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now that I knew she was still around.
    I started slowly, gradually increasing my efforts until I heard a voice so soft it could have been a hiss from the vent. I looked around, hoping to see Liz in her Minnie Mouse nightshirt and giraffe socks. But there was only me.
    “Liz?”
    A soft, hesitant “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry,” I said, getting to my feet. “I know you’re angry with me, but it didn’t seem right not to tell you the truth.”
    She didn’t answer.
    “I’m going to find out who killed you. I promise.”
    The words flew to my lips like I was reading a script, but at least I’d had the sense to shut my mouth before promising to avenge her death. That was one of those things that made perfect sense on the screen, but in real life, you think
Great…and how exactly would I do that?
Liz stayed silent, like she was holding out for more.
    “Can I see you?” I said. “Please?”
    “I can’t…come through. You need to try harder.”
    I sat back on the floor, hands wrapped in her hoodie and concentrated.
    “Harder,” she whispered.
    I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined myself pulling Liz through. Just one huge yank and—
    A familiar tinkling laugh sent me scrambling to my feet. Warm air slid along my unbandaged forearm.
    I yanked my sleeve down. “
You
. I didn’t call you.”
    “You didn’t need to, child. When you summon, spirits must obey. You called to your friend and the shades of a thousand dead answered, winging their way back to their rotted shells.” Her breath tickled my ear. “Shells buried in a cemetery two miles away. A thousand corpses ready to become a thousand zombies. A vast army of the dead for you to control.”
    “I—I didn’t—”
    “No, you didn’t. Not yet. Your powers need time to mature. And then?” Her laugh filled the room. “Dear Dr. Lyle must be dancing in Hell today, his agonies borne away on the thrill of his triumph. Dearly departed, scarcely lamented, deeply demented Dr. Samuel Lyle. Creator of the prettiest, sweetest abomination I have ever seen.”
    “Wh-what?”
    “A bit of this, a bit of that. A twist here, a tweak there. And look what we have.”
    I squeezed my eyes shut against the urge to ask what she meant. Whatever this thing was, I couldn’t trust her, no more than I could trust Dr. Davidoff and the Edison Group.
    “What do you want?” I asked.
    “The same thing you do. Freedom from this place.”
    I settled onto the bed. As hard as I looked, though, I couldn’t see any sign of her. There was only the voice and the warm breeze.
    “You’re trapped here?” I asked.
    “Like a fairy under a bell jar, metaphorically speaking. Fairies are a product of the human imagination. Little people flitting about on wings? How positively quaint. A more fitting simile would be to say that I am trapped like a lightning bug in a bottle. For magical energy, nothing quite compares to a soul-bound demi-demon. Except, of course, a soul-bound
full
demon, but to summon one and attempt to harness its power would be suicide. Just ask Samuel Lyle.”
    “He died summoning a demon?”
    “The summoning is usually a forgivable offense. It’s soul binding that rather annoys them. Lyle should have been content with me, but humans are never satisfied, are they? Too arrogant to contemplate the possibility of failure, he neglected to pass along the true secret of his success: me.”
    “Your magic powers this place. And they don’t even realize it?”
    “Lyle guarded his secrets to the grave and beyond, though taking them into the afterlife was not his intention. I’m sure he meant to tell them about me…had he not died before he got around to it. Even a necromancer as powerful as you would have difficulty contacting a spirit in a hell dimension, so now I am bound here, my power enhancing the magics cast in this place. The others—this Edison Group—think it’s built on the junction of ley lines or some such foolishness.”
    “So if I freed you…?”
    “The building