I mentally ran through all of the names and faces of kids I knew at Willow High School. Many of them were people who had never even registered on Candace’s radar. Roy Needham was a bully, but more of the kind of guy who started fights in the parking lot than someone who had mastered the art of peer pressure. Sophia Diaz, a senior, was rumored to have flirted her way into the starring roles of several theatrical productions of the drama club, but wasn’t exactly beloved by her peers. Besides which, I barely knew either of those people well enough to loop them into a plot involving Mischa. “Just tell me,” I demanded.

“You’re standing right next to him!”

Although I consciously tried to keep my eyes focused on the radio, they drifted up to Henry’s face anyway. “Bad idea,” I told her, hoping Henry hadn’t inferred what we were discussing. His blank face and eager eyes suggested that he was completely oblivious. “That’s not an option.”

“Um, hello. It’s the best option,” Candace insisted. “Mischa knows him and trusts him, and he’s already clued in to what’s happening. So you wouldn’t have to lie to him about the plan.”

“Too many complications if anything goes wrong,” I said, not wanting to elaborate in front of Henry. If the spirits were to somehow latch on to Henry and burden him with the curse, it wouldn’t be fair to him to expect him to reap souls after losing Olivia. He’d already suffered enough, and so had his parents. And furthermore, I just couldn’t imagine Henry having the heart to kill someone else, no matter the consequences for refusing to follow orders.

The radio emitted a long stretch of crackling static before Candace replied, “That’s my recommendation. But if you think you know better—”

“Not an option,” I repeated.

The static was increasing, making it more difficult for me to discern Candace’s voice from the hissing and popping. All I was able to make out from her reply was, “… going to have to choose, eventually.”

“Choose what?” I asked impulsively. Choose eventually. My impulse was to believe she was referring to Trey and Henry. But choose which one of them for… what? Love, or as some kind of sacrifice?

“They’re here,” Candace said, sounding alarmed. The overhead light in the garage flickered again, catching Henry’s attention. The volume of audio coming from the radio momentarily cut out, and when the static returned, it was noticeably quieter. “Are the batteries dying?” I asked Henry.

“Those are brand-new batteries,” he reminded me.

I slapped my palm against the top of the radio, not ready to end my conversation with Candace just yet. “Candace, I’m losing you,” I shouted. Inside the Richmonds’ house, muffled by the garage door, the smoke alarm in the kitchen began going off.

“What the hell?” Henry muttered. He took a few steps toward the door before hesitating. “I don’t smell smoke. Do you?”

“I don’t think there’s a fire,” I told him, distracted by my eagerness to maintain my connection to Candace. But the static was so thick that if she answered me, I couldn’t hear her, and her “vibe” was gone. Desperate, I flipped the radio over to check the battery compartment again, and swore when I saw sticky brown liquid oozing out from the plastic panel door.