Zin shoved her ripping-hand forward into the living world, and the crowd of Afterlights buzzed with excitement. In one smooth move, Zin grabbed the ice-cream bowl, and tugged it out of the living world into Everlost. The soda jerk never saw it happen—and when he emptied his syrup ladle, Coke syrup spilled all over the marble counter. He looked at the counter for a moment in dumb confusion, then he glanced at the other soda jerks and said, “Okay, who’s the joker?”

“It just disappeared!” said a living redheaded kid sitting at the counter in front of him. “It disappeared right into thin air! A hand reached out of nowhere and took it!”

“Shut up, Ralphy,” said the kid next to him, and that was that. The soda jerk sighed, and made another sundae, not caring enough about the mystery to unravel it.

Zin, with the ripped bowl of ice cream in her hands, held it out to the girl, who was already licking her lips.

“No,” said Nick. “Not yet.”

Then he held his hand over the ice cream, squeezed his hand into a fist, and dribbled a hefty amount of chocolate over the ice cream.

“Ew!” shouted several voices in the crowd, sounding both delighted and disgusted at the same time.

“There,” Nick said. “A hot fudge sundae.”

The girl and her friends didn’t wait for spoons to be ripped—they devoured it with their hands.

“So,” said Isaiah, “the Chocolate Ogre isn’t a monster … he’s a thief.”

Nick didn’t deny it. He had thought long and hard about what it meant to rip things from the living world, but he ultimately decided that the needs of Everlost outweighed the needs of the living. “Ever hear of Robin Hood?” he said to the crowd, as much as to Isaiah.

“Sure—he robbed from the rich and gave to the poor.”

“Well,” said Nick, “the living are rich, whether they know it or not. The way I see it, we deserve a small share of the world that was stolen from us.”

Isaiah didn’t say he agreed, but he didn’t disagree, either.

“Okay,” said Nick. “Who’s next?”

Almost every hand went up, with shouts of “Me! Me! Me!”

Nick turned to Isaiah. “Get me a list of ten reasonable requests, and we’ll see what we can do.”

* * *

Nick counted on Isaiah to weed out the needy from the greedy, and Nick wasn’t disappointed.

“About half of them wanted you to rip them a pet,” Isaiah said, when he brought the list of requests to the parlor car. He glanced at Kudzu, who had busied himself licking the chocolate off everything in sight—poison for a living dog, but not a problem for an Afterlight canine.

“I was worried that might happen,” Nick said. “What did you tell them?”

“I told them that ripping dogs and cats right out of their lives wouldn’t be right.”