“I wouldn’t want you to get in the shower and then pass out or some such. How about if I help you get out of your clothes? I’m an expert in platonic undressings.” He gave me that wicked smile. “Give it a rest. I’m not going to strip naked in front of you, and I’d rather pee in private.” “Half the injuries in a home happen in the bathroom. What kind of friend would I be to let you face that kind of danger alone? I mean, sure, you walked out of death, but this is a shower.” “Shame. Get out of my bathroom.”

“Listen,” I said, cool as a 911 operator talking someone down from a ledge, “you’re dead. I’m sorry about that, but I am not going to let you possess me. So follow the light, or go to the other side, or hang around your own house and haunt your accounting ledgers or something. You do not get to stay in my head.”

“Everything quiet?""You mean Shame""I mean your Pooh News. Any rumblies in the tumblies?" I gave him a grin.He shook his head. "You just can't let that go, can you?...”

“What the hell?” I muttered. Then I realized it was Jack Quinn’s car. Jack was a Hound and Bea’s boyfriend. The left blinker flashed on for just a second, and then Jack drove at speed again.“Zayvion, I’m sorry to tell you I think I have a crush on another man.”“Who is this unfortunate and soon-to-be-dead fool?” he asked.“Jack. That’s his car. He must have been waiting for us, or maybe he followed us.”“Jack Quinn has been following us?” Shame said.“And now he’s taking us to Collins, I think.”“Or a trap,” Shame said.“He’s a Hound, Shame.”“My statement stands.”“You still don’t get it, do you?” I turned left, following the car. “Hounds are loyal. Jack and Bea told me they’d help me if they could. They’re not going to turn against me while I’m in trouble.”“What happens when you’re not in trouble?” Shame asked.“Don’t know. It’s never happened.”

“Shamus ordered half a cup of house brew. Then he proceeded to fill the cup up the rest of the way with milk and sugar. Lots of sugar. “Sure you got enough milk in your sugar?” I asked as we strolled out of the shop and headed south. He flipped me off. “You drink your coffee your way, and I’ll drink my coffee the right way.”

“I cupped my hands over my ears. “No, no, no. Get out. Get dead.”

“Do you know the Guardians?” I asked Zay. “Is there some kind of club or yearly get-together where Guardians get drunk, wear funny hats, and compare war stories?”