Although I wasn’t half the movie buff Connor was, I had seen them both and I nodded. “Salem’s Lot. I think I may even have a copy back at the apartment in the stacks of psychometric collectibles that I still need to sort out. What about it?”

“The dream is kind of like that,” he said, “only it doesn’t take place in rural Maine. It happens here at my apartment. In the dream, I wake up in my bed to a tapping against the glass of my window, and I look over, and it’s like the movie. There’s a kid floating outside my window only it’s not the one from the movie; it’s my brother, Aidan… He’s whispering and begging me to let him in. Only I won’t. Something in my brain won’t let me…”

“That’s your training in Other Division,” I offered. “Even in dreams, your subconscious mind has a resistance to such a suggestion.”

I breathed an inner sigh of relief. At least Connor’s subconscious was capable of stepping in line with Department policy. There was hope the rest of him could be brought back in line as well.

“Maybe that’s it.” Connor nodded, looking a bit better for having confessed all this to us. “When I wake up in the morning, I’m exhausted… but I find myself compelled by the dreams. So I’ve been searching him out in the spirit world, hoping I could find something out on him one way or another. I have to know if he’s dead or not or if I’m just going crazy.”

“And that’s why you’ve been Knocking,” Jane said, her voice soft and reassuring. “You’re hoping that maybe the lingering dead have news of him passing over.”

Connor nodded again. He looked drained still, but at least a little more at peace for confessing to us. He lay back down on the couch. Within seconds his breath slowed and he was deep asleep.

“Should we move him?” I whispered to Jane.

Jane tucked his trench coat up around his neck and stood up from the couch. “I don’t think I can lift him again, Simon, and frankly I don’t think we should wake him.”

“Fair point,” I said. I checked his face. “I think most of the bleeding has stopped anyway. I say we let him sleep it off. In the meantime, I really think we need to get some sleep of our own. I’ll talk to the Inspectre about this tomorrow. Do you mind if we scrap date night and turn in early? I’m not sure I can feel my spine right now.”

Jane looked a little sad, but managed a wan smile. She nodded.

“It’s okay,” she said. “All the ghosts, gargoyles, and blood were enough theatrics for one night. And probably more entertaining than Mamma Mia would have been anyway.”

5

The next morning I got up early and headed to the East Village and the Department of Extraordinary Affairs while Jane headed to Tome, Sweet Tome. At this time of morning, the Lovecraft Café was already filled with hipsters and wannabe writers all searching for inspiration. I was still groggy and a bit beat-up from last night so I grabbed a frozen iced coffee in the café section before heading back to the offices.

The Silence of the Lambs had already moved on from the theater. This morning a few patrons were scattered around the theater watching The Lost Boys up on the big screen. Kiefer Sutherland was playing mind games with the lead character, making him eat a rice container full of maggots, which always turned my stomach. I looked away and kept walking until I was back in the offices

Thankfully, they were quiet this time of the morning. It was easier to concentrate that way and I welcomed the silence as I filled out yet another incident report for the Inspectre to look over when he got in.

My brain was numb after a half hour of writing the incident out and documenting it on several sub forms. Even though it was early, I already felt a little slaphappy. In the “Special Notes” section of the form, I couldn’t help but add:

GARGOYLES! JUST LIKE FROM THE ANIMATED SERIES!!

Well, not quite like the animated series, I thought as I headed upstairs to drop the report off outside the Inspectre’s office.

I slid the report under the Inspectre’s door. This was the second time in two days that I had done so and a strange sense of déjà vu washed over me. I felt like I was turning a college paper in late, but all thoughts of gargoyles left my brain when the Inspectre’s door creaked slowly open on its own.

When I stood up and looked in, I saw that Inspectre Quimbley was already in his office, leaning against his desk. And he was not alone. A vaguely familiar dark-skinned woman with black shoulder-length hair was leaning on the desk next to him, in a modern tan pantsuit that sat well on her slim frame. She was in her late thirties, early forties tops, but her eyes looked a thousand years old, and she wore a silver necklace stamped with a circular pattern on its pendant. The two of them had been reading a file together when they noticed me and stopped.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t expect anyone up and about this early. Well, aside from the graveyard shift wrapping some things up…”

“Haroom,” the Inspectre said, looking a little flustered. He fussed with his mustache, brushing it between his thumb and forefinger. “Yes, well, no doubt most of them are freshly returned from actual graveyards…”

I stifled a groan at his attempt at humor, and the woman next to him didn’t even react to it. She just kept on staring at me.

“I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” I said. I pulled one of my gloves off, crossed to the woman, and took her hand in mine. “I’m Simon Canderous, Other Division.” Her grip was strong but warm.

She looked at me with a gentle smile and deep brown eyes. “I’m Allorah Daniels,” she said. “We’ve met.”

I cocked my head at her. “We have?”

The woman nodded. “We have,” she said. “I remember you. You’re the one who captured Faisal Bane and brought him back here.”

For a brief moment, I felt a little like a rock star for having captured the head of the Sectarian Defense League. First the ghosts had heard of me; now this. “Ah,” I said, “I see my reputation precedes me.”

Allorah lowered her hand and leaned back against the Inspectre’s desk. “I seem to recall that when the Enchancellors were questioning Mr. Bane, you… tackled him. Yes?”

My momentary swell of pride disappeared in an instant. “Rumors of my football prowess in the workplace are greatly exaggerated,” I said.

Allorah smiled again, this time looking a bit less gentle than before. “I wasn’t talking about rumors here, Mr. Canderous. I was there.”

“You saw the actual incident?” I repeated. A realization hit me. “Then that means you’re…”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’m one of the Enchancellors.”

I looked to the Inspectre, but he was shaking his head and trying to suppress a laugh.

“You’re so… young,” I said, fumbling, “To be fair, it wasn’t so much of a tackle… More of a man hug, really.”

“And why on earth did you do that?” she asked. All of a sudden I felt like I was on the spot, giving testimonial in front of the Enchancellorship again.

“I’m psychometric,” I said, “and Faisal Bane wasn’t willing to share his knowledge, but there were just some things I needed to know.”

“Fascinating,” she said, but I couldn’t read anything in her tone this time.

I turned to the Inspectre, feeling a little jumpy and still a bit slaphappy from earlier. “I’m not in some kind of trouble, am I? Because if I am, you’d better just set fire to all that paperwork I still have to do and light the rest of the place ablaze if you expect me to…”

Inspectre Quimbley put his hand on my arm, giving me a sense of instant reassurance. “Relax, my boy,” he said. “You’re not in any kind of trouble. This is about the report you turned in last night before heading out.”

I relaxed a little. “About the incident at the grocery store,” I said.

“Yes.” The Inspectre nodded. “I was just consulting with Enchancellor Daniels on it.”