My Lahti lay on the dining room table, six feet away. It might as well have been six hundred feet; there was no way in hell I could grab it in time before the thing was on me. Instead, I reached behind my back under my sport coat for the handle of my Bowie.
Green skin, pebbly like a toad’s, covered the creature, giving it a warty, scabby appearance. Translucent slime dripped from it, even from the needle-filled mouth, glistening in the harsh light of the hallway. Black on black eyes, as pitiless as a shark’s, stared at me from under a shelf of bone thick enough to stop a bullet. Pale, knobby, bony plates circled its neck. Naked, it had all the anatomical accuracy of a Ken doll and the lethality of a Bengal tiger. Main difference was, a Bengal tiger can’t talk while it eats you.
My hand found the handle of the Bowie.
It tensed, and I noticed a small ruby in its forehead, glowing softly.
Muscles flexing, I began to draw.
Its hands flexed, revealing a glowing ruby in each palm.
My testicles tried to draw up into my body. The Bowie cleared the sheath.
It jumped.
God, I’d never seen anything move so fast. Before I could bring the knife out from the sheath strapped to my back, I fell backward, praying I wouldn’t impale myself.
Nails sharper than scalpels found my chest as it sailed over, shredding jacket and shirt as if they weren’t there. So quick I didn’t feel any pain, just a sort of dull heat that let me know I was hurt.
Crash, right through the sliding glass door to the balcony and over the rail out of sight. I had seconds, maybe less, to save my life.
I hit the floor. No pain, but plenty of adrenalin. My free hand grabbed at the phone on my belt and my thumb found the right button on reflex. “Dial Alex,” I grunted and I sprung to my feet in time to see a warty hand rise and grasp the painted iron rail of my balcony. I couldn’t help but feel impressed … my apartment was on the fifth floor. The smart phone hit the carpet as I began to move, a harsh buzz of anger threading through me.
One stride. Two.
Long needle teeth, hundreds of them, cleared the rail.
Lahti met my palm, a comforting cold weight. I prayed Alex would pick up.
Heavily muscled arms propelled the green body over the rail. It was on the balcony.
I brought the Lahti up.
Bang! Slightly wide, but the thing flinched.
Bang! A flower bloomed on its stomach and black blood oozed out like Karo syrup. It ignored the wound.
Bang! Another flower on its chest. I pulled the trigger as fast as I could and it came at me, not even noticing the glass tearing its feet.
Bang! Black blood erupted from its shoulder, but it kept coming, almost within range to use its claws and I knew that one good swipe and my head would say goodbye to my shoulders in quick order.
Bang! From three feet away I hit the ruby on its forehead and for the first time I get a reaction.
It screamed. If you’ve ever heard a traffic accident, the sound of brakes squealing, the brutal thump of collision followed by the screech of tortured metal, how it stabs into your ears like an ice pick … that’s what it’s like to hear a ghoul scream, only a hundred times worse.
One hand went to its head, the other slapped down on the table for support and, without even thinking, I slammed the Bowie down, down through flesh and bone, down through something harder than both and through the wood beneath. A scarlet flare erupted from where its palm met the table.
Once again my ears were assaulted by that hideous traffic accident scream and I was afraid that they would start to gush blood. The Bowie was a good weapon, but pounding it through three inches of ghoul and wood had rendered it useless, so I went for a backup.
My younger self would have been proud had he seen me vault the couch, landing square in front of the flat-screen. One sharp slap from my palm on the wall beneath and the hidden compartment I’d created over a month ago popped open. What smacked into my palm didn’t look like a weapon anyone would recognize. Except a Bureau member. An amethyst the size of my thumbnail, winking purple in the artificial light of my apartment.
An amethyst is simply a variety of violet quartz, not very valuable, kind of pretty, but to a magician it’s a valuable tool. Although it is not pure enough to hold complex spell Shapes (due to iron ions), it holds one simple Shape very well. Something we liked to call a Boom spell. Having a spell gem in my possession without logging it out of the Armory was against Bureau regs, but I wielded a certain amount of influence and sometimes did things that, if BB ever found out, would put me eyeball deep into a latrine.
When I’d told the Green Pea that gems could be used as magical batteries, I hadn’t told her everything. They’re able to store spells, but those spells can be used by anyone, as long as certain conditions are met. A magician could Shape a spell that had the equivalent of an ‘if/then’ statement, like a line of computer code. All that was needed for the spell to be cast was the conditions set forth by the ‘if/then’ statement to be fulfilled. The amethyst I found in my hand had a LOT of stored energy and the spell was as simple as could be. All I needed to do was fulfill the ‘if/then’ part of the spell.
