Dead of Night (Ghosts & Magic #1) Read Online Free Page A

looked like shit?"
    His sharp smile was annoying. So was the life in his dark, almond shaped eyes. "Gina!"  
    A few beats later she joined us in the center of the shop. The King's greatest hits were radiating through the hidden speakers above me, and to either side rested shelves covered in mounds of crap I couldn't believe he had given money for, or that anyone would ever buy. They probably wouldn't, but what did it matter? Was there any pawn shop around that wasn't a front for something?
    She was a total counter to her cowboy-obsessed husband. Where he wore flannel and high leather boots with faux spurs, she wore tight black leather and fishnets. His head was covered by a fedora, her hair was dyed green and pink. Either way, both styles looked warped on the pair of Chinatown refugees.
    "Hey, Conor. You look like shit, man."  
    I gave her the same unpleasant look I had given her husband.
    Dalton smiled at her, leaned in, and kissed her cheek. "He's in a bad mood today."
    "When is he not in a bad mood?"
    "Did Danelle send the payment over?" I could feel my stomach knotting up, and my lungs complaining as their seizing accelerated. There was this notion among the ignorant that magic meant crazy power with no consequences. It would have been great if I could wield it like Gandalf and smoke a pipe after, but it just didn't work like that; at least not for me. Touching someone meant accelerating my own illness. I'd almost killed myself in my decision to keep the secret.
    "Of course. She sounded pissed about it though, bro."
    I expected as much. It wasn't the cost of the medication that made her angry - the meds were keeping me alive way past my use-by date. It was the other expenditure she hated, that we had fought about tooth and nail for weeks, and would still be fighting about if she hadn't lost her legs and become dependent on me to keep a roof over her head.  
    "She'll get over it. She always does. You have everything set up?"
    "Yeah, come on down. You're the next contestant."
    It was Karen, and Molly, that gave her fits. My ex, and our daughter, who was two years, one week when I was diagnosed, and two years, one week when I had abandoned them in a fit of self-loathing and with the bright idea that they'd be better off without the burden of my slow burnout. Once that stupid decision had been made, I'd been too much of a coward to go back, and so I sent them money instead. Maybe they knew it was me, but probably not. I'd paid to have myself declared dead three years ago so they could collect the life insurance.
    I looked around. "I'm the only contestant. How many people take these meds, anyway?"
    "Come on, pardner. You know I can't tell you. HIPAA and all that."  
    That statement got me to laugh, despite the pain.
    We made our way behind the counter, into a back storeroom that was even more cluttered with worthless garbage. Trays filled with wedding bands, tree-like wooden dowels buried in necklaces, and a whole wine barrel filled to the top with firearms.  
    "It amazes me every time I come back here," I said.
    "You know what I like about this front? It's the stories, Conor. Every pathetic dude who comes in here has some kind of pathetic story, and if you can sort through the alcohol induced shit, you can be entertained for a while. Then, when I'm hanging with my buds, or maybe going down to Chinatown to see my mom, I've got plenty of stuff to talk about to make them feel better about their own situation."
    There was an old rug laying across the floor, and he knelt down and folded it back, revealing a trap door. He dug his fingers in the corner and lifted it out of the way.
    "Do you have a story to make me feel better?"
    He looked at me, his left lip curled in an Elvis smile. "You? Fuck, no."
    We climbed a simple wooden ladder ten feet down into a small hallway that adjoined the operating room. You'd never know from all the mess and crap up top that anyone would be able to maintain a perfectly sterile environment below