"Do we go on, or turn back and call the police?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"I've got to go to the house," I said. "Isabel's in there." Sch.e.l.l didn't hesitate. "Okay, let's go," he said.

We piled back into the car, Antony started it, and we cruised slowly up the drive. There were no lights on in the mansion, and the grounds were pitch-black.

After parking, we made our way up the steps to the front door, which we discovered was slightly ajar. Antony took out his lighter and flicked it on. The flame came up and offered a little respite from the darkness, illuminating an area of only about four feet around our huddled group.

"Let's head for the parlor," said Sch.e.l.l.

Antony nearly tripped over the butler in the foyer. When he held the lighter close to the body, it became evident that the man had been strangled. His eyes were huge, his tongue hung from the side of his mouth, and there were angry black-and-blue marks around this throat. Sch.e.l.l knelt and checked the man's pulse.

"Forget it," he said.

Everything was happening so fast, and I was at least partially in shock from the sight of the bodies. Every second, I expected someone to leap out of the darkness and wrap their fingers around my throat. As we inched forward into the shadows, I tried to clear my mind enough to think what part of the house Isabel might be in.

We stumbled through the dining room, and it was there Morgan spotted two candles, which she appropriated. Antony lit them and gave his lighter a rest. Sch.e.l.l took one and gave me the other.

"I think the servants' quarters are on the other side of the house," he said. "You'd better go and find Isabel. Antony, go with him."

"Don't know if we should split up, Boss," said the big man.

"Time could be important," said Sch.e.l.l. "Miss Shaw and I will see if we can locate Parks in that parlor where we always met with him. We'll be careful, and believe me, if we need you, you'll hear me scream." Antony shook his head, still unhappy with the arrangement. I didn't think it was such a great idea myself, but I knew Sch.e.l.l was right. In the time we would spend trying to find Parks, something could be happening to Isabel. We moved through the dining room and came to a main hallway that connected the eastern and western sides of the mansion.

As Antony and I were inching along, listening for sounds of an intruder, he whispered to me, "I'll bet you wish I'd brought the gun."

"From here on out, I'll never try to dissuade you from carrying the gun," I said. Pa.s.sing through the indoor swimming pool area, the candlelight reflected off the water and the large gla.s.s panes of the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a dazzling display. Beyond that, the ballroom was a vast, echoing box of blackness. Eventually we came to the hallway that held the door to the room in which Isabel and I'd had our tryst. We'd taken no more than two steps down that corridor when I thought I heard something at the other end.

Lowering the candle so that my vision would not be disturbed by the glare of the flame, I peered into the shadows.

"Did you hear a noise down there?" asked Antony.

"Yeah," I said, and as I spoke, I caught sight of something moving, like a blur. It darted from one side of the hall to the other. I stopped, and Antony walked into me. "There's something down there," I said.

"Kill the light," he said, and when I was too slow to carry out his order, he leaned over my shoulder and blew out the flame.

Smoke rose up in front of me, and for a second that's all I could see, but when that cleared, I saw it again-a white form, like a ghost. It leaped across the hall.

"s.h.i.t, I see it," he said. "What the h.e.l.l is that?"

Next thing I knew, it was moving toward me at an incredible rate, as if flying just above the ground. I was going to warn Antony, but before I could get the words out, a very material fist struck me square in the face and sent me sprawling sideways against the wall. I dropped the candle and very nearly pa.s.sed out from the blow but held on, teetering in a crouch halfway between standing and falling. I blinked once, twice, to clear my vision, and when I could see straight again, what I saw was Antony's shadow wrestling with the white form. They moved from one side of the hall to the other, banging into the walls, and the sound of the big man's grunts was interspersed with those of fists. .h.i.tting their marks. My eyes began to adjust to the darkness in time to see Antony's silhouette c.o.c.k back its right hand and land a haymaker directly into what should have been the phantom's head. The white form was driven back by the blow, but it seemed unhurt as it sprang forward again. Some small object hit me in the chest.

"Kid, the lighter. Find the candle and..."

I dove down and scrabbled on the floor to find the lighter. When I sparked it, I noticed the figure had its hands around the big man's throat. I wanted to believe it was just a man, but I wasn't convinced. It was nearly as tall as Antony, pure white, and disfigured in some way I couldn't focus enough to discern. The two were ever moving in and out of the glow from the lighter's flame, and I couldn't get a clear view for more than half a second at a time.

