The path of danger Right! Yeah, well, news flash, Jesse. I’ve been sneaking out at night for a long time, and my mom’s never said boo about it before. She knows I can take care of myself.’

OK, a lie, but hey, how was he to know?

‘Can you?’ Jesse lifted a black eyebrow dubiously. I couldn’t help noticing that there was a raised scar sliced through the middle of that eyebrow, like someone had taken a swipe at Jesse’s face once with a knife. I sort of understood the feeling. Especially when he let out a chuckle, and said, ‘I don’t think so, querida. Not in this case.’

I held up both my hands. ‘OK. Number one, don’t call me stuff in Spanish. Number two, you don’t even know where I’m going, so I suggest you just get off my back.’

‘But I do know where you’re going, Susannah. You are going down to the school to talk to the girl who is trying to kill that boy, that boy you seem . . . fond of. But I’m telling you, querida, she is too much for you to handle alone. If you must go, you ought to have the priest with you.’

I stared at him. I had a feeling my eyes were probably bugging out, but I really couldn’t believe it. ‘What?’ I sputtered. ‘How could you know all that? Are you . . . are you stalking me?’

He must have realized from my expression that he’d said the wrong thing, since he straightened up and said, ‘I don’t know what that word means, stalking. All I know is that you are walking into harm’s way.’

‘You’ve been following me,’ I said, stabbing a finger at him accusingly. ‘Haven’t you? God, Jesse, I already have an older brother, thank you very much. I don’t need you going around spying—’

‘Oh, yes,’ Jesse said, very sarcastically. ‘This brother cares for you very much. Almost as much as he cares about his sleep.’

‘Hey!’ I said, coming, against all odds, to Sleepy’s defence. ‘He works nights, OK? He’s saving up for a Camaro!’

Jesse made what I’m quite sure was a rude gesture – back in 1850. ‘You,’ he said, ‘aren’t going anywhere.’ ‘Oh, yeah?’ I turned heel and stormed towards the door. ‘Try and stop me, cadaver breath.’

He did a good job. My hand was on the doorknob when the deadbolt slid into place. I hadn’t even realized before that there was a deadbolt on my door – it must have been an ancient one. The handle to it was gone, and God only knew, the key must have long since been lost.

I stood there for half a minute, staring down at my hand in wonder as it pulled futilely on the knob. Then I took a deep cleansing breath, the way my mom’s therapist had suggested. She hadn’t meant I should do this when dealing with a stalker ghost. She just meant to do it in general, whenever I was feeling stressed.