“That’s it?” I ask. “I just imagine the walls and ghosts can’t get into my head?”
“Yes. But it’s easier said than done. You need to practice maintaining those walls while holding a conversation with something trying to break through.”
I hear Nico stand, and my eyes snap open to see him walking over to the control panel, flipping switches.
The words catch up to me a second too late. “What?”
Nico’s already moving to one of the cells in the wall. “You’re going to practice against a weaker entity. One that doesn’t havethe strength to manipulate you the way Billy did. You need to practice on something real. Or else you’ll never learn how to keep your walls up while talking.”
A hiss of air escapes the compartment as Nico opens the drawer and extracts a metal box the size of a small microwave. Swirling gray mist presses against the glass viewing window.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“Richard Fenton.” Nico carries the container to the chamber. “He stabbed five women in the Chicago area from 1988 to 1995 and has been in storage for six years. Strong but predictable. A good training ghost.”
“You’re just going to let him into my head?” I ask. “I feel like that’s a terrible idea.”
“I’ll terminate the session if something goes wrong,” he says.
“Out of curiosity, what counts as ‘something going wrong’? Spontaneous combustion? My head spinning three hundred and sixty degrees? Do I need to start levitating before you step in?”
His fingers pause over the keypad. “In your case, I’d be more concerned if you stopped talking.”
I roll my eyes at him, and he passes me a pair of goggles, which I pull onto my face, blinking as the world takes on that signature puke-green hue.
“I just want to put it out there that I’m not comfortable doing five minutes of practice and jumping into the deep end,” I say.
“Good thing you didn’t do five minutes of practice.” He glances at me. “I was only there for two.”
Oh, he’s funny. A realcomedian.
I’m about to tell him exactly what I think of his teaching methods when he yanks on a heavy lever. The cold curls around me, as if I’m standing in the mouth of an open freezer. The lights embedded in the base flash red. Then green.
Smoke pours into the chamber.
CHAPTER 18
We found three women in dog kennels, bound and gagged, at the exact address the death echo said they would be. Even dead, Becky still led us to her killer. She saved three lives that day.
—Case notes of Donald Dellman, documenting the extraction and capture of Hayden Radke, January 2026
I am, predictably,terribleat this.
I can build the stage in my mind. That part is no problem. But the second I open my mouth to talk to Richard, smoke pours through the walls of my mental theater like they’re made of tissue paper.
“I can’t focus on both things at the same time,” I say, trying to recover after my fifth failed attempt.
“Clearly.” Nico leans against the control panel with his arms crossed. “I’m surprised you don’t have more natural talent for this.”
“Are you? Surprised?” I wipe sweat from my brow even though it’s freezing down here. “Thank you for being so encouraging. You know, some people say a student’s failure is actually the teacher’s failure.”
“It’s not my job to encourage you.” He pulls off his own goggles, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “If you need encouragement, go to DJ, but I guarantee you thatencouragementwon’t get results.”
“Is that what you’re getting right now?” I roll my shoulders back, trying to dispel the ache that has settled there from sitting in this position. “Results?”
“I’d get more if you spent half as much time practicing as you do talking back to me.” He cranks down on a lever, jerking his chin at the glass chamber. “Go again.”
By the time the team meeting starts, I feel like a wrung-out dish towel.
