By the time Angie drew her lecture to a close, she didn’t seem scared of them anymore. She was smoking now, looking at them like they were just kids.

“So now that I’ve explained reality to you,” Angie finished, “what are you going to tell me in return?”

Jessica narrowed her eyes at the woman. She was glad Melissa hadn’t turned her into a drooling idiot, but that didn’t mean she liked Angie. Not at all.

“Here’s the main thing you need to know,” Rex said. “As far as we can tell, all hell’s going to break loose on November first.”

“The midnight before, actually,” Dess added. “When October 31 rolls over into November.”

Angie smirked. “Midnight on Halloween, huh?”

“It may sound cheesy,” Dess said coolly. “But numbers don’t lie.”

“I don’t know if I believe all that numerology stuff.”

“Numerology?” Dess’s jaw dropped open. “This is math, you dimwit.”

The woman stared at Dess skeptically for a long moment, but then a troubled look crossed her face. “You know, before they cut me off, Ernesto Grayfoot kept saying that something was arriving soon. And after the darklings stopped answering, everyone started getting anxious about it. He said it had to do with the flame-bringer.” She looked at Jessica. “That’s you, right?”

Jessica nodded.

“But the Grayfoots never got all their instructions before the halfling died.”

“What exactly did Ernesto say?” Rex asked.

“All he told me was a name—the old man was nervous because ‘Samhain’ was coming.” She shrugged. “He never told me who that was.”

Melissa shook her head. “Not ‘who,’ dimwit, when. Samhain is the ancient name for Halloween.”

“Spot the goth,” Dess muttered.

“Like you should talk,” Melissa answered.

“Halloween again.” Rex sighed tiredly. “Can’t seem to get away from it.”

“Come on, you guys. Don’t be stupid,” Angie said. “Halloween’s just pop culture nonsense. It didn’t exist here in Oklahoma until a hundred years ago, and as I’ve explained to you, the monsters got here a lot earlier than that.” Her gaze drifted across the five of them. “They’re still here.”

“Monsters?” Rex said. He took a step toward Angie, then another, and Jessica felt a nervous tingling in the bottom of her stomach. Something was changing in Rex, exhaustion leaving his frame. He seemed suddenly taller, his expression harder, a threat implicit in every line of his face. Then the most astonishing thing—Jessica saw his eyes flash violet, though the dark moon had long set.

He was arm’s length from Angie, but the woman stumbled backward, shrinking against the broken car. The cigarette dropped from her fingers.

“Maybe you’re right, Angie,” he said. “Maybe monsters have lived in Bixby for a long, long time. But you should just remember one thing.”

His voice changed then, turning dry and cold, as if something ancient was speaking through him. “Monster or not, I’m what you made me when you left me out in the desert. I’m your nightmare now.”

A hissing sound came from him then, and his neck stretched forward, as if his head were straining to leave his shoulders. His fingers seemed to grow longer and thinner, cutting the air in mesmerizing patterns. The hiss sliced through Jessica’s nervous system like a piece of broken glass traveling down her spine.