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Get to the high school. Someone will meet you there. You want to save your friend; I want to know about the prophecy. Come back with the information or not at all.

Short, sweet, and to the point … only without the sweet. It didn’t actually say that Rick would be the “someone” or that I should suddenly trust him as far as I could throw him, only that I would be provided with the means to find the psychic and grill him about the prophecy. Of course, I’d failed to mention to Connor that I more or less knew the prophecy already. And Connor had failed to care about Marcy, beyond using her rescue as incentive.

“Let me ask you, why does Connor need me to run his little errand?” I asked Rick, watching him closely. “Why doesn’t he make you do it?”

Rick shot me a venomous look. “You don’t know much, do you? From what I hear, the psychic doesn’t like my kind.”

“Male?”

“Breathing.”

“Oh.” I thought about that. Could be that if the psychic did like to play with his food, humans just weren’t sporting. Too quick to die.

Not a happy thought.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going,” I said finally.

“Don’t know exactly.” And yet he was twisting and turning down back roads like he had some clue, still draped over the steering wheel for support. “Connor said you’d know.”

“Oh yeah—?”
Morsel
, a voice whispered through my head; it felt like spiders on creepy, prickly little legs, like an invasion.
Come, morsel. Come, pretty pretty pretty. Two for one. And all for me. What a treat.

“You do know you guys are being watched, right?”

–––

Rick continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. No spiders were skittering through his head.

“Excuse me?” I managed to ask, distracted.

“Someone,” he said, like I was a dimwit. “Watching Melli’s place. Council, I figure. Might want to let Connor know.”

Here, morsel,
the voice in my head continued to whisper, blowing tendrils of inky, multi-legged invasion through my brain.

My lips curled. “Ew, ew, ew!” Everything in me shrieked that we should turn and run, put the pedal to the metal. “We’re supposed to go
toward
that?”

“Toward what?”

“That,” I answered, wanting to beat at my own head to stop the psychic infestation, which was still skittering through my brain. The whispers seemed to slip into all the dark pathways, opening the Pandora’s box of fears I locked away.

“Turn,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Which way?”

Back
, I wanted to tell him. “Left,” I said instead.

Rick took the next left, into an abandoned industrial site blocked off by an iron gate gone to rust. The headlights swept it, and with a “Holy crap” Rick stopped short. “This is as far as I go,” he said.

I was guessing the place had finally gotten to him as well. Maybe he was getting some hint of the whispers that were now so loud, so overlapping, they nearly drowned out the sound of his voice.

Against my will, my hand reached for the door handle and I stumbled onto the cracked drive before I could stop myself. Whatever this thing was, I couldn’t just shake it off like I had Connor’s little compulsion. It was more primal and powerful than that. Than me.

If I lived through this, Connor was dead meat. “You’ll wait!” I called back to Rick.

“For a while,” he agreed—sort of.

It was going to have to be enough, because my feet were already carrying me onward. I couldn’t help but wonder why Connor didn’t just grill the boogeyman himself if it was so important to him. Maybe he was afraid Melli would notice his absence, though I’d bet he just didn’t want to get within spitting distance of the psycho-psychic.

I discovered that if I fought the compulsion
really
hard, I could stop myself from skirting around that gate, from going farther up the walk toward the building that was a mere blocky shape in the distance … if I wanted to shake, sweat, and generally jitter like a junky. But I was a ma’am on a mission, and I would go on. The T-bird’s headlights illuminated my path to hell—which, contrary to popular belief, was completely unpaved.

Between lack of food and the free-for-all going on in my head, I was really shaky by the time I neared the building, which looked like it should probably be condemned.
Come on, bit bit bit. Come, morsel
. I’d never been so creeped out in all my life, not even when Larissa’d had that Halloween slumber party where we watched the
Nightmare on Elm Street
marathon and her boyfriend jumped out at us in a Freddy Krueger mask.

“Get the hell out of my head!” I screamed, mentally and physically. Maybe I had some vain hope that our psychic connection ran both ways and I could somehow make him recoil, but mostly I just couldn’t take it any more. I wanted to drown out the whispers, if only for a second.

Hysterical laughter filled my head.
The mind of a teenaged girl is indeed a terrifying thing.

Steam didn’t actually come out of my ears, but it was a very near thing. I was eager now for the showdown, and the anticipation propelled me the last few feet toward the warped warehouse door. It stood ajar, like nothing within the building had anything to fear from without. Boarded-up windows gave no clue of what beckoned.

The knob I reached for had been painted in the same flaking black as the door itself. Even with the compulsion on me, it looked totally too grody to touch. I grasped at the bottom of my cami—the thing was destined for the incinerator at this point anyway—and used it to pull the door toward me. It groaned at the movement, paint flecking off the whole way.

