Urban Shaman

“Interfering with a police investigation.”

“Have I interfered?”

“You’ve wasted my time and that of one of my officers for the past seven hours by keeping us here at this hospital.”

My eyebrows crawled up my forehead. “I’ve been asleep for the last five hours. How’d I keep you here? Hell, Morrison, you didn’t even know I was here when you showed up. You can’t blame me for you still being here.”

“You affected a principal witness in the case, Walker.”

“‘Affected.’” I stared at him. “How’s she doing, anyway?”

“The doctors can’t even find any scar tissue. What the hell did you do?”

“I healed her and Richard the Second of England through a psychic link with a Celtic demigod drawn out of her memory of the murders this morning,” I said flippantly, knowing Morrison wouldn’t believe it, even if it was God’s own truth. Or possibly because it was God’s own truth. His hand bunched into a fist and loosened again. I almost wished he’d hit me. A good old-fashioned hands-on ass-kicking might do me some good right now. I didn’t even much care whose ass got kicked.

“I always liked you, Walker,” Morrison said out of the blue. My jaw dropped.

“You did not.”

Morrison snorted, a sort of laugh, and admitted, “No. But you always seemed to have a head on your shoulders. No tact, but a head on your shoulders. But now you’re talking like Holliday. What the hell happened to you?”

I felt old and tired suddenly. “I’d love to sit down over coffee and tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me. It’s been a rough couple days, Morrison. I think something bad is going to happen tomorrow night and I have to find out what and stop it.”

“I have to, dammit! It’s not your—”

“My job,” I agreed wearily. “I know. It’s your job. I just don’t think you can find what’s doing this, Morrison. I’m not sure I can, and they’re talking to me.”

“Who are?”

“The old gods.” I half laughed. “Dead people. This is not what I signed up for, dammit!”

“What did you sign up for?”

“Living another day, I guess. I didn’t know it was going to get so complicated.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, squinching my eyes closed. The contacts finally loosened up a bit and I could feel moisture in my eyes again. “Morrison, are you gonna charge me with anything, or can I go home now?”

“Are you going to go home?” He sounded like a belligerent bull.

“Yes,” I promised.

“Are you going to stay there?”

“What are you, my mother? Tell you what. I’ll stay home for the rest of my life if every two weeks you’ll cut me a paycheck I can live on.” I stepped forward to see if it would make Morrison move out of the doorway. It did. I was very impressed with myself. “I’m going home, Morrison. Good night.” Gary followed right on my heels, like an oversized protective shadow. I was halfway down the hall when Morrison’s voice followed me.

“Walker.”

I turned around reluctantly. Morrison frowned down the hall at me. “Stay home. This guy’s dangerous.”

“You’re making me all sentimental, Morrison. Knock it off before I get weepy.” I got all the way to the gate and out it this time.

“I think he likes you,” Gary said as the gate clanged shut. I laughed, a sharp bark of sound.

“Morrison wouldn’t like me if I were kind enough to never darken his doorstep again. He’d find me easier to tolerate, that’s all.”

“He likes you,” Gary said again, with an air of certainty. “He’s just afraid of you.” He slowed and let me go through the open half of a double door in front of him, while I glared over my shoulder at him.

“Afraid of me? Why would he be afraid of me? I’m not scary. You’re not scared of me.”

Gary pursed his lips. I stopped and looked at him, arms folded, waiting.

“You’ve done some scary things since I met you,” he volunteered after a moment. I snorted.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t start rising from the dead until after I met you. Maybe you have that effect on people. There’s no reason for you or anybody, especially Morrison, to be scared of me. He’s hated me for ages, anyway. He’s not afraid of me.” Scowling, I started back down the hallway. “Where are you parked, anyway?”

“Visitor parking. Gotta leave through the main lobby. You don’t gotta get so huffy, Jo. There’s lots of work for scary people. Body-guarding, for example.”

“Bodyguards look like professional wrestlers.” I eyed Gary. “Don’t you dare say I do.”

Gary held up his hands and wisely didn’t say a thing. I waited, then nodded, satisfied. “Okay. Can I go home now?”

Gary not only brought me back to my car, but followed me home afterward. I couldn’t decide if he was overprotective by nature, or if he was one of those strays that moves in and takes over your life. I made coffee and logged on to the computer. There were three more spams, something from one of the online political organizations I belonged to, and a note from Kevin Sadler saying, It was nice to meet you. Adina would want me to help you learn anything you can. If I can even be a sounding board Jot you, let me know.

“He likes you,” Gary said cheerfully.

“Please. His wife was just murdered. I don’t think he’s hitting on me. And I don’t need you setting me up with every guy I come across, jeez.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Gary, I’m sure.” I frowned at him, then at the screen and hit Reply. Thanks, Kevin. I appreciate the offer. Some bizarre stuff happened today. Want to get together for lunch and hear about it? I can probably spare an hour tomorrow.— Joanne.

“What am I?” Gary demanded. “Chopped liver?”

I grunted and sent the message, then fidgeted impatiently for several minutes, hoping for a reply. “It’s eleven at night,” Gary finally said. “He’s probably in bed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I yawned myself, eyes tearing, which reminded me to go take my contacts out. I came back into the living room wearing my glasses and still yawning. “I hate not being able to see.”

“Least you’ve had time to get used to it,” Gary said. “I hit about fifty-five and all of a sudden my arms were too short to read.”

“Maybe you should stop writing on your arms.” I grinned at his expression. “You did okay with my magazines and the computer screen.”

“Takes a while for a headache to set in,” Gary said. “How long’ve you worn glasses?”

“Since I was nine. You want to know the horrible thing? I felt like it was a big secret, that I couldn’t see, and I figured everybody’d point and stare when I came to school with glasses. Nobody even noticed. I’d spent all that time psyching myself up for the trauma of being teased. The trauma of not being noticed was worse.”

“Kids are self-centered.”

“Humans are self-centered,” I corrected. “Don’t let kids have all the credit.”

“How’d you get to be so cynical so young?”

I snorted. “I’ll introduce you to my dad sometime.”

“That would be interesting,” Gary said so neutrally I thought I should be offended. I frowned at him for a minute while he maintained the careful neutrality. I finally looked away.

“Don’t you have to be at work in five hours?”

Gary looked at his watch. “Six and a half. I’ll be fine.”

I grinned. “What makes you think I’m worried about you? I’m worried about your passengers. You’re terrifying to ride with even when you’re awake.”

“Hey, you’re alive, aren’t you?”

“No thanks to you,” I said happily, and Gary laughed.