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Adam did a quick check of the apartment, the way Vic might. He checked the closets and under the bed, where the book sat back in its box.

He could open a safe deposit box. He could ask Jesse to put it in the safe at the shop, but neither option would help. That was the problem. Wilcox had infinite money, infinite resources. He could reach them anywhere.

Maybe that was the answer to Jack’s problem. Wilcox could hire as many hackers as he needed to scrub the net for references to the elven religion. He might even have the means to contract supernatural resources who could reach RCC. If it was him, then it only reinforced Adam’s belief that the elven religion was tied to whatever was going on with the banshee’s victims.

Spider complained with a loud yowl as Adam switched his laptop out for his tarot deck and headed back toward the front door.

“Sorry, buddy. I promise to watch some TV with you later if I can.”

The cat did not seem mollified, but he grumpily closed his eyes and settled back to sleep.

Adam closed the door behind him with a pang. Spider slept most of the time now. He’d been old when Adam had moved in with his great-aunt Sue, and that had been years ago. He wanted to spend as much time with the cat as he could.

Adam paused as he locked the deadbolt. He hadn’t even thought about Spider, how whoever Wilcox had sent to steal the grimoire could have hurt the cat. A fresh bloom of something red and black punched Adam in the chest.

He hated this and the intensity surprised him. It hadn’t cooled overnight. He knew he’d need to face it or it would fester. He already had enough poison brewing inside him.

Seeing Wilcox brought to justice would help. When he had the chance he’d check in with Annie and her plan to ruin her father.

Maybe he could help make that happen, and maybe that could be one of his good things.

Downstairs, he debated between the bus or walking. It wasn’t that far, but Jodi seemed impatient, plus the quicker they got this over with, the quicker he could keep his promise to Spider.

Opting for the bus, he texted her while he waited.

It was usually fine. Sometimes you got a mentally ill person. Occasionally there were rowdy teens making as much noise as possible. His earbuds were a constant companion, especially when other people seemed to believe that cell phones were the modern boom box.

Adam was at the hospital in no time.

Bobby surprised him by greeting him at reception. He handed Adam a paper coffee cup.

“Thanks.”

Bobby smiled over his own cup and led Adam to the elevator.

They didn’t speak, and he looked tired.

Adam wondered just how many weird cases he’d been assigned.

They passed Tristan and the others to reach Cole’s room. He lay there, like he had before, staring at the ceiling, breathing but rarely blinking. He needed a shave. The beard contrasted with his sea green hair. The big guy looked pale, a little deflated, without his usual aura of frustration at the establishment.

Emily and Jodi stood on either side of the bed.

“No change?” Adam asked.

“None,” Bobby said. “They’ll do just about anything we guide them to, but that’s it. They won’t speak or communicate in any way. We tried turning on the television. They’ll follow the motion with their eyes but don’t react.”

It was pretty similar to how Spider watched television with Adam. Sometimes he just put on video channels of birds or squirrels.

“Their spirits aren’t here,” Jodi said, confirming Adam’s diagnosis.

He appreciated it. Jodi’s Sight was often sharper than his.

“What’s the plan?” Adam asked.

“We try our Sight,” Jodi said.

“Then we try to summon him,” Emily continued. “That’s why we needed three of us.”