“Did they now?” Daisy gave the boys a long, wary look over Esther’s shoulder. “Sounds to me like those spirits were”—Daisy lowered her voice to a whisper—“perverts.”

The two boys shrank away a little, shuffling awkwardly about and making as if to tidy away the board.

“I’m feeling sleepy,” Esther said, drooping farther and nuzzling in closer. “You smell like pine cones and vanilla, Daisy.”

“I think that’s the novelty candles,” Daisy said, steering Esther out of the room without a backward glance. “Let’s find Susan and go home.”

Susan was smoking a cigarette in the front garden. Her last one. Goddamn McGraw, tricking her with a sketchily drawn-on beard . . .

She was drunk. That was all. Drunk makes you stupid.

Goddamn that sexy sentient tree and her willingness to share her drink . . .

But it wasn’t the tree’s fault. It was Susan’s. She should have stayed close to her friends.

What happened to her plans for a J-block night out? Wasn’t that why she’d come to this stupid party in the first place? Not to make new friends she didn’t need, but to cement memories with the ones she already had. The ones who mattered.

There was a burst of noise from behind her as someone pushed open the front door.

“Woo-oo, I’m boneless. Flippy, floppy vampire . . .”

Susan whipped around at the sound of Esther’s voice. Something had happened to her. It was like watching Daisy wrestle a giant jellyfish down the front steps.

They tripped the motion sensor for the security light, and Esther flung her arms up. “Sunlight! It burns!”

“It’s eleven o’clock at night—you’re fine,” Susan said, flicking her unfinished cigarette over the fence and hurrying toward her friends. She registered the relief in Daisy’s face as she slipped under Esther’s other arm to help.

“I’m not sure if someone didn’t spike her drink . . .” Daisy said.

“You think?!”

Esther passed out at the end of the road, and they resorted to carrying her like a sack of potatoes. Her enormous boots made her at least twice her natural weight, and Susan would have taken them off if she’d been able to work out how they unbuckled. As it was, she had the heel of one biting into her hip with every other step.

“I found her in a room with two boys and a Ouija board.”

“Of course you did.” Susan narrowed her eyes. “Tell me what they looked like, and I’ll exact some appropriate revenge.”

“Are you going to publicly shame them in a zine like you did with McGraw?”

Susan had forgotten about that little episode. “I’ve wound the zine up, Daisy. Wielding the might of the media was too great a strain. There are other ways to make scoundrels pay.” Like making them believe their house really was haunted by an awakened and vengeful spirit . . .