"Alice!"

I blinked, jerking my hands free of hers.

"Oh my God," she said, her eyes wide. "What the hell was that?"

But I could only stare at her, trembling with the memory of how I'd awakened, trapped in a room just like that. Strapped down, just like that.

"Alice! Alice!" Gracie's voice shook with fear. "What the hell? That girl. That was-" She broke off, shivering. "What was that? What's going on? You saw it, too, right?" Her eyes were wide, freaked, and I knew just how she felt.

I couldn't afford to be freaked now, though, and so I drew in a breath and tried to quash the memories. Calm, I thought. Control. Those were my buzzwords now.

"I get these visions," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Not often, but sometimes." I shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "It's weird, but I've gotten used to them."

"You told me before, remember?" Another shiver rippled through her. "But I never had any idea they were like that."

"Yeah. They can be unnerving." I managed a smile, absurdly grateful that Alice had shared the visions with Gracie. I had a feeling her advance preparation was the only reason Gracie hadn't run screaming from the restaurant. Even with warning, I could tell she was freaked, though she was trying to put on a good show. Probably she'd told Alice that the visions were no big deal, and she didn't think Alice was weird for having them. Now poor Gracie was getting the chance to put her money where her mouth was.

She gnawed on her lower lip and eyed me warily, slightly calmer now. "Are they, like, what? Predictions?"

"Sometimes," I admitted, and saw the fear flicker in her eyes. "And sometimes they're more like dreams. You know, you have to interpret what it means."

"And this one?"

"Dunno. Not really." I still didn't know how the visions worked, but maybe touching Gracie had triggered a memory in the body I now occupied. A memory of the sacrificial ceremony. A memory that, if I was lucky, could help me find Alice's killer.

"You're not telling me everything," she accused.

I started to deny it, but didn't see the point. "You're right," I said. "I'm not. And you were right about the other day, too. When you said I was distracted."

"Can I help?" she asked, though she looked like she'd much rather walk across hot coals.

"No way," I said, probably faster than I should have.

"You're gonna get yourself hurt," she said. "Killed, or worse. Aren't you?" Tears welled in her eyes. "If there's something freaky going on, Alice, you need to call the cops."

"Don't worry. I've got help."

"Deacon?"

"No," I said, probably too sharply. "Stay away from him, Gracie." I still didn't know why he killed Alice-and I still hoped that Clarence's source was wrong-but I wasn't taking any chances with my friend's life. "For that matter, stay away from the pub. When's your new job start?"

"Um, tomorrow. I know it's horrible of me not to give Egan a full two weeks, but it's okay, don't you think? Especially since the pub's gonna be closed tomorrow anyway."

"It is?"

"Yeah, remember? Oh, that's right. You have Wednesdays off."

"Why's he shutting down on a Friday?"

"Plumbing. They have to rip out some plumbing in the bathrooms. Egan's really pissed, but I guess it's all about health codes and stuff." She wrinkled her nose. "At any rate, it sounds nasty. But that should make it okay, right? I mean, that's almost like giving an extra day's notice, isn't it?"

"Totally. And I'll work an extra shift if Egan needs the help. Don't worry about it."

She rubbed her arms. "Hard not to," she said, and I knew we weren't talking about the job.

I shrugged, but had to agree. And the way I figured it, Gracie couldn't have picked a better time to have found a new job and gotten the hell away from a pub whose owners throughout history had made a point to advertise their dark allegiances.

In fact, maybe this was the reason Alice had pushed Gracie toward this new job. For that matter, I saw absolutely no reason for Gracie to go back to the demon-overrun pub. Gracie, however, insisted on following etiquette and giving Egan her notice in person. I didn't like it-I had no proof, but I did have a sick feeling that one of the bar patrons was behind both Alice's death and Egan's troubled telephone call. And if scary, creepy things were going down at the pub, I wanted the only friend I now had someplace far, far away.

Because I couldn't explain any of that to her, we walked to the pub together.

Egan looked up as we entered, then went back to polishing the brass on the bar. The place was mostly empty, just a few diehards nursing pints. A little closer to lunch, and the crowds would start to trickle in. I almost welcomed it. Juggling beers and food would at least clear my mind. Maybe if I could stop thinking about it for a second, an answer would manage to take root in the muck that was my brain.

I watched Gracie push through the doors to the kitchen, and as I hurried to catch up, Egan waved me over. "For Tank and Leon," he said, drawing two pints of Guinness.

"I'm not on yet."

"Alice."

"Fine. Whatever." I took the tray, searching the bar until I found Leon, the guy Deacon had thrown across the room. I assumed his companion, a big fellow with an acne-scarred face, was Tank. He looked somewhat familiar, but try as I might, I couldn't place the face.

I slid the pints onto the table, shifting my weight toward the door and trying to signal with body language that even though I was standing there holding beer, I wasn't really on duty yet.

"You back," Tank said in a voice like acid on nails. "Missed you, we did." His smile displayed of a row of rotten teeth.

"I was sick," I said, feeling my breakfast curdle in my stomach.

"Egan said." He looked me up and down. "Better now?"

"Great." I managed a watery smile, then hooked my thumb toward the back. "I should probably-"

"Alice not so friendly today. Got you something on your mind?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

His eyes narrowed. "Thought we were buds."

Well, shit. "You're right. I've got stuff on my mind."

He cocked his head, his expression all but asking, Well?

