"And Toby wants to join them," I wheezed. The bare skin of my chest p.r.i.c.kled. My hands were almost there.

"When he's strong enough," said Beasley. "So I decided to help him. I killed that vagrant and took his shoes. His most prized possession... That's out of the research again, I'm afraid. I'll explain."

The torch blazed again. My whole left side ached. She kept talking, talking... Jesus, would she ever stop talking?

"Reaping is a messy business," she said. "One reaper per about 30,000 people usually works, but there are ma.s.s deaths. Accidents that no one sees coming. Souls slip away. Reapers often have to 'clean up the mess,' so to speak. Catch lost souls and guide them to the light. Usually ghosts are attracted to items that they treasured in life."

"So you took Ernest's shoes," I coughed. I squinted through the bright flame, searching her face for any hint of mercy. "And you locked them up. You knew that Toby would find the key and come to the library. To do his job as a reaper, he'd have to get through you."

"A perfectly good soul, taken before its time," she sighed. "Presented to him on a silver platter." She set down the torch and the iron for a moment, sighing like a bored housewife. "All he had to do was take me back. He could have used the shoes, consumed the ghost... But another snub. And then that boy showed up." She shook her head, again intent on her work. "Some other two-bit reaper, horning in on Toby's beat. a.s.signed to stop him, I guess."

"Arbor."

I smiled through the pain and my heart swelled as I imagined Arbor saving Ernest Smith's soul with those shoes. At least I knew what they were for, now. And the Aeneid! He said he'd used it. So Quentin was safe, too.

"He's going to come for me, you know."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "It's been hours. Where do you suppose he is? He's not in love with you, Evi. He's just using you for... Oh, whatever." She coaxed the iron further into the blue heart of the blowtorch. "I don't care. I gave Toby the vagrant and then I gave him the new Latin teacher. Tried to pick people with no family, you know? Less fuss. I told him with the last one that I was ready. I'd helped him gather souls, but I was willing to go further. Help him in any way. Any way."

"You're insane."

"I want him to reap me."

She pressed the iron to my flesh again, quickly, so I couldn't tamp down my scream. It echoed in my eardrums like screeching metal. I coughed up phlegm as she held it steadily in place, sinking like a razor through the layers of my body.

"I love poetry," she hissed. "But I think my last message was a little too... academic. Gonna be blunt with this one. The M is almost done now. Then an E. And on your other shoulder, the R a E a A a P ..."

The third strike. She lifted the iron from my neck and I lunged at her. I sprang forward, releasing all the energy pent up in my coiled legs, spinning around and gouging her with the shard of gla.s.s clutched tight in my still-bound hands. I'd gotten it from the sink upstairs, slipped it into my pocket before I blacked out. It had taken me this long to reach it, get it into a good position.

She screamed. The poker clattered to the floor in a shower of sparks. I think I got her in the leg. Maybe the ribs. I couldn't tell; she was behind me now and I was hopping toward the door. It sagged on its hinges, swung open at a touch.

"You little a.s.swipe!" she shouted. She screamed again; the gla.s.s was slippery with blood. I jerked my right hand up, trying to mount the narrow staircase. I sliced open the base of my thumb, but the blood was like a lubricant; it helped squeeze me free of the loosened bindings. The cord fell away, and I had both my arms now. I turned back, saw Mrs. Beasley clutching her thigh and lying in a dark pool on the floor.

A steady stream of obscenities poured over me as I hopped up the stairs, falling and bashing my knees against splintered wood. I came up into the pantry... I'd spent whole days in this house as a young child, and I'd never known that it had a bas.e.m.e.nt!

I'd never known that Mrs. Beasley was a crazy b.i.t.c.h, either.

I scrabbled wildly for the doork.n.o.b. A bare bulb illuminated shelves of flour and stockpiled cans of beans, stewed tomatoes. The gash in my thumb throbbed. My numbed feet p.r.i.c.kled back to life. s.h.i.t, my hand kept slipping...

I heard thumping. Beasley was dragging herself up the stairs behind me.

"Oh help," I muttered. My neck still felt like it was on fire. I ignored it as I finally got purchase on the handle and twisted it open, stumbling and almost crashing face first into the dark kitchen tile.

Keys keys keys keys...

Tiny library keys swam in my vision as I stomped across the kitchen. The cords around my ankles had stretched, loosened with all the movement, and I was able to step out of them as I frantically searched for Beasley's car keys. I was in no shape to run down the mountain all by myself in the middle of the night, being chased by a madwoman. The keys were my chance.

Plus, I realized, the kitchen door was still locked.

"I'm not done with you, Evangeline Wild!"

She was in the pantry now. The door had swung shut behind me; I rammed a chair up under the handle like people do in movies. I hoped it would work. I flipped on the light switch in the parlor. A glint of silver a there were the keys on a little ceramic plate above the mantle. I rushed back into the kitchen as she burst through the door, shrieking.

