I shrug and dial Myra West’s number.

She answers on the third ring. “Ben, I want to talk to you about your finances,” she says.

I look over at the agents who must've heard because they're both grinning.

I shrug.

Myra says, “More importantly, I want to talk to you about our arrangement. Is now a good time?”

“Hi Myra,” I say. “I suppose. I had some questions myself. Like, how’s the stock market going?”

“Really well actually!” says Myra. “Three of the stocks tanked and we lost everything we put in there, but the other three did more than make up for…. Oh, you figured out what I was doing?”

“Random sets of letters to a financial type with my kind of luck? Was I not supposed to?”

“I meant it as a surprise. At first, it was an experiment. You know, to see how we did? Anyway, the point is that we’re way up and I want to renegotiate the arrangement you have with us. My husband and me,” says Myra.

I have no idea what she’s about to say and I wouldn’t be qualified to offer an opinion, but I do know that it was my good luck that brought me to the Wests. I decide to trust it. Tentatively.

“What do you want to do?” I ask.

“Well, let me say that Alex and I decided to match your investments with our own so we’re all up. Now, what we do with our money is our business, of course, so I hope you understand, but I have a proposal for what we do with yours.”

“Fair enough.”

“We continue to play the market. We’ll do it through various brokers and apps. It's not that we're doing anything shady. I'd just like to fly under the radar. I’ll keep it all straight and keep an itemized and clear record of everything I’m doing on a cloud I’ll give you access to. That way you know what I’m doing. Whenever you make money, Alex and I will keep fifteen percent. For that, we do everything for you. We manage all your financial and legal needs. We have a few other clients? Not many, but we think you’ll probably be… labor-intensive. We figure for that we should get paid, same as anybody. We’ll spread your money around, reinvest in some safer, less volatile commodities. An IRA. Whatever. The point is, I can make sure you always have money barring the complete collapse of the American economy,” she laughs. Then she says sotto voce, “Which he might be able to cause now that I think about it, shit. Need to work that into my thinking.”

“Probably a good idea.”

She snorts. “Right. Anyway,” she says brightly. “We do everything for you. You become our one major client. We get fifteen percent of earnings from the stock market. What do you think?”

“How far up are we?”

Myra says, “Conventional wisdom says that with a ten thousand dollar investment, somebody can expect a five percent return. Five hundred dollars. In a month.”

“And?”

“Ben, even counting in our losses, we doubled our money.”

“I see.”

“This is huge!”

“Seeing as I had absolutely nothing, what was it, five days ago? Yeah, it is. Okay, as long as I can spend it when I need it, I think we have a deal. Do you need more random letters today?”

“Yes, please. Our biggest performer was one that showed up in both texts.”

I open up the texting app and push, tapping in letters. While I do that, I say, “Myra, we just learned something. If I stay in one place too long the… I’m calling them aethings for ‘amorphous entropic thingies.’ The aethings get agitated and cause things to happen.”

“What happened?” she says and then, “ALEX!”

“No, no,” I say. “I’m not in trouble. I got surprised by new renters in the kitchen while I was naked.”

“New renters?”

“Yeah.”

“For the bed and breakfast? That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know. Double-booked.”

“I’m going to flay them alive.”

“No, it wasn’t anybody’s fault and I’ve learned that I should spend very little time naked. A valuable lesson.”

“Probably a good idea. So, you can’t stay there.”

“Right.”

“You need a place to live that moves around.”

“Yes.”

“There’s an RV place out by Akron. My mom and dad bought theirs from there and I handled the purchase and whatnot. They’ve got a good rep. I’ll text you the address. Do you have a ride there?”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Can I afford an RV?” I say.

“Not to buy outright,” Myra says. “They're around a hundred thousand dollars. But with the credit history the FBI provided you and a healthy down payment, yeah. We’ll pay it off early, when we can, just in case. They’re good people over there and I’ll make sure they know you’re coming. I’ll see if I can get the same salesman that my folks used too.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Thanks, Myra.” I look over at the FBI. “Um, Myra knows an RV place. Wants to know if I have a ride there.”

Ochoa and Tyler share a look.

Tyler says to Ochoa, “You were going to do some interrogations.”

Ochoa says, “Yeah, but our idea for that won’t work without him. Not as well, anyway.” She sighs. “I’ll take him over there and keep him out of trouble.”

“Famous last words,” says Tyler. “Who’s going to keep you out of trouble?”

“Me?” says Ochoa. “I’m a saint. You get me everything we have on all those bikers. Everything the locals have, we have, fucking Interpol, everybody. I’ll crack one. In the meantime, I’ll babysit junior here.”

Ochoa’s maybe five minutes older than me but I don’t say anything. I’m also really nervous about being alone in the car with her that long. Akron’s like thirty minutes away from here. I definitely don’t say anything about that.

Tyler looks doubtful.

“I’ll be good,” says Ochoa. “Promise.” She’s grinning and chewing her gum.

“Fine,” says Tyler. “Try and be quick.” She looks at me. “And don’t get used to it. We’re the FBI, not Uber.”

“Myra,” I say into the phone. “I have a ride.”

I say goodbye to the Edelmans and warn them I have packages coming and that I’ll be by later to get the rest of my things.

Tyler calls the sheriff’s office for a ride and I get in the car with Ochoa.

