3. Eva

3

EVA

E va stared at the phone. Why were they so hard ?

Understanding the device was simple enough. A number called a person, the commands were obvious, she listened here and spoke there. But knowing what to say was the hard part. Gathering up the courage to dial and to then have a conversation with someone that she couldn't see and get social cues from...it was a kind of torture.

Her shoulder blades itched .

But debts mattered, to her more than most, and she had one to pay off. She held the phone at arm's length and pushed the connection button while holding her breath, as if it was a hand grenade or can of biscuits under pressure.

"Antonio," the voice said at the other end.

"It's Eva," she said, too quietly, and she had to repeat herself into the phone when he couldn't hear her. "You-your message, it said you had a job for m-me."

"Right! I've got an opportunity for you to buy out the rest of your debt."

Eva felt like she was holding her breath and made herself try to breath normally, which only made her pant. "I can't steal from Harriet!" she blurted. "I can't do it!"

"Chill, sister," Antonio said easily. "I'm looking at a bigger payout than Harriet's petty thefts at this point. I need you to break into Wilson Kinetics."

"The lawn ornament factory?" Eva was confused. "You want me to steal lawn ornaments?"

Antonio laughed, though Eva hadn't meant to be funny. "I want the plans for next year's sculpture. Flamingo billionaire Frank Wilson has rivals that want to scoop him with cheap knockoffs. All you have to do is figure out what he's going to unveil next year."

Eva chewed on her lip. "I don't know how to do that."

"I've got the building codes," Antonio said. "I'll text them to you. All you have to do is waltz right in and snoop through his files. I know that cabinet locks won't slow you down, with your faery tricks, and if you're caught, nothing connects us."

"Will there be guards?"

"A skeleton crew at most."

Eva hoped he didn't mean literal skeletons. "I guess…"

"That's my girl!"

Eva did not like the idea of being his girl. She would never be anyone's girl again. But she was willing to snoop if it meant her freedom.

E va's car had been untouched in the bakery parking lot so long that it was buried in snow.

She stared at the lump, trying to remember which direction she'd parked it. Was that the front of the sedan? She shivered and went back in for a broom from the bakery .

The first sweep she made fell directly into her boots, causing her to curse and stomp around miserably. Her arms weren't long enough, even with the broom, to get all the way over the car, but after several minutes of struggle, she had uncovered enough of it to get the door open.

Eva held her breath as she started it, and sighed gratefully when it reluctantly caught, coughing and groaning in protest. The glass on every window frosted up immediately, and Eva turned the heater on full and got out to clear off more snow so she wouldn't be a hazard in traffic.

Not that there was much traffic.

Most people were home with their families, and the recent snow meant the roads were slushy and perilous. Eva navigated slowly, consulting the directions on her phone at each intersection.

Following her instructions to the letter, she parked at the side of a busy bar, where her car would be unremarkable, except for the snow mohawk that hadn't fully blown off on her slow journey through town. When all the mid-holiday drinkers were safely out of the parking lot and in the bright-lit bar, Eva got out of her car and trudged in the opposite direction for a block.

She pushed the hood of her coat back, wincing at the noise the slippery synthetic fabric made in the quiet night, and squinted at the warehouse. The lot in front of Wilson Kinetics was brightly lit and had not been cleared since Christmas at least. The only car was one sad SUV so covered in snow that it was little more than a lump.

Eva felt sorry for the driver who was going to have to uncover it and wiggled her cold, damp toes in her boots.

The snow was a soft, plush carpet over everything, and there were no tracks in or out. If there were any security rounds, they had been by before the last snowfall. Did that mean that they were due for a sweep? Or was everything particularly lax in the window between Christmas and New Year's?

Eva would have preferred to bide her time and surveil the warehouse for a few days to figure out the timing of any guards, but the holiday opportunity was a fleeting thing, and Antonio had not given her a choice.

She looked behind her at the trail she was leaving from where she'd parked her car and winced. It was painfully obvious, a slash of shadow through the unbroken white. She was the worst thief in the history of the world.

Eva was careful with her next steps, but she no longer had the ability to float on top of the snow, so there was little she could do to mask her path.

Eva was focused so hard on trying to keep more snow from over-topping her boots that she was surprised to find herself at the door at last. Keenly aware of the bright lights and her unstealthy red coat, knowing anyone who looked might see her, she scrambled at the lock of the door, then froze as a car rumbled by on the quiet, unplowed road.

They passed without pausing, possibly on their way to the very bar that Eva had just left.

Her key opened the lock, the code she'd been given turned off the alarm system, and Eva breathed a short-lived sigh of relief.