Due to the fact that the Alamo was a living-world tourist attraction, the place was often very crowded—especially during the day. Such a place is maddening for Afterlights—mobs of flesh-filled bodies walking through you was irritating enough in a normal spot of Everlost—but in a vortex where the two worlds kissed each other, an Afterlight can actually feel the passage of a fleshie, and fleshies can hear, feel, and sometimes even see Afterlights within a vortex—which accounts for various ghost sightings around the living world.

And so, the Neon Nightmares decided it was best if they bunked in the secret part of the Alamo where no one ever went.

The basement.

In the living world, tour guides will tell you that it doesn’t exist. Indeed, Texans may mock you at the mere suggestion. But the truth is, there is a series of tunnels beneath the Alamo connecting chambers and storerooms in a secret cellar that has crossed into Everlost. It was here, beneath the vortex, that the Neon Nightmares called home.

Avalon led their captives to the secret passage behind the paperweight shelves in the gift shop, then down narrow stone stairs. The stairs gave way to a low tunnel that finally opened up into a large, dim chamber filled with bedrolls; a common room where most activities took place. The sleeping Interlights were carried off down a winding corridor to be stored elsewhere until they woke up, but Avalon had the bearers of the glass coffin lay it before him, so he could have a good long look at the girl inside.

“What’s her name?” he asked Jix, and shouted, “Answer me!” before Jix could open his mouth, so that anything Jix said would sound as if he were responding to Avalon’s demand, rather than his question.

“Mary Hightower, the Eastern Witch,” Jix said, and the Neons all murmered to themselves, already building Mary’s powerful mystique in their minds.

Seeing the Neons’ reaction, Avalon said, “She belongs to me now. When she awakes she will be my personal servant,” although Jix suspected it would be the other way around. Avalon told the pallbearers to take her away with the other sleeping Interlights, dismissing her as if she were completely unimportant—but clearly she was already sparking the imagination of the Neons, whose eyes followed the coffin until it was down the hallway and out of sight.

The Neons had far less respect for Jix and Jill, who had their hands tied behind their backs, and were repeatedly taunted and prodded.

“Funny war paint you got,” they said to Jix.

“It’s not paint,” he proudly told them. “I am a son of the jaguar gods.”

“Stop that,” Jill whispered to him. “The ‘jaguar god’ stuff is getting old.”

Jix whispered back, “If only one in five believe me, that’s more than twenty who’ll be afraid to fight me when we try to escape.”