If I said a certain word (called an ‘activation’ or ‘trigger’ word, chosen by the magician who Shaped the spell), then the amethyst would release all its energy in one burst after a one second delay. Simple. It was also a good idea that the trigger word be something very uncommon, lest you cast the spell accidentally.
With a tearing sound, the ghoul ripped the Bowie out of the table, leaving a gout of black ichor behind to stain the lacquered wood. “I was going to kill you quick, Hakala,” it burbled, its voice the bubbling of tar in a deep pit. Black soulless shark eyes stared out from under the inch deep hole where the ruby had been. It lurched toward me. “But now I’m going to kill you slow.”
How it knew my name, I could only guess, but right then my stomach was trying to hide behind my liver and I nearly peed in fear. For some reason it had slowed down—maybe the hole in its forehead had something to do with that—but all I could do right then was pray to god that I didn’t miss.
Bang! Another shot with no effect. I dropped the Lahti and cocked back my left arm. If I screwed this up, the ghoul wouldn’t have to kill me; I’d be dead already.
My arm came forward, the amethyst missile leaving my palm. “Eggloss,” I screamed.
Straight and true at the ghoul’s head flew the stone. It lifted its mangled hand and casually tried to slap the purple quartz away. Its torn palm smacked against the spinning gem.
Crack!
I felt myself lifted, weightless for one brief second, as a blinding blue-white flash stole my sight. Fortunately, I didn’t travel far, just a couple of feet into the flat-screen behind me. Something went crunch at the back of my head and there was a sharp, piercing pain.
Then nothing.
Blood. It was in my mouth and I reflexively swallowed, the coppery liquid sliding easily down my throat. Another swallow. My tongue and teeth hurt and everything was quiet, eerily so. It took a couple of years, but I got my hands underneath me and pushed up off the floor. Bits of glass fell out of my hair and landed silently onto the floor.
My legs gave out, something was wrong with my balance, and I fell back to the floor. Two, three tries later and I was able to stand as long as I had the wall to my back. Black and gray spots swam before my eyes and I felt the Delmonico I’d eaten earlier trying to make a comeback.
I blinked once, twice, and saw a mouthful of needle teeth lunge toward me.
Savage pain in my left shoulder and something tore, sending a lance of sharp agony up my neck to the base of my skull.
All the strength left me and my legs sagged. I knew I was about to die as a goddamn ghoul ate its way through my shoulder. Before everything went black for the final time, I sent an apology to my sister Leena for my failure.
I fell, the ghoul on top of me, and I got a great look at a warty, green and slimy scalp before the head exploded in a shower of black and pink.
“Kal!” The voice came from far away, a dim sound ringing with panic. All I wanted to do was stay dead. It’s quiet and peaceful when you’re dead.
“Kal, can you hear me?” Of course I could hear, I wasn’t deaf. Why couldn’t that damn voice leave me alone?
“Kal, it’s Alex, I need you awake! Kal! Kal!” The screaming was really annoying. I cracked an eye to tell Alex to shut the hell up.
“He’s awake!” That geeky face swam into focus, looking relieved despite the pale complexion and the sweat dripping from his nose.
“?” I inquired.
Alex’s face got bigger as he leaned closer. “Listen, Kal, you’re hurt … real bad, but I can’t help you without your participation.” Hands gripped my head above the ears. “Look at my eyes, help me help you.” I wanted to laugh at his Jerry Maguire quote. He was about as far from Tom Cruise as you could get. “Blink twice if you understand me.”
Hah … blink twice? With those boulders on my eyelids? Was he crazy? But the panic in his voice pulled at me, so it must have been pretty serious. Slowly I brought my eyelids down. Then again. God, that took a lot of effort!
He smiled in relief. “Good, Kal, here we go.”
Warmth flooded my skull, pleasant, comforting. Nice … then a voice broke the peace.
Kal, you there?
Of course I am, you nitwit.
Good! You’re hurt real bad and I need you to help me heal you. I can’t do this alone. I don’t have any charged gems or the energy reserves, but I can tap into yours if you let me.
Sure thing, Alex. Anything you want, old buddy. But what the hell is wrong with me?
Swimming up from the depths of our link came a bird’s eye view of my half naked body. Somebody had taken off my jacket and shirt. Damn … I looked like hell! Four thin cuts to my chest that sluggishly leaked blood and there was a big red and white mess where my left shoulder used to be.
