If she dies, it will be your fault.
Jonas bit into his turkey club sandwich and scowled at the note. The code printed neatly under the words meant one thing.
They didn’t know he retired.
Well, maybe not so much retired as made obsolete. His department had been closed as unnecessary, ridiculous, a pimple on the government’s name for anyone who figured out they existed at all. Hunting ghosts and demons was good only on television.
Jill looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “You know the old saying…where there’s smoke there’s—”
A stream of orange and yellow flames engulfed her, and her shining blond hair turned as black as the crumpled charcoal of her face.
Louis sat bolt upright, sweat trickling down his forehead. He fumbled for the glass of water on the night table and gulped a few mouthfuls down.
“Nightmares. Better than an alarm clock,” he whispered, just to hear his voice. It made the reality of his room stay put.
The room was in gray pre-dawn shadow but he kept the lights off as he walked to the bathroom. Then, business finished, he went to the kitchen and flicked on the light.
A blond sat in his chair, face smooth except for the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”
“Shit!” Louis sat bolt upright (again) and prayed that this time he really was awake.