“No, but she likes to peel the scales off. Don’t ask me why—Donny says it has something to do with sensory memory—but it makes her happy, so we bring her fish when we can.”
On our way back to the house, DJ sets the unwrapped fish on a bed of leaves next to the gate. I scan the woods, expecting to see something glowing between the trees, but there’s nothing.
I’m up at 6 AM the next morning, and my body doesn’t feel like it’s been run over by a car anymore. Not even by Rosie’s Barbie car. It was always light enough, even with her driving it, that getting run over by it never hurt that badly.
I don’t take the lack of pain for granted. I’m dancing to the song in my headphones as I take Bob outside.
I bounce on my toes to keep myself warm as he does his business on the grass. Once we’re back inside, he hobblesaround, inspecting the kitchen baseboards while I make coffee. I pour myself a cup, wrapping both hands around it because the kitchen is cold enough to numb my fingers. I hear movement in the hall, and I peer out to see Donny’s office door open.
I should probably wait to bother him until seven like he said, but he might want coffee. Hedoesalready have a machine in his office, but it feels rude not to ask.
“Donny?” I poke my head in, pulling my headphones around my neck. “I made coffee if you want some.”
He takes me up on it, and I pour him a cup, carrying it down the hallway and being careful not to spill. He takes the mug with both hands, his weathered fingers curling around it like he’s as grateful for the warmth as I was.
I pull the forms from my hoodie pocket, the paper crinkled from being shoved in there. “I know I’m early, but I have those forms you wanted me to sign.”
Donny unfolds them, smoothing out the creases. He scans each page, occasionally adjusting his glasses.
“Just to be clear,” I say, “I’m not accidentally selling you my kidney or firstborn child, right?”
His mouth quirks. “I’d strongly encourage you to read through these before signing.”
“I did read them. I mean, I tried to—I’m not good with legal stuff. It kind of turns into word soup.”
Donny slips his glasses off and rubs his thumb against the bridge of his nose, lingering there. “It’s important you understand what you’re agreeing to. Take a seat.”
He explains each form with this careful patience. Donny makes sure I know what happens if I get hurt in the field (there’s insurance), what my responsibilities are (basically: don’t die and follow protocols), and what happens if I want to leave (I can, anytime, no questions asked). By the time we finish, a gentle glow has settled behind my ribs, as if someone has lit a candle inside me.
“Thank you,” I say, and mean it.
He sets the papers aside, then just… sits there. The silence grows more uncomfortable until I’m fighting the urge to just say the first thing that comes to my mind to fill it. Bob walks through the door on his cast, his cone of bravery tilted at an angle that makes him look drunk. Come to think of it, I should probably ask about him.
“Can Bob roam the house?” I ask. “Or do you want him to stay in my room?”
“This is his home now, too,” Donny says. “He’s welcome anywhere you are.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” Donny says. “I wouldn’t dream of confining such a valiant protector to one room.”
Bob will have to be confined to my room for some of the time in the next few weeks while his leg recovers, but it’s a relief that he can roam freely once he feels up for it. I gesture at his newspaper. “Are you scouting for cases?”
Donny blinks, like he’s coming back from somewhere else. “Crossword puzzle.”
He’s so smart that he probably completes them in pen, no mistakes.
“We have developed more reliable methods of case identification,” Donny continues. “I maintain contact with a sympathetic former colleague at the Bureau who forwards meunusual cases, and Zoey has designed an algorithm that flags cases exhibiting certain… peculiarities.”
“How often do you get cases?”
“Every few weeks, typically, though it varies. When we’re between Possessors, we spend our time tracking down anchors, which forces the entities in containment to cross over, making room for more.”
Donny must see the confusion on my face because he leans back in his chair, glancing up at the clock. “I suppose it’s time for me to bring you up to speed,” Donny says, folding his hands on the desk in that careful way that reminds me of teachers who actually care whether you understand the lesson. “Each member of this team brings something essential to our operation, and we need to find what it is you will bring and what you excel at beyond seeing the dead. Griffin maintains our equipment and defenses. His combat skills are also quite exemplary.”
That tracks with the Griffin I met yesterday. He might have been easy smiles and jokes about his abs, but he was also clearly a gym rat, so him being good at combat makes sense.
“DJ is our emotional intelligence,” Donny continues. “She possesses a remarkable ability to get people talking when they’d rather remain silent. Benjamin has an eidetic memory and can remember every piece of information he has ever read, and there’s not a digital system in existence that Zoey cannot penetrate.”
