Chip-tooth snorted and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” I said, grabbing the Mickey Mouse phone and dashing it to the ground. “Ask anyone here.”

He stared at me, angry and dumbfounded, and then turned to look around. The sound of laughter rose from several of the nearby booths and I almost felt sorry for the guy. I pulled out my wallet, and held a twenty out toward him.

His face dropped in defeat. Without argument, Chip-tooth took the twenty and began to wrap the console and games in silence.

My cell phone vibrated to life in the pocket of my brown suede coat and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The last thing I expected in the predawn hours was a phone call on my private line. I pulled it out and checked the display. CONNOR CALLING.

Connor Christos was my Other Division mentor. He specialized in working with ghosts, but was surprisingly not a part of the Department’s Haunts-General Division. They took more of a ghost-busting approach to their work, while Connor was more of a spirit spotter and ad-hoc psychologist to the lingering undead, when his lack of patience didn’t get in the way. Why he was calling me this time of night, I had no idea.

I flipped my phone open and was greeted by an earful of static.

“Hello?” I said. Another wave of static crashed into my ear and I pulled the phone away as fast as I could. “Connor?”

“Simon!” Connor called out through the choppy signal. “Did…wake…ou, kid?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I was already up.”

There was desperation in Connor’s voice.

The signal on my cell phone continued to break up. It sounded like listening to an old-time radio as it was being flipped through a variety of stations.