She lashed out at me with her scissors. Nicked my arm, but I was past her and she was still bleeding. That tile was slippery. She went down and I was out the door, booking it to her car.

I don't have my license yet. In fact, I haven't gotten around to taking Driver's Ed.

Where was Arbor, anyway?

Suddenly that thought was in my brain and it wouldn't leave.

He's just using you...

Shut up shut up shut up.

I panicked when I stepped on the gas and the car wouldn't move. She was out of the house now, I could see her shielding her eyes against the blazing headlights of the noisy Volkswagen. I floored it, and nothing happened. The engine revved...

Put it into gear, idiot.

I stomped on the brake, shoving the car into reverse and shot backwards down the long, b.u.mpy driveway. I almost hit one of the aspens, missing it narrowly and mostly by luck. I swerved onto the road, cutting across both lanes of traffic. Thank G.o.d no one was out driving this late at night. I could barely see anything outside the overlapping pools cast by the headlights; I drove as quickly as I dared down the highway, trying to ignore the sheer drop-off that I knew was on my left.

High Peaks, High Peaks. Oh my G.o.d. This is Colorado, we have mountains here, and it is the absolute worst.

I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself down. I knew that I'd left Mrs. Beasley far behind, back up by her house. But I couldn't shake the feeling that she was still right behind me, pursuing me as I flew toward the bright clot of gas stations and streetlights that marked downtown Stevens Peak.

My heart was racing in my chest.

I came to my first stoplight and noticed a cop car at the other side of the intersection. A jolt of panic went through me. Was it Toby? I squinted, but I couldn't make out anything against the glare. I told myself it was nothing. And reminded myself not to speed in a stolen vehicle.

Glancing to the right as the light turned green, I winced. My skin cracked and I felt blood running down my collarbone. c.r.a.p. My heart was pulsing down all three of the marks she'd burned into my neck. Aching beats. I started to shiver, driving down deserted Main Street. But I bit my lip and simply refused to go into shock. I couldn't. Not before I found Callie.

Mrs. Beasley's words echoed in my head, as panic tugged at my stomach. He thinks your sister is strong. A worthy ally.

I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I figured it couldn't be good.

Glowing numerals on the dashboard read 3:30. Callie was probably worried sick about me by now. She'd be down at the station, organizing a search. I wondered if she could trace my cell phone signal back to Mrs. Beasley's house, where my purse was still lying under the kitchen table.

I wondered if that would rea.s.sure her.

I'd just decided to swing by the police station on the off chance she was there, when I heard a siren coming up behind me. I froze. Driving without a license... Grand theft auto... But it was in self defense, officer! I pulled over to the side of the road.

A black and white zipped by, probably the same one I'd just pa.s.sed at the intersection. Whoever was driving didn't seem to notice me, or differentiate Mrs. Beasley's noisy Volkswagen from the four or five other late night cars cruising Main. I heard more sirens join the call. Just like the day of the fire. Something was happening.

"I guess I'm following you, then," I muttered, weaving around the other drivers on the road in pursuit of the screaming cop car. Where it went, Callie would be.

We turned right onto Fremont, then left onto Dixon. My street. We drove a couple blocks past familiar yards and driveways. The sound of sirens cut the night; I saw lights blink on in a couple of the windows as I drove past. I came to the four-way stop at Dixon and Algoma, saw a ma.s.s of flashing blue and red on the next block.

My house.

Stomach turned to ice, and bone to ash. The sense of dread that I'd felt pursuing me down the mountain like a specter of Mrs. Beasley finally caught up. It broke over me like a wave, netted me like an insect. Fear paralyzed my body. An ambulance was backing up our driveway, through a loose semicircle of cop cars. A few of our neighbors were outside in slippers, clutching bathrobes around themselves against the chilly night.

I looked at my fingers. They were wrapped tight on the wheel, knuckles white. My thumb still bled freely. I had to force myself to let go and get out of the car.

"Evi?" someone called, as I marched unsteadily toward my house. "What's going on?" One of the neighbors, probably. I don't remember who.

My eyes were focused on our door. Which was opening.

Someone on a stretcher. A white arm lying still.

The same EMT who had given the children oxygen at the fire placed a mask around my sister's mouth as she was wheeled out.

"Callie!" I cried. I pushed through police officers and limped over to the stretcher as it was being loaded into the ambulance.

"That's my sister!" I shouted. But no one answered. No one seemed to hear. I wandered in and out of the EMTs and cops that were swarming the scene. No one seemed to notice another bleeding, burned girl. It was as if I wasn't there at all. Even the neighbor who had yelled at me as I got out of the car was now staring silently at the house, blank look on her face. Right through me. Like I had just disappeared.

"Hey," I tapped one of the cops on the back. "What's going on?"

He didn't turn around.

"h.e.l.lo," I said, "Earth to anybody? What happened?" I tried to climb up into the ambulance after Callie, but big bodies blocked me and then the doors slammed shut. I didn't get a good look at her. She was bleeding from the chest; that was all I knew.

