“Because it’s what ghosts do,” the wraith said. “Ghosts are the best liars. You have to be if you’re gonna lie to death, and to yourself, making yourself think you’re still alive.” He pointed an accusing chicken bone at him. “But I know what you are. You’re all demons, up to no good. And you know what they say about demons. . . .” But apparently he didn’t know, because that’s all he said.

“We can’t be both demons and ghosts,” Mikey pointed out. “We’re either one or the other.”

“You’re whatever I say you are, so you can just shut up about it.”

And then Mikey realized something. “You’re not convinced we’re real, are you?” Mikey smiled in spite of himself. “They’ve been telling you that you’re crazy, and you still wonder if maybe they’re right!”

“Now you’re making me angry,” the wraith said. “And you know what I do to ghosts that make me angry!”

Mikey took a step away from the bars just in case, then said, “No, what do you do?”

The wraith stood, took a long swig from his bottle, and eyed Mikey in that sideways way with his Everlost eye. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and it made that crossed side of his face glow—almost like the glow of an Afterlight, but not quite. “You’re a wise guy,” he said. “I don’t like wise guys.”

“Mooooon!” said the Ogre. “Tranquility . . .” Then he pointed at the full moon. “Neil Armstrong walked in a Sea of Tranquility.” Then he added, “It’s made of cheese. But you have to take off the plastic before you put it on your burger.”

Mikey sighed.

“What’s his story?” the wraith asked.

“He’s chocolate,” Mikey said.

“I can see that,” snapped the wraith.

“Why is he chocolate?”

“Because it’s all he can remember of himself.” Mikey thought that the wraith would ask for more, but he seemed satisfied with the answer.

“You boys got names, or do you just . . . ?”

“I’m Mikey. This is Nick.”

“Clarence,” he said. “Can’t say that I’m pleased to meet you.”

“No,” said Mikey. “The displeasure is mine.”

That made Clarence laugh. He sat back down, drank some, ate some, rocked some, and finally said: “If you’re real—and I think you are—you’re gonna tell me how to make other people see you.”

“We can’t do that,” said Mikey.

Clarence didn’t seem bothered. “Guess you’ll stay in there forever, then. . . .”

Mikey rattled the cage in frustration. “We can’t do everything!”

“But you can do some things. You can make yourself look like a monster. All those claws and bulging eyes, like you did when I first caught you.” He leaned all the way back in the chair. “Do it again.”

“No! I’m not a circus monkey.”