Perpetua Collins works for a real troll. Well, technically a goblin, and it's not as bad as it sounds. As the administrative assistant, she provides a "human" face for an employment agency specializing in placements for goblins and trolls. It's probably the most unusual job she could find in Toronto, but she's grateful for it, having come to the city with $500 in her pocket and no support. Without it, she'd have no choice but to go back to the boring small town and overbearing mother she worked so hard to leave. But as Perpetua settles into her new job, disturbing questions arise. And no, they're not about the fact that goblins and trolls exist. She's fine with that part. What bothers her is that the agency has no visible means of support. How does her boss manage to keep his "clients" out of the public eye? They've been part of the city far longer than anyone thinks, and are growing restless under the burden of forced invisibility and financial poverty. What will happen if the veil drops, and humans see? Perpetua had come to Toronto looking for a job. Instead, she found gargoyles.They leered from the corner of the terminal as Perpetua stared up at them. Seriously? Gargoyles in a bus terminal?But the terminal grumbled with idling engines. People filed onto a bus to Montreal. A driver flipped through his clipboard. Nobody gave the faces even a passing glance.She shrugged. Must be some forgotten art installation.She took a deep, steadying breath and coughed out a lungful of diesel exhaust. She headed for the sidewalk, cutting a wide arc past a grizzled homeless man sitting against the wall.She kept her spirits up by thinking, despite her mother's comment, about how brave she was. After all, how many people came to a strange city with $500 in their pocket (well, technically, their bra), and set out to make a new life?Lots, actually. That's what immigrants do. Except, maybe, for the money in their underwear part. And they work themselves to the bone, if they're lucky.She turned onto the main thoroughfare and stopped in her tracks.She'd known Toronto was a big city, but she hadn't appreciated just how big until faced with this river of humanity. Men and women in power suits, stockbrokers leaning into cell phones, students striding to the beat of music on their earbuds, their shoes battered the sidewalk in a steady rhythm as they all strode north, eyes down or glazed, letting nobody and nothing stand in their way.Perpetua stared, appalled, until she spotted a fish swimming against the stream: a young woman in a stylish green skirt and blazer, striding confidently, ruby lips set firm, parting the crowd like an icebreaker. She caught Perpetua's gaze. Her eyes narrowed, and her smile tightened. She quickened her pace and vanished down the street.Perpetua squared her shoulders. So, that's how you do it: step out like you own the place, and people will make way for you.She stepped out like she owned the place.The rhythm of feet broke into a staccato of stumbles and body checks."Ow!""Watch where you're going!""Oof!""Get out of the way!""My foot!""Hey!"She darted through a gap in the stream and found herself teetering on the curb, trapped between cars moving at the speed of battleships in harbour, and people charging like cavalry.At least here, she could walk without the risk of being run over, so walk, she did."Hey! Need a ride?"She stopped and looked around to see who'd said that. Nobody was looking at her. The car windows were all closed against the heat. She shrugged and walked on."Take you wherever you need to go!"She slowed. The traffic around her squealed, drawing together like a coiled spring."Taxi for hire!"She looked to her left and saw an orange-and-teal taxicab keeping pace with her in the curb lane, its windows open."No thanks," she said.The driver's head swivelled toward her. "What?"She kept walking. "You asked if I

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