Inside it was pitch dark, except for the light I was letting in from outside and a weird glow off to the right. My eyes adjusted in, like, no time flat, but they needn’t have bothered. There was nothing to see here unless abandoned warehouses buttered your bread. Personally, debris, cobwebs, a lifetime supply of dust, and creepy things scurrying along the floor didn’t do it for me. And the
smell
. If I actually had to breathe, I’d probably choke on the air, which was thick and heavy with the scent of voided bowels and spoiling meat, blood, and mold.

“Anyone here?” I called—but, you know, not
too
loudly.

Come, morsel,
the voice said, giving me the jitters.
Toward the light, the better to see you, my dear.

It’s your freak show
, I responded mentally.

The whispering in my head quieted all of the sudden as if listening, then answered, “Out of the mouths of babes.”

Only
this
time the voice wasn’t in my head—and that didn’t make it any better. It was again that high-pitched croon. I bet he drove the neighborhood dogs to distraction.

I followed the sound, into a dark room lit only by a lantern in the center. I kicked something and it rolled before me … sounded like bone, not that I was any expert. I tried not to look, but it was instinctual … and it was a bone. Femur, maybe, or some other long bone. Big enough to be … my brain balked. The bone rattled into others like it, the remains of several meals at least. And there, cowering in the corner, was Marcy.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Y-y-yes,” she answered unconvincingly.

“Great.
Run!”

She cut her gaze toward the boogeyman and then bolted for the doorway. I stepped aside to let her through, but in one quick leap, more worthy of a grasshopper than anything human-shaped, the psychic cut her off.

Marcy screamed as he grabbed her shoulders and thrust her back, into a pile of bones, like she was a mere rag doll. I stooped to pick up a weapon, not that I thought it would do me any good against him. It didn’t make me feel much more powerful than my blazing fury alone.

“Trade,” I said, hefting the—I looked down—skull. It was all I could do not to scream. “Her for me.”

He looked at me in amusement, eyes blazing red now like Melli’s never had, and that crazy laughter bounced around in my brain. “Why, when I could have you both?”

“Over my dead body.”

“Eventually,” he agreed.

I launched the skull at him, aiming it like a dodgeball at my arch-nemesis. Tina had just lost her title. She’d be sooo crushed.

The skull bounced off his chest. His eyes flared, but that was the only reaction. Not a flinch, not so much as a wince.

“I may cease to find you amusing,” he threatened.

“That’s a shame, ’cause I live for your amusement … Oh wait, I
don’t
.”

“Gina?” Marcy’s voice quavered, but this time I ignored her, not wanting to switch my attention and possibly the freakshow’s toward my friend.

“Gina!” she said more urgently, the edge of hysteria creeping into her voice. I realized that the floor was moving … skittering … at the edges of my vision. Mice. Plural. Marcy would be freaking and scaling the walls any time now. Which I could handle, but her shrieking … Maybe the freakshow would have over-sensitive ears.

I couldn’t count on that, though.

“Yo, dude, catch!” And I launched myself at him, yanking the hair spray from my waistband as I went. I did a duck and roll as his talons swept at me, grabbing up the lantern as I rolled past. The candle inside flickered and sloshed hot wax but didn’t go out, and I used my momentum to hurl the lantern at the creep as hard as I could, unleashing a stream of superhold as the lantern flew by. The very air caught fire.

“Run, Marcy,
now!”
I yelled, hoping I’d foiled the creep’s night vision, hoping that this was enough of a distraction. The flames didn’t last long, though, and as he fought his way through them, Marcy shot past me to the door. Freakshow lurched, and I shot the hair spray again, right into his blazing red eyes.

His howl split my head in two. I dove for the door while he thrashed blindly, trying to grab me up or rip me to shreds. Either way, I wasn’t waiting around to find out.

Rend, tear, taste, shred, kill
. The thoughts burst in my head like a blood vessel. The boogeyman had murder in his heart, and I had been marked for death.

I
ran
. The death of the flames meant momentary blindness while my eyes readjusted, and I tripped and stumbled over things that rolled beneath my feet. Something nipped at my heels, feeling like the hounds of hell, though it was probably only the mice, spurring me on.

I burst out into the night, suddenly able to see, and raced for Rick and the car. Marcy was nowhere in sight.

“Marcy!” I yelled as I ran, but there was no answer. It was like the night had swallowed her whole.

She hadn’t waited around, and I couldn’t afford to either. That thing wouldn’t be too far behind. At least she was alive. That was enough for now.

14

I
slammed myself into the car and shut the door behind me yelling, “Go, go, go!”

Rick looked at me, startled, but was already shifting into reverse before the words were fully out of my mouth.

“Your friend?” he asked.

“Got away,” I said, sucking in a quick breath to speak.

“The prophecy?”

