8

Jeremy

Saturday: 1:52 AM

Pendell sat on Marisa’s dorm room bed, his eyes unfocused.

“Tell him, Marisa. Tell him what happened,” he said gruffly, as if the words scraped on the way out of his throat.

First, an apparition had spoken to me in the park. Now there was a body. And it seemed that from just touching her coat button, Bobby Pendell knew exactly what had happened to my girlfriend.

I thought about the ring I’d found and wondered where it all connected. I didn’t understand what was happening. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. “You seem like a good enough kind of person. Gabe, is it? You’re aware of his creepy shit? Doesn’t it bother you?”

Pendell blinked rapidly, his eyes glazed and watery. He wouldn’t look at me. Or couldn’t. “Do you think I want to be like this?”

The redhead was at his side, staring me down. “You don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

Pendell lowered his head and blinked into his open palms.

“Well. I think you should take your cryptic warnings and go,” I said. “I never promised Agent Reston I’d babysit your strange ass. I think we’re done here.”

“Don’t speak for me, Jeremy.” Marisa rose abruptly from my lap and strode across the room. She sat on the bed beside Pendell and asked, “What exactly did you see, Bobby?”

After he’d described in harrowing detail what he’d witnessed in his vision, Marisa melted into a puddle of sobs and confirmed the whole thing. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to strangle the bastard or have him knighted.

It was clear that we weren’t getting rid of Bobby Pendell just yet.

But that didn’t mean I had to like him.

None of us were going to be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, so we agreed to get coffee at the all-night diner around the block.

Pendell had recovered sufficiently from his supernatural grand mal seizure to walk without Gabe holding him up. He shuffled along beside us, reminding me a little of the Scarecrow, as if any second his straw legs would give out. My stump ached inside Veronica, every step a conscious effort. Marisa clung to my arm and I held on just as firmly to her.

We were the only customers in the overly bright restaurant. The cadaverous waiter, who looked like he probably despised the entire caffeine-slurping population of humanity, led us to a spacious booth. A TV flashed soundlessly above the counter where the waiter’s humanity-hating counterpart, a sour woman with hair the color of curdled yogurt, goggled at us from behind oversized designer glasses.

“Soooo,” I said after an extended silence. “How about those Yankees?”

Marisa giggled softly. “Jeremy has this incredible talent for knowing exactly the wrong thing to say at exactly the right time.”

“I pride myself on my impeccable timing,” I said, waggling a straw in my mouth, Groucho Marx style.

Gabe started to laugh but stopped when Pendell cut her a look.

“Just a little levity,” I said. “Feel free to return to your regularly scheduled brooding.”

Pendell’s mouth pressed into a straight line. “I really don’t like you, Glass.”

“Lighten up, Bobby,” Gabe said, and shook out her thick red-gold hair, bright eyes dancing over the spray of freckles. “He’s just a joker,” she added.

“Humor is a sign of intelligence, Pendell,” I said, grinning at him. “You need it on the receiving side as well.”

Marisa poked me with a sharp elbow. “Don’t you know better than to go waving a red flag in front of an angry bull?”

As if to emphasize the angry bull metaphor, Pendell’s nostrils flared. I could swear I saw little rings of fire circle his tired blue eyes.

“Fair enough,” I said. “Now that we all agree there is a crazed rapist roaming the streets of the city. And a body. And a ring that an apparition led me to. Are you ready for the next step, Pendell? Are you ready to touch the ring? The one ring to rule them all?”

Pendell leaned suddenly over the table and tried to grab for my collar, but Gabe yanked him back. “I already told you I don’t like you, Glass. I don’t care if you only have one leg, because I’m this close to breaking it.”

“Guys!” Gabe said, slapping her palms on the table. “This isn’t a date. No one cares if you like each other, okay? We’ve got some stuff to deal with, so can we get on with it?”

“I am not touching that ring,” Bobby said. He’d slumped back in his seat, staring hard at the tabletop. “It has nothing to do with Marisa’s attack.”

“And you know that how?” I probed. I really couldn’t muster total dislike for the guy. Pity, maybe, mixed with a little awe and a dash of fear. The dumb lug just didn’t get my style of communication.

If Pendell replied, I didn’t notice. Instead my eyes shifted to the muted TV where the news flashed a still photo of a woman with the caption that read Missing Woman Located. I didn’t need to hear the crap the announcer was spewing to know that she was dead. And that her body had turned up tonight.

Because I recognized her instantly.