Read Even Villains Have Interns for Free Online Page B

you can
phase in and out of places.”
    It was his turn to shrug. “Physics is not a
class I really understood.”
    Delilah watched the news crews and police for a
moment longer before walking away.
    The Spirit of Chicago kept pace with her. There
were no footprints, something she should have found more disturbing
than she did.
    “Are we sharing information?” he asked.
    “If I find any, I might be persuaded to share.
There’s no profit in this kind of crime, and I’m vexed beyond words
that someone would invade my city like this,” Delilah said.
    “Yours?”
    “I’m very possessive.” Delilah hit the call
button hidden in the folds of her coat, summoning Freddie.
    The Spirit stood beside her, staring up at the
sky. “How will I find you?”
    “How do you usually find me?”
    He eyed her sideways. “I show up at a scene of a
crime and you’re there waiting for me.”
    Delilah smiled as the cab pulled up. “Sounds
like a plan. I’ll see you at the next crime scene, then.”
     
     

Chapter Six
     
     
    Dad,
     
    Something’s being brokered in Chicago this
week. Things have been quiet. Too quiet. And I’ve been told a
hunter’s coming to town. I don’t know what’s going on, or if the
mayor’s death is related at all.
    Help me figure out what I’m looking for, so I
can deal with it ASAP?
    D
     
    The Spirit of Chicago drifted through the walls
of the late mayor’s office. Bookshelves lined two of the walls,
another was occupied by a window overlooking marble columns to the
street below, and the last was covered a detailed map of the city.
No personal objects on display; the family photos had come down a
few years ago when Mayor Arámbula and his wife had separated.
    The Spirit of Chicago reached out and tapped in
the security code on the keypad. For a few minutes at least, he was
free to look around.
    All the books were in their places. They were
the first things he remembered. Very early in his career, Arámbula,
then a city alderman, had invited him over to see the house. There
was a duplicate library. The mayor bought two of every book, one
for home and one for the office, so he never had to worry about
forgetting something.
    People had underestimated Arámbula. He’d been a
force of nature, a bombastic man who steamrolled his competition
and naysayers. He was loud, larger than life; almost immortal.
    The Spirit of Chicago frowned as he surveyed the
room. Everything was eerily normal. He half expected Arámbula to
come charging down the hall like a small locomotive, bellowing rage
as he shook one of the increasingly rare print editions of the
Chicago daily paper.
    The police were going to pin the murder on
either family trouble or political enemies, but that didn’t feel
right. Arámbula was rumored to be involved in half a dozen scandals
on any given day, but The Spirit of Chicago knew he wasn’t. And the
divorce had been amicable. Elsa had a new husband, and Arámbula had
walked her down the aisle. Privately, he told his friends he was
hunting for someone a little younger. A mid-life crisis wife. It
was his idea of a joke.
    The Spirit of Chicago nudged the curtains aside,
not willing to risk turning on a light that could be seen from the
streets outside. Moonlight spilled through the clouds and glittered
on a golden apple.
    That was new.
    The Spirit of Chicago picked it up. Arámbula was
not a man who invested in paperweights, and an apple wouldn’t have
been his style at all. A recreation of a Mycenaean bull statue,
yes. But an apple? Apples were for teachers, a moniker no one would
have dared use for Arámbula. The Spirit picked the apple up,
peering at the smooth surface for an engraving, some hint of where
it had come from. The moonlight fractured oddly as he turned it. So
many angles. Almost like... He tilted his head and saw a number in
the pattern: seventy-seven.
    ***
    Delilah growled under her breath and switched
the police radio off. All the chatter about the morning commute