not tried, she cannot fail. For the target to fail, her essence must turn red.â
âHmm,â growled Belch, absently scratching behind his ear.
âWhat you must do is foil their plans. Whatever McCall asks Finn to do, you must see to it that she fails.â
Belch nodded. Made sense. In a Spockish sort of a way.
âRight. Letâs check out the apartment then, see if we canât throw a wrench in the works.â
Elph frowned. âI am not equipped with hardware implements.â
âNot a real wrench, cartoon-head! A pretend oneâyou know, like âstrong as a horse,â except youâre not really a horse.â
The megabyte sprite bobbed along beside him. âAh yes, Belch- san . I see. You speak metaphorically. A metaphors file was not included in my memory.
The honored Myishi did not feel it relevant to our mission.â
Belch snarled. âThe honored Myishi can take his file and . . .â
Before he could finish his highly graphic and uncomplimentary sentence, Belchâs brain spasmed with a jolt of fiery pain. Not an actual brain obviouslyâthat was lying moldering in a cheap pine box. But spiritual pain is every bit as excruciating as the physical kind.
After several moments Belchâs ears stopped ringing. Elph was regarding him coolly.
âDisrespecting the Great One activates punitive feedback. It is not wise.â
âWoof,â grunted Belch. âI mean, really.â
âThere is no need to revert to English,â commented Elph. âI am fluent in fourteen canine dialects, including the limited vocabulary of the pit bull breed.â
Belch grunted. âLetâs get on with this, then. The old manâs apartment is just around the corner.â
â Hai , Belch- san .â
They proceeded through the courtyard. Belch upending trash cans, benches, and even small cars, generally overdoing the poltergeist thing. Elph hovered at his shoulder, shaking his flickering head, and looking very disapproving, for a hologram.
NORA HAD APPARENTLY DRUNK THE CAR, SO THEY HAD to make the trip to Dublin by train. Being a senior citizen, Lowrie only had a pass for the second class, and so had to hold conversations with an invisible spirit while everybody watched.
âWhatâs this trip about, McCall?â
Lowrie came back from whatever dream he was dreaming. âHmm?â
âKissy Sissy. The first thing on the Wish List. What does that mean.â
The old man fired her a crabby glare. âWhat it says. Thereâs a woman called Sissy, I have to kiss her.â
âYes. But why?â
âNever mind why. You just do what you were sent to do.â
Meg frowned, levitating six inches off the seat. âIâm trying to help, you know. A bit of manners wouldnât kill you.
âManners, is it?â snorted Lowrie. âWhat sort of manners would that be, now? The sort where you break into someoneâs house and cripple them for life? Or the sort where you play a cruel and malicious trick on your stepfather?â
Meg felt herself fuming at the mere reference to Franco. âWho told you about that?â
âThe man himself.â
âYou met Franco?â
Lowrie shifted on his seat. âHe came around to apologize after the . . . accident.â
Meg could feel her molecules vibrating. Even in the afterlife, that man could drive her demented in one second flat.
Lowrie drove the nail home. âThe poor chap. And to think, I thought I was badly off.â
Meg couldnât believe her ears. âHe had you feeling sorry for him?â
âAfter what you did?â
âHe deserved it!â hissed Meg. âHe deserved it, and more!â
âI dunno,â sniffed Lowrie, âif anyone deserves that. That was . . .â
âJustice,â announced Meg. âIt was justice. That creep sold my mamâs jewelry. Sold her charm bracelet that we used to add to every year. And he
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