“Got it,” was my answer. No need to give him the time stamp on my information, which of course dated back to me hiding behind the curtains in Melli’s office.

“Good.”

I let my head fall back on the headrest, unable to hold it up any longer. Adrenaline had gotten me this far, but I needed blood. Stat. And not from Rick, who looked like a mosquito bite would push him over the edge.

“Rick, we’ve got a stop to make before you take me back.”

“No way. Someone’s going to notice you missing any time now.”

“I doubt it,” I muttered. “Either we stop for a drink or you’re it,” I said more loudly, reaching a hand over to squeeze his leg … hard. “Got it?”

He swallowed and turned, if possible, even paler, almost like a year-old vamp, all faded without the sun. “Where?” he asked.

“The mall. Where else?”

Back to my element. The mall was safe and sane, with all kinds of bright lights and sparklies and retail therapy. Lucky me, it would be on summer hours, open late, since we were past Memorial Day. It could even be that Marcy was headed there. It was instinctive, like salmon swimming upstream or knowing what skirt to pair with what blouse.

I watched out the window as Rick drove, thinking again about my old life. Would it really be so hard to return to it? Pull a big-screen entrance back at school in bitchin’ heels and a skirt slit so high no one would be able to talk about anything else, including the fact that I was supposed to be dead? Why on earth should I go back to the compound?

Marcy was gone, and she wouldn’t dare return to Melli’s. No one else there would even speak to me. Well, okay, I’d felt the first chink in everyone’s good-little-soldier armor tonight when they helped me escape to save Marcy. Chaz had even tossed me my boots. And then, of course, there was Bobby. I flashed on those baby blues of his, which could focus on me with that ego-boosting total attention, like I was the only thing in the world. Plus, the boy could kiss. I didn’t even want to think about what kind of practice he’d had before me or the fact that Melli-noma was part of that.

On this side, there were mochachinos and malt balls—not that I could eat them anymore—Becca, Mom, and Dad …

“Turn here,” I instructed.

“But this isn’t the way to the mall. You said one stop,” he protested.

“This isn’t a stop. It’s a drive-by.” I didn’t expect Mom and Dad to be home, and I wouldn’t know what to say to them if they were, but I couldn’t be this close and not check. Besides, Marcy’s house was right down the road, on the corner of Jacoby and Pine, so I had a perfectly good excuse for passing by. She might have come this way, following the same homing instinct I hadn’t known I had.

We never got as far as Pine. The lights at my house were blazing. My heart sank at the thought that it had only taken my folks a few days to forget about me and take back their lives. But then I noticed a police car parked half a block down the street, right in front of Bobby’s abandoned POS that I’d forgotten all about.

I jumped at the idea that something else had called my parents back—like maybe the cops. Had Bobby and I left the side door open when we were ambushed? Had the place been robbed? Had someone been hurt?

I had the car door open and one foot out before Rick launched himself over me to grab the door handle and keep me from bolting. The car sped up and swerved wildly, and I had a flashback to the night of my death. Terrified, I jerked myself back and Rick slammed the door after me, regaining control.

“What was
that
all about?” he asked, still speeding so I wouldn’t be tempted to throw myself out.

“That was my place.”

“So?”

“There were police inside. I’m sure of it.”

“And you were going to … what? Let everyone see you? You don’t think your parents would freak?”

I thought of Mom, who practically barricaded herself in the house when Mercury was in retrograde. She’d probably wig out at the sight of me. The thought hurt. Sure, I hadn’t paid that much attention when I’d had them, when it wasn’t like they were going anywhere, but now … I thumped myself back in the seat, arms crossed. “Fine, the mall then. They have that stupid little sports café tucked back in a corner. Maybe I can preempt one of the TVs and tune it to local news.”

“Are you kidding? The game’ll be on. You’ll start a riot.”

I growled.

“Department store electronics department. That’s my final offer,” he said.

I shrugged. “Whatever, but make it upscale. I need some new duds. This shirt reeks of blood.” His, actually.

Rick gave me a look, which after the boogeyman just seemed laughable. “Your wish is my command,
princess
.”

“So glad you’ve finally figured that out,” I answered.

Rick found a shadowed section of underground parking garage and, with a little sprint, I caught a girl just getting into her Jetta. Rick watched the whole scene a bit too avidly, like he expected to see some girl-on-girl action, but all he witnessed was my donor turning to putty in my hands and sinking down into the driver’s seat. Hot blood rushed into my mouth as I bit into her neck. I barely tasted it. I was all about the tingle, the fire rushing through my limbs, the heady strength and vitality flooding through me. My knees went weak with relief.

I let go when her head lolled to the side, suddenly afraid I’d taken too much. Fear goosed my heart. I reached down to feel her pulse, and she moaned, nearly scaring the bejeebers out of me. As gently as I could, I tucked her the rest of the way into the car and set her locks so no one could disturb her while she was out.

