A Collector Grows Deadlier Than the Spirits He Hunts…

Someone’s come to visit.

He was, I admit, a little insistent about it.

Seeing how he’s a good friend, I relented. He’s not drinking as much, but he’s still smoking like a chimney.

Yes, Shane Ryan is here, and I’m glad of it.

He’s a hard man who does hard work, and that’s what he has to do now.

You see, someone from Shane’s past reached out to him. Reached out and pulled him from Nashua, New Hampshire and all the way to Detroit, Michigan. There’s a hint of darkness in Detroit, a whisper on the wind.

Shane’s been on my mind quite a bit. He tends to linger around the edges of my world, offering comments and suggestions as he lights up a cigarette.

One night, when I was up far later than I should have been, I was reading the news. I don’t remember what the article was about other than that the story was set in Detroit. I saw the abandoned houses and shuttered factories, the urban desolation on the edges of the city, and I thought about Shane.

Shane’s been everywhere, you see. Europe, Asia, the Middle East, Africa, South and Central America.

But he’s stomped around the US a bit as well, and as I looked at Detroit, I wondered what would bring Shane to that city.

He told me.

He told me about Enoch and Harry, about Mack and Jacinta, and I listened.

I hope you do too.

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