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“Th-Theta?” Evie struggled for breath.
Theta’s fire left her all at once. She looked panicked. Now Evie was truly scared. Theta. Calling for Memphis. Screaming for him: Now, now! Memphis racing to her side. His worried face. Talking: Too much. Fall back. Storm cellar. Sam. Poor Sam. Lifting her up so all she could see was smoke and sky.
And she could feel what the ghoul had left behind in her. Could feel the pain and anguish of Marlowe’s careless machine, the Eye, tearing apart whatever it wanted. She could feel the dead, too. Was joined to them, to the mindless horde. The dark sky was shot through with cold blue flashes of light that announced themselves but illuminated nothing. She was dying, she knew. She might become one of those hungry things. Just like the one that had bitten her. Just like Mabel.
That is where we will meet. That is where you will understand.
GRAVE ROT
Jericho helped lower Ling into the storm cellar, then slammed the doors shut and threaded a shovel through the handles just to be sure. Henry and Theta cleared off a worktable, and Memphis and Sam laid Evie down on top. Bill pulled the chain on the bulb. In its weak light, Evie was a pale fish thrown from the sea, gasping for breath.
Sam was frantic. “Memphis. Tell me you can heal her, pal. Please, please, tell me you can.”
“Poet? Can you?” Theta wiped away a tear.
“That’s a wound from the dead. Doesn’t work the same. It’s… it’s beyond me.” What he didn’t say: I’m afraid. Afraid of what might meet me on the other side of that healing.
Ling marched over and took Evie’s wrist. “Her pulse is weak.”
Sam fell to his knees. There were tears in his eyes. “Memphis, I’m begging you.”
“I’m trying to tell you—that’s not just any wound. It’s grave rot,” Memphis said as gently as he could.
“What are you talking about? Grave rot, what is that?” Ling asked.
“They’re getting powerful, like us. They’re teaming up, like us. You just saw what they can do,” Memphis said.
“Whatever’s happening with the Eye that’s making the connection unstable between our worlds is also doing something to the ghosts,” Henry said.
“I don’t think it’s just that,” Memphis said solemnly.
“We did this,” Ling said.
Memphis nodded. “Yeah.”
“What are you talking about? She’s dying!” Sam shouted.
“Every time we blasted apart one of those ghosts, we sent our power into that other world. To him. To his dead. Energy is neither created nor destroyed. Everything is connected,” Ling explained.
“I tried to heal a man in Greenville who got attacked by these new dead. When I put my hands on him, I could feel my power being sucked out of me. Grave rot turns its victims directly into that,” Memphis said, pointing to what lay beyond the cellar doors. “And it nearly killed me. I don’t have any protection against it.”
Theta looked from Memphis to Evie. If Memphis did nothing, Evie would surely die and become one of the King’s dead, or dust. But if he did heal her, he could meet the same fate. “What are we gonna do?”
“We can’t go on without Evie. We need all of us,” Jericho said.
“She’s not looking too good,” Henry said.
Evie’s breathing was a wet, labored wheeze. When Memphis looked down, he saw Remy lying on the boat. He remembered the horrors he’d faced while under. He didn’t want to go back there. He’d do anything not to go back there.
“Evie pulled me outta that mess in Times Square. One night, my stomach hurt and she brought me some soup on a tray,” Isaiah said. “She helped take care of me, Memphis.”
“All right,” Memphis said. He couldn’t let his friend die. “All right, but it’s gonna take all of us to fight this. Theta! Gonna need you to cauterize that wound when I’m through, burn out the rot.”
“Whatever we’re doing, we need to do it fast.” Henry nodded at Evie. The rot was spreading across her belly, an inky stain.
“Henry and I can try to create a dreamscape to protect us, a bubble of safe passage for us to occupy,” Ling offered.
“What can I do?” Sam asked.