And her face was slack. Chalk pale. Like the dead face of the moon.

I glanced up at the sky. It was coming out from behind the clouds, cast an eerie glow on our lawn beyond the yellow headlights and the rotating red sirens. My heart sank. Toby was standing on the stoop. Between his hands he held his deck of cards. Shuffling.

"h.e.l.lo, Evi," he said.

Yellow police tape was going up around our porch. DO NOT CROSS. But he swept his arm out, indicating our warmly lit front hall. "Come in, why don't you?"

"Are you doing this?" I asked.

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. What do you mean?"

I turned around and stepped up to one of the police officers. I did a goofy little jig in front of her. I made funny faces, yelled "FIREFIGHTERS RULE! POLICE PEOPLE DROOL!" Then I smeared my own blood across her cheek.

She didn't look up.

"That," I said.

"Oh," he shrugged. "I guess so. It's just that you look pretty beat up. I can't have one of these n.o.ble, hardworking and criminally underappreciated EMTs trying to take you to the hospital before we're through. But please, come on in."

"What do you mean, 'before we're through?' What happened to Callie?"

"All in good time."

I obediently ducked underneath the police tape, wincing as I bent my injured neck. His arm went amiably around my shoulder. I shuddered, his touch made me nauseous. He led me into our kitchen and sat me at the table. I noticed his cane was gone, as was his limp.

"Let's get something for that thumb of yours. I'm sorry about Wendy. Honestly. If I'd known she was planning to use you in her absurd little game, I'd have just... Blinked her gone."

I stared at the bare table, flashing red and blue from the lights outside the windows. I heard the ambulance pull away, siren roaring. My sister was going to the hospital.

"What happened to Callie?" I demanded. Toby was opening drawers, fumbling around over the refrigerator.

"Here we go." He finally found the first aid kit and pulled out a big roll of gauze. He came over to the table and sat down opposite me, ripped a section of gauze away with his teeth and pressed it to my thumb.

"Put pressure on it until the bleeding stops," he said. "Ugh." He grimaced, noticing the unfinished letter M that Mrs. Beasley had burned into my neck. "That's gonna be permanent. Shame. Once again, I'm so sorry."

"I don't care if you're a reaper," I said. "If you don't tell me what happened to my sister right now, I am going to slice you up sideways."

He laughed, and sat back in his chair. "Oh, Evi. You're funny."

"And reapers bleed." I still had that shard of gla.s.s in my pocket. I brought it out, held it up in what I hoped was a threatening manner.

"That's correct," he said. His face flattened as he spoke, like someone who was trying not to throw up in their mouth. Whatever injunction was in place to keep the reapers from telling the truth about themselves, it was still working. But Toby seemed to tolerate its effects better than Arbor.

"Why are your eyes blue?" I asked.

Toby leaned forward and placed fingers over his irises. He drew out a pair of colored contacts and flicked them onto the table where they sagged and curled under, like tiny jellyfish washed up on a beach. He looked back at me out of two black pits.

"Any other questions?"

"You haven't answered the first one yet. About my sister." I clutched my gla.s.s shard harder, feeling the ragged edge bite my skin.

"It seems there was a break in. Your sister was shot and the perp ran off before she could call 911."

"That's c.r.a.p," I said.

"You know it and I know it, Evi. But it won't get her out of her coma any faster."

My whole body sagged. My limbs were dead weights. I saw her face again as she pa.s.sed by me on the stretcher, lifted into the ambulance as though she were cargo...

Toby picked up his deck of cards, so worn that the red Bicycle design on the back had almost faded away. He shuffled them on the table. "You know, I was going to kill you both. Right here in this kitchen, that night you invited me over for dinner. Two sisters, two powerful souls."

"What stopped you?"

"You gave me the name of that other reaper. I knew he was here somewhere, cleaning up after Wendy. Hiding from me." He chuckled. "In high school. Cla.s.sic."

"So?"

"Now that I know who he is, I've been trying to reel him in." Toby sat back, shoulders relaxed, and continued to shuffle his cards. "He's a sneaky little devil. Very well protected, and I suppose he must be extending some of that protection to you. Remember Circuit Court Judge Halley K. Shumacher? Pillar of the community? Maybe a little careless behind the wheel..."

"The car crash. It's you who's been causing all those accidents," I gasped. "Reaping people before their time and consuming them to gain power, like Mrs. Beasley said." I listed them off one by one, counting on my fingers. "The fire. The man who fell off his roof. That woman getting run down in the street. Me almost getting run down in the street."

I got chills as I remembered that day. How Arbor had been right there. And Toby, too.

"Yeah," his face darkened. "That was before I knew who Arbor was. Before I decided I could keep you and your sister alive. To use you."

His hand moved to his stomach. I could tell that his voice was tightening, as if he were in mild pain from speaking the truth. "I'm sorry, Evi," he said. He wavered. "I like you. I didn't mean that to sound so flippant."