See? Bad news. Now Kal, this is going to hurt like you won’t believe.
I could believe it. I’d been healed before and the rapid tissue regeneration always got the nerves singing like a Mariachi band. Looking at the damage—gray-white bone and torn flesh—this would be bad. Maybe it was better to be dead.
Ready, Kal?
Go ahead, Alex.
I won’t bore you with the details. I screamed, I cried, I gibbered like a Rhesus monkey in a cosmetics testing lab as the flesh on my chest knit at warp speed and the bones in my shoulder shifted and popped, regenerating tissue uniting into something pink and whole. Muscle re-attached to bone, ligaments spooled back into reality … All this happened in a matter of minutes that felt like hours. Misery fired along every nerve in my body and sang into my brain. A small piece of flat-screen worked its way out of the back of my skull and the hole it left behind closed with a small dribble of blood and a feeling that someone had stuck an ice pick into the bone and swirled it around.
Not fun.
“Want another sandwich?” Wilkes asked, drinking one of my precious Tommyknocker cream sodas. I nodded and took the proffered roast beef and cheddar on wheat. One bite later and I closed my eyes in bliss … just the right amount of mayo. Yummy.
Wilkes made a face. “How can you Scandahoovians stand to eat that white crap?”
“What? Mayo? It’s the miracle condiment, made by the gods themselves.” I took another bite. Double yummy.
When I came to after the healing, it wasn’t the sight of Alex that had greeted my weary, bloodshot eyes but Wilkes, big and ugly himself looking all wild and disheveled. Behind him Ariel stood with arms crossed, looking distinctly uneasy.
“What the—” I’d mumbled.
“You okay, Kal?” Alex’s face came into view, pale and sweating. A shaky hand slicked back hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.
I patted my chest and shoulder. Faint ridges met my fingertips, four long, thin, scars running from collarbone to sternum. The memory of the ghoul’s claws raking my chest came rushing back and I thanked my lucky stars the wound hadn’t been deeper. My right hand touched left shoulder and felt a knot of gnarled tissue the size of my fist. I moved the shoulder experimentally. No pain. A little stiff, but whole. “The ghoul?” I croaked.
“Is that what that this was?” Wilkes asked wildly. “Is that what it was?” He paced back and forth, running his fingers through his flat top.
Ariel snorted. “Calm down, Detective.”
“Calm down? Calm dawn?’ His eyes were wide. “Did you see that freakin’ thing?”
“I saw it.”
“What happened?” My throat was dry. To Alex, “Water, please.”
“Sure.”
“And Alex … thanks, man.”
The smile that hit his face nearly cut it in half and he scampered off to fetch some water.
Wilkes leaned over. “Kal, what the hell is going on here?” He looked like he was about to cry. You would too if everything you believed about your safe little world got tossed into the trash bin.
It was a struggle to sit up, but I managed by leaning against the wall next to my busted flatscreen. “Green Pea, report. What happened?” Lord, my voice sounded like the crackle of tin foil. I held up a hand to shut Wilkes up.
Ariel stepped forward, arms still crossed. “I was nearby when I got the call. When I drove up, I heard what sounded like an explosion. I entered the building, Wilkes charging a few seconds behind. When I got to your doorway, that thing was on you, chewing on your shoulder. Detective Wilkes came up from behind me and blew its head apart with a gun as big as a house.”
She took a deep breath and rubbed her full lips. “We rushed the room and pulled that slimy bastard off your body. You were cold and unresponsive. Alex came in a minute later and took over. Looking at the ghoul, I saw a ruby in its palm and cut it out for the magician to study.” She spat on the floor. I’d read books where people did that, but this was the first time I’d seen it done.
“And then?”
“And then Alex fixed you up. Took about ten minutes. When he was done, I gave him the ruby.” she hooked a finger at Wilkes. “He’s been freaking out about this ever since he killed that monster.”
I managed a small smile. “Detective, what kind of weapon did you use?”
He pulled his jacket aside and revealed a huge chrome-plated pistol. “Desert Eagle,” he confirmed, eyes slightly glassy. I guess he was in information overload. Not that anyone could blame him.
I croaked, “Green Pea, take the good Detective to my office and read him into the Bureau.”
“You think that’s wise?” Her tone told me she thought I was an idiot.
My best glare shut her up and she reluctantly led him away.
“Here you go, Kal,” Alex said, handing over a glass of water that tasted so good I closed my eyes in ecstasy.
