Subject: Names of the six skinjackers

Status: FAIL

CHAPTER 40
Pittsburgh Stealer

Nothing from Jill.

So far Allie had found only spam at the “stopmarynow” e-mail address, and she was beginning to worry. Had Jill even found Mary? Had she switched sides again? There was no way of knowing. So here they were, sitting in the lobby bar at a Pittsburgh airport hotel, Clarence dressed in his new fancy fashions, and Allie in the body of a flight attendant with big hair. They had no destination, and no way to find out what was going on with Mary and Jill, or with Nick, Mikey, and Jix. Right now, Allie would have settled for those smoke signals Jill had joked about. Even that would be better than nothing at all.

Through all of this Clarence had been a rock to lean on—even if she couldn’t physically lean on him without being extinguished. He was such a troubled, imbalanced person when it came to taking care of himself. Yet when the well-being of others was at risk, he rose to be whatever the occasion needed him to be.

“Seeing Everlost was always a curse,” Clarence had confided in Allie. “Ruined my life. Worse than the scars. A person can live with scars, but to live with things that no one else can see . . . ?”

Outside flurries had begun to whip across the glass front of the hotel, blown by a bitterly cold wind. Since being in Everlost, Allie had learned to appreciate the things she felt while skinjacking. Cold, heat, comfort, discomfort, hunger, thirst, and even indigestion. After experiencing the painless numbness of Everlost, all the things a living body could feel were a blessing.

“Well,” suggested Clarence, a little sheepishly, “We could go back to San Antonio and find victims of Milos’s accidents that were left in comas. We know the new skinjackers had to come from those accidents.”

“No,” said Allie. “I will not end lives on a hunch. I need to know for sure.” To be honest, a part of Allie was glad that Jill hadn’t responded. She didn’t know if she could steal the life of a stranger. She knew Milos, she knew Moose, and knew the threat they had posed . . . but somehow stealing away the physical life of a total stranger would be much more difficult.

Clarence sighed. “Well, being as we have nowhere else to go . . .” Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Your friend Jix thinks I have a purpose. I think maybe this might be it.” He handed the paper to Allie. “See, while you were out taking care of business, I was doing my own research—’cause you know what they say about idle hands . . .” The paper had an address scrawled on it. A hospital in Memphis, Tennessee.

Allie took a deep shuddering breath. “Who’s at this hospital, Clarence?”