“I have it,” he said.

He was going to give it to her.

He was just going to hand over the knife that would be used on Eric.

Nope. That was a big fat nope from me.

I edged out around the other side of the gravestone. The two men, mirror opposites of each other, had stepped toward Crash and Hattie. Belly to the ground, I crept along the side of the circle.

I made it to Eric without anyone but Crash seeing me.

He could have made a noise. He could have given me away. But instead he pulled the knife out and held it in his hands, balancing it on one fingertip. “Demon steel is valuable, Hattie. How did you get the demons to help you?”

I wasn’t waiting for her explanation. Time would be of the essence here. I pulled the turquoise-handled knife from my leg sheath and cut through the ropes holding Eric in a quick slash, which was when all hell broke loose.

“Eric, run!” I yelled, and the bigfoot was up and moving, like the sort-of-ghost that he was. Which was what I’d been banking on.

Ten minutes was all they had to catch him a second time. The albino came at me first, and I stumbled backward, my heel catching the edge of a grave marker set low in the ground. “Robert!”

The skeleton lunged forward, slashing at the albino, who screeched as Robert’s clawed fingers raked across his face.

I rolled to my belly, not feeling anything but pure adrenaline. I just had to keep Eric clear of them for ten minutes. We could do that.

I bolted into the dark, barely dodging the first couple of markers. We needed more protection than a single skeleton and me.

“Eric!” I tried to call quietly, but it was hard to hear over the fire raging in my lungs and the adrenaline that made my heart pump hard enough to concern me. Like, this would be a terrible time for it to stutter and stop.

A furry hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked me to the side. I yelped, and then I was smothered in long, musky-smelling hair. “They can’t see us if we hold still,” he whispered into my ear.

I wasn’t so sure about that. Call it one of my good guesses, but if Crash could see Robert like I could, then I suspected he’d also be able to see Eric when he was playing ghostie. “Crash can.”

“Turd toast,” Eric whispered, his arms tightening around me as footsteps ran by us.

“Find them,” Hattie called out. “They won’t go far. A scared bigfoot and an even more terrified little girl. Breena, come out, you don’t understand. Without his death, I will die soon. You don’t want that, do you?”