Zin chuckled. “I thought you’d ask me to do sumpin’ hard.”

She looked around, then saw a tattered tissue tumbling in the living-world wind. Casually she reached out with her right hand. With a faint shimmering of light, her hand poked a hole into the living world, she grabbed the tissue in midair, and pulled it back through the hole into Everlost. The portal into the living world closed almost instantly.

“Whoa,” said Johnnie-O. “Abra-freaking-cadabra!”

She handed the tissue to Nick. “There,” she said. “Maybe you can use it to wipe off all that chocolate ailing your face.” Then she added, “Sir.”

Nick looked at the tissue in his hand, thinking it would take a lot more than a tattered Kleenex to get rid of his particular skin condition. “I’m impressed.”

“So you gonna tell me about your war?”

Nick considered how to answer her. “What do you know about Mary, the Sky Witch?”

Zin looked at Nick, then to Johnnie-O, then back to Nick again. “Who?” She looked to Kudzu, as if the dog might know the answer, but Kudzu just wagged his tail.

Nick sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but in truth he was relieved that she had never heard of Mary. It would make educating Zin the Ripper easier.

“Let’s go,” Nick said. “I’ll tell you all about Mary on the way.”

Just then, Johnnie-O finally touched his lip and said, “Hey, where’s my Camel? What happened to my Camel?”

“What’s he talkin’ about? I don’t see no stinkin’ camel.”

“My cig, you half-wit tomboy freak!”

Nick ignored their bickering, turning to take one last look at the Challenger. Without the rickety scaffold, there was nothing at all to mask the bald-faced fact that the shuttle was fixed in midair, resting on the invisible memory of its launchpad. Memory in Everlost was a far greater force than gravity. It could hold a thousand-ton spacecraft in the air, and could slowly turn a kid to chocolate.

“What’ll I do without my Camel?” whined Johnnie-O.

“Maybe Zin can rip you a nicotine patch,” said Nick. He had already begun to consider quite a few other things Zin might do with her powers as well—but they were things he wasn’t ready to share with anyone—at least not yet.

“I wouldn’t rip you the time of day,” Zin said to Johnnie-O, and added “sir,” as snidely as she could.

“Prob’ly because you can’t tell time,” Johnnie-O spat back.

Nick tried to keep his laughter to himself. Clearly Johnnie-O and Zin were a match made in heaven, so he let them squawk freely at each another as they set off, leaving behind the great spacecraft that stood in patient anticipation, forever pointing toward the stars.

PART TWO
Dancing with the Deadlies