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The McGill ignored her. “Tell me about this girl and her friends. Tell me what she knows.”
The Haunter laughed. “Her? She knows nothing! I offered to teach her, but she refused.”
“I didn’t need him!” Allie countered. “I was taught by someone else.”
“There is no one else who teaches the things I teach,” the Haunter said, arrogantly. “You knew nothing when you came to me, you know nothing now.”
“I know how to get inside people!” Allie told him. “I know how to skinjack.” She tried to sound strong and sure of herself, but her voice came out crackly and weak.
“It’s true,” said the McGill. “I saw her do it.”
The Haunter climbed out of the barrel and approached her, leaving a trail of salty brine where his moccasins fell. “It’s possible,” he said. “She does have an undeveloped skill to move objects, so it’s possible that she may also have the skill to skinjack.”
The McGill came closer to the two of them. “What I want to know is this: Can the skill be taught? Can she teach it to me?”
The Haunter didn’t bat an eye. “No, she cannot.”
The McGill pointed a crooked, sharp-nailed, furry finger at the Haunter. “Then you teach me how to skinjack.”
The Haunter shook his head. “It can’t be taught. Either you have the skill, or you don’t. You’ve been in Everlost long enough to know what your skills are. If you have not possessed the living by now, then you never will.”
Allie could feel the McGill’s anger like the heat of a furnace. “I see.” Like the heat at the center of the Earth.
“He’s lying!” Allie shouted. “He just wants to win you over, and get you to trust him, so he can betray you the moment you’re not looking! I’m the one who’s been helping you all this time. Who are you going to believe, him or me?”
The McGill looked at both of them, the Haunter on his left, Allie on his right.
“Who are you going to believe?” Allie asked again.
The McGill regarded Allie for a moment more, then turned to Piledriver, and the other crewmen present. “Seal him back in the barrel, then throw him overboard.”
“What?” the Haunter shouted.
“There is only room for ONE monster in Everlost,” the McGill growled.
The Haunter raised his hands, and objects began to fly once more—but although he had powerful magic, he was small and outnumbered. No shower of objects could save him from being shoved back in the barrel. “You will suffer,” the Haunter shouted. “I will find a way to make you suffer!” But soon all that came out were angry gurgles from within the barrel. Piledriver put the lid back on and hammered the nails back into place. Then he and Pinhead grabbed the barrel, and heaved it over the side. It disappeared beneath the waves without as much as a splash, sinking to the sea floor, and beyond. Thus, the Haunter met his destiny.
Once he was gone, Allie felt relief wash through her like a cleansing rain.
“There,” she said. “Now that that’s over with, you need to get on with step seven. No—don’t speak. You can start now. Seventy-two hours. I know you can do it.”
And the McGill didn’t speak. Instead he reached out and a crewman handed the McGill a paintbrush dripping with black paint.
“What are you doing?” Allie asked.
“What I should have done the moment you came on board.”
took a moment to look her over, then said, “I think you like it with the McGill. You’ve got some kind of power over him, don’t you? I don’t know what it is, but you do, and you like it.”
Allie wanted to just grab him and shake him. It was an insulting suggestion. It was preposterous. It was true.
“I have a scheme to get us all out of here, if you just wait.”
“I’m not waiting anymore. And anyway, two schemes are better than one.”
Allie clenched her fists and growled, sounding more like the McGill than she cared to admit. “Even if you get off the ship, who do you think is going to help you?”
“Mary,” Nick said.
