left arm and positioning her between them, his gun to her temple. “I’d say it’s a standoff, Officer. Why don’t you drop yours?”
Jen let out a faint squeak, her dark eyes wide with terror and helpless fury, showing the whites. Cody hesitated.
“Oh, God,” I whispered, the blood running cold in my veins. “Jen, no!”
There was another sound, a whooshing sound, as one of the figures atop the roof vaulted over the edge, the panels of a long coat flaring like dark wings, briefly blotting out the streetlights overhead. Someone let out a shriek as the figure dropped like a stone. A highly cinematic stone. Clancy Brannigan swung his pistol and fired at it, the gunshot echoing loudly along the street.
“Missed me.” Bethany Cassopolis landed in a three-point stance, straightening to adjust the folds of her long Victorian frock coat. She showed her fangs. “No one fucks with my brother and sister, creep. Not anymore.” Brannigan lowered his pistol and fired on her at point-blank range, but a bullet to the chest barely even slowed Bethany down as she fell upon him with inhuman speed, wrenching the gun from his hand as she jerked him away from Jen and sent him stumbling in Cody’s direction. “Count yourself lucky I don’t drink you dry, asshole!”
Cody slapped a pair of handcuffs on Clancy Brannigan. One psychotic mortal down, one possessed zombie skeleton to go.
Okay.
“Wait!” I shouted. “Stefan, everyone, just hold on!” I addressed the Tall Man’s figure. “Mr. Morgan, I want to parley!”
The helmeted skull turned toward me, eye sockets filled with blue fire, blue fire crackling along its bones. Grandpa Morgan was listening. Opposite him, Stefan braced his hands on his knees, keeping his grip on his sword, taking deep breaths. Blood was running down his left arm, dripping from his wrist.
“Let Talman Brannigan’s spirit go,” I said. “He committed a terrible crime. Don’t let it happen again. That can’t be what you want.”
Blue flames surged in the hollow sockets. “Let my grandson go, she-devil!” It was a different voice, not as booming, but creaking with sharp, rusty edges. Well, that and a Jamaican accent. “That’s all I ask. Give me my grandson, and you and your cursed bloodclot of a town can have your murderer’s bones!”
“No one has me, Grandfather!” Emerging from behind the protective barrier of Lurine’s coils, Sinclair confronted the apparition. There were tears on his cheeks. “This is my town and these are my friends. I chose this path, and you have no right to choose a different for me; not you, not my mother, not my sister! No one! You can force me to change my mind, but you can’t change my heart.” He opened one hand to reveal the withered remnants of a joe-pye weed. “You can only break it.”
On the outskirts of what had been a crowd of spectators, there was still shouting and pushing, but the street surrounding us had gone quiet. Everyone who wasn’t already fleeing was transfixed with a combination of horror and fascination. I caught Lurine’s eye and pointed toward the Tall Man’s ankles, then held up one finger to indicate she should wait for my signal. Lurine nodded, slithering forward a few feet. Behind her, Stacey Brooks stood with her arms wrapped around herself, teeth chattering in the warm night air.
In silence, we waited for the Tall Man’s—for Grandpa Morgan’s—response.
“Sorry, bwai.” There might even have been a hint of regret in the rusty voice. “But your mother bound me to her will.”
And then, “CAVANNAUGH!”
Grandpa Morgan had loosed the reins on the Tall Man and given him his head. The axe rose, the skull turning in search of Stacey Brooks. Stefan straightened, hoisting his sword, his irises like pale rims of frost around his pupils.
“Easties, fire!” I shouted, praying that Brandon and his friends were still up there manning the ramparts.
My prayers were answered. Atop the roof of the old Birchwood Grill building, the industrial-strength water-balloon launcher twanged over and over, launching a barrage. The Tall Man flailed, batting at the onslaught. It wasn’t anything more than an annoyance to him, but all I needed was a moment’s distraction.
“Now!” I shouted to Lurine.
Her iridescent tail shot forward, snaking around the skeleton’s bony ankles, upending him with a single yank. The Tall Man clattered to the ground, bones and armor rattling. Stefan was on him in a flash, both booted feet stomping down hard on the skeleton’s axe-wielding arm, the point of his sword jamming into the exposed vertebrae at the back