Chapter 2
I TRY TO BROKER a peace between the brothers with sandwiches from the deli next door. Nigel eats his lunch, nose inches from the computer screen—not that I’ve given him anything to do.
Malcolm sits in the outer room, inspecting each layer of his sandwich and putting it back together before bringing it to his mouth. Then, without taking a bite, he sets the sandwich down and begins the routine all over again.
Despite our haunted love advertising, we have no calls to distract us. It’s so cold out, I’m certain the ghosts must be behaving themselves rather than risk a trip out to the nature preserve where we do our usual release.
I wait until Malcolm stops playing with his food to say quietly:
“Would you really want to align yourself with that sort of necromancer?”
His lips twis
