With Wurlitzer out of sight, Jix hoped it would quickly be out of mind, and when the Neons all began to take off their bright war paint, he knew the machine had truly been defeated.
“We’re leaving here,” Jix told them. “There are boats in Corpus Christi that have crossed into Everlost—enough to carry all of us, and all the sleeping Interlights, south to the Great City of Souls.”
“So . . . ,” said Little Richard, who now followed Jix around. “There’re jaguar gods, a king, and a city of souls?”
“Yes,” Jix told him.
“In Mexico?”
“The living call it Mexico,” Jix said, “but the City of Souls existed before there were nations.”
It was on the evening before their departure that Jix dared to go into the saddle room to face Wurlitzer one last time. He did it because, deep down, he still feared it. Jix knew the jukebox would give him nightmares if Afterlights were able to dream. He didn’t know why—it had neither arms to grab him, nor legs to kick him, and it had no voice but the one the Neons allowed it to have. Perhaps that’s what he feared—how much power a thing could have when it was given permission to have it.
“You are nothing now,” Jix told it. Wurlitzer said nothing. “Your own greed has left you with no one to worship you.” Still, the machine said nothing. “And now you will stay here undiscovered until the end of time.”
And then a voice behind him said, “Wurlitzer made all this happen.” Jix turned to see Little Richard standing there with his empty piggy bank. “He played that ‘Downtown’ song because he knew we would take you outside and you would show us your powers.” Then with enough arrogance to make his point, but not enough to incur the wrath of the jaguar gods, Little Richard said, “Wurlitzer did this for you. You should thank him.”
Then the boy left, and Jix covered the machine, so that its light couldn’t attract anyone else to the room. There were no more coins, and no one to give the machine a voice . . . but Wurlitzer was destined to play one last song before falling silent forever.
CHAPTER 25
The Souler Eclipse
Allie had no choice but to introduce herself to her “home body,” Miranda. She needed an ally in the living world—not just a body she could borrow, but someone who could work on her own, and help track down the skinjackers responsible for these crimes against the living. Allie was quick to figure out that the Benson High fire was not an isolated incident. Whoever these psycho-jackers were—and Allie suspected there were more than one of them—they had to be stopped. She had her suspicions as to who they might be, but she wasn’t ready to pass judgment quite yet. She had always believed a person was innocent until proven guilty, and suspicion was not enough to convict Milos and his cast of idiots.
Allie introduced herself to Miranda slowly, carefully. She hid behind Miranda’s consciousness, and gave her a single stray thought one evening before Miranda went to bed. “I’m a friend and I am in here with you.” And then again, just as the girl woke up in the morning. “My name is Allie. Don’t be afraid.” Both times, Miranda thought it was just part of a dream, but she was wakeful enough to remember . . . so when Allie spoke to her deep within her mind in the school cafeteria that day, it didn’t come completely out of nowhere.
“I’ve been with you for a while,” Allie said in her mind. Miranda nearly choked on her chili, excused herself from her friends, and hurried to the bathroom.
“You’re not real,” Miranda said aloud. “You’re just in my head. It’s because my mom’s right, and I don’t get enough sleep.”
“I am in your head,” Allie told her. “But I’m also real. We’ll talk again later.” Then Allie pulled out, giving Miranda time to process this new wrinkle in her life.
That evening, as Miranda did her homework, Allie moved inside her again. She didn’t take over Miranda’s body, just met with her mind.
“Please,” said Allie. “I need your help. And if you help me, I’ll tell you things—amazing things that no one in the living world knows, as long as you promise to keep it a secret.”
But Miranda just put her hands over her ears as if she could shut out Allie’s voice. “No! No! I’m not listening! Go away! Go away!”
“Why don’t you and I go for a walk?” Allie told her.
“I don’t want to go for a walk. I’ll exorcise you.” Then she rummaged through her jewelry drawer and came up with a little gold cross which she held out to herself in the mirror. When that didn’t work, she ran into the kitchen thinking, “I’ll get garlic and eat an entire bulb of it. Garlic scares away demons!”
“No,” Allie said calmly. “That’s vampires. And besides, you’re allergic to garlic.”
Miranda stopped short. “How do you know that?”
“Let’s just say we’re much closer friends than you think.” Then Allie sensed Miranda dredging up thoughts of silver bullets and stakes through the heart. Allie did her best to control her temper and remind herself that she was the one trespassing in this girl’s very personal space.
“Listen,” Allie told her. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”
“What’s the hard way?” Miranda asked.
“This way.” And as smoothly as slipping into a bathrobe, Allie pushed herself forward and skinjacked Miranda, taking control of every muscle of her body—but didn’t put her to sleep. Miranda was awake, but now just a passenger in a body that Allie controlled.
