now.
“I think he’s . . . like me,” I say.
Both Riley and Dro look at me. I suppose they’re startled because I don’t usually talk about what I am, and it obviously bugs me that something so hideous could share a title with me. But fuck it. It’s going to be said; I might as well say it. Plus I’m five shots deep and well past giving a damn what anyone thinks. Put it on the table. “Put it on the table!” I say, slamming a hand on the bar. Quiñones takes it for a sign that I want another round, and I decide not to disabuse him of the notion.
“What do you make of it?” Riley asks. He’s humbled, our glorious leader. He’s asking me as an equal. The tragedy seems to have leveled us all out some.
I shake my head and then stop. A few seconds later the room stops too. “I don’t . . . know. I hate it. Two months ago I met the first person who was like me and I killed him. Now perhaps I’ve met another, and he’s a sick fuck who murdered a soulcatcher and a nice Jewish man in front of my eyes.” And that’s not even to mention the one I can’t stop thinking about. “I’m not very happy right now.”
“Understandable,” Riley says. I clink my glass against theirs and drink.
“Hey,” a voice behind me says. It’s a soulcatcher, unbelievably smashed and wobbling a few inches from the back of my head.
“Can I help you?”
“One’a yer fuckin’ people took out one’a our fucking people tonight. You know that, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“I said . . .”
“Angus,” Riley says, stepping between us. “You’re out of line. Back up.”
Angus considers for a moment. Riley is definitely his superior and able to make his life irretrievably miserable. On the other hand, we’re all drunk, and Angus saw his buddy get murked and wants to take out his anger somewhere.
Apparently, the big stupid half of his brain wins, because then he slurs: “I oughta fuck you up on general printhipal. We all oughta.” The line is obviously designed to elicit some kind of rowdy response from the other guys, but only a few people nod and go “yeah.” Most of them know me pretty well and aren’t anxious to vex Riley on an already tense night.
“Tough talk from a guy who’s one letter away from being an asshole,” I say.
Angus has to pause and think about this for a second, and this is the second in which I would cut off his idiocy with a quick uppercut and then level him with a jab to the face. Instead I stand there, waiting for him to subtract the g from his own name while everyone around us chuckles.
I’m in no mood to fight, not after what I’ve seen. And I don’t need any more side-eyes coming my way. Finally, he either gets it or pretends to and growls at me. “You’re gonna get some of your own medicine, halfie!”
I don’t even think he knows what he means by that, but it doesn’t matter; he starts swirling his arms around like he’s about to try to jujitsu me. Then Riley’s there, between us again. His thick hands catch Angus by each wrist and pull, hard. Angus buckles forward, gasping. “What’d I do?” he moans, suddenly the victim.
“I said back off,” Riley growls. “Which means you back the fuck off.” He pulls Angus forward to get him off balance and then shoves him hard, and the soulcatcher flies backward into the crowd and disappears.
“You all right, bro?”
I laugh. “I’m not the one you just tossed, Riley. I’m cool.” We drink another round in silence. Around us, ghosts seek solace from trauma in the sudden camaraderie of the damned.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I am.
My feet propel me forward, ignoring all my mind’s mumbling protests. I sweep through the rainy streets, leaning hard on my now-bladeless cane. Brooklyn becomes a blur of bodegas and dark houses. I’m navigating through my drunken haze and the steady drizzle, a crazed geographer, mad with memories—this intersection where I cut down a lovelorn haint who wouldn’t let his ex alone, and that corner where I tracked down a nest of infant spirits who’d died in a building collapse decades ago. The memories of ghosts become ghosts in their own right. They follow me along through the misty twilight, crowd in on my drunkenness in a rowdy throng.
I know I shouldn’t