“I only done it once,” Zin told him, glancing at Nick a little sheepishly. “Kudzu here was bein’ beaten by his owner. Had to save him from that, and rippin’ him was the only way.”

Hearing his name, the dog came over, and rolled onto his back, waiting for a belly rub. Isaiah obliged. “Beatin’ a dog! You shoulda ripped his owner’s heart clear out while you were at it.”

“I did!” said Zin. Then she waffled. “Well, I almost did. I mean, I woulda done it, but the dog was watchin’. Couldn’t let him see that, could I?”

Kudzu purred like a kitten as Isaiah rubbed his belly. “Sure is one funny-lookin’ pooch.” Then he stood up and handed Nick the list. “Here you go—ten reasonable requests. Let’s see what the girl can do.”

The requests that Isaiah passed along were all well-chosen, and although it took some time, they were doable. A saxophone and a guitar for two kids who hadn’t played since the day they each crossed over. The sixth Harry Potter book, which, for some reason, was the only one that never crossed into Everlost. A Bible—which often did cross—but the request was for one in Portugese. Zin ripped an art set for a girl who had brushes, but no paint, a big sixty-four box of Crayolas for the younger kids, and a pair of glasses for a kid whose eyesight was as bad in Everlost as it was in life. The remaining requests were for desperately needed sports equipment. Nick was surprised that Isaiah didn’t pass along any more food orders, but as it turned out, Isaiah had his reasons.

Once all ten requests had been fulfilled, Isaiah called Nick in for a private meeting. Isaiah’s quarters were comfortable but modest, behind an unassuming storefront in Underground Atlanta. He lived no better than any of the kids in his care, although he did have a bit more room. There was a bed that was probably just for show, since most Afterlights—especially leaders—didn’t sleep. There was a Formica table from the 1950s, an orange leather sofa probably from the seventies, and several fragile-looking round-backed chairs that looked like something Nick’s grandmother might have owned. Nick made a mental note to have Zin rip Isaiah a respectable furniture set.

Nick sat on the sofa, figuring it would be the least likely to be left with permanent chocolate stains, and Isaiah sat across from him in one of the grandma chairs.

“I’ve let you have your fun,” Isaiah said. “Now I want to know what you want from us.”