“No way!” Dess cried.

Rex looked at Jessica, his exhausted eyes asking for her help. “We don’t have to use mindcasting,” he said. “We can trust her.”

“To what?” Melissa spat. “Kidnap us less often?”

“I’m not saying Angie’s our friend or anything,” he said, his gaze not wavering from Jessica. “Far from it. But she is like us in one way: she wants to learn the truth about midnight. We don’t have to take her thoughts against her will.”

Jessica drew in a slow breath. The night they’d rescued Cassie Flinders, she’d tried to talk them out of erasing the girl’s memories, and they’d basically ignored her. But if Rex himself was actually having second thoughts, maybe this time it wouldn’t have to work out that way.

“I agree with Rex,” she said. “I think.”

The other three stared at her, and Jessica half expected one of them to shout, Who cares what you think? But as the silence stretched out, she felt something shift within the group. Even Melissa’s manic energy seemed to fade a little, like a child’s tantrum left unanswered.

Jessica crossed her arms. Apparently they did care what she thought.

After a long moment Dess said quietly, “So let me get this straight. I’m bleeding here. An inch lower and psycho-kitty would have taken out my eye. And we’re just going to talk to her, which would imply that we could have done this with a phone call?”

“Possibly resulting in less damage to my car?” Melissa said.

“Not really,” Rex said. “Here in person you can make sure Angie isn’t lying. I believe her, but the rest of you also have to be certain.” He let out a short laugh. “And frankly, I don’t think it would have worked this way on the phone. Sometimes a little shared danger helps.”

“Well, no problem then, you two wrecking my car,” Melissa said, “as long as you bonded.”

“No, no.” Rex shook his head tiredly. “My bonding tonight happened out there. Angie’s just confused.”

“Confused!” Melissa groaned. “She’s a kidnapper, Rex. She should be in jail forever! And nothing happens to her?”

He smiled, his eyes flashing with the dark moon’s light.

“I didn’t say that.”

As the dark moon set, real time swept across the desert, followed by the sudden return of the cold autumn wind. Next to Jessica, Rex jumped a little, like dishes left behind by a yanked tablecloth—as if he didn’t belong in normal time anymore.

He had refused to answer their questions about what had happened to him out in the desert, saying he couldn’t remember. Not yet, anyway.

In that same instant Angie’s face sprang to life, emotions fluttering across it like a TV flipping through channels: confusion, fear, suspicion, and finally lots more confusion. She touched her own head gingerly with her fingertips, as if checking to make sure her ears hadn’t fallen off at the stroke of midnight.

The five of them were standing in a row in front of the car, arms crossed—sort of like a band posing for an album cover, Jessica thought. Even the still-seething Melissa had decided to join them, once she realized that this little moment of surprise was the only revenge she would get to wreak on Angie.

The woman’s eyes widened as she saw them through the front windshield.

“Come on out,” Rex called. “Let’s talk.”

Angie slowly pulled herself out from the battered Ford and stood facing them, staying behind the protection of the open car door.

“Wow,” she said softly.

Jessica guessed that people appearing out of nowhere might be a lot more impressive than a few dominoes jumping around.

“How’s your mind doing?” Rex asked. “Still feel like yourself?”

Angie puzzled over that one for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Like I would dirty my hands with your rank little brain,” Melissa said.

Jessica gave her a sidelong glance. So not true.

“Then let’s talk about the history of Bixby,” Rex said.

“I thought we already covered that.”

“Maybe I want to hear it all again.” He patted Melissa’s shoulder. “And this time I can be sure you’re telling the truth. Or at least, if you think you’re telling the truth.”

“It’s all true,” Angie said. “I can show you the documents.”

“Just talk,” Rex said.

Angie nodded and began telling them all about the early midnighters, the Grayfoots’ revolution, and the rest of the other secret history of Bixby. She started slowly and softly, her baffled expression at their sudden appearance taking a while to fade. But gradually her voice gained in strength, and soon she was declaiming with the utmost confidence.

Rex had already explained most of it to them while they’d waited for the blue time to end, but as Jessica heard the revelations repeated in Angie’s methodical tones, the story began to settle in her bones alongside the desert chill of the Oklahoma autumn night.

If this was all true, then how much had Madeleine known about everything that had gone on back in her day? She’d only been seventeen when the Grayfoots had swept the midnighters from power, but she carried the memories of generations of mindcasters. Wouldn’t she know about it if midnighters had been doing creepy things for thousands of years?

And would any of them have the guts to ask her what she thought about all this? Of course, Melissa wouldn’t have much choice in the matter the next time the two of them touched. Jessica was just glad it would be Melissa, and not her, doing the asking.

By the time Angie drew her lecture to a close, she didn’t seem scared of them anymore. She was smoking now, looking at them like they were just kids.

“So now that I’ve explained reality to you,” Angie finished, “what are you going to tell me in return?”

Jessica narrowed her eyes at the woman. She was glad Melissa hadn’t turned her into a drooling idiot, but that didn’t mean she liked Angie. Not at all.

“Here’s the main thing you need to know,” Rex said.

“As far as we can tell, all hell’s going to break loose on November first.”

“The midnight before, actually,” Dess added. “When October 31 rolls over into November.”

Angie smirked. “Midnight on Halloween, huh?”

“It may sound cheesy,” Dess said coolly. “But numbers don’t lie.”

“I don’t know if I believe all that numerology stuff.”

“Numerology?” Dess’s jaw dropped open. “This is math, you dimwit.”

The woman stared at Dess skeptically for a long moment, but then a troubled look crossed her face. “You know, before they cut me off, Ernesto Grayfoot kept saying that something was arriving soon. And after the darklings stopped answering, everyone started getting anxious about it. He said it had to do with the flame-bringer.” She looked at Jessica. “That’s you, right?”

Jessica nodded.

“But the Grayfoots never got all their instructions before the halfling died.”

“What exactly did Ernesto say?” Rex asked.

“All he told me was a name—the old man was nervous because ‘Samhain’ was coming.” She shrugged. “He never told me who that was.”

Melissa shook her head. “Not ‘who,’ dimwit, when. Samhain is the ancient name for Halloween.”

“Spot the goth,” Dess muttered.

“Like you should talk,” Melissa answered.

“Halloween again.” Rex sighed tiredly. “Can’t seem to get away from it.”

“Come on, you guys. Don’t be stupid,” Angie said. “Halloween’s just pop culture nonsense. It didn’t exist here in Oklahoma until a hundred years ago, and as I’ve explained to you, the monsters got here a lot earlier than that.” Her gaze drifted across the five of them. “They’re still here.”

“Monsters?” Rex said. He took a step toward Angie, then another, and Jessica felt a nervous tingling in the bottom of her stomach. Something was changing in Rex, exhaustion leaving his frame. He seemed suddenly taller, his expression harder, a threat implicit in every line of his face. Then the most astonishing thing—Jessica saw his eyes flash violet, though the dark moon had long set.