"Let's go," Winn said. He grabbed Deem's arm again and they began walking.

Once they reached the opening, Winn saw that they'd need to climb a little. The hole was about five feet off the ground.

"How are we going to do this?" Winn asked.

"I'll go first," Awan said. "You help her into it, and I'll help her down on the other side."

Awan crawled up and through the hole, leaving Winn with Deem.

"Alright," Winn said. "Deem, we've got to go up through that hole. I can boost you, but you've got to use your arms."

Deem left the trance and looked at Winn. "I think he'll be fine if I drop out for a few minutes."

"He's still here? Following us?" Winn asked.

"He hasn't been more than five feet from the EpiPen since I showed it to him," she said.

Winn leaned down to give Deem a boost, and she scuttled up and over the opening. A short slide, and she landed at Awan's feet. He grabbed her and pulled her up.

"Thanks," Deem said.

"You left the trance?" Awan asked.

"He's still following me," Deem said. "We're good."

Awan extended a hand to Winn as he slid down from the hole, and they all looked into the new cavern they'd entered.

"This is it," Awan said.

"I don't see anything," Winn said. The cave was a large, open room, at least a hundred feet wide and just as long. The floor of the room looked flat, with an occasional boulder.

"Jump into the River," Awan said.

They all entered the flow, and there before them was the blood river water moving rapidly in a stream at least twenty feet wide. The water emerged from a hole in the wall on the left, and flowed past them to a place on the far right, where it disappeared. It looked dark, like water always looked in caves.

"It's not water, is it?" Deem asked, stepping forward to its bank.

"No," Awan said. "It's blood."

Deem placed her hand into the water and withdrew it. She held her hand up to her headlamp. The liquid running off her hand was dark red. She smelled it, and the unmistakable copper odor hit her nose.

Deem felt a wave of nausea. Her brain hadn't constructed a literal river of blood when Awan had described it. She'd imagined a river of water that was just named 'blood river,' like all the other euphemistic names given to places downwind. Devil's Throat wasn't a literal throat of a devil. Mollie's Nipple was just a mountain with a tiny b.u.t.te at the tip, not a real woman's breast.

"You need to get the ghost into the river," Awan said. "And he needs to drink from it."

Deem sat on the ground about ten feet from the bank of the river. She dropped into the flow and then reentered her trance.

Evan?

She turned and saw Evan standing near the river's edge.

This is it? Evan asked.

Yes, Deem said. That's it. Walk into it, and drink some. Then I can give you the shot.

Evan turned to look at her. His cheeks were swollen, appearing red from the stings and swelling, and blue from lack of oxygen to the tissues. His mouth was open as he tried to pull in air.

It's hard to breathe in here, Evan said. I can't breathe.

Step into the river. Just do as I say, and you'll soon have your shot.

Evan turned back to the flowing liquid in front of him. He placed a foot into it.

It's cold. And it's thick.

Go in. All the way. You'll feel better. And you need to drink some.

Evan took another step. The river wasn't moving as rapidly near the bank as it was in the middle, and he was able to take two more steps with ease. He was up to his knees in blood.

Do you feel your feet? Deem said. You should be able to feel your feet now.

It hurts! Evan said. They're swollen.

Be quick, Deem said. Just jump in and drink some. The sooner you do it the sooner I can give you the shot.

Evan turned back to look at her. Even though his features were almost beyond recognition and his eyes almost completely shut, Deem thought she had never seen a more pleading and desperate look on any face. He turned back to the blood, and submerged himself, lying down in it.

Deem saw the dark liquid washing over his figure. It bubbled over and around him. For a moment, it reminded her of a baptism. She performed baptisms for the dead at the Mormon temple in St. George when she was fourteen, dunked into water a good thirty or forty times, each time for the name of a dead person. As she watched the blood wash over Evan, she realized it was a real baptism of the dead performing a kind of resurrection.

Evan? Deem called. Evan, can you hear me?

Evan sat up, his torso rising up out of the blood. As the liquid drained from his face, Deem saw he'd changed. Everything was solid he wasn't a ghost.

She dropped out of her trance, but remained in the River, observing Evan.

Give me the shot! Evan said, still struggling for air. I can't breathe!

Deem looked at him. Evan, tell me the name of your brother. Say his name. Say John Carl Braithwaite.

Give me the shot! Evan repeated. You promised!

I will, just as soon as you say his name.

Evan stood, more blood flowing down off his frame. He looked like a nightmare, a grotesque figure rising from a grave of liquid. He held his hands out from his body, in front of his face.

I'm alive! he said.

Say his name, Evan. Say his name, and I'll give you the shot.

I'm swollen, Evan said, looking at the rest of his body. Oh, G.o.d, it hurts! I can't breathe. I need the shot!

Say John Carl Braithwaite, Evan. Say it. Say it and I'll give you the shot, and the pain will stop. She felt horrible the moment the words left her mouth. Now she was using his pain to force him to kill his brother.

You promised! Evan said, taking a step toward her. His blood-drenched image frightened her a little, and she stepped back from him. You said you'd give it to me. If you won't give it to me, I'll take it myself!

