I yelled out.

“What else aren’t you telling me? Goddammit, Cal! Stop keeping me in the dark! What good am I if I only know half the story?”

I looked up, rubbing my shoulder. “Sorry. I’m not used to letting cops in on this kind of stuff. I think you’ll recall what happened the few times I did. I got laughed right off the case.”

Blout took a couple of angry puffs off his log of a cigar. “Well that was them, this is me. Cough it up.”

He was right. Where would I be if he hadn’t informed me of the mysterious deaths when he did? I told him everything I knew, about Mo’Lock and the crusty tunnel zombies who had attacked us, and about the missing ghouls. I filled him in on Cain and what I found in the evidence room. When I was finished he tossed me the talisman.

“What about this, then? How does that fit it?”

I looked at the charm. “Considering the thing wearing it turned into a pool of blood when it was removed, I’d say it’s a resurrection talisman. Black magic, voodoo maybe. I can’t say for sure.”

“Did you notice something floating in the liquid?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t make it out. Probably a piece of bone.” I stuffed the charm into my pocket considering the issue closed and moot.

“It’s an Egyptian symbol,” Blout said plainly.

“Huh? How’d you know?” I was stunned.

“My wife collects all kinds of that ugly crap. The house was full of it. The living room looked like friggin’ King Tut’s tomb. That shit was gone the moment she left.”

I had to laugh. “Any idea what it means?”

“The perp shops at the same place as Jessica?”

“Now who’s the smart ass? So what we’re left with here is a mix of black magic, monsters and myth, voodoo of several varieties, and now Egyptian symbols. That’s the oddest, because the Egyptians weren’t into reviving dead. All their ceremonies revolved around surviving the afterlife. Even this talisman’s a little bit this, a little bit that—a goddamn potpourri of evil.” I scratched my aching head. “Oh yeah, and we have a giant brain-sucking head that should be dead but somehow isn’t.”

I needed to get moving to clear my head. With all the time wasted getting the crap beat out of me, I’d have to hustle to meet the ghoul at the drainage pipe. I told Blout to drop me off at Riggs while he went on to meet Mo’Lock and tell him to wait until I arrived. Blout wasn’t thrilled with the plan.

“No way,” he said. “I’m not going near that freak without you. I’ll check the box. You take the car to the pipe.”

I tried chiding him. “Are you scared?”

He pulled the wheel extra hard on a left turn, slamming my head against the window frame. “I wouldn’t call it scared, punching bag. More like creeped out.”

“Splitting hairs.” I gingerly touched the swell of bruises on the side of my face. “Besides, you might not like what you find in the box.” I tried to sound ominous, but I came off more like Bob Barker. My mouth was too swollen.