She was tied to Libor already. People tied too closely to ghosts tended to do things like drive their cars into trees, shoot themselves, or drink themselves to death. The dead want to be closer to the living.

So I picked someone else.

“He looks as though he was attacked by your pack,” I told Libor with not-really-faked reluctance. This guy wasn’t someone I’d want to be haunted by. “The suit he is wearing looks like it is from the 1950s, and it looks like he was wearing it when he was killed, because it is shredded and covered with blood.”

Dan, whispered the ghost painfully, though the bottom half of his face was gone. Dan. Under my attention, the misty edges of the transparent body drew together, condensing and solidifying at the same time.

“His name is Dan . . .”

Danek. The ghost’s voice was suddenly stronger, as if my voice on his name was giving him energy.

“Danek,” I said at the same time Libor did.

As soon as I spoke his name, the ghost was as solid as any person I’ve ever seen in my life. I could smell him, could smell his anguish and his sweat. I could see the weave of his blood-soaked silk tie. If I’d seen him on the street, I’d have called 911 for him.

What had that golem done to me? And how?

“Danek is a ghost?” asked Libor, who evidently wasn’t getting the same sensory load as I was, because, though he looked over his shoulder, he wasn’t looking in the right direction.

“Apparently,” I told him.

The old wolf laughed without amusement. “Of course he is. Danek never knew which way to go without someone’s telling him first when he was alive. It makes sense that he’d be the same dead.”

I almost gave my speech about how ghosts are not really the people who died, again, but Libor was one of those people who liked to tell others how the world worked and not listen to anyone who thought differently. I kept my mouth closed.

Libor smiled sourly. “Danek worked for the resistance here, such as it was, during World War II. His resistance group contained some of my pack and was supported by the rest of us. We only found out later, after the war was over, that he’d been working for both sides. He told the Nazis that the people who planned the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich came from the village of Lidice. It wasn’t true, the Nazis even knew it wasn’t true, but they paid him. Do you know what they did to Lidice?”

I did, actually. I’d written a term paper on the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich in Prague in May of 1942. Heydrich had survived the initial attempt, and if he hadn’t been adamant that only German surgeons work on him, he might have lived through it. Then again, maybe he’d been right to be afraid. If I’d been a Czech surgeon, I’d have made sure Heydrich didn’t survive. Heydrich made Hitler look like he should win the Humanitarian of the Twentieth Century award. Nasty piece of work. In any case, Heydrich died. And so had Lidice.