“You’re wasting your time, girl. You’ll never get rid of me, so you might as well accept your fate.”
Becca pushed the Garamanthus’s snarling demon voice out of her mind as she brushed flecks of snow off her cheek. She tightened her knitted scarf and tucked down her chin, bracing for another bitter gust.
The streets in Logan Square were like wind tunnels on cold days like this. It never mattered what she wore—even her warmest duffle coat and beanie didn’t do a thing for her. She could have worn two of each and it still would have felt like she was wearing a t-shirt. Her only saving grace was that her hair was tied up in a bandanna under her beanie. Otherwise, the wind would have blown her hair all about. Becca always thought it was some cruel joke that it was colder in Chicago than in sta
