“You can have your saint whatever thingy as soon as you tell us how to get our guys back from the nightmare realm.” Julie said.

“Deal.” He took out a pen, and wrote down an address. Shackleford was scowling at him. It took Franks a moment to realize it was because he was using the top of her antique piano as a writing surface.

“You are such an ass,” Shackleford said.

“Go to this place.”

“What’s there?” Pitt asked as he walked over and studied the defaced piano.

“Multidimensional research facility that works with the MCB. They traced the Las Vegas portal.”

“How’s that supposed to work? We just show up and ask for a trip to the nightmare world?”

Franks shrugged. “Not my department.” He leaned on the piano. “Where’s my Key?”

“Earl’s there. I sent him a message,” Shackleford said. “Don’t worry. I kept it cryptic. I figured Stricken reads our mail. So while we’re waiting, what’s going on?”

“Classified.”

“Oh screw you, Franks!” Pitt shouted. “Are you kidding me? All this crazy stuff happens, you’re on the PUFF list, and you show up in the middle of the night telling us Myers is dead, and your answer is classified?”

“Yes,” he answered, but the Hunters kept on glaring at him. It was an odd feeling. Franks was used to mortals giving him disapproving looks, but for once, he was actually moved by them. He had about as high an opinion of these two as he did of anyone currently alive. He needed to tell somebody about Nemesis. He might be destroyed, and somebody would need to off Kurst before he took over the world. His agency had been compromised, so that left the private sector, and he’d already ruined MHI’s best competitors. “Fine . . . I’ll brief you.”

“Franks is actually going to tell us a story? I’d better update my dream journal.”

Shackleford shushed him.

“Shut up and listen, Pitt. This is complicated.”

* * *

Earl Harbinger sat alone in the dark. The only light was from the glow of his cigarette.

His cell phone was sitting lifeless on his desk. It had been half an hour since Stricken had called to give him the news.

This is professional courtesy. It’s better you hear it from me now than you get the sanitized version later. I regret to inform you that Heather Kerkonen was killed in action when her STFU element tried to take down Agent Franks.

Earl couldn’t even remember how he’d responded.

I know you don’t like or trust me and I understand why, but I’m sincerely sorry, Earl. We had a job to do. Heather was a good woman. She died serving her country.