Vicious Circle

I swore aloud, and Nicky nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, it’s a peach, isn’t it? Only that’s not the part that made me prick up my ears. Get this: it’s a suit for custody. Plaintiff alleged that defendant was unfit to be a parent, and asked the court to award him guardianship rights over . . . well, you can see this coming, so there’s no point drawing it out.”

There was a roaring in my ears: I couldn’t tell how much of it was the fever, how much the adrenaline surge as my mind raced ahead to where Nicky was going.

“A little girl named Abigail?” I hazarded, my voice sounding hollow and fuzzy in my own ears.

“Got it in one. Abigail Fanke, she’s called at this particular juncture.”

“She’s Peace’s daughter.”

“Well, he thinks she is. And the court records agree, as far as that goes, because surname notwithstanding there’s a birth certificate on record for her in Burkina Faso, thirteenth of March 1993. Mother: Melanie Carla Jeffers. Father: Dennis Peace.”

“That’s not long after he got out of prison,” I said.

“Good to know you’re listening. Yeah, it is. And armed with that little titbit, I went back to the court records. Which was a bastard, because I don’t need to tell you they were all fucking handwritten. I had to call in a favor or three, but I got there in the end. Melanie whatever-her-name-is bailed Peace out of jail, and presumably spread those bribes around. Makes more sense, I guess. Like I said before, if he had the money himself he could have bought off the judge before he was sentenced, for about half the price. But maybe he didn’t have any money. Maybe he needed an angel.”

“An angel. Right.”

“Then they have a night of passionate celebration, and nine months later little Abbie is born. Makes sense, kind of. And now he’s on the run with her—alive or dead, we don’t officially know.”

“I know.”

“Sure you do. Only what you didn’t know was that he stopped to murder her mother and the mother’s current boyfriend along the way. And that someone wants him badly enough to make up all this bullshit and get you on board.”

I shook my head, which was aching so badly now it felt like it might fall off. Nicky was affronted. “What, did I hurt your professional pride?”

“No. But you said they wanted Peace. It’s not Peace who’s the point of this, Nicky—it’s Abbie.”

“Well from his point of view it’s Abbie, obviously. I mean, it looks like he killed two people to get hold of her. But the guys who are looking for him—”

“If they’re looking for Peace, why not hire a proper detective? Why come to me?”

Nicky opened his mouth to speak, blinked, shut it again.

“You see? There’s a whole lot of people out there who could do a better job of tracking down a man who doesn’t want to be found. But finding him wouldn’t necessarily mean finding Abbie. No, to find a ghost, you need an exorcist. And that’s what they went out to get.”

I stood up, a little unsteadily.

“Are you drunk?” Nicky asked, with the scorn of the teetotaler.

“No. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Doesn’t surprise me a bit, the shit you pour into yourself. Your body may not be a temple, Castor, but it sure as hell isn’t a skip. Take it from me, if you want to live to be old, you’ll—”

“Save it up and mail it, Nicky. I’m not in the mood. You serious about that cab?”

“Dead serious.”

“To coin a phrase.”

“Funny.”

“Whatever. Thanks for your help. The fare’s on me.”

I dropped a couple of tenners onto the table and lurched toward the door. I must have looked right then like one of The Level’s zombie customers: I sure as hell felt like one.

Approaching Matt’s car from the wrong direction, I was able to see firsthand what a mess the Catholic werewolves had made of the near-side wing. I felt bad about that; it seemed like a poor exchange for his trust. He might even have trouble with his insurance, given that I wasn’t a named driver. The only consolation was that—to the religious mind—adversity is good for the soul.

I got in and drove, trying to focus on the road ahead as dark filaments swam across my vision. Whatever was wrong with me, it seemed to be getting worse rather than better. On the other hand, it had been a hell of a night. I didn’t need to look all that far to find reasons why I might be functioning at less than a hundred percent.