LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter One

      The pursuit of material goods must never eclipse the pursuit of Truth.

      —The Book of Truth, Veraxis Article 1745

      All of the documents were in place: the Affidavit of Spectral Fraud, the Statement of Truth, two Orders of Imprisonment and two Orders of Relinquishment, and, of course, the list of Church-approved attorneys. The Darnells would want that—well, they’d need it, because they were about to be arrested for faking a haunting.

      At least, they would be when the Black Squad got there to back Chess up. She didn’t always want the Squad to come along; police presence tipped people off, made things more difficult, and most people came pretty quietly once they realized they were busted, anyway. The Darnells didn’t seem like the come-quietly type, though. Something told Chess they weren’t going to take this well.

      But she’d told them she’d be there at six, and it was five past already and their curtains kept twitching. They knew she was there.

      Right. She’d taken a couple of Cepts before leaving her apartment in Downside, so they were starting to hit—smooth, thick narcotic warmth spreading from her stomach out through the rest of her body, a pleasant softness settling over her mind.

      That was the best thing about the drugs, really; she could still think, still be coherent, still use her brain. She just didn’t have to if she didn’t want to, and it was so much easier to keep that brain from wandering into all those places she didn’t want it to go.

      And she had so fucking many of those places.

      She grabbed the Darnell file from her bag, locked her car, and started walking along the cobblestoned path to the front door, weaving around the flowers and plants scattered like islands across the impossibly green sea of grass. Bees made their way from bloom to bloom, doing whatever the hell it was bees did. Sure, she knew it was something to do with pollen or whatever. She just didn’t give a shit.

      By the time she reached the porch sweat beaded along her forehead and her body felt damp. Summer sucked. Only the middle of June and already it was scorching.

      Brandon Darnell opened the door before she’d finished raising her hand to knock. “Miss Putnam. You’re late.”

      Asshole. She faked a smile. “Sorry. Traffic.”

      At least they had air-conditioning.

      The entire Darnell family sat in the pretentious high-ceilinged living room, slouching on the ridiculously overpriced suede couch and chairs that were partly responsible for the enormous debt they were in. Debt they’d planned to clear by faking a haunting and getting a nice fat settlement from the Church of the Real Truth.

      Too bad for them, the Church wasn’t stupid—being in charge of everyone and everything on earth for twenty-four years proved that—and had contingency plans for such things. Chess was one of them.

      Brandon Darnell indicated an empty chair along the back wall. “Have a seat.”

      Alarms started ringing in Chess’s head. He seemed a little too calm, a little too … cheerful.

      But all the other chairs were full, so she sat, shooting a glance out the window to see if the Squad had arrived yet. Nope. Damn it!

      The

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