“How are you?” she asked.

“Alive,” I answered. It was definitely the word of the day. I quickly told her the story of my Mad Max escape from the Janjaweed militia. She almost couldn’t believe it. Hell, I still couldn’t either.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “You sound a little nonplussed – for you.”

“All things considered, yes, I’m fine. I even learned something very important – I’m mortal. I’m really, really mortal.”

“So where are you off to now?”

“ Paris,” I said.

“ Paris?”

“Oui.”

“Je crois que non,” said Courtney.

Now, I only had one year of French back at St. Patrick’s High School in Newburgh, New York, but I was pretty sure she’d just said, “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” I asked.

It was a good question – timely, too, because I was only two people away from handing over my boarding pass and heading to Paris, which is probably my favorite city in the world. Except for the people, of course. Not all of them – just the snots.

“You need to come home,” said Courtney.

“Why? What’s up?”

“Something good, Nick. Something really good. You’re going to love this one.”

That was enough to get me to take a half step out of line. Courtney Sheppard had a few notable vices, but hyperbole wasn’t one of them.

“Okay,” I said. “So blow me away.”

And sure enough, that’s exactly what Courtney did. She almost knocked me right out of my shoes.

Chapter 5

LET ME TIP my hand here – I know it’s semiridiculous, but I am a huge baseball fan, have been since I was a little kid back in the Hudson Valley, throwing apples at tree trunks for practice.

To continue with the narrative, though. I cupped the phone tight against my ear trying to hear every word as best I could. The airport was absolutely swarming, with most of the noise coming from the next gate over, where there were a hundred men gathered, all with neatly trimmed black beards and crisp white flowing robes, otherwise known as dishdashas.