“What was your plan?”

“Sit and stare like a deer in the headlights until I’m either fired or transferred to the main branch.”

“That’s a plan for a blank-gaze cord-cutter. Seriously, what would be the difference? Life is passing you by.”

He had a witty comeback, but it never got out as a voice drifted past them on the breeze. Instantly, he froze, knowing it was Crenshaw. “I smell fear,” it said. Owen quickly looked over his shoulder to see how far off the miasma was, and then he peered around the headstone and saw the Ambrogio glowing a pale green, lunging forward in a crouch, ready to pounce. He looked over to Melody to see if she was watching. Unlike him, she’d stood straight up and was walking out from her hiding spot. “Keep moving,” she whispered down to Owen, who was leaden with fright.

The next sound from Crenshaw was a growl. Anxiety built in Owen’s chest and finally exploded. He sprang into the night sky. Below him he saw a pale green form pass through the headstone he’d been hiding behind. He looked quickly for Melody’s location and saw her darting toward the miasma, drawing her target in. He floated down and nearly landed when he noticed the monster had reversed direction and was heading for him. Barely able to place his feet and leap, he darted up before the old man’s fingers could pierce his phantom chest. Even under such duress, the absurdity of the night world never completely escaped him. Still, the proximity sent a bolt of terror shooting down his spine.

He lost sight of the Ambrogio for an instant, and that uncertainty, once he landed, made him spring immediately and recklessly in the direction he surmised Melody was. He immediately realized his mistake and looked up to see the miasma looming in front of him. His mind was overtaken by the memory of the fellow who’d leapt to his destruction from the roof of that house. Below he saw Melody dashing in front of and away from Crenshaw. Owen descended and could feel the heat and the crackling of the night air from the yellow mist. It sent out a feeler that snapped close to his left ear but missed. When he touched down again, the miasma reached for him with swirling wisps of fog, but he pushed off backward at a low trajectory and escaped, only to find himself passing through the pale green form of his attacker. There was a dark, frozen anguish at the center of his being. Landing, he launched himself up and away again.