I was, of course, wrong. Maybe I was attracting trouble – of all kinds, not just the supernatural kind – because as I opened the door, the young man came charging in and dropped behind the wall below the window.

“H-help,” he managed.

I dropped to join him, trusting Kanesha to manage her own cover. “Did somebody shoot at you?”

“Yeah.”

“From a car?” I figured it was probably a gang initiation.

“It was…no…it’s…it’s…”

Somebody he knew, I guessed. “Somebody call 911. It’s not a cop, right?”

He shook his head. I hated even having to ask the question, but it did happen. Not so much in DC, but it happened.

“Then talk to me.”

“My brother. ‘Cause I won’t…”

“Won’t what? Sell drugs for him?”

I got a nod.

The kid was about fifteen. If this hit the authorities he’d end up in the system. I didn’t want to wish that on him, but him getting shot at by his own so-called family. “He didn’t hit you, right?”

“He’s too stoned.”

I almost laughed. “Then I’ll take care of him. You stay here.”

I didn’t want to play vigilante, but if the guy was too high or stoned or whatever to shoot straight, I could handle him until the cops got here. Hopefully without anyone getting hurt or killed.

You stay here.

That echoed in my mind. But it was the best request I could make of the kid, right now. I ducked out and ran behind the delivery car parked outside.

“Tyler!” came a voice down the street. “Come out!”

“I don’t think he’s going to do that,” I said, still behind the car.

There was another shot. Wherever it ended up it wasn’t close to me, but I heard the tinkling of broken glass. A car windshield. Somebody’s insurance company wasn’t going to be happy.

“Besides, you’ll regret this when you sober up.” Cautiously, trusting his bad aim, I emerged from behind the car, my hands visible.

“Who says I need to?”

“Your kid brother. You know, the one you’re trying to kill.” He wouldn’t do that while sober, right?

Right.