"Is James there?"

"Who may I ask is calling?"

"Tell him it's Cassiopeia."

A few agonizing minutes of silence while I'm hanging out with my phone in a bathroom in the basement of building A. Hardly anyone ever comes down here, especially all the way up from the lab on the fifth floor. I haven't exactly planned what I'll say to James, who in my dream murdered me, but I need to talk to him, to get a feel for the situation before meeting face-to-face later on. Or maybe I should postpone this whole thing, test my skills on a customer of lesser importance. No, I'm not scared, and I don't believe dreams have anything to do with reality in spite of the fantastical aspect of my life. Still, I can't get those nightmarish images out of my mind. I lean against the cool white tiles, then breathing on the other end of the line pulls my attention back and trips up my heartbeat.

But the breather isn't James. It's his assistant telling me he's not taking any calls, not even from me. I know better than to insist, so instead I mumble a reply, shove my phone back into the pocket of my lab coat, and race up the stairs before I'm missed.

**

"Cover for you?" Logan nearly chokes on his beer as researchers mingle at the department's annual party at downtown's coolest bar. I'd managed to drag him along because tonight's band is playing jazz, but that isn't helping at the moment. It's actually hurting because the music is so loud Logan has to practically shout in my ear. "This is your deal, Cass – I don't work at the university. Jeez. What am I supposed to say to everyone? You took off to sell some memories? They'll want to use you in their next experiment."

"Shh!" I hiss. Then I roll my eyes, cross my arms, and turn to glare at him.

"Hey, nice dress! An original choice for winter." My research partner, Molly, approaches and ruffles the edges of white satin, then pulls on my arm. "C'mon, let's get closer to the band."

"Sorry, Moll, but I've got to go." I try nonchalant, but my heart sinks when Molly narrows her eyes and takes a step closer. "Don't you ever stay anywhere past midnight, Cass? I mean, are you Cinderella or something?" Of course, the blasting music stopped two seconds earlier so now everyone in the place is looking directly at me.

I take a deep breath, put on a big smile, and shrug. "If you find a glass slipper later tonight, you'll know who it belongs to."

Everyone laughs and turns back to the music, which has conveniently started again. And Molly, with an eye on the new guy from the lab next door, has forgotten about me.

"Doesn't look like you really need me to cover." Logan's eyes sparkle as he downs his drink, then takes me by the hand. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

But I stay rooted to the spot.

"Logan. I want you to stay at the party, and if anyone asks about me say I ducked out to pick up something at home. I'll meet you back here at, like, quarter to one after I've taken care of everything. You heard Moll. People are starting to notice that I always take off early, and that's gotta stop."

He rubs his temples, shakes his head and then sighs. "OK... but let me walk you out."

We make our way past the whooping laugher of partygoers inside and out, and together, we stop in a desolate spot around the corner of the building.

"Why is this so important to you, Cass?"

"Because not all memory workers are good – some are memory stealers, and they do it to spread evil, Logan. That means those of us who are good have to stick with it, have to win."

"There's some kind of contest?" He laughs at his own joke, but I don't join him.

I just leave him with these words: "As a matter of fact, there is."