Ten minutes later, I was finally able to think straight again. We were driving to Mickey's house, trying to beat the morning traffic. The old Pontiac moved slowly through the snow, rumbling a little.
'What the hell were you thinking?'
He gave me a puzzled look.
'What are you talking about?'
'The fight! Are you crazy?'
He frowned.
'Why? Those punks were no match for us, man. I mean, the two of us? Bastards had no chance.'
I shook my head.
'What if one of them had pulled a knife?'
'I can stop a knife.'
He sounded very full of himself.
'What about a gun? Can you stop a damn bullet?'
Mickey sobered up a little.
'No one can stop a bullet.'
He scowled and went silent for a couple of minutes. Then a wide grin appeared on his face.
'But I can stop a fucker from pulling the trigger!'
I sighed and closed my eyes. When was the last time I slept? This night has drained me of any energy left after the shift at the bar, and Mickey's bravado wasn't helping one bit.
'What if anyone had seen us? Aren't you afraid of using your Ability like that?'
He shrugged.
'First of all, no one would have seen anything out of the ordinary. I don't go around throwing cars at people. I just made my fist pack some extra punch.'
Well, that was good to hear.
'And, secondly, what's the point of being afraid all the time? As I see it, you can spend all your life being scared of shit, or you can actually live it. You and I, and others like us, have less time to live than humans. Shouldn't we waste less of it?'
He changed lanes and shot a quick look at me.
'Why are you making a big deal out of this, anyway? I mean, you're the one who kept your meeting with Zero from the Bitch. That was, like, ten times more dangerous than what we've just done.'
I winced.
'Don't remind me.'
Mickey lived in a tall apartment building near the port. He parked the car in an empty slot a few blocks farther and we walked the rest of the way on foot.
'So. How are we going to find Sergei Duncan's family?'
He waved his hand at me.
'Don't worry about it. I told you, I'm good with information.'
'Are you going to use your connections among the wraiths?'
Mickey smiled.
'No, dude. I'm going to use Google.'
Right. Why wouldn't he?
I thought about Claire. She must be awake by now, getting ready for classes. Taking a shower, or drinking coffee. No sugar, lots of cream. Maybe she was thinking about me, too. Was she angry about what happened after the rehearsal? Or, more precisely, about what didn't happen. Was I a fool to stop myself from kissing her? Mickey was right, after all. People like me had less time to live. What was the point of being too careful to enjoy that time?
In the elevator, I pulled out my phone and wrote her a short text: "Hey, are we still on for tonight?".
I saw that she received the message, but it was a full couple of minutes before she answered.
"Sure."
Fuck. Was it a passive-aggressive 'sure', or just a simple 'sure'? I moaned silently.
'Who are you texting?'
Mickey was fumbling with his keys, trying to open the door to his apartment. He glanced at the screen of my phone and winked.
'Your girlfriend?'
I scowled and turned my phone away from him.
'She's not my girlfriend.'
'Yeah? Then why do you look like you've just swallowed a lemon?'
He finally opened the door, and we walked inside.
His flat was larger than mine. There wasn't a lot of furniture, but he had more game consoles than I knew existed, and a slick-looking PC that must have cost more than the rest of Mickey's things put together. Everything except for the computer was more than a little dusty and in different states of disrepair. The walls were decorated with movie posters featuring some boy-wizard and his colorful cast of friends.
I gave Mickey an amused look.
'What? These are great movies!'
'Uh-uh.'
The second room hosted a wooden bunk bed.
'Do you have a roommate?'
'No.'
'Then why do you have a bunk bed?'
'The question is why wouldn't I? Bunk beds are awesome.'
I remembered my first impression of him, and couldn't help feeling that I was in the Lost Boys' secret lair.
Mickey turned on the computer.
'Are you hungry? I have pizza!'
Sure, why not.
I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The full extent of Mickey's food supply consisted of two-day-old pizza, a half-empty can of some energy drink and two extra-large cartons of strawberry ice cream.
I microwaved the pizza and brought it back to the room. Mickey was typing something on the keyboard, looking busy. I put a plate in front of him.
He smiled.
'Thanks, dude! You saw my machine? A real beast, ain't she?'
I didn't know much about computers, but yeah, it looked impressive.
'Custom built. I assembled everything myself! It can, like, almost fly.'
He was clearly very proud of that thing, beaming with childish enthusiasm.
'That's cool. Must have been pretty expensive, huh?'
Mickey's smiled broadened.
'Hell yeah it was! It's all good, though. I need it for work.'
'Really? What do you do?'
He motioned to the game consoles.
'I'm a code monkey. Could have worked in one of those fancy video game companies, but... fuck that. Can't stand those posers. Plus, their background checks make the PA nervous. So I just do some outsource work.'
He sighed.
'Or, you know, go around and fix old people's wifi. The important thing is, I know my way around the web. Trust me, we'll find what we need in no time.'
In half an hour or so he coughed.
'Well, maybe I'll need some time. You should go and get some sleep. Bottom bunk is free.'
I was half asleep already, so I just nodded, went to the other room and crashed on the bottom bunk, ready to switch my head off.