When it was empty, I set it down and turned back to the magician. “Tell me.”
“I got your call.”
Good. “Go on.”
“I heard the shots, the caller ID told me it was you, so I had Ghost put out an alert. I only came into the picture after the fight was over,” Alex reported, speaking as if he were reading from a grocery list. “When I arrived, I did what I could to heal you, but you did the hard part by lending me the energy to get the job done. Oh, and speaking of magic, I’ve already placed an Interdiction on the Detective without him knowing, so he won’t be talking.”
“How did the Green Pea take it when she found out you’re a magician?” If only I could’ve been awake for that!
For the first time since I woke, Alex smiled. “I thought she’d have an aneurysm.”
My weak laughter quickly turned to coughing.
“Easy there, Kal. You need rest and food.” As soon as he said it, I felt the gaping emptiness inside and I wondered where the Delmonico I’d eaten earlier had gone. “After the healing was done, I raided your fridge and waited for you to wake.” He looked at the damage to the apartment. The explosion, while localized to six square feet, had pretty much trashed the place. “You’re lucky. The explosion from the gem ripped the ghoul’s arm off. It was injured pretty badly by the time the Detective showed up. Sue and Dom were next on the scene and took care of the body.”
I looked toward where the front door used to be. Someone had tacked up a blanket. “What about the neighbors?” Agent Farris told them it was a party gone wild, followed by a minor gas explosion. A weak story, but they bought it. Detective Wilkes was kind enough to shoo away the local law enforcement when they showed up. Would have been somewhat dicey if they’d seen the ghoul.”
Mention of the ghoul brought something to the surface of my mind. “Alex, that thing had three rubies embedded in it—one in each palm and one in the forehead—and it was stronger and faster than any other I’ve faced. It was as if it had been … energized or juiced by steroids. The ruby that agent McMillan gave you, can you get a read on the spell?”
“I tried, but the Shape was already gone, the spell cast,” he said sadly, shaking his head. “As for being juiced, I don’t know, I’ve never heard of anything like that. It might be possible. You said it was stronger?”
“Yeah, and faster.”
“Then whoever raised it is a lot smarter, and more capable, than we realized.”
“Oh, crap!” I yelled, trying hard to get to my feet. My legs wobbled and Alex had to hold me, but I made it upright. “We have to warn the others. There are two more ghouls out there that can be used against us. If they’re juiced, we’re in trouble.” Bureau agents had never been singled out for assassination before, but it looked like that had changed.
“Already taken care of, boss. By now they’re all back at the office safe and sound behind steel and concrete until this is over. BB is pulling strings so this never gets any press or mention anywhere and by this time tomorrow, contractors will be done fixing up this place.”
SOP for the boss. You’d be surprised how much things get covered up in the name of Public Safety. “Good, good. Thanks Alex.” I pointed to the kitchen. “I need to go there. I’m starving!”
Eventually, after three bowls of Lucky Charms, Ariel finished with Wilkes and I sent her on her way back to the Bureau where she could join the others in relative safety. Before she left, she surprised me by giving me a gentle hug.
“Boy,” she whispered. “You guys sure know how to party.” Then she was gone before I could cudgel up a smartass remark.
Another bite of the roast beef. I chewed slowly, savoring the flavor for a change instead of gulping. Wilkes finished the cream soda and opened another.
“I hope you left me one,” I grumbled.
“Nope.” He punctuated the negative with a belch.
I cocked an eyebrow. “You pissed?”
He shook his head.
“Then what?”
“I dunno. It’s my first ghoul.”
“Yeah.”
“A ghoul. Really? An undead that likes to eat people and corpses?”
“Sorta,” I said, taking another big bite. My belly was starting to press on my belt. “They like live meat … people. They’re Type Two demons who possess and animate a corpse.”
It was his turn to cock an eyebrow. “Type Two demons, really?”
“Really really. They’re malevolent spirits, forces of evil from the Pit. Most undead are really evil spirits inhabiting and reanimating corpses. Like zombies … the dead possessed by the spirits of mass murderers. They’re not much physically, but if they get near you … watch out. There are worse things out there, too. Things that would give the creators of D&D the screaming willies. The World Under isn’t a safe place.”
“Why do you call it the World Under?”
“Because The World Next sounds stupid.” The roast beef sat comfortably in my stomach next to the sugary goodness of the Lucky Charms and I felt almost human again. Better, much better, but tired to the bone.
A long pause. “So, what kind of things?” he asked.
