I reached through the lacy fabric and pulled it out. The top came off-inside was the money, all neatly stacked. And the thick gold chain on top of the pile.

"Touch it," she whispered against me. "It's warm. Just before you came, I took a nap. I slept with it inside my body-it's warm from me."

"I don't want it," I said.

"Don't be afraidtake it."

"I don't want it," I said again, hearing my voice go hollow, holding on.

She pushed me to the chair in the corner. I stood hard against her, not moving. "It has to be in a chair," she whispered. "It's the only place I can do it. You have to be sitting down."

"I just want the money," I told her.

She grabbed the front of my coat with both hands, pulling at it with all her weight, her devil eyes firing both barrels at me. "You're mine," she said.

I met her eyes-something danced in there-something that would never have a partner. 'I did my work," I told her, staying where I was safe. "I'm done."

"You can't walk away from me," she whispered, holding on.

"Forget it, Strega."

"You call my name-you think you know me. You don't know me."

"I know you. And don't waste your time running to Julio-there's nothing he can do."

Strega knew an exit line when she heard one. She let go of my coat, turned her back to me, one hand holding a bedpost.

"Yes, Julio," she said. "My precious uncle Julio-the great and good friend of my father."

She turned to face me. "Who do you think taught me to make nice while he sat in a chair-be a good little girl?"

"What?" I said. I've had a lifetime of keeping my thoughts off my face, but it didn't work with Strega. She answered the question I never asked.

"Julio. I was Peppina then. I loved everybody. Especially Julio-he was so good to me. When he started with me, I told my father on him," she said, her voice that of a little child.

"What did he do?"

"What did he do? He beat me with a strap for telling evil tales about Julio. Julio the Saint. He was a saint to my father…because of the money and the fear. And I went back to Julio."

I just looked at her, watching her eyes. Cold fire. Hate.

"They taught me-money and fear. They taught me good. One day I wasn't little stupid happy Peppina anymore.

I saw Julio in my mind, the last time we talked. I knew why he looked like that now. "That's why Julio wanted me to do this get the picture for you?"

"Julio does what I want now. They all do what I want. Money and fear."

"Jina…"

"Strega. To you, Strega. And when you come back to me, Strega still."

"I'm not coming back," I said, putting the hatbox under one arm, holding the money against the cold.

One tear escaped her eye, ran down her cheek. "I have my Mia," she said, her voice as dead as the clown in the big white house, "and I have myself. I will always have myself."

"I've got more than that," I thought, walking out, the cold wind swirling at my back. Guarding its child.