Unfortunately for Sophie, the French Quarter wasn’t bustling with the usual amount of activity. Instead, city sanitation vehicles were rolling down the avenues, cleaning up the discarded plastic beer cups, shot glasses, and colorful neck beads, as the sound of the large brushes echoed through the streets.

“Just my luck,” she murmured, knowing that time was short for her to make her getaway.

A woman in goth makeup, wearing all black from her shirt to her boots, walked towards her, removing her keys from her skull-covered purse. She then unlocked a door, opening a voodoo tourist trap.

Looking at Sophie, she said, “Did you want a reading?”

“Ummm.”

“If you do, I don’t take walk-ins. Do you have an appointment?”

“No. I’m not here for that. Just waiting for a friend.”

“Then, get off my stoop. No loitering. No begging for money. Don’t block my customers.”

“Okay. Geez.”

As Sophie wandered on, she saw two women, one of which was clicking her keychain with a desperate look in her eyes.

She cried, “We’re never going to find it! We’ve been wandering around here forever!”

The other one said, “I thought it was down this street!”

Then a car’s headlights blinked, while its horn gave a short burst. They ran to the Honda, and once they reached it, they laid their arms over the roof as if they were hugging it.

“Oh, thank God!”

After unlocking it, they got inside, and the driver started the engine. Sophie watched, as the two began talking and then unfastened the seatbelts they had just secured themselves in. One of them pointed to a restaurant. Then the car shut off, and they stepped out and made their way across the street.

“Just one more shot, and then home!”

Oh, to not have a care in the world like that!

“Hey, watch it,” a guy slurred, coming out of nowhere, spilling his beer on her sneakers.

Stretched over his protruding beer belly, his shirt read, Head Officer, Pussy Patrol. Assume the Position! Sophie recognized it from a club where she’d danced before and rolled her eyes at the thought that he’d probably paid $75 for that ugly and repulsive thing.

“Sorry about that,” she said, lurching closer to him as if she’d been shoved.

While grabbing him at his waist with one hand, she lifted his wallet from his pocket with the other.

“You’re pretty. What’s your name? Wanna party?”

“Maybe! Where at?”

“Back at my place. I got a whole floor at the hotel. For me and the guys,” he belched, as he ogled her. “The whole frat. We’re having a reunion. You could come have some fun with us. Other girls are there already.”

“No, thanks.”

“Stuck-up skank.”

“Yeah, fuck you, too,” she muttered under her breath, knowing what she would have been in for had she agreed to go with him.

That could’ve been one of Gregor’s goons, and then where would you be? On your way back to him! Don’t be stupid! Keep your guard up!

She scanned her surroundings for any scary familiar faces. Then after ducking into the hidden protection of an alleyway, she opened the billfold and yanked out the cash.

Twenty bucks? That’s it?

Still, it was more than enough for a café au lait and a beignet. At the thought, her stomach rumbled, and she took off for the crowd cover that would certainly be present at the popular Café Du Monde.

She tossed the wallet into the garbage can nearest the oncoming dump truck. She needed money, but she wouldn’t risk using something as easily traceable as a stolen credit card.

As she walked, she melted into the shadows of tall men, joined women in groups, and merged into the early tours trudging through the quarter. The air was sultry with the moisture from the Gulf of Mexico dampening her skin. After a few blocks, she was sweating and rethinking the coffee in favor of an ice-cold bottle of water. But after being awake all night, she needed the spark the caffeine would give her and decided to splurge and get them both.

Reaching Jackson Square, where the café had been in business since 1862, she took a table towards the rear so as not to be seen from the street. A few minutes later, she had a steaming cup in front of her, a sweet pastry for breakfast, and a moment to think and regroup.

Short of more funds, she was at a dead end. She thought about her limited options to get more money. She wasn’t above panhandling, but the city had outlawed it. If a cop saw her begging tourists for a buck or two, the result wouldn’t have been good, especially if the officer was on Gregor’s payroll.

Marking that possibility off the list, she was down to around ten dollars, unless she wanted to dive for change in the fountains. Though she had no qualms about picking pockets, the thought of stealing people’s wishes from where they lay in the water put a sour taste in her mouth. If she had an extra penny, she probably would’ve tossed one in herself with a prayer for her safe exodus.

A bit surprised that, as far as she could tell, nobody was searching for her yet, she supposed that back at the estate, they assumed she was sleeping the day away like she usually did. She’d been careful not to give them reasons to suspect her of anything other than obedience, and from all appearances, her charade had worked.

At least, for the moment.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to lying low until the French Quarter was filled with plastered, easily manipulated marks. She was certain that once darkness fell, Gregor—but more terrifyingly, Hans, his sadistic right hand—would be on the hunt for her.

Exhaustion crept over her, despite the powdered sugar and caffeine she’d consumed. Taking a risk, she wandered the streets to a less populated area. After finding an empty home with a For Sale sign in front of it, she curled up on the back porch, shaded by tree branches and a vined trellis, and fell into a deep sleep.

When she awoke, night had descended, and with it, the urgency to do what she had to in order to survive and get out of town. Hurrying back to Bourbon Street, she heard the noises of the crowds and the strains of live bands playing, both of them telling her that the place was filled with inebriated locals and tourists ripe for her nimble fingers.

She blended into the sea of people, not emerging until her backpack was laden with stolen wallets, money clips, and jewelry she could pawn later.