He hit my hand again, his fury apparently so great, it rendered him temporarily speechless.

"Promise me you'll never change," I begged him. "You're so adorable just the way you are."

Dopey called me a very bad name just as his father entered the kitchen with the remains of the salad.

Andy grounded him for another week, and then sent him to his room. To show his unhappiness with this turn of events, Dopey put on the Beastie Boys and played them at such high decibels that sleep was impossible for me…at least until Andy came up and took away Dopey's speakers. Then everything got very quiet, and I was just about to doze off when someone tapped at my door. It was Doc.

"Um," he said, glancing nervously past me, into the darkness of my room – the "haunted" room of the house. "Is this a good time to, um, talk about the things I found out? About the house, I mean? And the people who died here?"

"People? In the plural sense?"

"Oh, sure," Doc said. "I was able to find a surprising amount of documentation listing the crimes committed in this house, many of which involved murder of varying degrees. Because it was a boarding house, there were any number of transient residents, most of whom were on their way home after striking it rich in the gold rush farther up state. Many of them were killed in their sleep and their gold absconded, some thought by the owners of the establishment, but most likely it was by other residents – "

Fearing I was going to hear that Jesse had died this way – and suddenly not at all eager to know anymore what had caused his death, particularly not if he happened to be around to overhear – I said, "Listen, Doc – I mean, Dave. I don't think I've gotten over my jet lag yet, so I'm trying to catch up a little on my sleep just now. Can we talk about this tomorrow at school? Maybe we could have lunch together."

Doc's eyes widened. "Are you serious? You want to have lunch with me?"

I stared at him. "Well, yeah. Why? Is there some rule high schoolers can't eat with middle schoolers?"

"No," Doc said. "It's just that … they never do."

"Well," I said. "I will. Okay? You buy the drinks, and I'll buy dessert."

"Great!" Doc said, and went back to his own room looking like I'd just said tomorrow I'd present him with the throne of England.

I was just on the verge of dozing off again when there was another knock on the door. This time when I opened it, Sleepy was standing there looking more wide awake, for once, than I felt.

"Look," he said. "I don't care if you're gonna take the car out at night, just put the keys back on the hook, okay?"

I stared up at him. "I haven't been taking your car out at night, Slee – I mean, Jake."

He said, "Whatever. Just put the keys back where you found 'em. And it wouldn't hurt if you pitched in for gas now and then."

I said, slowly, so he would understand, "I haven't been taking your car out at night, Jake."

"What you do on your own time is your business," Sleepy said. "I mean, I don't think gangs are cool or anything. But it's your life. Just put my keys back so I can find 'em."

I could see there was no point in arguing this, so I said, "Okay, I will," and shut the door.

After that, I got a good few hours of much needed sleep. I didn't exactly wake up feeling refreshed – I could have slept for maybe another year – but I felt a little better, anyway.

Good enough to go kick some ghost butt, anyway.

I'd gotten together all the things I was going to need earlier in the evening. My backpack was crammed with candles, paint brushes, a Tupperware container of chicken blood that I'd bought at the butcher counter in the Safeway I made Adam take me to before dropping me off at home, and various other assorted necessary components of a real Brazilian exorcism. I was completely ready to go. All I had to do was throw on my high tops, and I was out of there.

Except, of course, Jesse had to show up just as I was jumping off the porch roof.

"Okay," I said, straightening up, my feet smarting a little in spite of the soft ground I'd landed on. "Let's get one thing straight right now. You are not going to show up down at the Mission tonight. Got that? You show up down there, and you are going to be very, very sorry."

Jesse was leaning against one of the giant pine trees in our yard. Just leaning there, his arms folded across his chest, looking at me as if I were some sort of interesting sideshow attraction, or something.

"I mean it," I said. "It's going to be a bad night for ghosts. Real bad. So I wouldn't show up down there if I were you."

Jesse, I noticed, was smiling. There wasn't as much moon as there'd been the night before, but there was enough so that I could see that the little curl at the corners of his lips was turning skyward, not down.

"Susannah," he said. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." I marched over to the carport, and yanked out the ten-speed. "I just got some things to settle."

Jesse strolled over toward me as I was strapping on the bike helmet. "With Heather?" he asked lightly.

"Right. With Heather. I know things got out of hand last time, but this time, things are going to be different."

"How, precisely?"

I swung a leg over that stupid bar they put on boys' bikes, and stood at the top of the driveway, my fingers curled around the handlebars. "Okay," I said. "I'll level with you. I'm going to perform an exorcism."

His right hand shot out. It gripped the bar between my fingers. "A what?" he said in a voice completely devoid of the good humor that had been in it before.

I swallowed. Okay, I wasn't feeling quite as confident as I was acting. In fact, I was practically quaking in my Converse All Stars. But what else could I do? I had to stop Heather before she hurt anybody else. And it would have been really helpful if everybody could have just supported me in my efforts.

"You can't help me," I said, woodenly. "You can't go down there tonight, Jesse, or you might get exorcized, too."

"You," Jesse said, speaking as tonelessly as I was, "are insane."

"Probably," I said, miserably.

"She'll kill you," Jesse said. "Don't you understand? That's what she wants."