Page 67 of The Forest of Lost Souls

“A way out of what?”

“Out of a dead-end life. The seer told me to start my own business.”

“The seer?”

“The fortuneteller.”

“She told you to start your own business at ten?”

“I took up housecleaning. I’m a demon cleaner.”

“At ten.”

“Even before that. I like clean. I can’t stand filth. In six months, I had four clients, four houses. When I was twelve, I added seamstress work.”

“What about school?”

“School is school. I liked it. But work is better. Sixteen, I got a beautician license. Twenty, I opened my own salon with four employees. It’s the most popular in the county. I like being busy.”

“How does a girl of ten realize she’s in a dead-end life?”

Wendy cocks her head and regards him with amusement or pity; he can’t tell which. “How does a guy of thirtynotrealize he’s in a dead-end life.”

“Me? Hey, I’m going somewhere.”

“Backward at high speed.”

“I’m already rich.”

“You’ll never be rich enough.”

“By any standard, I’m a success.”

“Not by the standard that matters most.”

“Yeah? What standard would that be?”

“Happiness. You think you’re happy?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then you don’t know what happiness is. You’re in a perpetual state of desperation. It’s always in the back of your mind.”

“What is?”

“That when Terrence Boschvark goes to prison, so will you.”

“He’s too rich and clever to go to prison. When he has to move outside the law to get something done, he insulates himself with so many layers of deniability that nothing can be proved.”

“And you admire that?”

“Maybe I don’t admire it. But I respect it.”

“That’s even worse than admiring it. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

“What work?”

“Fixing you.”

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