Page 41

From down the street comes the thud of car doors opening and closing, then the sound of squealing tires. The ghosts turn away from us and toward a Chevy SUV shooting down the street straight at us. Some jackasses who managed to hide from the spooks decide to make a break for it while the ghosts are distracted by me and Candy. It’s not a bad plan, but they’re not handling it well.

At the last minute, the Chevy tries to steer around the spook mob—which is now running for it—but the dunce behind the wheel cuts the top-heavy SUV too hard. It runs up onto the curb, bounces a few times, and almost turns over before the driver steers too hard the other way. The Chevy fishtails for a few yards, the driver hits the brakes at exactly the wrong moment, and the SUV tips over on its side, crashing into the street.

I grab Candy and take her through a shadow into the flying saucer house. Then, before she can say something, I go back to Little Cairo.

I have to give the driver and passenger credit; they’re not giving up. The driver’s-side door, which is now pointing straight up, opens in a flash and a man climbs out. Hands appear a second later from inside the SUV and he reaches down to pull another guy out. But it’s no use. They’re completely surrounded by a mass of grasping spectral hands.

My head is still a little funny, so some of the scene plays out like it’s far away. Like I’m watching a movie. I start forward, but I’m dizzy, so I’m too slow and all I can do is wonder, if the first guy didn’t stop to help the second one, would he have gotten away? Because now the ghost mob is all over them. That weird singing sound that follows them is louder than ever as they rip the two SUV guys to pieces. I can barely hear their screams. And there’s nothing I can do to help them. I’ve seen enough stuff like this in my life that I don’t want to see it again. I turn away.

And walk right into Chris Stein, who rushes me like a goddamn black-eyed banshee. I jump into a shadow and stumble out into the living room.

Candy stands nervously by the sofa.

“Were you able to help them?”

“The two guys?” It’s our first night together in I don’t know how long. What should I tell her? Do I want to leave her remembering this night as crazy excitement or blood sacrifice and carnage? Is that what I want her to always think of me? I hate lying, but I’ll admit it, I’m scared of what the truth will do to her. And us.

“They’re okay. I got to them just in time.”

“Oh good,” she says, and drops onto the sofa. I sit down next to her and she rests her head on my shoulder, breathing hard.

She mumbles, “Well, that wasn’t a regular night home.”

I look at her.

“Please don’t tell Alessa. She’ll stab me in my sleep.”

Candy reaches for the bourbon on the table. Takes a couple of good pulls before saying, “Are you kidding? She’d be just as mad at me. How’s your head? That was a pretty good fall.”

“I’m still a little dizzy and my shoulder is sore, but okay.”

She hands me the bourbon.

I take a pull and say, “That haunting back there. It didn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like it wasn’t an ordinary haunt. Those weren’t regular ghosts. It didn’t feel at all like the hoodoo I’m used to. Spells and hexes. It felt older. Weirder. Almost like . . .”

“Like what?”

“Angelic stuff.”

“But you’re part angel. Shouldn’t you have been able to hurt them?”

“You’d think so.”

Candy gets up and heads to the kitchen.

“Almost dying makes me hungry. How about you?”

“Don’t you have to be getting back soon?”

She stops in the kitchen door and turns.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m spending the night. That okay with you?”

I look at her, waiting for a joke. But she’s serious.