“No,” Raven said suddenly.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Willy’s not going to murder Grace. We’re going to stop him,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Raven, you can’t—it doesn’t work that way,” I replied warily.
“What doesn’t?”
“My visions.” I sighed. “You can’t change fate.”
“Says who?” she demanded.
I knew how much she must have been hurting, but I really didn’t think she would react like this.
“I’ve never been able to change anything, or to save any of them…”
“Have you even tried?” she asked, and though I knew she wasn’t trying to hurt me, I couldn’t help but feel a sting from her words.
“Exactly,” Raven said suddenly, except she wasn’t looking at me. “Yes…no, just a couple of hours.”
“What?”
Raven’s eyes flew back to me. “Randy was just saying—”
Raven folded her arms. “Yeah. Why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t. I just—I just wish you’d tell me when we have an audience.”
“I’m sorry,” Raven replied softly. “He was already here…” Her eyes flew back to the spot behind me. “No, not in the slightest. I don’t think so either.”
“I didn’t tell you this because I thought we could fix it. I told you because I wanted to be honest. And I wanted to prepare you for what’s going to—”
“Of course I care. I know how much she means to you,” I replied. “But I don’t want you to get this idea in your head that—”
“If you’re not going to try, then I’ll do it by myself.”
I silently cursed Cassie for convincing me to come clean. I should have known this would end in a fight.
“Please,” Raven begged. “Just tell me what you saw. Where it happens. Please.”
I couldn’t bear to see her like this. Desperate. Seconds away from being broken. I sighed. “It happens here, in your house. In the kitchen. It’s snowing. That’s all I know.”
Raven nodded, her eyes meeting the spot where Randy must have been. Listening. Then she looked at me.
“Cade, do you think you could—could you maybe…touch Grace again. Just to see if there are more details?”
I couldn’t believe it.
Raven knew how painful it was for me to watch a death. And knowing that there was nothing I could do to change it—it was excruciating.
“I can’t,” I replied. “I’m sorry.”
Raven just stood there watching me, tears nearly spilling over.
“I have to get to work. I’ll text you later,” I told her, stooping to kiss her on the forehead.
And then I left, with a strange, sinking feeling in my stomach.
Willy was coming for Elk Springs. For me.
The King of Terror couldn’t walk free for long.
I watched Cade go, feeling like a tiny hole was starting to form in my chest.
But I also refused to sit idly by while I knew Grace was going to be murdered. Screw fate, or whatever Cade seemed to believe in.
If there was a way to save her, I was going to find it.
“Do you think he’s right?” I asked Randy, belly flopping back onto my bed. I was trying not to think about the fact that Cade and I had just had our first almost-fight.
There were bigger issues to worry about.
I rolled onto my side. “You’re going to help me?”
Randy cracked a smile. “You kidding me, loser? Duh!”
“I don’t even know where to begin…,” I murmured dejectedly.
“Neither do I,” Randy mused. “But I do know someone who might.”
The full moon lit up the starless sky, bathing the graveyard in its cool light.
I drifted through the impressive collection of graves and memorials, eyes peeled for Duke.
I was at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
The place was a total cold spot—jam-packed with ghosts of LA social climbers and failed actors-slash-models-slash-musicians.
And the occasional celebrity.
Two-thirds of the ghosts I had met at Hollywood Forever were the boring, moping kind—the ones who couldn’t quite seem to let go of the past.
Who didn’t realize that, even though they were dead, they still had a future.
And I used to be one of them.
But then I realized that there was more to the afterlife than I thought. So much more.
I’d heard through the grapevine that there were ghosts out there with power.
That they’d learned how to manipulate the physical world.
The ones who had figured out how to create lives for themselves in the spirit world.
Everything was dull in the spirit world. It was like a shadow of the physical world—another plane placed on top of what the living could see.
And then I met Duke.
Duke was unliving proof that there was more to death than the light. So much more.
Over the past couple of years, Duke had taken me under his wing. Trained me.
Given me hope.
“Hey, Randy,” called a few ghosts who were hanging out by the pond.
“’Sup, fellas,” I called back. “You guys seen Duke anywhere?”
“He was here earlier…,” said one. “Maybe check Smithy’s?”
I nodded. “Thanks, dude.”
It wasn’t really the kind of place that ghosts liked to hang out—there was too much energy in the place.
Too much life.
But it was one of Duke’s all-time favorite spots.
Smithy’s was one of the original New York speakeasies during the prohibition, and was famously impossible to find, unless you already knew where to look.
The club was packed with its typical, old-money clientele, getting hammered while listening to live jazz music.
At one end stood a massive, mirrored bar, and at the other was a tiny stage where the in-house jazz band was usually stationed.
A stark-white, gold-encrusted player piano sat directly in the middle of the stage.
If Duke was there, I knew where to find him.
I floated through the crowd, toward the stage, smiling at the rapid, melodic piano music greeting my ears.
As I moved through the last of the people surrounding the bar, I saw him.
A perfect relic of the 1920s, Duke wore a black-and-white pin-striped suit with a black silk lapel, and his golden-blond hair was slicked back in perfect waves, parted on the side.
Maybe it was the thin mustache that made him look older—or the way that he spoke, with his ancient vocabulary and funny accent that sounded like a black-and-white movie.
A pair of tiny circular sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose, threatening to slip off as he threw his entire body into the music, grinning.
I couldn’t help but grin too as I listened to the last of his set, while the club guests sat on obliviously, thinking the player piano was just running on its own.
As the jazzy ballad reached its end, Duke hopped up from the piano bench, removing the sunglasses from his hazel eyes.
“I didn’t know you’d be dropping by. What a pleasant surprise!” Duke grinned, running a hand through his pristine hair.
“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a second?”
“But of course,” Duke replied, leading me over to a vacant corner booth. “How go the studies?”
“They’re a work in progress,” I replied, “but I’m getting there. Thanks to you.”
“Nonsense,” Duke replied, waving away the notion.
“I have a problem, bro,” I said, getting right to the point. “A friend of mine is in danger.”
Duke’s eyes widened, and he leaned in closer to me—not that anyone could hear us anyway. “What kind of danger?”
“The kind that looks like it can’t be reversed. The necromancer I mentioned a while back—Cade—saw her death. But we need to stop it.”
I nodded. “My best friend, Raven—it’s someone who means a lot to her. I don’t know what will happen if this person dies.”
“Hmm…”
“Is it possible to change a death? If Cade has already seen it?” I asked.
“If a necro has already seen her death, then it will most likely come to pass…”
My heart sank. Raven was going to be crushed.
If Duke couldn’t help me, I didn’t know anyone who could.
That was all of the encouragement I needed. “Will you help me, then?”
Duke smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Come now, old boy. Of course I’ll help you.”
I lay in bed, staring at the alarm clock on my nightstand.
Each passing minute was the longest of my life.
There was no way I would be getting any sleep that night…or for a long time.
I sighed, rolling onto my back and closing my eyes.
I tried to focus on the chorus of night critters drifting through my open window.
Tried counting to one thousand.
Nothing was working.
How could I possibly sleep when I knew that at any minute, Willy Woods might be entering my house and murdering one of the people I cared for the most?
And that’s when I heard it.
A sudden, blood-curdling scream.
It was Grace.
I was too late.
