As the tram went by Sacher's restaurant I saw that the entire building was engulfed in hellish flames despite the pounding rain. I counted at least six burned out and bullet riddled black sedans.

I grabbed for my radio, trying to forget the cold voice of the Gravekeeper. I switched it over to the right frequency and put in my earpiece. This wasn't exactly going to be a conversation for public consumption. Also I wasn't so rude as to disturb the other passengers on the tram.

"Hey Iron Hand. It looks like you've been busy." I said. "You still with us?"

The reply came back surprisingly fast. "Ja, the dinner rush was murder but I worked my way through it. I'm meeting up with some friends for a beer, you should join us." I heard the laughter of female humans in the background as he gave me the address.

"Sounds like a party." I brought up my mental map of the city. "You mind if I bring a mutual friend along?"

"Who might that be?" Sacher asked.

Gershwin peered over at me with interest. "If that's who I think it is, tell him that I'm looking forward to seeing my little sachertorte again."

I relayed the message and was met with a full minute of silence. "Please repeat that for me. I don't think I heard you quite right."

"No, you heard me correctly. It's a long story but he's back." I looked over at Gershwin. "He isn't going to try and shoot you is he?"

Gershwin shrugged. "Probably not. When you've been enemies for as long as we have, you're practically family." He looked me over. "I suppose that would make him your uncle."

"This should be interesting." Sacher said, annoyance coming through in his voice. "Tell the bouncer at the door that Wolfie sent you."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Copy that. See you in half an hour." I turned off the radio and glanced over to Gershwin who was trying hard to look innocent and failing. "Please explain the meaning of your little pet name for Sacher."

"It's a pastry from the human's homeworld. You can't get them here because they're made with something called chocolate that contains high levels of theobromine." Gershwin shrugged. "It's that same shit we used to dispose of undesirables in the camps. We would mix it with sugar and milk fat and serve it to them as a last meal. Apparently humans can't get enough of the stuff."

Interesting, I thought. So the humans had some kind of poison resistance. I filed that away for future reference. "What else should I know about humans?"

Gershwin stared me straight in the eye. "Never trust them. They will try to lure you in with tasty morsels and win you over with praise. You will begin to believe that they are just like us. You will want to please them. So you will do anything that they ask of you, no matter how dangerous." He looked away. "I was under his spell once, but I broke free. Others were not so lucky."

"What happened?" I asked.

"I don't remember." Gershwin shook his head like he was trying to rattle a memory loose. "Whatever it was, I found it so painful that I didn't pass it on. Perhaps it has something to do with your mother. Do you remember her? She died when you were very young."

Now it was my time to shake my head. "No. Sometimes I have what I think are memories but they might just be dreams. It's hard to tell. You don't talk about her much."

"I know." Gershwin said. "It's been a long time now and it still hurts me to my core. There's nothing I wouldn't give to hear her voice again, to see her dancing in the fields with her buckwheat colored hair. But we do not always get what we want. Life is cruel like that."

Yes, I thought to myself as I remembered the look of longing on Ani's face as I left, probably never to return. It really was.

"So…" Gershwin said, eager to change the subject. "Where is this party we're going to?"

I wasn't sure how to explain exactly what the Pink Primate was so I just went for it. "It's at a whore house in the Patchwork District that specializes in interspecies encounters."

"Oh." Gershwin brightened up. "It's not the Pink Primate is it? I think I've still got a credit there for a massage that I never got a chance to use. They make an excellent breakfast too."

I looked at my father in surprise.

"I'm a ghost, not a saint." He said with a shrug.