“Yes. I mean, why are they in my apartment?”

“Well, you are the grim reaper.”

“But none of them seem particularly interested in crossing.”

“I think your best bet is to focus on the girl who made eye contact. A child’s mind is more pliable than an adult’s. Their brains can heal in ways ours can’t. Maybe you can get through to her.”

“Okay, focus on the kid. So what do I do? She’s like a little bug, scurrying around, making scratching sounds. They all are, really.”

“What?”

A wave of fear hit me. “Well, they’re everywhere. Climbing up my walls. Clinging to the ceiling. One has discovered my shower. Do you know how difficult it is to shower with a departed woman trying to dig through a porcelain tub? It ain’t gonna happen. I tried to tell her that.” I stopped when I noticed Gemma’s face go white. I was freaking her out, but someone had to do it, damn it. “This doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“You are evil.”

“Me?”

“Wait. Are you kidding about all of this?”

“About the women? Why would I kid about something like that?” When she pressed her lips together, I said, “Oh, right, I would, but I’m not. I need to find out what happened to them so they can move on. You know, far away, out of my apartment.”

“It sounds kind of awful, Charley.”

“It is. For them. Can you imagine?”

“Does Uncle Bob have anything?”

“I heard he has an STD.”

“I mean, on the women.”

“Oh, I have no idea if they have any STDs.”

“You’re still evil. I’ll never get to sleep tonight.”

“Dude, you take industrial-strength sleeping aids.”

“And whose fault is that?” she asked, coming out of her seat and slamming a palm on her desk. Unglued would be an accurate term for her condition. It was fun to watch.

I stood, too, and pretended to get huffy. “You’re always blaming me for your inability to sleep just because I introduced you to a few departed people when we were kids. If I’d known that describing their head wounds as they stood over your bed at night would be so traumatic, I wouldn’t have done it.” When she cast me a look of doubt, I recanted my testimony. “Okay, I would have. Either way, I think you’ll be fine.” I sat back down and crossed my legs. “It’s not like knowing there were really departed people out there stunted your emotional growth or anything.”

Gemma went back to work while I pondered our sisterhood. Growing up, everyone thought I was the evil sister. I never fell for that story myself. True, I spent my days in school promising not to incite rebellion and to never again bring plastique to school – it wasn’t even real – while she was busy being her perfect little self.

Maybe a little too perfect, if you know what I mean.

After harassing Gemma for another half hour or so, I headed to Misery with several options for my Sunday. I could watch the Supernatural marathon and torture Cookie about it later. I could try Gemma’s methods on the kid under my bed. I could try to figure out how to save Reyes, but from what? From whom? I could go talk to Kim about her habit of setting fire to the world, but it was still early. I didn’t want to wake her, to put her on the defensive before I even had a chance to tell her my plan. Or I could try to figure out why Nicolette, the possible zombie, wasn’t dead.

Since I had a soft spot for zombies and my curiosity was killing me, I opted for plan Z.

I got a text from Cookie. Misery purred to life as I checked my phone.

We’re at the firing range. Everyone is doing a drop and roll then shooting the target.

I texted her back.

Well, if all the cool kids are doing it.

Do you think I can do it?

I see dead people. Anything is possible.

Okay, I’ll give it a try.

Then reality sank in. This was Cookie. The last time she did a Dirty Harry impersonation, she came away with a strange bra and a broken ankle.

But for the love of marinara, I typed, don’t shoot anyone.

Thanks. That helps.

Aw, she was so nice. But Nicolette’s state of aliveness was still eating at me. Maybe she was in danger and would die soon. Rocket could predict someone’s death. He knew exactly when it would happen. Maybe Nicolette had predicted her own demise and decided to visit me, the grim reaper, in advance? To what end? This was just so weird.

I started for the hospital again. Left with no other choice, I would just have to talk to her, to figure out if perhaps she had some kind of supernatural condition.

I got another text from Cookie as I pulled into the hospital parking lot.

I did it. I hate you with every fiber of my being.

Really? With every fiber of your being? R u sure there’s not a little fiber left in u, perhaps compacted in your digestive tract, that still likes me?

I’m positive.

Well, she seemed certain.

Is anything broken?

Besides my spirit?

Does anything have a hole in it that shouldn’t?

Besides my pride?

She was fine. Or she would be. And thankfully, so was everyone around her. Dodged a bullet there. Literally.

Chin up, hon. At least u know never to try that again. There’s always a bright side to these things.

Every. Fiber.

She was really into the fiber thing. Maybe she had a bran muffin on the way to class.

Nicolette was just getting off work. I spotted her coming my direction as I headed to the elevator. She pulled on her jacket and took off her lanyard, growling when it got caught up in her hair.