“Wouldn’t you be bothered if ghosts returned to haunt you?” I snap.

“Sure, but I’m human. I can be killed, so I’d have reason to worry. You don’t.”

“I’m not so certain I believe that anymore,” I mumble. “The Cardinal made me immortal, but he reserved the power to destroy me. He could have wiped me out before he died, if he’d had a mind to. If someone else has the same kind of power — and if Wami and the others are real, only somebody as gifted as The Cardinal could have brought them back — maybe they can eradicate me too.”

Ford’s good eye half closes. “Didn’t think of that.”

“I didn’t either until this photo materialized. Now it’s all I can think about.”

Ford chuckles bleakly. “How does it feel to be faced with mortality again? Must be a shock after all these years.”

“Don’t mock me,” I growl, but he only laughs at my tone.

“That explains why your knees are shaking. But why come to me about this? If the Grim Reaper’s got you in his sights, what can I do to help?”

“The villacs must be behind this. I need to find them, confront them, stop them. But I can’t chase the priests and run this city at the same time. I need someone to—”

“Whoa!” Ford stops me. “If this is going where I think it is, forget it.”

“I need you,” I press. “Frank’s back in charge of the Troops. He’ll do a good job, but he’s not Cardinal material.”

“I’m not either,” Ford grunts.

“But you could fill in for me short-term,” I insist. “You’re still closely identified with Dorak. People would obey you. You could keep things ticking over while I sorted out my problems. Think about it — back in charge, everyone having to kiss your ass. You’d love it.”

He shakes his head, genuine regret in his live left eye. “I’m past that. People wouldn’t take orders from a cripple. I hate retirement. I talked about it a lot toward the end of my run, but now that I’ve tasted it, I think it sucks. I’d jump at the chance to return, but I’d be a liability. Look elsewhere.”