guessed it didn’t. No—I’d watched the man who killed him die, and it didn’t help
me at all.
I was about to ask him more about T.J.—where had he come from, what other family did he have, why didn’t he want to be found?
But Peter, his gaze down, pushed away from the table. I wanted to hear everything, but I’d had a year to live with T.J.’s
death. Peter had just learned about it. He wasn’t ready.
“This is crazy,” he said. “I’ll find out what happened. What really happened.”
His long strides carried him to the front door in moments. I let him go. What else could I do?
I stayed put to finish my soda, but I was having trouble getting even that past the lump in my throat. I covered my eyes with
a hand when the tears started.
“Hey, you okay?”
Through a gap in my fingers I saw Shaun standing next to me.
“Headache,” I muttered.
By his smirk I could tell he wasn’t convinced. I scrubbed my already reddened face and looked at him full on. “That guy who
was just here?”
“Yeah? Hey, if he hurt you I’ll—”
Aw, wasn’t that sweet? “No. Apparently, T.J. has a younger brother. That was him.”
“Oh. Oh, shit.” He sank into the chair opposite me.
“Yeah.” I smiled stiffly. Shaun had known T.J., too.
An unplanned moment of silence, of grief, followed.
Shaun said, “What did he want?”
I sighed. “To find his brother. I told him he couldn’t. The guy has a right to be upset.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not a lot I can do. But if he stops by again, be nice to him.”
Chapter 5
I had a lot to put out of my mind before the show on Friday. T.J.’s brother haunted me—like T.J. I tried to imagine his story,
to make up the background that built their lives. What made T.J. leave his family, disappearing so utterly that his brother
had to turn detective to find him? What drove Peter to go through the trouble? The stories I came up with were all unhappy,
and it made me unhappy to think of it. T.J. had always been so levelheaded. I couldn’t imagine him in that kind of life. I
didn’t want to. I wanted to let him rest, to preserve the memories I did have.
The Band of Tiamat’s recent attack was at the front of my mind, aggravating because of how little I could do about it. All
I knew: They had sent something against me, and it involved fire. And maybe a vampire conspiracy, if Rick was right. I had
to hope Rick or Grant found something out. Or wait until it struck again and we learned more about it.
I thought about calling Gary and canceling the Friday gig with the
Paradox PI
team. Maybe the house was really haunted, maybe it wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I could deal with another confrontation with supernatural
weirdness, in either case. But as cliché as it sounded, staying home and cowering would have felt like losing ground. Would
have admitted that whatever attacked us had gotten to me. I didn’t want to do that.
If we ignored it, would it go away? Despite what my mother told me about my big sister’s teasing, that never worked. But I
hadn’t yet let the scariness in my life interfere with the show. In fact, I sometimes thought having the show to focus on
saved my sanity. I needed my sanity right now.
Ben insisted on coming with me to meet the Paradox crew. I didn’t even have to ask. Safety in numbers. We could watch each
other’s backs.
I did a little research about Flint House on my own before heading out on Friday night. The death of the investigator hadn’t
made it into major news outlets, so it took some digging into publicly released police reports to discover anything about
it. A short investigation determined that the death was accidental—he’d fallen down the stairs. That sort of thing didn’t
draw any attention or raise any eyebrows, but the paranormal community jumped on the story and ran with it.
The usual background applied: The house was a hundred twenty years old, a stately Victorian, built by a
me at all.
I was about to ask him more about T.J.—where had he come from, what other family did he have, why didn’t he want to be found?
But Peter, his gaze down, pushed away from the table. I wanted to hear everything, but I’d had a year to live with T.J.’s
death. Peter had just learned about it. He wasn’t ready.
“This is crazy,” he said. “I’ll find out what happened. What really happened.”
His long strides carried him to the front door in moments. I let him go. What else could I do?
I stayed put to finish my soda, but I was having trouble getting even that past the lump in my throat. I covered my eyes with
a hand when the tears started.
“Hey, you okay?”
Through a gap in my fingers I saw Shaun standing next to me.
“Headache,” I muttered.
By his smirk I could tell he wasn’t convinced. I scrubbed my already reddened face and looked at him full on. “That guy who
was just here?”
“Yeah? Hey, if he hurt you I’ll—”
Aw, wasn’t that sweet? “No. Apparently, T.J. has a younger brother. That was him.”
“Oh. Oh, shit.” He sank into the chair opposite me.
“Yeah.” I smiled stiffly. Shaun had known T.J., too.
An unplanned moment of silence, of grief, followed.
Shaun said, “What did he want?”
I sighed. “To find his brother. I told him he couldn’t. The guy has a right to be upset.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not a lot I can do. But if he stops by again, be nice to him.”
Chapter 5
I had a lot to put out of my mind before the show on Friday. T.J.’s brother haunted me—like T.J. I tried to imagine his story,
to make up the background that built their lives. What made T.J. leave his family, disappearing so utterly that his brother
had to turn detective to find him? What drove Peter to go through the trouble? The stories I came up with were all unhappy,
and it made me unhappy to think of it. T.J. had always been so levelheaded. I couldn’t imagine him in that kind of life. I
didn’t want to. I wanted to let him rest, to preserve the memories I did have.
The Band of Tiamat’s recent attack was at the front of my mind, aggravating because of how little I could do about it. All
I knew: They had sent something against me, and it involved fire. And maybe a vampire conspiracy, if Rick was right. I had
to hope Rick or Grant found something out. Or wait until it struck again and we learned more about it.
I thought about calling Gary and canceling the Friday gig with the
Paradox PI
team. Maybe the house was really haunted, maybe it wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I could deal with another confrontation with supernatural
weirdness, in either case. But as cliché as it sounded, staying home and cowering would have felt like losing ground. Would
have admitted that whatever attacked us had gotten to me. I didn’t want to do that.
If we ignored it, would it go away? Despite what my mother told me about my big sister’s teasing, that never worked. But I
hadn’t yet let the scariness in my life interfere with the show. In fact, I sometimes thought having the show to focus on
saved my sanity. I needed my sanity right now.
Ben insisted on coming with me to meet the Paradox crew. I didn’t even have to ask. Safety in numbers. We could watch each
other’s backs.
I did a little research about Flint House on my own before heading out on Friday night. The death of the investigator hadn’t
made it into major news outlets, so it took some digging into publicly released police reports to discover anything about
it. A short investigation determined that the death was accidental—he’d fallen down the stairs. That sort of thing didn’t
draw any attention or raise any eyebrows, but the paranormal community jumped on the story and ran with it.
The usual background applied: The house was a hundred twenty years old, a stately Victorian, built by a
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