I could see enough to know no living person was attached to that snicker.

I marched back the way I'd come.

The whispers followed, right at my ear now, escalating to a guttural moan that made goose b.u.mps rise on my arms.

I remembered what the necromancer's ghost at Lyle House had said-that he'd followed me from the hospital, where he'd been dealing with ghosts pestering mental patients. I guess if you're a s.a.d.i.s.tic moron who's been stuck in limbo for years, haunting mental patients-or young necromancers-might seem like a fun way to pa.s.s the time.

The moaning turned to a weird keening, like the wailing souls of the tormented dead.

I wheeled toward the noise. "Are you having fun? Well, guess what? If you keep it up, you're going to find out that I'm a lot more powerful than you think. I'll yank you out of there whether you want to show yourself or not."

My delivery was pitch-perfect-strong and steady-but the ghost just gave a derisive snort, then resumed keening.

I felt my way to a crate, brushed dust off the top, and sat. "One last chance or I'm pulling you through."

Two seconds of silence. Then the moaning again, right at my ear. I almost toppled off the crate. The ghost snickered. I closed my eyes and summoned, careful to keep my power on low, just in case his body was nearby. I might get some satisfaction from slamming him back into his rotting corpse, but I'd regret it later.

The moaning stopped. At a grunt of surprise, I smiled and amped it up, just a little.

The figure started to materialize-short, chubby guy old enough to be my grandfather. He twisted and writhed like he was caught in a straitjacket. I pulled harder....

A dull thump nearby made me jump.

"Liz?" I called. "Tori?"

The ghost snarled. "Let me go, you little-"

Another thump drowned out the nasty name he called me-or most of it. Then came a weird skittering noise.

"Let me go or I-"

I closed my eyes and gave the ghost one big mental shove. He gasped and sailed backward through the wall, like he'd been thrown out of a s.p.a.ceship air lock. I waited to see if he'd return. He didn't. I'd cast him to the other side, wherever ghosts live. Good.

Another thump. I scrambled to my feet, the ghost forgotten. I crept past a stack of crates and listened. Silence.

"Tori?" I whispered. "Liz?"

Um, if it's not not them, maybe calling their names isn't such a bright idea. them, maybe calling their names isn't such a bright idea.

I eased along the crates until I reached a gap. Through it, I saw the pale rectangle of a window. The grime was smudged, like someone had haphazardly rubbed it away.

The scratching sound came again. Then the smell hit, like that musky odor in the other room, only ten times worse. The skittering came again-like tiny claws on concrete.

Rats.

As I pulled back, the window darkened. Then thump thump. I looked up too late to see what it was. Was someone throwing stuff at the window? Maybe the boys, trying to get my attention.

I hurried forward, forgetting the rats, until I saw a dark blob on the shadowy floor, moving slow, like it was dragging something. That must be what I smelled-a dead animal that the rat was taking back to the nest.

When something brushed the top of my head, I yelped, clapping my hands over my mouth. A shadow flew past and hit the window with that familiar thump. As it fell, I noticed thin, leathery wings. A bat.

The dim shape flapped its wings against the concrete, making a scratchy, rustling noise. Weren't bats supposed to fly by echolocation? It shouldn't hit a window trying to escape.

Unless it was rabid.

The bat finally launched itself again. It fluttered away, weaving and bobbing like it was still dazed. It headed for the ceiling, then turned and came straight at me.

As I stumbled back my foot slipped, and I fell with a bone-jarring crack that set my injured arm on fire. I tried to leap up, but whatever I'd stepped on was stuck to my sneaker, sending me skidding again.

The thing on my sneaker was slick and cold. I pulled it off and raised it into the moonlight. Pinched between my fingers was a rotting wing. The bat I'd seen still had both of its wings, so there must be another one in here, dead.

I threw the wing across the room and frantically wiped my hand on my jeans. The bat swooped again. I ducked, but my foot slid out and I fell. As I hit the floor, a horrible smell enveloped me, so strong I coughed. Then I saw the bat, less than a foot away, teeth bared, long fangs white against the dark.

The cloud cover shifted, the light streaming into the room, and I realized I wasn't looking at fangs but at white patches of skull. The bat was decomposing, one eye shriveled, the other a black pit. Most of the flesh was gone; only hanging bits remaining. The bat had no ears, no nose, just a bony snout. The snout opened. Rows of tiny jagged teeth flashed, and it started to shriek, a horrible garbled squeaking.

My shrieks joined it as I scrambled back. The thing pulled itself along on one crumpled wing. It was definitely a bat-and I'd raised it from the dead.

With my gaze fixed on the bat creeping toward me, I forgot about the other one until it flew at my face. I saw it coming-then saw its sunken eyes, b.l.o.o.d.y stumps of ears, and bone showing through patchy fur. Another zombie bat.

I slammed back into the crates. My hands sailed up to ward the bat off, but too late. It hit my face. I screamed then, really screamed as the rotted wings drummed me. The cold body hit my cheek. Tiny claws caught in my hair.

I tried to smack it away. It dropped. As I clapped my hands to my mouth, I felt something tugging at my shirt. I looked down to see the bat clinging to it.

Its fur wasn't patchy at all. What I'd mistaken for spots of bone were wriggling maggots.

I pressed one hand to my mouth, stifling my screams. With my free hand, I swatted at it, but it clung there, rows of teeth opening and closing, head bobbing like it was trying to see me.

"Chloe? Chloe!" Liz raced through the outside wall. She stopped short, eyes going huge. "Oh my G.o.d. Oh my G.o.d!"

"G-get it off. P-please."

