And I think Toys caught a glimpse of it. Maybe it was a look in my eyes, maybe it was something else. Junie said he was empathic. It’s possible she was right.

We drank.

Ghost got up and went over to stare into the bathroom. I heard a low growl, but then he came back, hopped onto the bed, and fell asleep beside me.

“Well, then,” Toys said, “let’s shift the conversation, shall we?”

“Gladly.”

“Have you found anything that’s of actual use?”

I had to think about that for a couple of minutes. Partly because I wasn’t sure I wanted to trust him. Partly—or maybe mostly—because I was just coming back to myself, and could I trust that? Was this a lull between my own psychological storms, or the falsely calm eye in the hurricane that was the Darkness? My gut told me that I was in no way on solid ground. The Darkness had taken hold on me for weeks. Why should I have any faith that it was simply letting me go? It’s not like there was a breaking point where it lost its hold or I broke free.

Frankly, I don’t know why I came out of it as far as I had.

“How do I know you’re not gaming me here, Toys?” I asked. “How do I know that you’re here with the blessing of Mr. Church?”

He studied the golden depths of his wine. “You could call him.”

I shook my head.

Toys sighed, set his glass down, took out his wallet, and removed a black metal American Express Centurion Card, looked at it for a moment, and then flipped it at me. I got a hand up in time to catch it.

The card was in the name of George Harold Sisler. It almost made me smile. Gorgeous George Sisler was one of the all-time greatest baseball players. Started out in 1915 with the Saint Louis Browns—the team that became the Baltimore Orioles—and retired in 1930 from the Boston Braves. During his career, he established a .340 lifetime batting average over those sixteen years in the majors, stole 375 bases, and had 200-plus hits in six seasons. My grandpa had Sisler’s 1921 baseball card, which he handed down to my dad, and my dad to me. It was in my office at Phoenix House, along with framed cards of Rafael Palmeiro, Davey Johnson, Cal Ripken, Mike Mussina, Roberto Alomar, and others.

“Put your thumb on the centurion,” suggested Toys.

AmEx cards have a picture of a Roman soldier on them. Very lantern-jawed and stalwart. I placed my thumb carefully over the image and watched as the card changed color from black to black and orange. The Orioles team colors. When I turned the card over, I saw that the standard credit card text was gone, replaced by a single word written in what was Church’s distinctive flowing hand.

FAMILY