Antony was trying to say something to me, but his words came forth as a kind of gurgling, and judging from the position of the shadowed figures I could tell the thing was strangling him. I forgot my search for the candle, leaped up behind the phantom, and set the flame of the lighter against its back. There followed a high-pitched squeal, like the cry of a wounded animal, and then its elbow shot back and caught me in the chest. I was knocked off my feet by the incredible force of the impact and lay gasping for breath.

I lost consciousness for no more than a few seconds, and when I came to, I managed to prop myself up on my elbow and again flick the lighter to life. Just then another form appeared in a frantic whirl from behind the phantom, who had Antony up against the wall and was obviously wringing his neck. This new presence lifted something high in the air and brought it down on the head of the attacker. There was a dull thud. The phantom dropped its arms, staggered back, and Antony recovered enough to lash out with a right and then a left, landing two punches, either one of which would have put a normal man in the hospital. The thing retreated, turned, and ran into the darkness at the other end of the hall. A moment later there was a sound of gla.s.s shattering, and without turning to look, I knew the phantom had smashed through the window at the end of the hall in order to escape.

"f.u.c.k," I heard Antony say in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Kid, you still alive?" Then there was a hand holding the candle up to the flame of the lighter that was still lit in my hand. I turned and saw Isabel's face. She was leaning down to kiss me.

TALK TO ME.

Isabel and I had to help Antony along for a good part of the journey to the opposite side of the mansion. I got under one arm, she got under the other, and I know he must have been in pain and perhaps dizzy, because there were times when it felt like he was bearing down on us with his full weight. I wanted to know how he felt but didn't want to ask, as every time he tried to speak it came out as a rasping cough. Eventually, he let go of us, straightened up, and croaked, "Okay." Still he moved slowly, and we had to wait up for him.

We finally saw light ahead, emanating from the parlor where we'd had our initial meetings with Parks. I called out for Sch.e.l.l as we approached the room. He came to the door, holding the candle, and waved us on. As we entered, he said to me, "Parks is dead."

"How?" I asked, trying to see into the shadows beyond the bubble of the combined candlelight. Morgan Shaw appeared behind Sch.e.l.l like a specter of some kind herself, her face and hair aglow.

"Horrible," she said with an anguished expression.

"It looks like someone drove their thumbs into his eyes. His face is a b.l.o.o.d.y mess; empty eye sockets. There's nothing we can do here," said Sch.e.l.l.

Antony sidled past Isabel and me. "Boss," he said in a harsh whisper, "we've gotta scram."

"Yeah," said Sch.e.l.l, and then the sound of Antony's voice registered, and he looked up at the big man's face. "What the h.e.l.l happened to you?"

"We ran into the killer," I said. "I'll tell you in the car. Let's go." Sch.e.l.l's gaze remained locked on Antony for a moment as he addressed Isabel. "Listen, the butler and the guard are already dead, are there any others still in the house?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "The other maids live in town. They go home at night." For the first time since she'd rescued Antony and me, there were tears in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled, and I put my arm around her.

"Go," said Sch.e.l.l. Finding our way by the light of the candles, we moved quickly toward the front of the mansion with Isabel leading the way and Antony bringing up the rear.

It was a great relief to finally stand outside in the cool night air where there were no dark corners to conceal murderous things. I took a few deep breaths while waiting for Antony to catch up. When we got to the car, the big man handed the keys to Sch.e.l.l and waited for Morgan, Isabel, and me to squeeze into the backseat. As soon as the Cord was running, Sch.e.l.l put it in gear and took off, driving as fast as he could bear, down the long driveway. We pa.s.sed the dead guard, lying next to his booth, and two minutes later were out on the road, making for home.

Sch.e.l.l eased off the gas once we had escaped the grounds of the estate. "Talk to me," he said. I filled him in on our meeting with the phantom, describing as best I could the look of it, the way it moved and its strength. When I was done, Antony, who'd been resting with his eyes closed, sat forward and said, still having trouble speaking in a normal tone, "Whatever he is, this guy's strong, like an animal. I hit him with shots that could crack stone, and he just kept coming. If it wasn't for Isabel here, me and junior would have been up s.h.i.t creek."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Sch.e.l.l asked her.

