Jill couldn’t meet her eye. It was not something she was proud of. Jill had done it for her own selfish reasons, of course, to secure her own position—first, within Pugsy Capone’s corrupt inner circle of Chicago hoodlums, and then, once Mary took over, she reaped to keep herself within Mary’s inner circle. Milos had accused Jill of enjoying reaping. Well, he was right. The stalking, the hunting, the adrenaline rush of a successful kill was as thrilling to her now as it had ever been. But Jix, with the slightest caress of her spirit, had redirected those energies. Jill was still a mistress of the hunt, with a strong taste for violent mayhem . . . but not for murder. She no longer craved the spilling of human blood, for it was all too easy. She was beyond that now; it was unworthy of her skills. But taking down Miss Mary High-and-Mighty—now there was challenging prey!

“So, is that what we’ll be doing?” Jill asked. “More reaping?”

“Yes and no,” Mary told her. “More like world building. You see, Jill, there are many places in this world that really ought to cross into Everlost so that eternity can preserve them.”

“World building . . .” repeated Jill.

“Yes. We’ll select places a bit more substantial than that sorry little playground Milos brought into Everlost. Of course, it goes without saying that any place that crosses will bring with it any number of souls—many of them youthful enough for us to reap into our protection.”

“So then . . . the new skinjackers are all with the program?” Jill asked.

“They will be,” Mary told her, “once they’ve had time to gain the kind of broad perspective that you and I have. But for now, there’s no real need to trouble them with details that might confuse them. That’s best left to those of us who truly know what we’re doing, don’t you agree?”

The skinjackers had been given the spacious privacy of the home-team locker room, perhaps to bolster their spirit of camaraderie. When Milos saw Jill, he folded his arms and put forth the most gloatingly superior smile Jill had ever seen.

“Well, well,” said Milos. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Jill could have stomped his grinning head straight to the center of the earth, but somehow she managed to keep her cool. “You finally got an English expression right.” She would never, ever forgive Milos for capsizing the yacht, but the fact that she already despised him made it easier to mask how much more deeply she loathed him now. She was constantly fantasizing about all the ways she could end his existence or at least make him suffer. But she also knew she had to keep such dark thoughts to herself. Her job was to infiltrate and observe. She consoled herself with knowing that revenge would be more satisfying the longer she waited.