The dominoes are falling, and not in a way that I’d anticipated. Losing assets is part of the game, but this time there’s no one else to clean up the mess. I’m going to have to do it, and I’m dreading the idea of taking Jimmy’s life. He’s been an increasingly useful asset, and he has an almost canine sense of obedience, fascination and loyalty. Assets I’ve had to retire in the past, they were anything but these things. They often deserved what they got, they were little better than the animals they were betraying. I’m not sure where this sentimentality is coming from, but it’s impairing my operational effectiveness. I can’t help but fear that as I continue down this path I get farther and farther away from being human. From being able to even pass as human, as though I’m forgetting what it ever felt like. I don’t know what’s so damned special about it, really, I’ve seen human being commit unspeakable acts upon one another. I just can’t shake this sense of dread. Maybe it’s being stateside again, among people that I can relate to as more than just pawns to be leveraged against evil people with evil intent. Maybe it’s that I don’t feel so alien among them. There’s no away around this, not with Jimmy. If I had any faith that I could put him on a plane to Mexico and have him disappear amongst the natives, it’d be a different story. Jimmy’s slow, he’s not that resourceful, and as raptly fascinated as he is with my condition I’m sure he’d begin to seek out others. I don’t feel wholly responsible for ruining his life, as part of the Westies he’s be spending the rest of his life in prison. Evelysse, that’s an even harder decision. She’s not necessarily part of it, she may be able to escape the prosecutions since sh’e not part of the gangs. She adores me, I wish I could believe it had to do with anything more than the spell my condition puts her under and the ecstasy of the kiss. It might, but one of the horrid realities of our situation is that I’ll never know. I’ve received permission from Salvatore, it’s an option. I could hide her, or fake her death, or hope that she’s not named in any of the indictments. I can’t afford these attachments, but sometimes it seems they’re the only thing that keeps me connected to what’s left of what was human inside of me. Kat felt the same way, about her lost “property.” I can’t help but notice that the way she talked about it seemed much like a dog lamenting the loss of a subordinate mate. I suppose that’s how her kind processes things, not much of a surprise considering the clan her line’s descended from. Difficult decisions that have to be made in short order, regardless of sentimental sway.