“Now,” Allie told her out loud, “we are going out for a walk, and I promise you, I’ll tell you everything.”
They walked until after dark, but Allie was able to give Miranda control of her body after the first ten minutes. Miranda was a sensible girl. Once she realized that Allie meant her no harm and that having her own personal ghost was a really cool thing, Miranda agreed to their partnership.
Allie told her everything, just as she had promised: how a car crash had landed her and Nick in Everlost. How they found Mary and her “children” in the eternal towers. Allie told her about the awful monster called the McGill and the wonderful boy named Mikey who remained once the monster was gone. Then she told Miranda the dark secret behind the Benson High fire.
“I knew it,” Miranda said. “I knew that Fellon kid was innocent. I’m glad he escaped.” And then she gasped. While Allie was pretty good at keeping her mind separate from the people she skinjacked, she had let her guard down and Miranda caught a brief glimpse into Allie’s thoughts. She knew Allie had been the one who helped Seth Fellon escape, and it impressed her almost as much as it scared her. “You’re like a superhero,” Miranda said. “The Souler Eclipse.”
“Let’s not go there,” Allie said, because losing one’s humility was a dangerous thing for a skinjacker . . . although she had to admit she liked the name.
The next day, Miranda took the money she was saving for a new phone and bought a police scanner, which she listened to in all her free time, while Allie wandered the streets night and day looking for signs of Afterlights. Now every single police action, every single accident, every siren blare got their attention. There was no telling where the psycho-jackers would strike next or what nature of terror they would bring upon the living world. Then one night, the police scanner pulled in emergency chatter on more than a dozen different frequencies, calling all cars to the Regency Theater.
The police scanner had been a good idea, but it could only tell of things that had already happened, not what was about to happen. Allie and Miranda arrived at the scene an hour too late; the street outside the Regency theater was already blocked by police tape. Allie had never seen so many squad cars in one place. Or ambulances.
The theater’s marquis advertised a much-anticipated concert by teen singing sensation Rhoda Dakota . . . But Rhoda wasn’t singing anymore. In fact, she’d never sing in the living world again . . . but that wasn’t the half of it. Apparently there had been a combination of deadly “coincidences.” The fire sprinklers came on for no reason, hitting a damaged electrical line at the front of the stage. The short circuit should have tripped the circuit breakers, but somehow it didn’t, and the result was disastrous. The panicking crowd had raced out of the theater, but Rhoda and more than thirty fans never had a chance. News crews were already on the scene, and even the most jaded of reporters were fighting back tears.
“Go home,” Allie told Miranda. “There’s nothing you can do here.”
“What about you?” Miranda asked.
“I’ve got work to do.” And with that, she peeled out of Miranda.
In Everlost the chasing squad car lights were muted, and the voices of emergency workers faint. Allie raced into the theater, but there was no sign of the culprits. They were long gone, leaving only carnage and deadspots—so many deadspots—and each one marked the place where someone’s life had ended.
“Who would do this?” Allie said furiously, knowing that no one was there to answer her. But someone did.
“Us,” said the voice of a young girl. “We would do it.”
Allie turned to see a single Afterlight there, standing all alone in the center aisle. She couldn’t have been any older than seven or eight when she crossed.
“He said Mary wanted us to, but I don’t believe it. Ever since Mary found me in the playground, and took me up in her silver balloon, she’s been nice to me. She would never do such a horrible thing.”
Well, obviously this girl hadn’t been watching when Mary had her skinjackers blow up the bridge—but this wasn’t the time to argue.
“I know you’re Allie the Outcast, but I don’t care. If you do something terrible to me, maybe I deserve it anyway.”
But Allie just took the girl into her arms and held her. Allie never considered herself the motherly type, but this girl needed someone to comfort her from the things she had seen, and maybe the things she had done.
“What’s your name?” Allie asked.
“They call me Lacey.”
Allie could see why. Her shoelaces were untied and must have been that way since arriving in Everlost.
“What happened here, Lacey?”
Lacey closed her eyes. “He told us to do it.”
Although Allie already knew the answer, she had to ask, “Who told you?”
“Milos,” she said. Now it was Allie’s turn to close her eyes and swallow the news. To think that once, she had trusted him. To think that once, she had even been attracted to him. But how could she know way back then, that this type of darkness was lurking inside his heart? How could she know he could become a . . . She couldn’t even say the word. So, holding on to Lacey almost as desperately as Lacey held on to her, Allie asked, “Why?”
“Because we need more,” Lacey said. “More and more and more. That’s what he says.”