I waved Rick to me, like a valet who would carry the many bags I’d soon have. Even worried about my parents, the fresh blood and the sight of the mall put a little swing into my step.

“You can’t just go in looking like yourself,” Rick protested.

I looked down at myself … at the dusty, wrinkled clothes I’d been wearing for days, the stiff spot where Rick’s lifeblood had gushed at me, my boots scuffed by running for my life. “Excuse me? I look like the fashionista of the damned. No one’s going to recognize me. And if they do, just tell them I’m really my evil twin.”

“Well, given this new look, I’m also worried about mall security.”

“You can play lookout if you’re so concerned. You see anyone, you cover me.”

“How?”

“Strike up a conversation, head them off, something. Jeez, how did you ever get through junior high?”

Rick looked as if he’d like to throttle me, but I scooted inside where there were too many witnesses and led my way toward one of the superstores for both news and couture. I meant to hit the TVs first, I swear I did, but savvy store designers brought us in near the clothes and oooh … shiny. Satin called to me. And silk. And a teeny, tiny little kilt complete with buckles and matching knee socks that might just leave Bobby speechless.

Rick’s comment about mall security had gotten to me, and I snuck into a dressing room as soon as I could with an armful of clothes, ordering Rick off to get me some shoes. “Size seven. No pastels.”

He growled but he obeyed, rightly figuring, I guess, that it was the fastest way to get me out of the place.

Then he was gone, and I was surrounded by mirrors with no reflection to show for it. How was I ever going to know what looked good?

“Did you hear that?” asked a voice in the stall right next to me, and I froze halfway out of my bloody shirt.

“What?” A girl responded, a few dressing rooms down.

“That totally sounded like Gina!”

Becca
… the ache that had started in my chest with the lights at my parents’ place went critical.

“But she’s
dead
.”

“I know that, dork.” Was the other voice Cindy McCallan? “But if she was going to, like, haunt someplace, don’t you think it would be the mall?”

Cindy, if that’s who it was, snorted. I’d always hated that about her. “You totally need to get over that already. She’s gone, okay? You don’t have to follow her lead anymore.”

“I
am
over it,” Becca said peevishly. “And she was always following
my
lead anyway.”

I couldn’t have breathed right then if I’d needed to. Mom and Dad back in less than a week … even maybe with good reason … Becca hanging with silly Cindy, famous for wearing Crocs with socks. Becca totally revising our entire history,
already over my death
. Was I that forgettable?

It cost me a huge effort to finish changing, but I was hell-bent on escaping that changing room before the others. I didn’t want to come face-to-face with my old life after all, if all I had left to love me was a Creamsicle-colored stuffed cat.

I didn’t even pay much attention to what I put on—a glittery tank, some straight-legged jeans. I grabbed up everything else and bolted … straight into Rick and his shoe boxes.

“There’s something you need to see,” he said ominously.

I bit my lip. Mom … Dad …

He pulled me and I jogged over to the electronics section. We both stopped dead in front of a large screen TV that sported Bobby’s photo in the upper right hand corner.

“Turn up the sound!” I ordered Rick, and he did it without even an argument.

“—wanted for questioning in the disappearance of several bodies from local cemeteries. More bizarre, the suspect himself seems to have gone missing. Earlier this evening his car was discovered abandoned outside the home of the latest … Brad, can she be called a victim if she’s already dead?” the female anchor asked her co-host.

All the blood I’d just taken in drained to my stomach, forming a cold, hard lump. They couldn’t really think Bobby was involved in the disappearances!

“I’m not sure what to call her, Helen. Apparently, the night watchman at Shady Pines Cemetery swears to seeing the girl walk out under her own steam. She was identified from this photograph.” A photo of me replaced Bobby’s in the upper right corner. My school picture from junior year. The year of the zit from hell and the one time my parents had forgotten to check the airbrushing option. My life was well and truly over.

“Speaking of steam, I hear this week’s going to be a scorcher. Let’s go to … ”

I tuned them out. “We’ve got to get back,” I told Rick.

“Well, duh.”

I led the way, going as fast as my boots would carry me. Alarms jangled as I left with my armful of clothes, security tags still attached, but I kept right on going. Those things went off so often by mistake that hardly anyone paid attention anymore, and I was too upset to care. Bobby had to know he was wanted for questioning so that he could clear his name … or at least stay hidden away. I just hoped that if my parents had heard about the whole night-watchman thing they weren’t freaking out. But if the polyester patrolman described what I’d been wearing … well, they’d recognize it, right? There couldn’t be two dresses that ugly in the world. And if the news of my bizarre reanimation was what had brought them back, not a robbery … then maybe Fluffy wasn’t the only one to care after all.