IT WAS THE SOUND Of ABEL CRYING that woke me up. When I went downstairs to the kitchen, I found him in Mom’s lap, whimpering. Jules was standing over them, pressing an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel to his lip.
His swollen, bloody lip.
Jeez, there was a lot of blood, drying all in a clumpy beard along his chin. It looked kind of cool, honestly.
“What happened?” I asked, trying not to stare too hard at all of the blood.
“It’s nothing,” Mom said quickly. “Abel slipped.”
Jules rolled her eyes at me.
Slipped. Right. “Into Dad’s fist?”
“It was my fault for getting in the way,” Abel said, in the smallest, most little-boy voice he had. It got to me, just a little, which was kind of a surprise. “I didn’t mean to run into him. I was looking for Mommy.”
Mom smoothed her hand over Abel’s forehead. “It’s okay,” she said, in her mother-hen tone. “But I don’t know what you were so upset about.”
She looked up at Jules. “He came streaking into the bedroom like he’d seen the devil.”
Maybe he did, I thought.
From against Mom’s shirt, Abel sniffed. “I hate this place. There are bad things here hiding everywhere. I hear them at night.”
Mom shushed him. “Your father will be mad if he hears you saying stuff like that. There’s nothing bad here. Get that idea out of your head.”
He hiccupped, and Mom scooted him off her lap. “Let’s go rest for a little while,” she said and pulled him away. She flashed a last empty kind of look at Jules and me and then they were gone. Jules and I were alone.
“Pretty screwed up,” I said, after a beat.
“Well, yeah.” Jules sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair, then stretched her arms high above her head. “What the hell was he talking about, Con? I mean, really?”
“The kid’s six, Jules.” I stared at her, hard. “ ’Course he’s hearing ghosts in the corners. He lives with the freaking boogeyman, right? The kid knows from evil.”
He lives with the boogeyman.… And he lives with me.
At Amity.
Jules bit her lip. I could read my sister pretty well. Right then I had a feeling she was thinking about those squirrels, that shovel, all of the blood, and the mess.…
I had a feeling she was thinking about falling, getting pulled into the river that day.
She sighed again. “I just … well. Whatever karma is coming to bite Dad in the ass, I hope it gets here soon.”
I looked at her. “Right.”
But all I could think was Screw karma. I don’t need karma. Just an excuse to start things off.
And now I had one.
Just like all those years ago. Just like that time in the attic of the old house—
That excuse, it came from Jules.
Jules was the one who started it, way back when. Now I was ready to get moving, to take over. To finish the job.
It was time.
ANOTHER NIGHT, ANOTHER WAKING DREAM.
It was the scratching at my window that woke me.
I got up right away, really eager to see what the noise was. I mean, I know they say, Curiosity killed the cat, but …
I looked at the clock: 3:14. Of course.
The window was closed—not that it helped with the cold at all, but, whatever—so I unlatched it and slid it up so that I could look outside.
First, the sky was all clouded over. Like you couldn’t even see the stars, only fog.
And then.
Through the mist, I saw a glimmer.
No—two glimmers. Side by side.
Two glowing, red eyes.
Interesting.
I leaned forward, toward them, but the wind shifted. When I blinked again, the eyes—whoever, whatever they were—they were gone. Just vanished.
The eyes were gone. But something else was there for me.
When I turned around, Jules was waiting.
HER SKIN WAS GHOST-WHITE, and almost see-through. Her hair fell in tangles down her back.
And her shoulders …
Her shoulders …
Her shoulders were blood soaked.
“What happened?” I asked. My voice wasn’t totally right. There was so much blood, like a waterfall, all down her back.
There was an accident. Jules was matter-of-fact about it, doing that talking-inside-my-head thing that happened in these dead-of-night times lately.
“Who did this?” I asked.
You know. Blood bubbled in the corner of her mouth.
“But when? Where are we?” I was shaking now, could barely choke the words out. “Are you showing me the future? Is this what’s going to happen to you, Jules?”
Is it, Connor? Her voice was light and silvery. You know what we have to do, Connor. You know what you have to do. To stop him.
“Dad?” I sputtered. “Dad did this to you?”
He’s a demon.
Fury grabbed me by the throat. “Yeah.” He was a demon, no secret there.
You know what you have to do.
I knew: the shotgun. That’s what it was for.
“I can do it,” I said, my breath coming fast. “I think.”
It was a lie, though. I didn’t think. I knew. I knew all too well:
When it came to my father, I could. Of course I could.
I didn’t need karma. Just an excuse.
An excuse, and the shotgun.
And Amity.