"Lucy," I said, hoping Alice had shared personal details. "She barfed all over the carpet."

"Heh," he said. "Bet Rachel not happy."

"Not at all." I tried the thumb trick again. "Sorry I'm such a spaz. But I'm late, and-"

I took a step away.

"Hey!"

I stopped, turned back.

He tapped his cheek with his index finger, decayed teeth flashing a bone-chilling grin.

I swallowed, then kissed my fingertips and pressed them to his cheek. "Time for me to go on duty," I said, then winked.

And then I walked away, holding my breath and looking straight ahead until the kitchen doors swung shut behind me.

Fortunately, the afternoon was busy enough that I didn't have any time to think about Tank and his scary teeth.

I'd pulled a short shift, filling in for Trish, who'd taken the day off to spend time with a relative who was in town from Nevada or Arizona or some other state with heat and horses. I was grateful for the reduced hours today. After all, I had a busy evening planned.

At fifteen minutes to the end of my shift, I started doing my side work, irritated to see that not only did I need to cut up some lemons, but there was only one lonely lemon in the fridge behind the bar. I looked around for Gracie, finding her near the table where Tank had been earlier. I didn't remember him clearing out his tab, but he was gone now, and good riddance, too.

Gracie caught my eye, and I held up the last lemon, then signaled toward the kitchen. She nodded, and I headed back, leaving the front to Gracie because Egan had disappeared to the stockroom fifteen minutes ago and still hadn't returned.

"Lemons," I said, as I entered the kitchen.

Caleb shook his head. "Downstairs. I used the last of 'em this morning and haven't had time to refill."

"Dammit, Caleb . . ."

The bear of a man only grunted and tossed me the key to the walk-in. "Grab me another gallon of coleslaw while you're down there."

"Only if you're nice."

My black sneakers made next to no noise on the stone stairs leading down to the basement. Not that I was trying to be Stealth Girl, but I have to admit that even only a few days into the job, the idea of arriving in a room unannounced had become second nature. A trait for which I was grateful when I heard the voices down below.

I edged to the side of the stairs, then folded myself into an alcove, drawing in a breath as if that would make me blend in with the stone and shadows. One hesitant step back up, but then I stopped. My conscience poked at me, but not much. Not when the form of the words started to settle in my head and I recognized the voice. Tank. And he was talking with Egan.

"-haven't got choice, Egan. The game, you know."

"I already played that game."

"Goods didn't work. You got paid. How that fair?"

I frowned, trying to follow the conversation. What goods? Drugs, perhaps? I'd done enough deals on my own to know that purity in drugs on the street was dodgy at best. And hadn't Rachel mentioned the bar's financial troubles? If Egan had gotten into dealing in order to up the cash flow of the bar . . .

"I gave you exactly what you asked for. How is it my fault if it didn't work? I did what you-"

"You question me?"

"Of course not. But-"

"You gonna return money?"

"I don't have-"

"But you can get?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know just where to get."

"Friday. Sunrise. You deliver, or you pay."

Tank stormed out, and though I knew I was well hidden, my heart pounded wildly in my chest.

Friday.

Tomorrow.

I didn't know what was going to go down, but I damn well intended to be there to find out.

THIRTY-FOUR.

I vacillated between action and inaction, then finally decided to act like the badass I was supposed to be, suck up my courage, and ask Egan if anything was wrong. He looked up at me over the shot of tequila he was pouring at the bar, his doughy face forming into suspicious lines. "What? What could be wrong? Other than Gracie up and giving her notice. Or not giving it. Last day's today, and now she tells me. You know about this?"

I shook my head and hoped I looked perplexed. "So that's all that's bothering you?"

"What? That ain't enough?"

I debated a second, and then bit the bullet. Hard. "I overheard you and Tank. He sounded really pissed. And . . . well, it sounded like he was dragging you into something illegal." Egan hadn't seemed the type to run a drug shop under the table, but the truth was, nothing surprised me anymore. Not that I intended to accuse Alice's uncle. Better to play the Are you getting sucked into something? card and see if I couldn't get him to spill at least part of the truth. "I thought maybe you needed help."

For a moment he looked scared, then confused. Then, to my surprise, he burst out laughing. "Well, holy shit, girl, I guess that would sound like we were slipping a little heroin to the local populace. And Tank's sure as hell got the look about him, doesn't he?"

I blinked, taken aback by his forthrightness.

"For all I know, the bastard does deal," Egan went on, as if the thought just occurred to him. "But not here," he said, turning a gimlet eye on me. "I don't hold with that, and you darn well know it."

"Well, sure," I said, as if I did know it. "So it wasn't drugs. Was it, you know, dark stuff?"

Egan gave me a tight little shake of the head. "You know better than that, girl."

I nodded. Clarence had specifically told me that Egan had fought with Alice's mom over her involvement with the dark arts. A scary reputation for the bar was apparently okay with him. True scariness crossed the line.

"Well, then, what is it? What's going on?"

The amused expression was back, and he chuckled as he passed the tray of drinks off to Gracie, pointedly not looking at her. "Bastard's complaining the car I sold him doesn't work. That ancient Buick? The puke-green one? Worked fine when he picked it up, but he's saying I either return the money or get him another car, and . . ." He trailed off with a shrug.

"That's it? A car? That's what's bugging you?"

"You're the one said I looked like something was wrong. Me, I'm just annoyed I got to deal with a prick like that."