I stared out at nothing. “Every story, every fable, has some basis in truth, a starting point where legend is born. Monsters and beings from every mythology interact with this world. Most are malevolent, but there are a few that have learned how to co-exist peacefully. The Bureau leaves them alone as long as they toe the line. However, the common citizens are so egocentric that if they were attacked by a werewolf, they’d refuse to believe it.”
“That’s pretty cynical.”
“It’s true. People want to believe, but at the same time they don’t, because if the things that go bump in the night ever became real for them, they’d go crazy trying to adjust. That’s where the Bureau comes in.”
Wilkes took a good pull of his cream soda. “Is the Bureau in every nation?”
“Most of them, but not by that name. In the U.K. it’s called MI-7, and in Germany it’s called something with a lot of hard consonants and glottal stops.”
“Heh.”
Bite bite chew. Next came the questions that had been eating at me. “Why did you come to my apartment? And how did you find me?”
He snorted. “Easy peasy, Kal. When you and that pretty little bit of an agent were in the parking lot outside of the Chop House, I made a call to Briegan to fill him in, maybe change his mind on the robbery angle of the Organ Donor case. Told him a big blond named Hakala and a pretty African-American named Finger were collaborating.”
Crap, I should have known he was the kind of cop to keep helping even if his help wasn’t wanted.
He continued, “Imagine my surprise when Briegan said, ‘he sounds like that ATF dickwad named D.P. Roberts who visited earlier.’ ”
He fetched a root beer this time, a plain old A&W instead of Tommyknockers. “Struck me as mighty odd, so I followed you.”
“Harrumph. I didn’t notice,” I said, darkly angry that I’d never spotted the tail.
“Not my first rodeo, Kal. Got all the way to your apartment, then went down the street for a Coke, came back and heard the shots … you know the rest.” He took another pull of root beer. “What does the D.P. stand for?”
“What?”
“The alias you gave Briegan, D.P. Roberts. What does the D.P. stand for?”
I tossed him a lopsided grin. “Dread Pirate.”
“’No one is afraid of the Dread Pirate Wesley,’” he quoted, stifling a smile and making a sweeping gesture with one arm. “What the hell did that to your living room?”
“A gem.”
“A gem? What kind of gem does this kinda localized damage? Looks like somebody set off a small shaped charge in here.”
I examined the blast. The ghoul had been right next to the couch when the explosion had gone off, and a good chunk of leather and foam had been ripped away. From my vantage point, there was a three-foot circle of utter destruction. If I’d been holding the gem, it would’ve torn my arm off as well as pulped my internals. “A good sized amethyst with way too much magical energy stored inside of it.” I examined bits of ghoul stuck in the wall and made a note to have Alex put a much smaller charge in the next gem I’d give him.
Wilkes made a face, clearly uncomfortable with the thought that there were more things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in his philosophy. I knew how he felt, having been in his shoes once upon a time.
“Kal?” The buzz cut through the air like a hacksaw.
Jumping to his feet and drawing that damn howitzer so fast I could barely see it, the Detective looked around for the source of that strange buzzing voice.
“Easy, Tex,” I said slowly, laying a hand on his arm and forcing his weapon down. “Put that away before you shoot me in the ass.”
He blinked. “What was that?” The pistol was holstered in one smooth motion. Meanwhile, I walked over to where I’d dropped my smart phone.
There on the floor, only partially covered in ghoul goo, lay the cell, a blinking picture of the Casper-like cartoon from Ghostbusters on the screen.
“Hiya, Ghost,” I said, picking up the cell gingerly and wiping it on what I assumed was a piece of curtain. The mess was slimy, sticky, and smelled like rotten eggs and wet ass.
“Hello, Kal. Good to see that you are all right.”
“Thanks tons.” I held the cell up. “Ghost, say hello to Detective Lieutenant Wilkes.”
Wilkes looked ready to bolt, all wide-eyed and sweaty. “Uh, hi.”
“Good evening, Detective.” Was that amusement I heard? Couldn’t be.
“Jesus, Kal,” he breathed. “A cell phone demon?”
A high-pitched squeal cut through the air and the cell vibrated so hard it almost leapt out of my hand. “Ghost! Ghost! Chill out,” I yelled over the caterwauling cell. “He has no clue! He’s new to this.” Eventually I wrestled the cell into submission and the cacophony stopped.
Wilkes had the good grace to look abashed. “Uh, sorry, dude,” he muttered.
“Ghost, he thought you might be a demon because of the ghoul.”