I whirled, still swatting at the bat. Then I heard a sickening crunch as I stepped on the other one. When I wheeled, the one clinging to me fell off. As it hit the floor, Liz shoved the top crate off a stack and it fell on the fallen bat, the thud drowning out that horrible bone-crunching noise.

"I-I-I-"

"It's okay," she said, walking toward me. "It's dead."

"N-n-no. It's..."

Liz stopped. She looked down at the bat I'd stepped on. It lifted one wing feebly, then let it fall. The wing twitched, claw scratching the concrete.

Liz hurried to a crate. "I'll put it out of its misery."

"No." I held out my hand. "That won't work. It's already dead."

"No, it's not. It's-" She bent for a closer look, finally seeing the decomposing body. She stumbled back. "Oh. Oh, it's-It's-"

"Dead. I raised it from the dead."

She looked at me. And her expression...She tried to hide it, but I'll never forget that look-the shock, the horror, the disgust.

"You...," she began. "You can...?"

"It was an accident. There was a ghost pestering me. I-I was summoning him and I must have a-accidentally raised them."

The bat's wing fluttered again. I dropped beside it. I tried not to look, but of course I couldn't help seeing the tiny body crushed on the concrete, bones sticking out. And still it moved, struggling to get up, claws sc.r.a.ping the concrete, smashed head rising- I closed my eyes and concentrated on freeing its spirit. After a few minutes, the scratching stopped. I opened my eyes. The bat lay still.

"So what was it? A zombie?" Liz tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked.

"Something like that."

"You...You can resurrect the dead?"

I stared at the crushed bat. "I wouldn't call it resurrection."

"What about people? Can you...?" She swallowed. "Do that?"

I nodded.

"So that's what Tori's mom meant. You raised zombies at Lyle House."

"Accidentally."

Uncontrollable powers...

Liz continued. "So it's...like in the movies? They're just empty, re-re-What's the word?"

"Reanimated." I wasn't about to tell her the truth, that necromancers didn't reanimate a soulless body. We took a ghost like Liz and shoved her back into her rotting corpse.

I remembered what the demi-demon said, about me nearly returning the souls of a thousand dead to their buried sh.e.l.ls. I hadn't believed her. Now...

Bile filled my mouth. I turned away, gagging and spitting it out.

"It's okay," Liz said, coming up beside me. "It's not your fault."

I looked at the box she'd shoved onto the other bat, took a deep breath, and walked to it. When I reached to move it, she said, "It's dead. It must be-" She stopped and said in a small, shaky voice. "Isn't it?"

"I need to be sure."

I lifted the box.

Sixteen.

T HE BAT WASN'T DEAD HE BAT WASN'T DEAD. It was-I don't want to remember it. By that point, I'd been so stressed out that I couldn't concentrate, and freeing the bat's spirit had taken...a while. But I did it. And I was glad I'd checked. Now I could relax...or so I thought.

"You should sleep," Liz said after I'd lain there with my eyes open for almost an hour.

I glanced at Tori, but she was still snoring-hadn't even stirred since I'd come back.

"I'm not tired," I said.

"You need to rest. I can help. I always helped my nana sleep when she couldn't."

Liz never talked about her parents, only her grandmother, and I realized how little I knew about her.

"You lived with your nana?"

She nodded. "My mom's mom. I didn't know my dad. Nana said he didn't stick around."

Considering he'd been a demon, I supposed that was how it worked.

Liz was silent a moment, then said quietly, "I think she was raped."

"Your mom?"

"I heard stuff. Stuff I wasn't supposed to hear, Nana talking to her sisters, her friends, and later to social workers. She said Mom was wild when she was young. Not really really wild, just smoking and drinking beer and skipping cla.s.ses. Then she got pregnant, and that made her different. She got older. p.i.s.sed off. Things I heard-I think she was raped." wild, just smoking and drinking beer and skipping cla.s.ses. Then she got pregnant, and that made her different. She got older. p.i.s.sed off. Things I heard-I think she was raped."

"That's awful."

She pulled her knees up and hugged them. "I never told anyone that. It's not the kind of thing you share. Kids might look at you funny, you know?"

"I'd never-"

"I know. That's why I told you. Anyway, for a few years, everything was okay. We lived with Nana, and she looked after me while Mom worked. But then Mom had this accident."

My gut chilled as I thought of my own mother, killed in a hit-and-run. "What kind of accident?"

"The cops said she was at this party, got drunk, and fell down the stairs. She hit her head really hard and when she got out of the hospital, it was like she was a whole different person. She couldn't work, so Nana did and Mom stayed home with me, but sometimes she'd forget to feed me lunch or she'd get really mad and hit me and say it was all my fault. Blaming me because she wasn't happy, I guess."

"I'm sure she didn't-"

"Mean it. I know. Afterward she'd cry and tell me she was sorry and buy me candy. Then she had my little brother, and she started getting into drugs and getting arrested for stealing stuff. Only she never went to jail. The court always sent her to a mental hospital. That's why, at Lyle House, I was so scared-"

"Of being sent to one. I should have helped. I-"

"You tried. It wouldn't have mattered. They'd already made up their minds." She went quiet for a moment. "Mom tried to warn me. Sometimes she'd show up at my school, high on dope, going on about experiments and magic powers, and saying I had to hide before they found me." Another pause. "I guess she wasn't so crazy after all, huh?"

"No, she wasn't. She was trying to protect you."

She nodded. "Okay, enough of that. You need to rest up so you can find the guys. Nana always said I was good at helping people fall asleep. Better than any pills. You know why?"

"Why?"