Was fear, or something else, making them look the way they did? Had her mind really, truly, finally cracked?

CLARE! shouted Enzo. COME WITH ME! She could swear she could feel the pull of his teeth on her skirt, drawing her . . . through the crowd of ghosts muttering that sounded like stormy ocean surf in her ears, rushing so loud she couldn’t even hear the fast throb of her heart.

She wove in and out of real and imaginary people, managed to cross behind another bus, found herself panting on the other side of the street, walking a full block as she coped with the gruesome and fantastic. She thought she cried, felt wetness on her cheeks but it wasn’t cloudy or raining.

Gasping, she stopped, fumbled her sweater buttons undone, tied the thing around her waist. Didn’t care how she looked. Except she hoped she didn’t seem like someone on drugs or mentally ill.

Even. If. She. Was. Crazy.

Clare, Clare, are you all right? Enzo demanded.

Her dried lips cracked. “No.”

BREATHE. Count with me. Breathe in to seven and out to seven, the Peaceful Breath! ONE! Two!

And she did, and the too-bright glare outlining the shadow people disappeared a little, and the . . . the . . . images . . . turned more . . . normal. And she got a grip on herself and realized she’d gone straight in the opposite direction than what she’d anticipated.

Slowly, slowly, she looked around—with double vision. Old building faces replaced those more modern, brick with wooden porches and narrower fronts. The street sign didn’t read Market, or the name before that, Holladay—a man who’d been a main person in Jack Slade’s life—but the very first name, McGaa. She continued to steady her breathing.

Her first normal thought was it was a good thing she hadn’t driven.

The second was to wonder if that was really Zach Slade coming toward her.

Sure it was. Mrs. Flinton had betrayed Clare.

Now she’d be seen to be completely bonkers by a man she admired and whom she’d wanted as a lover. No matter the fortune, this terrible “gift”—more like a curse—had already cost her more than she’d have been willing to pay for the damn money. Cost her her former life. Cost her a man she might have been able to have a relationship with.

“Clare!” He was there and had an arm around her waist, and she couldn’t stop trembling. Goddammit.

At least the people looking at her askance, a couple holding their cell phones like they were about to call 911, appeared steadied by Zach’s presence, his handling of her. Obviously a man in charge.

“Okay, Clare, let’s just move out of the pedestrian traffic, all right?”

She looked at him with those hazel eyes that now seemed to have little gold glints he hadn’t noticed before. Once more she seemed too pale under the tan of her skin, but when he eased her away from the street, she followed docilely.

“Ghosts,” she murmured, so low that he could barely hear, though he bent his head. “All around. Even the buildings look different.” She continued to shiver within the circle of his arm.

They stopped in the cubbyhole doorway of a café, just outside the swing of the red door.

He stepped back, ready to drop his arm, but paused as he felt a tug on his pant leg. He glanced down . . . and saw a touch of see-through white something. If he squinted it might look like a dog. A Lab. A wave of cold crashed through him.

“Clare?” he asked.

She followed his gaze down. “That’s Enzo.”

Zach heard a bark. “I’m not believing this.”

Clare shrugged despairingly. “Welcome to my world.”

His eyes focused over her shoulder at the EZ Loan Check Cashing place across the street. A white haze hung around it. He noted the car with the motor running parked in a loading zone outside the tinted-glass storefront. A nervous guy sat in the driver’s seat.

Zach’s vision sharpened and all his instincts alarmed. He’d heard on the news that there’d been a series of robberies targeting check cashing services . . . and the vehicle looked right.

A white haze overshadowed the front window, appearing like an old-fashioned brick building with a LAND OFFICE sign. Zach blinked. The white figure of a cowboy coalesced and waved his hat in long swoops. Robbery! Going on now! The hollow words echoed in Zach’s head.

Zach dropped his arm from Clare’s waist. The phantom cowpoke vanished. So did the white mist in front of the building. The car and twitchy driver remained, all too vivid. Real.

He opened the café door and pushed Clare into the little place. “Go to the back of the building. Call 911. Tell them there’s an incident at the EZ Loan.”

Her gaze flew to his. She turned to look and he grabbed her. She blinked. “A cowboy,” she said faintly. “He’s yelling that there’s a robbery in progress.”

Zach’s teeth gritted. “Maybe. Do as I say.”

“All right.” She fumbled at her purse, took out her cell, punched in a number. “Yes, the EZ Loan.” She gave the address. Glancing at him, her eyes still wide, she said, “They’re on their way.” She stared across the street. “But robbers have been targeting check cashing stores in the suburbs,” she whispered.

“Yeah, they’ve gotten away,” Zach said, “but they’re downtown today; their mistake.” He opened the door and strode with what he hoped was casual, limping quickness . . . a man in a hurry . . . across the street to the EZ Loan.

Heart pounding, Clare continued to watch Zach through the full-length windows as she faded back past the tables to the doorway leading to the restroom.

No longer than a minute after Zach had gone into the EZ Loan did sirens wail, and then shots erupted along with screams. The car in front of the building gunned and jerked into traffic, the front end promptly hit by an SUV in a tearing crash of torn metal.

“Hey!” The driver of the SUV slammed out of his vehicle. But the other driver was out and running.

Café patrons pressed to the glass windows, but Clare hung back. More shots, and police cars coming down the one-way street both ways; officers poured out of the cars and proceeded carefully to the building.

Clare gasped and gasped.

Zach is all right, Enzo said, as he zoomed into the café through the red street door. She hadn’t seen him leave. Dropping into an empty seat at a tiny table, she had to have confirmation. “He’s all right?”

Enzo nodded. Zach had already taken two down but the third got really scared, especially when he heard sirens, and shot, BANG. Then Zach got him, too. No one is hurt. Zach really uses his cane well.

“Oh.”

“Some cops are going in,” reported one of the diners near the windows. “And the rest are handling traffic and stuff. Looks like whatever happened is over with.”

Clare stood up and slipped from the café, though she dearly wanted some coffee, and she’d entered the establishment and stayed safe and had purchased nothing; that wasn’t fair. Well, she’d come back some other time.

She moved among the crowd on the sidewalk just enough to get a good view. A few minutes later, policemen came out hauling the suspects, and Zach and another officer exited.

He looked . . . right. Where he should be, doing what he should do, his lean face interested and animated. Back at work at his old job.

And Clare felt separated from him by more than people and cars and the street. He was back in his element and for better or worse—no doubt worse—she’d stepped over into the crazy and illogical side of life.

A ghost from the past had warned of something going on in the present. In real life. She couldn’t ignore that anymore.

Thinking of which, the ghost materialized right before her, right now! Then collapsed at her feet. She squatted down, forgetting and putting her hand on his icy chest.

He gave her a lopsided smile. I didn’t die here, not really. But I was bound here by Those Who Be, bound ’cuz of my bad nature.