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Peter probably wouldn’t be able to answer any of those questions, but I now knew something about T.J. I’d never known before: He’d chosen lycanthropy. He’d gotten himself infected on purpose. And it had made him strong.
So, T.J., was it worth it? You might have lived longer with HIV.
No answer came from the beyond.
“Jesus,” Peter murmured.
I gave the pages back to him. “I didn’t choose this life. I always wonder why some people do. Why someone like T.J. would.” Not that it made me feel any better.
“I think he must have been a different person than the one I remember. I just wish—” He shook the thought away. He hadn’t seen his brother in ten years. He’d been a kid. If my memories of the man were idealized, what could his possibly be like?
We stood in silence, both of us wishing he was still alive.
“The thing is,” Peter said after a moment, “I don’t know what to do now. I had a plan. I’d find him, and he’d—he’d have a great life. I just knew he would. He’d own a bike shop somewhere, or be a mechanic for some big racer. He’d have his own place and a bunch of great friends. I wanted to be part of that. He’d get me a job, I’d meet his friends, I’d be his little brother again. He’d be happy to see me. I always imagined that he’d be happy to see me. He’d say, ‘I knew you’d find me.’ Like finding him was a test. I never thought that he’d be . . . that he wouldn’t be here. And now I don’t know what to do.”
I spoke carefully. “I think he’d have wanted you to be your own person. He wouldn’t want you trailing after him like this. Being in his shadow.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I was so rotten before. That I didn’t believe you. It must have been a shock, me calling out of the blue. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”
“It was a shock,” I said, accepting his apology with a shrug. “But I’m glad you did. I’m glad I got to learn more about him.”
“Were you really his best friend?”
That made me smile. “I don’t know about that. But he was definitely my best friend for a while there.”
Peter chuckled, like he understood the difference.
We both turned around at Ben’s approach. “Is everything okay?” He gave Peter a sinister look. He was here checking up on me, and the statement was a warning.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, reassuring. “We’re just going through our own little version of ‘This Is Your Life.’ Ben, this is Peter. T.J.’s younger brother.”
Ben’s eyes widened a little, and they shook hands.
Peter said, “Did you know him, too?”
“No, but he’s kind of a legend around here. A lot of people miss him.”
“I guess that’s good,” Peter said, shrugging deeper into his jacket, looking younger. “Is it strange, that that makes me feel better?”
I patted his shoulder, because it didn’t sound strange. He could be proud that T.J. had left a mark on the world. Not everyone did.
Ben pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re still talking. Tina wants to try again with the Ouija board, but they need to talk to you.”
Back to it, then. I turned to Peter. “Are you going to be in town long? I can introduce you to more people who knew T.J., if you’d like.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I guess I’ll be around a few more days at least, until I figure out what’s next.”
“Well. Okay, then.”
“Kitty—” He stepped forward, looking boyish and nervous. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but is there anything I can do to help?”
I started to say no, because I didn’t want anyone else involved in this, but I hesitated. The thing we needed, more than almost anything else, was information. And Peter knew how to find information. Another set of eyes doing research had to help.
“You know anything about paranormal investigation?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “I’m more up on the mundane version.”
I smiled. “That may be exactly what we need.”
