Ghost A John Spector Novel by Wayne Batson

Author:Wayne Batson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Spearhead
Published: 2013-07-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

There’s something about being threatened with annihilation that can really rattle a guy.

I’d driven away from the abortion clinic/Shade stronghold and spent the first fifteen minutes in an absolute thoughtless haze. I don’t know which roads I took or what places I passed. I’m reasonably certain I followed the traffic laws, but beyond that, I didn’t know much else. After all, I’d just narrowly survived a run-in with a legendary Senior Knightshade, keeping my existence only in exchange for running an errand that would almost certainly turn out to be epic-level evil.

When I finally snapped out of my fog bank, I came to the realization that I’d rarely been to the end of my rope like this. Not only was I #1 on Forneus the Felriven’s hit list, but I still hadn’t come close to completing my mission. Smiling Jack and his accomplice were still out there. Innocent young women were still in danger. The FBI was back in and, as far as they were concerned, I needed to be out. Even Agent Rezvani, with whom I’d shared a kind of tacit partnership, had been browbeaten into disowning me. Did that mean I really was out? It was somewhat standard protocol for me to be involved only when no one else could be…or more often, would be. And yet, I did not get called to a mission by mistake.

Ever.

And yet, here I was at a virtual dead end. I had a lot to think about. I needed wisdom. I needed direction. But, at least for the moment, I needed coffee.

I’d driven aimlessly past a dozen strip malls. Why I stopped at Miracle Strip Shopping Center, as opposed to any of the others, I have no idea. But, it seemed like in this area, you could drive five minutes in any direction and you’d be sure to run into a marvelous coffee shop.

I sat down at a place called Nightgrounds. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but the interior was a sight to behold. In one corner stood an honest-to-goodness iron maiden. Shackles and chains hung from the left hand wall. A flickering candelabra rode a barely visible wire back-and-forth between jagged, black chandeliers overhead. A leering stone gargoyle sat on the front counter. Dungeon Feng Shui. The tables even had little coffin-shaped containers to hold the sugar and sweetener packets. Groovy.

The waitress who came to my table was, of course, as Goth as she could be. Seriously, she made Morticia look like Snow White.

“Welcome to Nightgrounds,” she said amiably. Though it was hard to read friendly from lips and eyes so darkened by makeup.

She started to hand me a menu, but I held up a hand. “I’m not eating,” I said.

“This isn’t for food,” she replied.

“Then, what is it for?”

“Coffee,” she said. “Duh.”

“I already know what I want.”

“But you’re not a regular.”

“How hard can it be?”

“We have 177 blends.”

“I just want coffee. Black.”

“Black we got,” she said and spun on a platform heel.

She came back with a mug.

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