Epilogue.

"I'll want someone to get in here and clean up the rest of these stupid tennis b.a.l.l.s," Morgan said as he kicked one of the bright yellow b.a.l.l.s. His new a.s.sistant, Helena Barr, dutifully made a note on her tablet. Morgan stood at the huge window in what used to be Marsh's office. The view was amazing and Morgan took a moment to remember how many times he'd come in to find Marsh standing in the very same spot. It was an easy a.s.sumption that the man had been pausing for dramatic effect, but the view was so very amazing that he now understood it was quite possible Marsh had just been lost in the beauty of the city.

The sight was all the more breathtaking to Morgan knowing he'd just had state of the art bulletproof gla.s.s installed. He'd had the walls patched and painted to eliminate the bloodstains and holes that littered them. New carpet was on order.

Helena looked around. "I ordered those extra chairs for your office. It sort of seems like a lot. How many did you say? Eight?"

"Might as well make it an even dozen. I tend to have guests show up unannounced." Morgan looked around for any sign of his usual entourage, but they were absent. They'd been silent since he'd shot Marsh.

"Is there anything else, sir?" Helena asked.

"No. I think we can pick up this afternoon and start figuring our s.h.i.t out."

Helena walked past the painter's scaffolding and equipment toward the door. She paused just short of the entrance. "Sir? Congratulations on stepping into Marsh's role. The board is thrilled to be working with you. You've been an important part of this organization for years. It's about time you received recognition for your service."

Morgan knew toadying and sucking up when he heard it, but he liked Helena. "Thank you. I only wish I'd been here to stop them from killing Mr. Marsh."

"It's a shame what that treacherous girl and her friends did to him. I hope you catch up with them and make them pay for what they did," Helena said.

"You and me both. I only regret that I had a hand in training that girl not so long ago." He neglected to mention that most of his tuition had been ignored or flatly denied by the girl. Much like he'd been neglecting to mention how Marsh had really died.

Once Helena left him, Morgan's hand went up to his eye and traced the circle of black dots that resulted from the explosion of shrapnel from his scope. The globule of Shadow Energy had combined with the gla.s.s pieces and imbedded themselves in a jagged simulation of a circle around his right eye permanently. It had been horribly painful for a few hours, but then, miraculously, felt fine by the next morning. He had no idea what it meant. He felt just the same as he always had, but the spots bore a remarkable resemblance to the one on Deena's arm. He couldn't find any sign he had the powers she did, but he thought maybe it would take time.

He half expected to see an apparition of Marsh sitting where his desk used to be, but Morgan found nothing. He thought for sure the ghosts would be all over him now, but they'd been silent. There was a twinge of doubt about how things would work out without them around, but they certainly had only been a hindrance. Of course, they'd be back. They couldn't stay away and let Morgan live in peace and quiet, now could they?

Morgan reached down and picked up a tennis ball. He bounced it a couple of times and nodded as he thought about the possibilities. The things to come brought a smile to his face. Everything was going to work out just fine.

About the Author.

Matt Betts was born in Lima, Ohio, some years ago. Lima is just a stone's throw away from several other towns with excellent throwing stones. During and after college, Matt worked for a number of years in radio as an on-air personality, anchor and reporter. His fiction and poetry have appeared in various magazines, journals and anthologies.

Matt currently lives in Columbus, Ohio, with his wife and sons. He is hard at work on his next book. And watching old science fiction and horror movies. Mostly writing. And maybe reading comic books. Look, he's writing, OK? Jeez.

For more info visit: www.MattBetts.com.

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