I sat back down across from her. "Yet?"

"I have heard things, Mister Dresden, about people with your abilities. About the ability to look into their eyes."

I tilted my head. "I wouldn't call it an ability. It just happens."

"Yet you are able to see within them? You call it a soulgaze, do you not?"

I nodded warily and started adding together lots of small bits and pieces. "Yes."

"Revealing their true nature? Seeing the truth about the person upon whom you look?"

"And they see me back. Yes."

She smiled, cool and lovely. "Then let us look upon one another, Mister Dresden, you and I. Then I will know if you can be of any use to me. Surely it will cost me nothing."

"I wouldn't be so sure. It's the sort of thing that stays with you." Like an appendectomy scar, or baldness. When you look on someone's soul, you don't forget it. Not ever. I didn't like the direction this was going. "I don't think it would be a good idea."

"But why not?" she pressed. "It won't take long, will it, Mister Dresden?"

"That's really not the issue."

Her mouth firmed into a line. "I see. Then, if you will excuse me-"

This time I interrupted her. "Ms. Sommerset, I think you may have made a mistake in your estimations."

Her eyes glittered, anger showing for a moment, cool and far away. "Oh?"

I nodded. I opened the drawer to my desk and took out a pad of paper. "Yeah. I've had a rough time of things lately."

"You can't possibly know how little that matters to me."

I drew out a pen, took off the lid, and set it down beside the pad. "Uh-huh. Then you come in here. Rich, gorgeous-kind of too good to be true."

"And?" she inquired.

"Too good to be true," I repeated. I drew the .44-caliber revolver from the desk drawer, leveled it at her, and thumbed back the hammer. "Call me crazy, but lately I've been thinking that if something's too good to be true, then it probably isn't. Put your hands on the desk, please."

Her eyebrows arched. Those gorgeous eyes widened enough to show the whites all the way around them. She moved her hands, swallowing as she did, and laid her palms on the desk. "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded.

"I'm testing a theory," I said. I kept the gun and my eyes on her and opened another drawer. "See, lately, I've been getting nasty visitors. So it's made me do some thinking about what kind of trouble to expect. And I think I've got you pegged."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Mister Dresden, but I am certain-"

"Save it." I rummaged in a drawer and found what I needed. A moment later I lifted a plain old nail of simple metal out of the drawer and put it on the desk.

"What's that?" she all but whispered.