so you’re up to speed on the articles.” Jo signed into her computer. “I’ll email them now before my login gets canceled.”

After she was finished, she turned to Bill. Her friend was staring down at the floor.

“I’m going to be fine,” she told him.

“It’s not right.” He shook his head. “Dick is . . .”

“Named appropriately.” Jo leaned down under her desk and got her purse. “We can just leave it at that.”

To make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, she quickly went through all the drawers. Nothing but stationery and office supplies that were owned by the paper anyway.

“I don’t know how to cancel my pass card,” she murmured.

“I can take care of it. I was the one who created it.”

“Okay.” She got up. “So . . . I guess I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Promise?”

As the man stared up at her in a forlorn way, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to see him again. Or maybe that was just her mood talking, rather than any kind of prescience. Either way, her chest hurt.

“Yes, I promise,” Jo said.

Before there could be any kind of awkward hug thing happening, she took her swipe card out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Bill.

“That’s that,” she said with a smile.

Giving his shoulder a pat, she walked away, heading for the rear door into the parking lot. Before she stepped out for the last time, she glanced back. She had liked the job. She had loved Bill.

“Tell Tony I said bye?” she called out.

Bill nodded. “I will.”

And then she was out in the morning sunlight which was surprisingly warm. Stopping, she looked up to the sky, squinting and covering her eyes with her hand. She had never before thought of the sun as something to avoid, outside of the skin cancer thing.

Being a redhead and all.

Now, as she tried to focus on the great glowing ball, she felt her heart skip beats—

The door burst open behind her and Bill jumped out. There was a pause, and then they were giving each other a hug.

“Anything I can do,” he said as they pulled apart. “I’m there for you.”

“Just take care of your Lydia, k?”

“We can still go hunting,” he offered. “You know, for things that go bump in the night.”

Jo thought of everything she’d witnessed firsthand. Everything she now knew. “I think I’m going to retire my paranormal researcher hat, too.”

“You’re giving up? I tell you, one of these days we’re going to get our proof.”

“I don’t think there’s anything out there . . . that shouldn’t be there.”

Jo gave his arm a squeeze, made another promise to call him, and then hustled off for her car. As she got in, she tossed her purse into the passenger seat and looked at all the wrappers in the wheel well. The fact that Syn had sat there just a matter of nights before. And gone back to her apartment. And made love to her . . .

“Stop it.”

She was putting the car in reverse when her phone went off again and she almost let the thing go. The idea that it could possibly, maybe, okay-probably-not-but-still, be Syn was the only reason she went bag diving, and when she pulled out her cell, she cursed.

McCordle.

Well, she needed to talk to him anyway.

Accepting the call, she continued backing out of her parking spot. “Hey, I was going to c—”

“I need you to meet me ASAP.”

“Listen,” she said as she put the car in drive, “I’m not working at the CCJ anymore. Anything that has to do with—”

“Where are you?”

“I’m leaving the paper. Which is my point. You need to get in touch with Bill. He’s back at work now—”

“Meet me at Market and Tenth. There’s an alley one block in on the left.”

“I told you. I’m not with the CCJ anymore. You need to take all this to Bill—”

“This is about you, not the articles you’ve been writing. Come now.”

“I’m not going out into the field tonight.”

As Syn spoke the words, he did not look up from his position on the floor of his bedroom suite’s closet. He did not sit up. He did not get up. He did not lift his eyes.

It wasn’t because he wanted trouble with Tohrment, who was the organizer of the shifts, the pairer of fighters, the buck-stops-here for everything war related. No, he didn’t look up because he did not want trouble.

“I know,” Tohr said. “You texted that you’re taking yourself off rotation to everybody. I guess what I’m interested in is why and what your plans are if you don’t go out to fight.”

Syn closed his lids against the glare of the overhead light—which the Brother had turned on as soon as he’d walked in, uninvited.

“I don’t have any plans,” Syn said.

“You sure about that?”

“Yup.” He repositioned the wadded-up shirt he was using as a pillow. “No plans at all.”

“You’re just going to keep lying here after sundown?”

“I may go to the weight room. Might go downtown for a burger. You never know where the mood will take a person.”

“Syn.”

When the Brother didn’t say anything further, Syn became aware that he was going to have play pupil tag or this looming thing Tohr was rocking, coupled with these awkward, unanswered inquiries, was going to continue till the end of time.

“What,” he said as he glanced in Tohr’s direction.

“What’s going on with you?”

“I’m developing the skills necessary to be a throw rug. This requires a great degree of horizontal work and concentration.”

“Listen, I know about Jo Early—”

“Yes, you do. She is a half-breed I was trying to protect, and she’s related to Butch and Manny, and she’s on the verge of her transition. No, I’m not going to be the male she uses. Her brothers are aware of this, and that’s all there is to know about absolutely everything.”