Ray said as he loped along beside Rose. They were walking down the busy street, and Rose seemed to be looking for something. “You know, not with magic or anything.” “What?” Rose asked, stopping short on a corner in the beam of a streetlamp. He all but ran up her heels, and cursed under his breath. She looked distracted, her gaze flicking over the buildings and bushes and lampposts, but not really seeming to see any of them. Ray raised his voice over the sound of the traffic. “I mean, this is a benevolent organization or something, what you said. We raise money for needy kids, right?” “No, we don’t,” Rose said, as if hearing him for the first time. She turned to meet his gaze, and the sharp, dark eyes looked straight into his. “Remember Cinderella? Remember her fairy godmother, the one who gave her clothes and transportation for the big night of her life? We get a child whatever he or she needs. By magic.” “But Cinderella was a kid’s story,” Ray protested. “Not at all!
