Free Catskinner's Book (The Book Of Lost Doors) by Misha Burnett

the next corner and saw more of the same: a single aisle stretching around the side wall leading to yet another right turn. The place was a spiral, I realized. Shopping for obsessives.
    I kept going.
    Do spirals mean anything to you?
    difficult places to get out of.
    Yeah, they meant that to me, too.
    I made two more right turns, winding my way to the center of the shop. Along the way I passed shelves of plant cuttings, a display of what seemed to be air tanks, bags of pea gravel, more vitamins—these labeled in some Asian language—a rack of knives. If there was any method to the inventory I couldn't see it.
    “Looking for something?” the cheerful voice asked.
    “Just . . . looking.”  I could see glimpses of the man in the middle. He looked short and fat and blond, that was about all I could tell.
    Right turn, right turn, past bug spray and T-shirts and hard candy, dried fish in crinkly plastic bags, right turn past a pallet loaded with bolts of cloth that looked like silk, and I was in the center of the spiral.
    The counter in the center of the store was more normal looking than I expected. A big box with a Formica top and a cash register and a display of lighters with skulls and flags on them, and behind all that a short pudgy guy with long blond hair and goatee wearing a Star Wars T-shirt. He smiled at me.
    “Welcome.”
    “Are you Keith Morgan?”
    “I am. And you're James Ozwryck.”
    “Then you know why I'm here.”
    “I could guess, but I'd rather you told me.”
    “Why did you kill Victor and try to kill me?”
    “I didn't do either one. I wasn't even there. I'm sure Madeline told you that much.”
    “You gave her the Seal of Solomon. That almost killed me.”
    He frowned, nodded. “That was a bad move on her part. But, honestly, what would you have done if she released you?”
    Catskinner answered for me. “ torn her apart. ”
    He nodded again. “See? There really wasn't a good move for that situation. By leaving you she gave you a chance. Obviously, it worked.”
    “Why Victor?”
    He sighed. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
    “Sure, go ahead.”
    Catskinner's attention was focused on Morgan’s hands like a laser, but he just shook a cigarette out of a pack and lit it with one of the lighters from the display. Clove, by the smell.
    “Okay,” he let out a cloud of sweet smoke. “You know Victor was undead, right?”
    Undead?  I suppose that word fit what I knew of his condition, but it seemed overly theatrical. I shook my head.
    “I know he was my friend.”
    “I know he's a vampire, but he's still my brother!” Said with a grin.
    “He never drank blood. Whatever he was, he wasn't a vampire.”
    “Sorry.” Keith waved a hand. “Lost Boys reference. I'm guessing pop culture isn't your strong suit.”
    “I want to know why we were attacked.”
    He took a long drag on his cigarette and let out his answer with the smoke. “I know, and I'm getting there, but I'm not sure how much I have to explain. I assume you know about the Macrobes?”
    “No.”
    “Eldila? Outsiders? I'm not sure what you call that passenger inside you—”
    “Catskinner.”
    He smiled at that. “Very appropriate. Well, it is what I call a 'Macrobe', a form of life that does not require a physical form. Such things are not bound by laws of physics that apply to physical objects. They exist as information, as permutations in the patterns of matter, but not actually material. You see?”
    Is this true?
    it's as true as that one can understand.
    I nodded.
    He smiled. “Good. Now, the relationship that you and . . . Catskinner have is rare. Almost unique. Most Macrobe/human interaction is more symbolic. Macrobes communicate by inspiration, visions, dreams. As I said, they are information. Information is to them what flesh and blood is to us.”
    “Victor.” I prompted.
    “Relax, I'm getting there. There is an entire Macrobial ecology. There are big ones, little ones, predators, prey—just like the biological