Far above, Mikey McGill finally reached the end of the dock, stomping and cursing like a child having a tantrum, nearly sinking through the wood of the pier. The horse was gone without leaving as much as a ripple in the living-world water to mark its passage.

“Mikey!”

And of course this would be the moment Allie would choose to return! Mikey knew she had seen the whole thing—it was there in the panicked look on her face.

“I’ll go after it!” Mikey told her. “I’ll dive down after it and bring it back!” But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t work. Yes, he had ridden the horse out of the earth once before, but such a feat required a certain passion he no longer had. The monster within him had been tamed, but domestication came with a cost. Surely he still had the power to pull himself out of the depths, but he doubted he could do it on horseback.

Mikey had no way of knowing that Allie’s troubled look had little to do with the horse. She had run from the gas station so quickly, she actually felt out of breath—a sensation that was technically impossible for an Afterlight, and yet still she felt it. When she saw the horse go off the dock, her heart sank. First for the loss of Shiloh, and second, because with him went their only chance for a quick escape.

She tried to get Mikey’s attention, but he still blustered like the storm clouds above. “Stupid horse!”

“Forget about that! We’ve got a bigger problem.” She grabbed him and forced him to look at her. “Skinjackers.”

“Huh?”

“Two of them! They’ve been following us—we’ve got to get out of here!” But as she turned, she realized it was too late. The two skinjackers were at the foot of the dock, stalking toward them. Allie had not seen them in their true form—she had only seen the hosts they had inhabited. In a way it was easier to face them in the living world, where everything was limited by the simple rules of flesh and bone.

Even though she had never actually seen their faces, she knew which was which. The skinjacker to the right was tall and thin, with a puffy, rodentlike face. He had knobby knees and elbows—too knobby, actually—exaggerated like his skewed grin, which practically stretched all the way to his right ear.

“Well, well,” he said. “Jackin’ Jill has a friend!”