The buzzing voice emerged with a tone of only mild annoyance. “Tell him I am no demon, I am a benign non-corporeal entity inhabiting the electron superhighway.”
Wilkes looked puzzled. “What?”
“A ghost,” I affirmed. “He haunts cyberspace and helps the Bureau out with data acquisitions.”
“You got a spook helping you steal information? Really?”
“Crudely put,” buzzed Ghost. “But accurate.”
Wilkes stared at his A&W. “Got anything stronger?” Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Cabinet above the fridge.”
“You want one?” he asked over his shoulder.
“On duty, so no.”
“It’s eleven at night. How can you be on duty?”
I stared at the ruins of my apartment. “As long as there are things like this out there, I’m on duty.”
Without a word he rejoined me at the table sans alcohol. At my questioning look he took another drink of his root beer and belched. “If you’re on duty, so am I.”
“How do you figure?”
“Way I see it, you came here and muddied around in my investigation. You need to find this Organ Donor gal and you aren’t doing it without me.”
He had a point and I reckoned that there was very little I could do, short of drugging and kidnapping him, to keep him out of my hair. I was more than a little bit tempted to disappear him for a while, but he’d proved himself to be smart and capable, not to mention the guy who helped save my life, so in my book he qualified as One Of The Good Guys.
“Okay.” I stuck my hand out and he shook it. “You’re in for a while.” He gave it a little squeeze, which I returned with interest. Which led to him squeezing even harder, making me squeeze harder and so on.
“Got a good grip,” he gasped through clenched teeth.
I prayed that my fingers wouldn’t burst like sausages in a microwave. “You … too.”
As if by some unspoken agreement, we both let go at the same time. “Okay, Scandahoovian, riddle me this: How did you get into this chickensquat outfit?” He was shaking out his hand.
“Long story.” I winced, trying to rub some feeling back into my fingers.
The cell buzzed and hummed. “Kal joined the Bureau so he could get revenge for the death of his sister.”
“Ghost!” I yelled as my hands itched to smash the phone, anger flaring.
“Kal,” the specter said reprovingly. “If Detective Lieutenant Wilkes is going to be working with us until the current situation is resolved, then he should know what everyone in the Bureau knows. Besides, he did save your life.”
Rage reddened my vision but I clamped a lid on it and gave the matter some serious thought. My sister stood at the heart of a story that had troubled my life for the past twenty years and fed my nightmares on the darkest and most lonely nights. Iku-Turso ... the monster of my dreams, the eater of my soul.
“No one knows the whole story …”
Ghost buzzed again. “Wrong, Kal. Most of the story is in the common files in Records, but the full file, the one BB has, is quite complete, down to the last detail.”
I should have known. The Bureau was as close to all-powerful as could be in the United States. In some other countries, it was exactly that … Russia for example. “You read BB’s file on me,” I accused the cell.
“Of course. I have read the files on everyone in the Bureau. I have just finished sifting through the various databases for information on Detective Wilkes, as well.”
“The hell you say!” he exploded, glaring at the phone, his big ham hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were paper white.
“It is true,” Ghost said smugly—or as smug as an electronic buzz could sound. “Percy Girard Wilkes, born 1975 in Boulder, Colorado, the only child of Jeremy and Shannon Wilkes. Both parents dead, the mother by ovarian cancer, and the father during a bank robbery in Colorado Springs. No attachments, no lovers, just a series of one-night stands and an impressive movie collection dominated by Humphrey Bogart, John Wayne, and Peter O’Toole. Favorite books: anything by John Sanford. Favorite ice cream: Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food. Favorite music ….”
“Enough,” Wilkes said, sounding more tired than I felt. “I get it. You are the information genie.”
I couldn’t contain myself. “Percy Girard? Really? You gotta be kidding me.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Kalevi.”
“Hey, Kalevi is a perfectly normal and common Finnish name.”
“Guess which country you’re in now, Kalevi.”
Leaning back, I looked him square in the eye. “Hey, I know it’s unusual in the U.S., but Percy Girard is unusual everywhere.” For the first time in I don’t know how long I gave vent to an honest-to-goodness belly laugh, my anger at Ghost evaporating.
A minute or two later the humor finally worked its way through my system. I had to give him credit—he let me have my moment and waited patiently for what he wanted, what he felt he needed to hear.
Heart in my throat, I whispered, “I’ve never told this story to anyone, so you’ll have to forgive me if I make a hash of it.”
In my hand the cell vibrated. “Alex tells me that talking about something painful can help.”
“Not always, Ghost. Not always.”