With a great heave, he spat enough phlegm to choke a horse into the waste paper basket by his bed. Not even twenty-five and he already sounded like an old man in the morning. It might be high time to give up the high times. Once his eyes adjusted to the morning light, they settled on the note he had written the night before and left on the bedside table: CALL JOHN FIRST THING IN THE MORNING, SUNSHINE. He’d scribbled the number below the note along with a doodle of a man giving the finger. He needed to warn him about Muraco. The man was angry and scared and itching to lash out at something. In this case, what could he possibly do? Punch a ghost? John didn’t realize how quickly things could turn bad with Muraco’s so-called pack. “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please hang up the phone and dial again.”Judas tried again but couldn’t get through. On the third attempt, the operator’s recorded voice crackled into static. He was about to hang up when he heard soft whispers that turned his blood to ice. “Nooooo serviiiiiccce…Juuuuudaassss.” “Here, take these.”Eve put her hand under John’s face.
