“Right,” Nick said, throwing her a secret scowl. “But the ripper uses her powers for good.” Nick took a moment to let that sink in, then he continued. “We all know that there aren’t many things that cross into Everlost—and when things do cross, they get picked up by finders, who charge an arm and a leg for everything. Well, forget about finders— because if there’s something you want, the ripper can get it for you!”

Nick knew he was sounding like an infomercial, but at least he had their undivided attention. He glanced to Isaiah, whose arms were folded, not yet impressed by the show.

“I need a volunteer!” Nick said.

No one came forward at first, then a young girl was pushed out in front by her friends. She looked terrified. Johnnie-O escorted her the rest of the way, and she stared bug-eyed at his huge hand which was gripping her elbow.

“Don’t worry,” Nick said to the girl quietly, “this is a good thing.” Then he spoke loudly enough for the crowd to hear. “Tell me something you’re longing for. Something you truly feel you deserve, that you’ve never had here in Everlost.”

The girl looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “A hot fudge sundae?”

Zin laughed. “Y’already got one! He’s standing right in front a’ ya!”

Only Charlie and Johnnie-O laughed. Everyone else was waiting for Nick to turn Zin into a pile of chocolate chips. Nick turned to Isaiah. “Where in living Atlanta could we find a hot fudge sundae?”

“I know just the place.”

Isaiah led them to the World of Coca-Cola, one of Atlanta’s biggest tourist attractions—a veritable cathedral of carbonated caffeination. Inside was a restaurant that featured all things Coca-Cola—such as ice-cream floats made with Coke instead of root beer, and Coke syrup sundaes.

The crowd of Afterlights followed Isaiah, Nick, and Zin right through the outer wall, and into the café. The place was packed with the living—there was a field trip of students all in neon yellow shirts laying siege to the counter, and ice cream was being dished up by four soda jerks who couldn’t move fast enough.

“The ripper will now ecto-rip a sundae right before your very eyes!” said Nick, sounding like a carnival barker, and enjoying it.

The crowd of Afterlights all craned their necks to see, and shifted their feet to keep from sinking. The effect was a weird bobbing of several hundred heads.

Nick zeroed in on a silver bowl that had just been filled with three scoops of strawberry ice cream. The soda-jerk was about to douse it in Coke syrup, proving that some combinations really ought to be illegal.

“Quick,” he said to Zin, “rip it before it’s too late.”