"It had been dark outside for only a little while. Then, suddenly, all the lights went out. I left my room and went to find Mr. Parks to see if he needed my help. I found him in the parlor. He'd lit a candle and was sitting at his desk, looking at something. 'The phone line is dead too,' he said to me when I came into the room. I asked him if he wanted me to get Mr. Quigley, the butler, but he said not to worry about it, he'd find him in a few minutes.

"I was heading back to my room, when something pa.s.sed me in the hallway-like a ghost. I ran back to warn Mr. Parks something was in the house. When I got to the parlor entrance, he was fighting the thing. It had his head in both its hands. Mr. Parks saw me at the doorway and yelled for me to run. As I ran, I heard him screaming for his mother, and I knew he was dying. I hid, and the fantasmo was trying to find me. Then I heard Diego's voice in the hall, came out, and saw them fighting with it. I went to help."

"The police are going to be looking for you," said Sch.e.l.l. "First they'll be looking for your body, and when they don't find it, they'll be looking for you. You and Morgan had both better stay at my place for the time being."

Sch.e.l.l's proposal was met with silence, and eventually he said, "Okay, that's settled."

"Did the killer leave anything behind in the parlor?" asked Antony.

"No," said Sch.e.l.l, "but I took a framed photo that was sitting in the middle of Parks's desk. His body was slumped on top of it. It may or may not be important."

"He was looking at that picture earlier," said Isabel. "I brought him tea in the late afternoon, y el sujataba esa foto, mientras charlaba por telefono. Later, when I went to tell him dinner was ready, he was still on the phone, still looking at the picture."

"Here," said Morgan and held up the picture I hadn't been aware she'd been carrying. In the thick shadows of the backseat, I could barely make out the scene. It looked like a group of people standing in a black rain. Then a car pa.s.sed us, and the fleeting illumination from its headlamps revealed the precipitation in the photo to actually be blood splattered on the gla.s.s of the frame.

"Who are they?" I asked Sch.e.l.l.

"Well," he said, "Parks is one of them. Who the rest are, I don't know. It could very well have nothing to do with the killing. What we can be relatively certain of is that the person who offed Parks is the same person responsible for the deaths of Charlotte Barnes and the other children."

"The same person who left me the notes," said Morgan.

"Yeah," said Sch.e.l.l. "There's something going on here, and it's got nothing to do with ghosts." Sch.e.l.l's statement put a cap on the conversation, everyone no doubt mulling some piece of the puzzle or, as in my case, wondering what in G.o.d's name it was that Antony had done battle with. Ghosts may not have been a part of it, but this creature seemed far worse than any airy spirit. I was reminded of The Worm's definition of the dybbuk.

After a while, there came a sound from somewhere in the car. At first I thought it was Antony, moaning slightly from his wounds. Eventually, though, it became clear that someone was humming. The moment I realized it was Morgan Shaw, who was sitting to my right, she broke into song-a subdued, sleepy version of "Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams."

I noticed Sch.e.l.l turn his attention from the road and give a quick glance into the backseat. His face was lined with consternation and his brow was furrowed. Antony turned profile then too, and I saw Sch.e.l.l flash a quick glimpse at him and give a brief elevation of the eyebrows, as if to say, What the h.e.l.l is this?

Antony gave a slight shrug, and his face broke into a smile. I'm not sure whether Morgan saw their reactions, but either way she continued unfazed, carrying on to the end with genuine feeling. Isabel, who had rested her head on my left shoulder, put her lips to my ear and whipered, "La senora blanca esta loca." Her hand was in mine, and I gave it a squeeze to indicate my agreement. When the last line of the song had come and gone, there was an awkward silence, which was eventually broken by Sch.e.l.l.

"Nicely done, Miss Shaw," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Sch.e.l.l," she said and then leaned back and closed her eyes. When we got within a half mile of the house, Sch.e.l.l turned off the headlamps and slowed down to see if we were being followed. We hadn't seen another car for quite a while. He pulled into the drive and around the back, hiding the car from the road.

CHANGE.

Once we were in the house, Sch.e.l.l drew me aside and said, "You let Isabel have your room, and I'll give mine to Morgan. I'll sleep in the living room, and you can take the couch in the Bugatorium. When the girl gets situated, come and see me."

I nodded and took Isabel down the hall to my room.

"Are you tired?" I asked her. From the look on her face I could tell she was exhausted.

"Yes, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep," she said. "Everything is too strange."

