“Well,” Petra whispered, “I did not have ghost-in-a-fascinator on my bingo card this year.”

“Right?” I whispered.

“What’s a fascinator?” Connor asked quietly.

“The little hat,” Theo said, gesturing, and earning a sharp look from Ariel.

When we were still and quiet again, she looked back at the ghost. “State your name, spirit.”

The ghost’s mouth moved, but no sound emerged. Ariel swore quietly, rolled her shoulders, and stared more intently at the woman. Whatever magic she’d passed along in that instant did the trick.

“I am Patience Minerva Gillicutty,” the ghost said. The words still had a tinny quality, but given she was speaking to us From The Beyond, or whatever, it sounded pretty decent. Vinyl quality, at least.

“Date of birth?” Ariel asked.

“I was born in the year of our lord, 1848, in the city of Chicago, Illinois. Why have you summoned me?”

But before we could answer, Patience’s nostrils flared. She swung her head back and forth as if sniffing the air. Then she let loose a stream of curses that would have made a sailor’s eyes water. The air grew colder yet, so our breath became vapor, and the woman’s visage rose nearly to the ceiling, her eyes bulging with apparent fury.

I felt Connor shift beside me. Theo’s eyes went wide as moons. Petra looked absolutely enamored.

The ghost glared at us. “I can smell the abomination on you! Who did it? Who let the demon back in?”

SIX

For a good ten seconds, the room went absolutely silent. “Demon?” I asked. “What demon?”

“A demon?” Petra asked. “Are you sure?”

The ghost looked at her. “Of course I’m sure. I’m the Chronicler.” Her nostrils flared again. “And can you not smell the sulfur? The brimstone? Foul and rank and already polluting our world.”

I had to work not to sniff myself.

Her gaze narrowed, and a frigid breeze blew through the room. “The very same stink that marked our city when she spilled chaos around it. Who let it in?”

Every word was an accusation.

“Nobody let it in,” I ventured. “We don’t even know what it is.”

Slowly, Patience’s gaze shifted to the two of us. If I could have turned myself invisible, I would have, just to escape that accusatory stare. “It is a chaos demon.”

“A chaos demon,” Petra said.

I remember the chaos of that time. That’s what Uncle Malik had said, and my blood chilled.

“Eglantine,” Patience said. “That’s its name.”

“There were ghosts,” I said. “Human and canine, but nothing else. I don’t know what a chaos demon looks like, but we didn’t see one.”

“Hold up,” Petra said. “Let’s start at the beginning.” She was writing notes on her screen as Patience talked. “There was a demon in Chicago whose name was Eglantine. Variety,” she said as she tapped, “chaos demon.”

“A creature which was drawn to Chicago after the Great Fire,” Patience said, “and fed on the city’s pain and grief and fury. And tried its best to destroy what remained of it.”