Free Evil Ways by Justin Gustainis

job."
    "You got that right, podner. I absolutely do not want this job."
    "Why not? It's the kind of thing you do all the time, isn't it?"
    "No, it's the kind of thing I used to do, when I was young and stupid. I'm older now, and at least a little smarter. Or so I like to think."
    Morris leaned forward. "Look, Fenton, from what you've told me, you've got several black sorcerers, in different parts of the country, killing kids for their hearts."
    "Not just the hearts. In some cases, other organs were taken, as well."
    "All right. The point is that these organs, properly used, are going to give the witches who took them a great deal of power. Hell, that's why they're doing it."
    Fenton spread his hands a little. "See? That kind of insight is exactly the reason I want you for this case."
    "And it's also the reason that I want nothing to do with it. You've got these people who have taken the Left-Hand Path, and you don't know how many of 'em there are, or who they are, or even where they are. What we do know is that they're willing to kill to get what they want, and that most likely they've acquired a hell of a lot of power, or will, soon."
    "What's that mean — will, soon?"
    "The organs themselves aren't powerful. They have to be used. They're like potential energy, in physics. You need a particular kind of ritual, or a series of them, to turn that potential into kinetic energy. And, considering the kind of people involved, we are talking about energy of the very worst kind."
    "How bad?"
    "Can't say, without more information. But bad; trust me. And dangerous. Look, Fenton, Libby and I spent part of last year on the trail of a black witch who was involved in some pretty nasty goings-on. She found out that we were looking for her, and tried to kill us. And damn near succeeded."
    Morris shook his head slowly, like the bank officer does when turning you down for a small business loan. "You wanna play Wyatt Earp and face these folks down at some supernatural OK Corral, you go right ahead, and I sincerely wish you good fortune. But I'm not Doc Holliday, and I'm not goin' with you."
    "Uh-huh." Fenton straightened his tie, which did not need straightening. "Well, we've established that you're neither Batman, James Bond, nor Doc Holliday. So just who the hell are you, Morris?"
    "Just a guy with a dangerous, nasty job, who doesn't want to make it any more dangerous and nasty than it has to be."
    Morris stood up. "Feel free to keep my name in your Rolodex. If something a bit less insane comes up sometime, give me a call and I'll see if I can help out. But not this time."
    Fenton was still in his chair, and seemed in no hurry to go anywhere. "Well, I admire your honesty. I do. It's a quality in pretty short supply in Washington. Now let me —"
    Fenton's cell phone rang. He pulled it from a pocket, checked the display, then said. "Sorry, I've got to take this."
    He pushed a button and held the phone to his ear. "Yeah. No, I'm still in his room, but I'm almost done. Come on up, if you want. Room 942. Okay."
    Fenton put the phone away and said to Morris, "That was my partner. I figured you might as well meet her, since we're going to be doing business together."
    In the voice of someone starting to lose his patience, Morris said, "I thought I made it clear —"
    "You did," Fenton said. "Now I'm going to make something clear, and you might as well sit down to hear it."
    Morris didn't move. After a few seconds, Fenton said softly, "I said sit… the… fuck… down."
    Morris looked at him. Mixing things up with Agent Fenton wasn't going to get him anything except arrested for assaulting a Federal officer. He slowly lowered himself back onto the edge of the bed.
    "Thanks," Fenton said, sounding like he actually meant it. "Here's why you're going to work for the Bureau on this investigation, Morris. Not because you went all vigilante and burned down the best evidence we almost had tying anybody to these murders. Not because you're basically a