Free Evil Ways by Justin Gustainis Page A

decent guy who doesn't want any more kids to get cut open. Not because I'm authorized to double your usual fee, and I just did. But because you don't want somebody putting a quiet word in Fortner's ear, when he gets back, that you're the guy who burned his hacienda to the ground a few hours ago."
    "You've got no proof of that."
    "Fortner won't care."
    After a few seconds, Morris said, softly, "No, I don't reckon he will."
    "It's like you said yourself, just because his tools are gone doesn't mean he's not dangerous. You want to spend the next couple of years looking over your shoulder? That assumes Fortner doesn't come for you sooner, of course."
    The look that Morris turned on Fenton was one of pure hatred, but his voice was mild when he said, "I don't suppose calling you eight different kinds of motherfucker would change anything, would it?"
    "Nope," Fenton said. "But you go ahead, if it'll make you feel better."
    Morris was considering doing just that when the knock sounded on his door.
    He looked at Fenton. "You want to get that, or shall I?"
    Fenton shrugged. "It's your room."
    Morris went to the door and opened it. The woman standing in the hall had auburn hair, an upturned nose, and freckles, and she looked for all the world like a female leprechaun in a business suit —an effect that was spoiled when she flashed her credentials and said, "Special Agent Colleen O'Donnell, FBI. You would be Mister Morris?"
    "The very same." Morris stepped back to allow her entrance. After closing the door, he looked at the woman more closely. "Sorry, but have we maybe met before? There's something… familiar about you."
    She gave him a second, more careful look before saying, "I don't think so, Mister Morris," then turned to confer with her partner. Morris was watching her curiously, when suddenly it hit him. It wasn't Colleen O'Donnell herself who was familiar; it was the aura surrounding her. Morris had been trained to sensitivity in such things, and the vibe that the female agent gave off was the same one that Morris had sensed many times when in the company of Libby Chastain.
    Fenton's partner was a white witch.

    Morris closed the door on the two FBI agents, after making a reluctant promise to stay in touch. He hadn't said anything about recognizing Special Agent O'Donnell as a member of what Libby Chastain called The Sisterhood. Fenton hadn't given any indication that he knew, and if he didn't know, it wasn't Morris's business to tell him. Still, having a white witch as a partner would have its advantages, as Morris himself had reason to know.
    His exertions of the night before had left him sweaty and a bit grimy. Morris needed a shower. Besides, he often did some of his best thinking under warm water.
    A few minutes later, Morris was reaching for the shower tap when a female voice behind him said, "Hello, Quincey."
    He spun around, arms moving into the defensive posture that his sensei had taught him was best when you did not know the exact nature of the threat you were facing.
    Libby Chastain was standing in the doorway of the bathroom.
    Except it wasn't Libby, not quite. Morris found that he could see through her translucent form to the bedroom beyond. Morris put his arms down. He knew what Libby was doing; he had seen this manifestation before.
    "This must be pretty important if you're using spirit transference to find me, Libby." He reached for a nearby bath towel. "Uh, you mind if I…"
    "Not at all, please do." Libby's image smiled a little. "I'm sorry to show up at an, um, inopportune moment. This seems to be a day for having showers interrupted."
    "What's wrong?" Morris finished tucking the towel around his waist.
    "Some people tried to kill me a few hours ago. At home."
    "My God! Are you, I mean, is your body…"
    "I'm all right, apart from being frightened half to death." Libby briefly described the attack upon her, and what she had done about it.
    "What about the bodies?" Morris asked. "You can't leave them there