ignoring everyone else. She seemed flattered and a little flustered at the attention, but she didn't shy away. A few beers later, I told Billy that we should get going, early morning and all.
As we were crossing the street toward the car, Billy stopped abruptly. Our teenage demon-befriending killer was leaning against my driver's side door.
Calvin nodded lightly in our direction, looking a little frightened and unsure of himself. Billy began walking again at a leisurely pace. Her body language, which was normally guarded, was now relaxed and non-threatening.
I started to walk too, but then I heard Mike call out my name. I turned to find him outside the bar, walking towards me.
“Hey.” He tossed his head toward Billy and my car. “Who's that?”
“I don't know,” I lied, “but Billy seems to know him. What's up?”
“Uh, well, I wanted to get her phone number…to ask her out.” Mike was suddenly shy, very unlike him—clearly Billy had made an unusual impression. I gave him her number, said goodbye again, and walked over to the car where Billy and Calvin were in quiet conversation.
Billy introduced us in a tone I'd never heard her use…soft, almost nurturing. I wasn't sure what she was playing at; this kid was a killer, with his own personal demon in his arsenal. I looked around. No musketeer in sight…that was good.
I nodded my acknowledgment. The kid had a black eye and a bruised cheek; someone had thrown a couple of solid punches at him. He was pale and shaking lightly. It wasn't cold out, but he could have been hungry—who knew where he'd been or what he'd been living on for the last two days. I didn't sense any animosity in him either; if anything, he just looked nervous and a little scared. After another moment, I said, “You hungry? Why don't we get something to eat?”
Calvin looked nervously at Billy and she nodded. Using that soft tone that seemed so alien coming from her, she said, “Come on, you can ride in front. I'll take the back seat.” She led him over to the passenger side while I unlocked the car, and once he was seated in the front, she moved to the back. I looked over my shoulder at her and she nodded her head slightly.
I drove over to Lombard Street looking for an open diner and spotted the 24-hour IHOP. My passengers nodded in silent acknowledgment when I asked if it was suitable. Once inside and seated, Calvin said he needed the bathroom and left the table. I gave Billy a questioning look.
“He said GG directed him to us. He's scared and he wants our help.”
I smiled lightly. She'd found him…that was good, and perhaps it also meant she could help us find the demonic musketeer too. Maybe even Edgar, if we were really lucky.
“That's good, but how?” I asked. Some ghosts can and will communicate with us, but it's not verbal, so how did he get specific instructions from GG?
She said, “He didn't say…we can ask him later.”
I intended to do just that. I didn't like the idea that he'd found us when we didn't even know we were going to be at the bar in the first place.
Calvin returned a few minutes later, having washed his face and hands and run water through his hair, giving it a semi-combed look. His nervousness hadn't subsided much, but that didn't seem to affect his appetite. When the waiter arrived he ordered the Big Steak Omelet with a side of blueberry pancakes and an English muffin. Billy and I ordered more modest dishes of bacon, eggs, and toast.
After the waiter left, Calvin laid his hands on the table and began to pick at his fingers. Despite his recent attempt to clean up, the nails were black with dirt, and the cuticles and surrounding tissue were ragged and red with irritation. He worked at his fingers with a fidgety tension that cemented my earlier impression of a scared and nervous kid.
“Calvin, what happened in Marin? Why were you there?” Billy asked gently.
“To find you,” he said quietly.
“Why were you looking for us?” she
As we were crossing the street toward the car, Billy stopped abruptly. Our teenage demon-befriending killer was leaning against my driver's side door.
Calvin nodded lightly in our direction, looking a little frightened and unsure of himself. Billy began walking again at a leisurely pace. Her body language, which was normally guarded, was now relaxed and non-threatening.
I started to walk too, but then I heard Mike call out my name. I turned to find him outside the bar, walking towards me.
“Hey.” He tossed his head toward Billy and my car. “Who's that?”
“I don't know,” I lied, “but Billy seems to know him. What's up?”
“Uh, well, I wanted to get her phone number…to ask her out.” Mike was suddenly shy, very unlike him—clearly Billy had made an unusual impression. I gave him her number, said goodbye again, and walked over to the car where Billy and Calvin were in quiet conversation.
Billy introduced us in a tone I'd never heard her use…soft, almost nurturing. I wasn't sure what she was playing at; this kid was a killer, with his own personal demon in his arsenal. I looked around. No musketeer in sight…that was good.
I nodded my acknowledgment. The kid had a black eye and a bruised cheek; someone had thrown a couple of solid punches at him. He was pale and shaking lightly. It wasn't cold out, but he could have been hungry—who knew where he'd been or what he'd been living on for the last two days. I didn't sense any animosity in him either; if anything, he just looked nervous and a little scared. After another moment, I said, “You hungry? Why don't we get something to eat?”
Calvin looked nervously at Billy and she nodded. Using that soft tone that seemed so alien coming from her, she said, “Come on, you can ride in front. I'll take the back seat.” She led him over to the passenger side while I unlocked the car, and once he was seated in the front, she moved to the back. I looked over my shoulder at her and she nodded her head slightly.
I drove over to Lombard Street looking for an open diner and spotted the 24-hour IHOP. My passengers nodded in silent acknowledgment when I asked if it was suitable. Once inside and seated, Calvin said he needed the bathroom and left the table. I gave Billy a questioning look.
“He said GG directed him to us. He's scared and he wants our help.”
I smiled lightly. She'd found him…that was good, and perhaps it also meant she could help us find the demonic musketeer too. Maybe even Edgar, if we were really lucky.
“That's good, but how?” I asked. Some ghosts can and will communicate with us, but it's not verbal, so how did he get specific instructions from GG?
She said, “He didn't say…we can ask him later.”
I intended to do just that. I didn't like the idea that he'd found us when we didn't even know we were going to be at the bar in the first place.
Calvin returned a few minutes later, having washed his face and hands and run water through his hair, giving it a semi-combed look. His nervousness hadn't subsided much, but that didn't seem to affect his appetite. When the waiter arrived he ordered the Big Steak Omelet with a side of blueberry pancakes and an English muffin. Billy and I ordered more modest dishes of bacon, eggs, and toast.
After the waiter left, Calvin laid his hands on the table and began to pick at his fingers. Despite his recent attempt to clean up, the nails were black with dirt, and the cuticles and surrounding tissue were ragged and red with irritation. He worked at his fingers with a fidgety tension that cemented my earlier impression of a scared and nervous kid.
“Calvin, what happened in Marin? Why were you there?” Billy asked gently.
“To find you,” he said quietly.
“Why were you looking for us?” she
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