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Until now the kids would only dare to touch a finger to him once in a while, to get a taste of chocolate. That had been fine with the Ogre—after all, he oozed the stuff like thick, dark perspiration. He did have, as Milos said, plenty to spare . . . but every resource has its limits.
After the first Afterlight exacted his pound of fudge, a second Afterlight came, then another and another. One grabbed his shoulder, another stripped chocolate off his leg. Before he knew it, the returning Angels of Life were mobbing him, and taking pieces of him away. He screamed, but they ignored him. He fell to the ground, and tried to crawl. But mob mentality had taken over, and there were too many of them to fight off.
Finally Moose pushed his way in and yelled, “Shtop!”, pulling the Afterlights off of him. The Ogre tried to rise off the floor, but he couldn’t. Then he looked at himself, and was terrified by what he saw. There was barely anything left of him. He was like something you might find on Halloween, a chocolate skeleton. Finally Milos arrived, shooing everyone away and helped the Ogre into a chair where he just shook, barely able to hold himself in a sitting position.
Milos didn’t apologize, he only said, “Perhaps this was not the best idea.”
“Maybe,” the Ogre said to him, “you’ll burn from this mistake too.”
The weakened Ogre was left in the care of a girl with wide eyes and untied laces. She was one of the few who didn’t partake of the feeding frenzy.
“I’m sorry about what they did to you,” she said to the Ogre. “But at least you’re getting better.” And indeed he was. Slowly chocolate began to grow on him again, oozing out from that sweet spot in his soul. He had, however, lost most of his ogreishness. He was now just a slender chocolate boy, much less intimidating than he had been before—but also more human. He liked that. Even though his face only had the barest hint of a form, at least now he could think of himself as something other than an Ogre.
Seeing himself as a boy made him remember a few more things. He was now certain that he had crossed over from the living world, and had not been here forever. He knew he once had a name, although he could not recall what it was. He was fairly certain, though, that it had begun with an N.
Knowing that much about himself made him bolder, not so easily manipulated. Milos, he finally concluded, was not his friend—and Milos probably knew a lot more about the Ogre than he was admitting . . . so the Ogre gave him a simple, but firm, ultimatum.
“Tell me my name, or I’ll breathe chocolate so deep into your soul that it will make you too heavy to skinjack. So deep that your Afterglow will turn brown.”
Milos looked at him with fear, and something far from friendship, and said, “Your name is Nick.”
“Nick . . .” He nodded. “Thank you.” Nick reached up and brushed his fingers through his hair. It was the first time he realized that he even had hair. “I’ve decided that I’m going on the next mission with you. I’m going to watch what happens, and if I don’t like what I see, I’m leaving.”
Milos looked guarded. “That is, of course, your choice. But remember, if you leave you will never find Jill.”
“I don’t know anyone named Jill,” said Nick, realizing that it was true, and for the first time realizing that everything Milos had told him from the moment they had met, had been a lie.
CHAPTER 27
Last National Life
It would soon be one of the tallest buildings in San Antonio. It was still months from completion, but one could already see how impressive it would be. Just the kind of high-profile office building Last National Life Insurance Company needed.
. . . And across from the construction site sat Blue Harvest Academy, a very private, very expensive school, preparing the next generation for whatever future their parents left them. Blue Harvest boasted the best teachers, the best computers, and an awesome jungle gym. The one-of-a-kind play apparatus was a blue and gray starship made of the newest polymer plastic, guaranteed not to fade in the sun or crack under the abuse of countless children. Filled with slides, tubes, and climbing bars, as well as a “landing gear” swing set, it was easily the coolest playground in San Antonio—maybe the coolest one anywhere.
Since no nearby play-places had crossed into Everlost, Milos had decided one was needed for the Afterlights in his care—and this was the one he chose. Since playgrounds were much loved, causing it to cross would be a simple matter; the trick was bringing a fresh harvest of souls along with it. But Milos had that covered too.
Thanks to Lacey’s tip, Allie arrived long before the so-called “Angels of Life.” In fact, she had been waiting for them since dawn, hiding within walls of nearby buildings, and slipping in and out of people to keep herself concealed from Everlost eyes. She had spent much of her time since the concert disaster going into the minds of grieving families to comfort them. She knew it had to be done, yet she couldn’t help but feel that cleaning up the emotional mess Milos had left behind somehow made her an accomplice.
Miranda wanted to help, but Allie worried that it might put her in danger. She didn’t want her to become an “accident” victim as well. Allie came to Miranda one last time, visiting her in a dream to tell her good-bye. Allie could no longer justify using her, even if Miranda was willing. It made Allie feel dirty. It made her feel like Milos.
Now, on Friday morning, Allie scoped out the spot where Lacey had said the next reaping would happen. Finally, halfway through the morning, while a group of schoolchildren were out in the playground for recess, Allie saw Afterlights approaching—but it wasn’t what she saw that stopped her cold, it was what she smelled.
The unmistakable aroma of chocolate.
She saw Nick almost immediately, walking side by side with Milos, Moose, and Squirrel. The last time she had seen Nick he was a bubbling mess of molten chocolate, without form whatsoever. Now he looked unusually thin, but at least he had something resembling human form. She wanted to leap out and call to him, but she fought the urge. First things first. She didn’t even know why Nick was with Milos. Certainly not as a coconspirator. No matter how much Nick had changed, he couldn’t have changed that much. Even when he had served Mary, Nick had known enough to quickly switch sides—even if he was in love with her.
Allie lingered, peeking out from behind trees in a street-corner Christmas tree lot. She watched as Milos directed dozens of Afterlights to position themselves all around the school playground. The living moved through them, never knowing that almost fifty invisible spirits were there, waiting. Lacey was among them and she looked around conspicuously, obviously waiting for Allie to show up and stop them—but Allie couldn’t reveal herself—not even to Lacey. Allie also noticed that Nick did not join them; he waited across the street.
“It’s time,” Milos said. Moose rolled his shoulders and stretched as if he were a linebacker coming off the bench for a big game. Squirrel rubbed his hands together, which was a nervous gesture, but in a way was also threatening, like a burglar getting ready to pick a lock. Then the three skinjackers vanished into pedestrians, taking over three living bodies.
Allie quickly made her move, knowing she could lose them if she didn’t quickly skinjack. She leaped into a woman who was picking out a Christmas tree and—
—Too small / too tall / too dry / too expensive
the fake trees are looking better and better—
Allie quickly put her to sleep and hurried off the lot. She looked at the street in front of the school, searching for anyone who seemed to have a moment of sudden disorientation. Three people were standing still among the other moving pedestrians: a mailman, a well-dressed woman, and a jogger in shorts that were too bright for his pasty legs. They nodded to one another, then split up: The mailman and the woman went into the school, while the jogger trotted across the street toward a busy construction site.
