you need it. You really need it. Anything without it-food, sex, whateveris tasteless and sensationless, or worse, actually revolting."
Maseryk sighed and sank back into his chair. "So it quickly becomes addictive?"
"Horribly addictive. You can confirm this with a girl at Chickadee's named Lori. She's easy to spot. She's got a blue mouth from taking this shit. Apparently she's been one of Quincey's human guinea pigs, so she's been at it longer than most."
"How long before this addiction takes root?"
Brennan shrugged. " I don't know. A few weeks, maybe."
"Well, this is valuable news. Makes what I have to do more difficult."
Maseryk locked eyes with Brennan, who returned the stare with a frown. "What's that, Maseryk?"
The cop sighed and shook his head. "You couldn't leave things well enough alone. You couldn't stay retired, could you? You had to come back and play vigilante again."
Brennan had a sudden, sharp inspiration. "Ackroyd told you that I'm Yeoman."
Maseryk nodded. "I should have guessed after our first conversation. I suppose I halfway did, but I didn't want to think it through. Then that damned PI rubbed our noses in it. Now we have to take you in."
"No, you don't," Brennan said quietly.
"It's my job," Maseryk said. "I'm sure you can appreciate that."
Brennan nodded. "I appreciate the fact that you have duties. I hope you realize that I do, too."
Maseryk stood up straight, away from the door. "Let's not get into that," he said.
Jennifer ghosted out of the wall next to Maseryk, quiet as smoke, and put the barrel of a suddenly solid pistol against his head. Maseryk froze and stared at her from the corner of his eye.
"The accomplice?" he asked, his hands held out from his sides.
Brennan got up from the sofa. "I learned the value of backup in Nam," he told Maseryk. "It's something I haven't forgotten." He walked by the cop and opened the door.
"We'll be looking for you now," Maseryk told him. "Your time would be better spent finding Chrysalis's killer and stopping the rapture trade," Brennan said as he went out the door.
As the door slammed behind him, Maseryk whirled, grabbing the barrel of the gun. Wraith surrendered it with a laugh. He tried to grab her, too, but she was already smoke, drifting through the wall on an unseen, unfelt wind.
Friday July 22, 1988
6:00 A.M.
Brennan was already awake and sitting in the chair by the bed when Jennifer turned and, finding him gone, woke up. She yawned and mumbled something sleepily.
"Good morning," Brennan said, leaning over and kissing her on her forehead as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Is it morning?"
"Just about."
"Need a shower," Jennifer said, sitting up, still halfwrapped in the twisted sheet. "Care to join me?"
"Sure." Brennan still felt tired, too, and already sticky with sweat despite the earliness of the hour. "Go ahead. I have to make a quick phone call."
"All right." She stood and shed the sheet. "If you hurry, I'll soap your favorite parts."
Brennan smiled, reached for the phone, and dialed a number given him by a cat as Jennifer walked naked to the bathroom.
The phone rang three times before it was picked up and an annoyed voice said, "Yes."
"This is Yeoman."
"Christ, do you know what time it is?"
"It's early," Brennan said, cutting through Fadeout's grumbling. "You said you'd help, and I need some information."
"All right, all right." Fadeout was obviously still annoyed, but asked grumpily, "What is it?"
"Do you know anything about a joker cop named Kant."
"Oh, him. Wyrm 's evil twin."
"What?"
"Nothing. A joke. They both look like they escaped from the reptile house. What do you want to know about him?"
"Is he honest?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly say honest. He used to be one of E X. Black's boys. He did a little extracurricular arm twisting, but nothing really serious until lately. He's taken up with some foreign whore and been seen sampling the lessthan-legal delights at some of the kinkier nightclubs. Rumor has it he's been supplying her with drugs."
"Is this woman's name Ezili Rouge?"
"Something like that," Fadeout said. "What do you know about her?"
"Not much. Black, but light-skinned. Likes drugs. Likes men. Kant's not the only one on her string."
"Do you have an address?"
"No. Look around. She's hard to miss."
"I have."
"Well," Fadeout said, "I'm sorry I can't help. Tell you what, give me her phone number when you get it. I'd like to check her out myself."
"Sure. Do you have anything else for me?"
"I turned up something on that Morkle guy through our union connections. He's a longshoreman, a heavy-equipment