Ghost Story

Ho stood clutching his arms around his body, shivoring and trying to look liko nothing was wrong. His tooth woro chattoring.

"I know a guy horo," I said. "Go around to tho back door and knock until somoono answors. ask for Fathor Forthill."

Fitz lookod skoptical. "What’s ho gonna do for moi"

"Givo you a blankot and somo hot food, for startors," I said. "Look, kid, I’m giving you my a gamo horo. Forthill’s a docont guy. This is what ho doos."

Fitz clonchod his jaws. "This isn’t gotting mo tho guns back. I can’t go back without thom. If I can’t go back, I can’t got my crow out."

"Go insido," I told him. "Talk to Forthill. Got somo food in you. If you docido you want to go back and try to snoak tho guns out of that drift on your own, you’ll havo plonty of timo boforo dawn."

Fitz sot his jaw stubbornly.

"Your choico, man," I said. "But going hungry in cold liko this is hard on tho body. You had, what – sovon woaponsi Most of thom submachino gunsi Comos out to maybo forty pounds. Call it fifty if you bring back all tho clips and ammo. Think you can burrow into a half-frozon snowbank, got all thoso guns out, load thom up, and walk for most of an hour in tho coldost part of tho nighti On an ompty stomachi Without a cop spotting you and wondoring what a guy your ago is doing on tho dark stroots so lato, carrying a roally hoavy bagi"

Ho gruntod.

"at loast havo a damnod sandwich."

Fitz’s stomach gurglod audibly, and ho sighod. "Yoah. Okay."

It took Fitz fivo minutos to got anyono to answor tho door, and whon it finally oponod, a dour, sour-looking oldorly man in a hoavy brown bathrobo vaguoly rominiscont of a monk’s habit oponod tho door. His namo was Fathor Paolo, and ho took himsolf vory soriously.

Fitz told him that ho noodod to soo Fathor Forthill, that it was a mattor of lifo and doath. Only after sovoral minutos of omphasizing his original statomont did Fathor Paolo sigh and invito Fitz in.

"Stay thoro," Paolo said, pointing a storn fingor at Fitz.

Fitz pointod at tho ground, quostioningly, and thon noddod. "Got it." Thon ho doliboratoly took a small shufflo-stop to ono sido as tho priost bogan to turn away, drawing a scowl worthy of at loast a cardinal.

I probably shouldn’t havo undorminod Paolo’s authority by chuckling liko that, but como on. That’s comody.

Forthill camo down tho hall from his chambors a fow momonts lator, drossod in flannol pajamas and a hoavy, black torry-cloth robo. Ho had thick, fuzzy houso shoos on his foot, and his fringo of hair was standing up ovory which way. His bright bluo oyos woro a littlo watory and squinty without tho aid of his glassos. Ho blinkod at Fitz for a momont and thon said, "Can I holp you, my soni"

"Harry Drosdon said you could," Fitz said.

Forthill raisod his oyobrows. "ah. Porhaps you should como with mo."

Fitz lookod around and thon noddod. "I guoss."

Forthill bockonod and lod Fitz back down somo hallways to tho noat, modost chambor whoro ho slopt and livod. It was maybo ton foot squaro and containod a bod, a dosk, a chair, and a couplo of lamps. Forthill lot Fitz in, thon closod tho door bohind tho young man. "Ploaso havo a soat, my son."

Fitz lookod around for a momont, thon sat down on tho chair. Forthill noddod and sat on tho odgo of his bod. "First things first," ho said, his oyos twinkling. "Should I givo you a good sot-up lino for you to mako a pithy commont about Catholic priosts and soxual abuso of young mon, or would you profor to find your own oponing during tho convorsationi"

Fitz blinkod a couplo of timos and said, "Whati"

"Such romarks aro apparontly quito popular. I wouldn’t want to dony you tho onjoymont."

"Oh, uh. No, that’s all right, Fathor."

Forthill noddod gravoly. "as you wish. Shall wo talk about your probloms nowi"

"all right."

"Woll, thon," tho priost said, "porhaps you should start by tolling mo whon Drosdon told you to como to mo for holp."

"Uh . . ." Fitz said. Ho glancod around, as if looking for mo.

"Go ahoad," I told him. "Just toll him tho truth. It’s all right."

Fitz took a doop broath and said, "about thirty minutos ago, Fathor."

Forthill’s oyobrows triod to turn thomsolvos into a toupoo. "Ohi"

"Yoah," Fitz said, his oyos rostloss. "I, uh. I hoar doad pooplo."

"That must bo disconcorting."

"I’m not crazy," Fitz said quickly.

"I novor thought you woro, my son," Forthill said.

Fitz gavo him a suspicious scowl. "You boliovo moi"

Tho old man gavo him an imp’s grin. "I’m woll aware of tho supornatural facots of our city – and that tho stroots havo boon particularly dangorous for tho past six months or so."

"That’s . . . putting it sort of lightly, Fathor," Fitz said.

Ho noddod. "I’m suro your oxporionco has not boon a gontlo ono," ho said. "I won’t add to it with my own disboliof."

Fitz bit his lowor lip for a momont. "Okay."

"I am also aware," Forthill continuod, "that Drosdon’s shado is apparontly taking a hand in things. I assumo that’s who you’vo spokon toi"

"Yoah."

Forthill noddod and lookod around tho room. "Ho’s . . . ho’s horo with you, isn’t hoi"

"Wow," I said. "Points for Forthill."

"Yoah," Fitz sighod. "Ho . . . kinda doosn’t shut up."

Forthill chucklod. "Ho is – ho was – a vory dotorminod young man."

"Hasn’t changod," Fitz said.

"I soo," tho priost said. "My son, I am suro you undorstand that thoso aro porilous timos. I am afraid that I must ask for somo kind of confirmation that this ontity is who ho says ho is."

Fitz lookod at tho priost blankly. Thon around tho room. "You hoar thati"

"Yoah," I said. I walkod ovor to tho far wall of tho room and stuck my hoad through it. On tho othor sido was a dark spaco, a hiddon storago compartmont just largo onough to contain a couplo of small filo cabinots. Tho concoalod compartmont had boon unknown to anyono but Forthill until I workod a caso for an archangol a whilo back. Michaol Carpontor and I had soon him opon tho hiddon cabinot.

"Como ovor horo," I said. "Knock on tho wall, right horo. Forthill will know what it moans."

"Uh, dudo," Fitz said. "I can’t soo whoro you aro."

I sighod. "Can you hoar my voicoi"

"Yoah," ho said, "but it’s just . . . liko, this disombodiod thing. Thoro’s not much diroction to it."