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Juliette says, “If you aren’t impressed by what you experience tonight, you can walk out and you won’t have to see us ever again.”

“Just give it a chance,” says Janet. “I know what happened with Kenny was awful, but we’re not calling up demons or anything here. Just spirit guides.”

“Will you listen to me? The Land of the Dead is a horror show.”

“Then come with me for protection.”

I look at Janet. They’re so determined to show me the ragged edges of their world. I can’t abandon her now. And I haven’t seen the Lodge records yet.

But I hate this idea with all my being.

Nodding to Dan, I say, “Show me what you’ve got.”

He takes an ornate box from a black altar covered in runes, charms, milagros, and dozens of other supernatural tchotchkes that I can’t even identify. The box is old and heavy looking, like it’s made of solid iron. There are snaky dragons and dancing skeletons on the top and sides. The designs look vaguely familiar. They’re definitely Asian, but I can’t quite place them. Dan moves slowly and deliberately, really putting on a show for everyone. A Satanic priest crossed with Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. I’m already bored with his second-rate magic act when he finally opens the box and takes out a collection of bones, all delicately wired together.

It’s a carved skull that’s been carefully sectioned into several pieces like a 3-D puzzle. Each of the skull pieces is carved with more skeletons, some holding swords and some kneeling like they’re in prayer. A collection of smaller skulls rings the top of the piece like a death crown. Loops of prayer beads hang down from the sides of the fractured assemblage. Now I remember—it’s a Tibetan necromancer’s mask, and I already don’t like where this is going.

Dan carefully places the bones over his head.

He says, “I’d appreciate it if everyone knelt.”

He gets down on the floor in the lotus position. I try not to roll my eyes, but everybody else gets down there with him, like we’re going to play Spin the Bottle.

Juliette brings him a Tibetan horn made from a human femur. Dan gives the horn three good blasts, then starts doing a reasonably good imitation of a deep, overtone-laden Tibetan chant. This goes on for several minutes. Finally, he gives the horn three more blasts and plunges a long phurba—a three-sided Tibetan ceremonial dagger—into the ground.

I’m all prepared for nothing to happen, at which point I plan on stealing all of the doom twins’ liquor and disappearing back to the flying saucer house.

But something does happen.

A pinpoint of light floats across the room, like a swollen firefly. It expands into a circle and something like molten glass pours out. Finally, when the ghostly Thurl is wide enough for something to come through, something does.

It’s goddamn Kenny, all floaty and spectral. Like a prop from a William Castle movie. Even as a ghost he looks uncomfortable.

“Hi, everybody,” he says. “I’m so sorry about what happened at the summoning. I guess Stark was right. I got out over my skis. Needless to say, I’m really embarrassed.”

Juliette says, “It’s all right, Kenny. You showed us wonders that we couldn’t have imagined.”

“Really? Thanks.”

That cheers him up. As cheered up as a dead guy can get.

“What wisdom of the world beyond ours do you bring us?” says Dan.

“I’ll tell you, but where I am, there are rules. Before I can answer your question, I’m going to need a sacrifice.”

Juliette brings Dan a draped carrier that chirps quietly each time she shakes it. Dan pulls off the cover and there’s a single white dove inside. Janet stiffens a little at the sight but doesn’t move away.

Dan takes out the dove and cups it in his hands in Kenny’s direction.

He says, “Please accept this, our sacrifice.”

Quick as a snake, he snaps the bird’s neck. It lets out one last long and sad chirp before its head drops limply by its side. That neck snap was fast and precise, something Dan has practiced. I bet the doom twins’ compost can is stuffed full with the bodies of small, murdered animals.

Kenny’s eyes snap shut and he shivers like someone just stuck an icicle up his spectral ass.

When he settles down, his eyes glow like the headlights on a Rolls-Royce.

“Excellent. Now, tell me what it is you wish to see.”