“Make ’em notice me, of course. Make ’em stand up and salute. All hail, Miss Invisible.” The woman’s laughter screeched like nails down a blackboard, drunken bitterness infused with a teaspoon of madness. “Gonna show them that I’m somebody. Somebody important. Somebody who can make them tremble in their pretty little Pradas.”

The darkness cleared and I found myself in the young woman’s memory, inside her body, looking out her eyes, as I had with Sullivan and the death-row inmate. I stood in a long hallway, sweeping the floor with a wide, industrial-size broom. Two well-dressed women walked past, chatting and laughing. One unwrapped a stick of gum and dropped the wrapper. Dropped it right where I’d just finished sweeping. The woman laughed.

Laughing at me—at the stupid, ugly cleaning girl. No need to find a garbage can. Not when Lily is right there. That’s her job. Make her earn her pay.

If the Nix was retrieving this memory for Lily, it had to be important. I struggled to pull myself away from Lily’s thoughts, to look around for myself. Long hallway. Well-dressed women. An office building? Look, Eve. Look harder. You’ll need to find this place. Farther down the hall, sheets of paper dotted the walls. Notices of some kind. Dog-eared and brightly colored. Not very businesslike.

“Hey!” a young man’s voice shouted. “Hey, that’s mine!”

Three giggling girls streaked past, nearly knocking me—the woman, Lily—flying. They kept going without so much as a “Sorry,” not surprising, considering they were about thirteen and being chased by a boy their age.

Bitches. Stuck-up little bitches, just like their mommies. Too good to say “Excuse me.” Why bother? It’s only the hired help. The cleaning lady.

I squirmed free of Lily’s thoughts. The three girls ran shrieking down the hall, plowing past the two women without an apology, either, but Lily didn’t notice that, didn’t care about that. One of the girls lifted something and waved it like a flag as she ran. A boy’s bathing suit.

“Give me that!” her pursuer yelled.

They threw open a door and zoomed through. The barest whiff of chlorine wafted back.

As the boy skidded after them, my gaze went back to those distant sheets on the wall. I honed in on them, concentrating, but was only able to invoke half my usual power, just enough to make out a few of the headings. SPRING FLING. TUTORS WANTED. MARCH BREAK MADNESS.

Two men strode in front of the bulletins, coming toward us. Both were in their early twenties, both dressed in sweat-drenched shorts and tank tops, both damned fine-looking. My pulse quickened, heart tripping, a slow burn of longing plunging through me—pretty creepy, considering these boys were about half my age. Fortunately, since I had neither a pulse nor a heartbeat, I knew this lust attack wasn’t mine.