He took another step, the blood of the river now at his ankles. Awan and Winn, both in the flow, stepped between Evan and Deem.

Say your brother's name and you get the shot, Winn said. That's the only way. We won't let you take it from her.

Why? Evan said, looking at Winn. She promised me the shot. I can't breathe. I need it now!

Just say his name, Awan said to Evan. Three words.

Is this a trap for my brother? Evan asked, barely able to force the words through his throat.

You won't be able to breathe in a moment, Winn said. If you don't say your brother's name before your throat swells shut, you'll be gone. If you say your brother's name, he'll come, and he'll bring the shot. Remember? He's outside the shack. He can get the shot from the car. He can save you. Call to him. He'll come, and you'll be able to breathe. That's all you have to do. Call him. Say his name.

Evan looked at Winn. He'll get the door open, and save me, he said, falling to his knees. John, save me! I'm dying.

Say his entire name, Winn said. Say John Carl Braithwaite.

Why doesn't he come in? Evan said, dropping his head to his chest and crying. He must know I'm dying in here. He must know. Why isn't he coming in?

Say his full name, see if he will come in! Winn said.

Evan gave in. John Carl Braithwaite! he called. Bring me the shot, John! I can't breathe!

Deem, unable to bear Evan's cries any longer, dropped out of the flow and walked between Winn and Awan, pushing them aside. Immediately the blood river disappeared, and the blood she'd seen dripping off Evan was gone. He was just kneeling there, sobbing. She pulled the cap off the EpiPen and stabbed it into his thigh, holding it firmly.

Evan fell forward. Winn and Awan lifted him up and turned him over. He was still covered in hives.

"Evan!" Deem called, kneeling next to him. "Evan! I gave you the shot."

"It hurts," Evan said. "I can't breathe."

She looked up at Awan and Winn. "Do you think it worked?"

"It should have," Awan said. "He's obviously corporeal, and he said the name."

"Why doesn't he come in?" Evan moaned, his body twisting on the cave floor. "I called for him!"

"I hope the shot helped somewhat," Deem said. "I mean, he dies regardless, I know, but maybe it eased the pain."

"What do we do with him?" Winn asked.

"You can leave him here," Awan said. "When the effect of the blood wears off, his body will disappear."

"And what will become of him?" Deem asked.

"He'll either move on," Awan said, "or go back to what he was doing before you met him. If he is smart enough, he'll realize the blood river righted the wrong his brother did to him. But it might take his brother dying and moving on for him to fully understand and move on himself. Injustice keeps a lot of ghosts alive."

"He was a nice enough guy," Deem said, "I'm sorry I had to lie to him."

"You did what you had to," Winn said. Deem smiled a little. Winn's got my back, she thought. I'm lucky he works with me.

"Let's go," Awan said. "We can make it back to town before dark."

They left, Winn struggling through the tight entrance but knowing he had no choice if he wanted to exit the cave. Once they reached St. George, they stopped for food.

"I've never seen anything like it," Deem said. "All that blood, moving so quickly. Where does it all come from?"

"The legend is that it's the blood of those killed unjustly," Awan said. "Legends are sometimes true."

"You said they're rare?" Winn asked as they looked over menus.

"Extremely," Awan said. "According to my friend in Ely, there's only two others in North America. And this one is special, because it's downwind. He wouldn't have been able to speak at the other two. So, in a way, our blood river is a one-of-a-kind."

"So much blood," Deem said. "There's times when I just can't handle blood. Even the color red turns me off."

Winn and Awan looked at each other, unsure how to respond.

"Never mind," Deem said. "So the skinrunner will lose his powers now?"

"Yes," Awan said. "Check your mom tomorrow. There's a good chance she'll be fine. If not by tomorrow, then the next day."

"And did you say he slowly rots?" Winn asked.

"Yes," Awan replied. "Takes a couple of days. Do you know where he works?"

"At a bank in Hurricane," Deem said.

"You could check on him," Awan said. "I'll bet you he calls in sick tomorrow. Once he realizes what's happening to him, he'll hole up at home until it's over."

"I can't thank you enough," Deem said. "It was bad enough with him attacking me, but when he went after my aunt and mom, it really p.i.s.sed me off. If you hadn't helped us I'd still be digging bones out of them and myself."

"You're welcome," Awan said.

"How's the ghost chalk coming?" Winn asked. "We're ready to help you tackle the extortion brothers whenever you're ready."

"A couple more days," Awan said. "Have you ever made it? Ghost chalk?"

"No," Deem said. Winn shook his head.

"You have to bake it in a kiln. It collapses as it dries. Then you add a liquid to it, infused with thistle and alocutis. It bubbles up, so you have to let it settle back down for a day before you bake it again. Takes five or six times before it becomes powdery enough that you can spoon it into the contraption you hold over their kidneys. A couple more days and it'll be ready. I'll let you know. How'd things go with your father's journals?"

"Not so good," Deem said. "We followed the guy to Caliente, where they met in an abandoned church. We went inside but the journals weren't there. Somehow they knew we'd been there, and they found the tracking device. I've got it in my car to give back to you."

"So you're back to square one?" Awan asked.