I don’t know what to say to her so I look out the window.

She lets that go for ten minutes then says, “I grew up in eastern Pennsylvania.”

“I’m sorry?”

She says, “I said, I grew up in eastern Pennsylvania. Lived there most of my life. My dad’s a contractor. Mom’s on the school board.”

“Oh.” I still don’t know what to say.

She says, “You don’t really talk much if you can help it, do ya?”

I say, “Oh. I guess I don’t. Sorry.”

“You do say, ‘oh’ a lot.”

“Sorry.”

“And you apologize a lot too.”

I almost do it again. Instead, I say, “You’re right. I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m just—.” But I don’t know what I’m just so I clam up.

“It’s a lot,” she says as she turns the car onto the highway. “New world. Strange abilities. The violence.”

I’ve been trying not to think about that. I’ve killed people. The library card I could almost blame on fate, maybe, but I took that shotgun and… well, I can see what I did with it, plain as day, like I just did it right this second.

“Shit,” she says. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m screwing this all up. Still, you don’t make it easy.”

“Easy for what?”

“Like I said, if you’re not being asked direct questions, you don’t talk much. Makes it hard to get to know you.”

“Agent Ochoa—.”

“Mo,” she says.

“Huh?”

“My name,” she says. “Mo. Short for Monica. We’re working together. Call me Mo.”

I don’t want to do that. I say, “Okay.” But I don’t say anything more.

“You think I don’t like you,” says Ochoa.

I snort and focus on the passing landscape. Sometimes, if you watch the tops of the trees, especially the dead ones, you can see hawks and other kinds of raptors there, keeping an eye out for breakfast. Shit. I haven't had any breakfast. Too busy being naked in front of a family of five including underage girls. I'm so going to Hell.

Ochoa says, “Do you make friends easily?”

“What?”

“Because I don’t,” she says. “I have a way of keeping people off balance. I do it on purpose and, if I’m honest, I like doing it. Cal says it’s a defense mechanism. I think she’s right. She’s a good friend. She likes you, I can tell.”

“Huh?”

“Not like that,” Ochoa laughs. “You’re on the wrong team.”

“The wrong—?”

“I’d have a better chance with Cal than you,” she says. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Don’t think I haven’t thought about it either. She’s hot and there's so much of her and I’m so small. Mm.”

I laugh.

She grins over at me. “Cal does that,” she says. “Adopts? She’s still in contact with lots of people she’s run into over her career. Checks up on them. Victims, witnesses. Even a few felons. Sometimes people do bad things. Doesn’t mean they’re bad people.” She shrugs. “You don’t run into that attitude as often as you should in law enforcement. I’m pretty sure you just got a big sister.”

“At least I’ll have somewhere to go on Thanksgiving,” I say.

“You laugh, but it’ll occur to her, just watch. You’ve got no one here. She’ll remember and take steps,” says Ochoa.

I'm astonished to find that I’m tearing up. I look out the window, turning my head a bit farther than I have to so Ochoa can’t see. I remember how Tyler told me that Ochoa was the best she’d ever seen in an interrogation room. I think I’m beginning to see why that might be.

Ochoa’s voice softens. “She’s a good friend,” she says.

“Are you?” I ask.

“A good friend?” says Ochoa. “Fuck no. I’m prickly and difficult. Always trying to prove myself the same time I’m pushing people’s buttons.”

I gasp in false shock.

“Oh, you noticed?” she says. “I got this theory, okay? About you? I want to run it past you. You let me do that and I’ll ease up on you a bit. Deal?”

“Okay,” I say.

She says, “There’s more going on here than just you being weirded out by what’s happened to you the last few days. I’ve been studying you. Only fair since Tyler and I are your handlers now, and—.”

“My what?”

“Handlers,” she says. “Right, we haven’t explained. You’re hired, yeah, but if you hadn’t been, me and Cal would still be around a lot checking up on you, making sure you’re not crashing planes or something. We in the Paranormal Assessment Unit keep track of folks like you, when they crop up, which isn’t often. When they do, the nice ones? Do you know what they do, Ben?”

“What?”

“They have it in their heads that they’re dangerous,” she says. “And lots of times they are. They push people away. You’re personable. You’re polite. Patient. Kind. I think you don’t like bothering people. I think you probably think you’re bothering people more often than you actually are bothering them and now all this is compounding all that. You’re not talking to me much, Ben, not only because I make you feel funny, which I do, but not just because it's kind of your habit. You think you’re too dangerous to hang around."

Was that true?

“You might not have given it much thought,” she says. She shrugs. “Maybe you have. Maybe you’ve thought a little bit about it. Maybe not enough to articulate it even to yourself, but you’re the type. That fucking sheriff said you should go off and live like a hermit in the desert. Cal told me. What a dick. Thing is, I bet you thought that was a pretty good idea at the time.”

I don’t say anything.

“Do you know what happens when people like you do that? Go hermit?” Ochoa says. “One of two things. They either go crazy and die or they go crazy and become the threat they feared and we kill them. You’ve already lived longer than anybody ever has with a level three curse and you’ve got two level fours. You’re alive because you had help, Ben. People who were friendly to you because you're a sweetheart in trouble. People who could be your friends. If you’re smart.”

She shuts up then.

I keep my face pointed at the window.