"You'll be safe here," I said, pushing open the door to my room. "No one knows where you are." She swept the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid out of her eyes and nodded. I realized that she had nothing to wear to bed, so I went to my closet and took out one of my undershirts and my first pair of swami trousers, which I'd recently outgrown. She thanked me and laid the clothes on the end of the bed. As I turned to go, she put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me back. We kissed, briefly.

"Come see me later," she said.

"If I can," I said.

"Promise," she said.

I nodded and closed the door behind me as I left.

Antony, Morgan, and Sch.e.l.l were in the Bugatorium, sitting around the coffee table. In the lighted room, it was easy to now see the bruises on the big man's neck and a welt on his left cheek. Sch.e.l.l must have been feeling badly for him, since Antony, in addition to drinking whiskey from a beer gla.s.s filled to the brim, was also smoking a cigarette. He had his jacket off and his shirt open halfway. Sch.e.l.l was holding a gla.s.s of wine, and Morgan had a teacup on a saucer in front of her. They'd been discussing something when I came in, and as soon as they saw me enter, the conversation died. The b.u.t.terflies were in a turmoil that night, swirling and swarming, a frantic storm of movement that was a metaphor for what was going on behind my eyes. Sch.e.l.l waved me over.

"Diego, take a seat," he said.

I did, opposite him.

"We have to talk about Isabel. I'm afraid she's in quite a bad situation. I started to mention it in the car, but I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed, and I thought I'd run it by you first to see if there was something you could add or that I was missing. The main thing is, the police are going to want to know what happened to her."

My mind wasn't working too well, what with everything we'd been through. "Should we take her to them tomorrow?" I asked.

"I wouldn't," said Antony.

"If we take her in, that implicates us, which isn't good for any of us, because if they start digging, they're going to find that we were all working for Barnes," said Sch.e.l.l. "Honestly, if I thought it would help her, I might be persuaded to do that. But if she shows up, she's going to be a suspect. Now, I don't think the D.A. could possibly make a case that she did to those men what happened to them."

"She's not strong enough," said Antony.

"She's an illegal, though. And it wouldn't surprise me, if they can't come up with an answer that they might try to pin the rap for all three of tonight's murders on her. Possible or not, given the right circ.u.mstances, it might not matter whether she's strong enough."

I shook my head, barely able to take it all in.

"Even if they treat her as just a witness, when they're done with her, they'll deport her for sure. If she wants to stay, she's got to go underground for a while and leave the area. You see? No good solutions."

"What can I do?" I asked him.

"Well, you can start by explaining this all to her. After that, I guess it's up to her what she wants to do. I hate to say it, but I think her best bet is to go back to Mexico for a while, on her own. Does she have family there?"

"Her mother's dead," I said. "Her father's been sent back, but she doesn't know where."

"That's a b.u.m deal," said Antony.

"I'll talk to her," I said. "Not tonight, though. She's too upset."

"Okay," said Sch.e.l.l. "She can stay here as long as she likes."

"Thanks," I said.

Morgan Shaw reached over and put her hand on my forearm. "Things will work out," she said, and I cringed, hoping she wasn't going to sing again.

Antony reached for a second cigarette, but Sch.e.l.l held up his hand and said, "My sympathies have been exhausted."

Antony laughed and put the pack away. He tilted his head back and drained off the sizable portion left in his gla.s.s. "Okay, Boss," he said, looking a little bleary but nearly back to his usual self. "I'm going to bed. I have to rest up. If I get another chance at that f.u.c.king...you know, that thing, I know exactly what I'm going to do."

"Run?" asked Sch.e.l.l.

"Oh, don't say that," said Morgan. "Henry was very brave." Antony shook his head. "I'm getting old, Tommy."

"Yeah, I know. We all are. It beats the alternative, though. Just ask Parks," said Sch.e.l.l.

"Have you ever been beaten in a fight before?" I asked.

"Who says I was beaten?" he asked, laughing. He stood up, weaving slightly. "Once when I was younger, I was in a bar in San Francisco. I was shooting my mouth off, being a real jerk. Anyway, I got in a fight and this little Chinese guy, no bigger than Miss Shaw, kicked the c.r.a.p out of me. That was the last time until tonight."

"That's a good record," I said.

"No," he said. "Next time I meet this thing, I'm going to give him my secret punch. It'll stop his heart and he'll s.h.i.t blood."

"In that order?" asked Sch.e.l.l.