Savannah thought she was entering the Emerald City. The lights weren’t entirely green, but there were plenty of them, and despite the dark—it had to be after midnight—the city sparkled. Cars glided down streets, bright headlights chased the night away, and a steady hum seemed to pulse through the air. A hazy memory of her childhood kicked in, and she recalled her mother calling Chicago the promised land. Vanna smiled to herself. She’d made the right decision.
The bus entered a tunnel, then lurched to a stop. The sleeping woman beside her, who smelled so vile Vanna had to breathe through her mouth, snorted and blinked awake. Vanna hoped the woman’s body odor wasn’t contagious. As people shuffled off the bus, most of them still sleepy and slow, she grabbed her backpack and climbed down.
Her fellow passengers scattered, some heading through an arch with a sign that led to public transportation. Others, greeted by friends or family, proceeded out to the street. Vanna hadn’t considered what she would do when she arrived; she never thought she’d actually make it to Chicago. But here she was.
She followed some of the passengers out to the street. Huge skyscrapers were illuminated, their lit windows sparkling like stars. A hazy glow suffused the sky, lightening it from black to grayish orange. The Loop, she recalled. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been in big cities before. They’d lived in Tucson, Houston, and Albuquerque, but there was something different about Chicago. She could feel it.
It was late March, and flowers were blooming in Colorado. Here, though, the frigid air had a bite; she was glad she’d “borrowed” her mother’s jacket. She hurried back inside.
The interior of the terminal was as big as a train station, with arcades and shops, now closed, leading off a main hall. The walls were white and spruced up with gaily colored murals; this was not the tiled wall, concrete floor, and shabby ticket booth of the bus depots she knew. The place was well lit, and if you didn’t know what time it was, you couldn’t tell it was the middle of the night. Still, the fluorescent lights gave everyone a slightly green cast. Emerald City—a place where magic dust was dispensed by fairies who never slept. She giggled.
“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” a male voice said behind her.
The giggle died in her throat. Startled, she spun around. A man was checking her out. He had thick dark hair and dark eyes. He wasn’t bad looking and was probably somewhere between thirty and forty. But he was nicely dressed in a white shirt, brown leather jacket, and khakis. Her gaze went to his shoes. Her mother always said to check a stranger’s shoes. If they were in good shape, the person cared about their appearance. His were shiny black loafers that looked almost new. A good sign.
“Well?” he said, a smile on his face. He had the trace of an accent. She couldn’t place it.
Vanna hesitated. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. But this guy wasn’t the sort of bum who lurked around bus depots looking for a handout or a drink. In fact, she wondered why he was at the bus station at all. He looked like the type who should have been flying. Then again, she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Did all the men in Chicago look like this? If so, this hadn’t just been a good decision—it was a fucking awesome one. And who knew? Maybe he had some blow.
So she gave him that “maybe I’d like to know you better” smile and answered his question. “What’s funny? Nothing. I’m just so fucking glad to be in a real city.”
The man’s grin widened, and he nodded. “I know what you mean. Where are you from?”
“Colorado. What about you?”
“Originally? Poland. Kraków. But I live here a lot of years.”
“Why Chicago?”
He waved his hand. “Look around. You can do anything you want. Get anything you want. Even in the bus terminal.”
“Anything?” She ran her hand up her arm.
He folded his arms. “What do you want?”
She favored him with the smile that made the boys back in Colorado get hard. “What are you offering?”
When he smiled back, she could tell from his expression that she’d roped a winner.