So where were they now?

Jix could no longer smell them, which meant they were no longer skinjacking. They were back in Everlost, and could be standing right in front of him, but as long as he was furjacking the panther, he couldn’t see them.

“Oh my God! Is that some kind of tiger?” someone yelled, and Jix turned and growled menacingly, insulted for being mistaken for his brutish cousins. Then he peeled himself out of the panther, leaving the living world and transitioning back into Everlost.

There was a moment of disorientation as he left the world of flesh. The living world became blurry and unfocused around him. He was now back in Everlost, where the living world seemed a little less real, and the only things that were solid were things that no longer existed.

Immediately he saw the portals—four of them standing open before him. He knew exactly what they were, even though he had only seen a portal once—but the passageway to the afterlife is not something one easily forgets. It’s the tunnel every soul sees at the moment they die. Most don’t linger in Everlost—for the majority of people, Everlost is just a stepping stone—a springboard to launch oneself down the tunnel toward . . . well, toward wherever it is one happens to be going.

But every once in a while something goes wrong.

Standing at the mouth of the portals were the victims of the crash—high school age by the looks of them. They had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and had been killed when the Cadillac crashed into the café. They stood in what should have been a brief moment of transition—and in spite of the shock of their sudden crossing, they seemed ready to move on, already reaching toward the light, which seemed both impossibly distant, yet close enough to touch. This moment was so personal, so private, that Jix felt ashamed to be watching it, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

That’s when it happened. Four other figures came up behind the unfortunate souls. It was the skinjackers!

Each skinjacker grabbed on to a crossing soul, and held tight, digging in their heels, leaning away from the light with the full force of their wills, keeping the victims from going down the tunnel. It worked for three of them, but the scrawny one couldn’t keep his grip and lost his victim into the light, cursing as he did.

In the end, the tunnels vanished, and, thanks to the skinjackers, three new spirits were committed to Everlost, collapsing into a deep sleep—the nine-month sleep all new arrivals had to endure before waking up as citizens of Everlost.

“You killed them!” Jix didn’t even realize he said it out loud, until all the skinjackers turned to him.

“Who the hell are you?” asked the girl with wild hair. The one called Milos put up his hand to silence her.

“We freed them,” Milos said. “We released them from a life of pain. We saved them from that world.”

Jix hesitated. Until this moment, it had never occurred to him that people could be brought into Everlost on purpose—or that a forced crossing could be a desirable thing. He wanted to think about it, let his mind see it from every possible angle, but there was no time for thinking now.

“C’mon, c’mon, Milos. Let’s get out of here,” said the squirrelly one.

“No,” Milos said, “I will not leave more of a mess than I have to.” Then he turned back to Jix. “Are you alone? Are there others like you?”

But before he could answer, a scream rang out from the living world and a situation that was already bad, suddenly became a whole lot worse.

Jix had always been careful to leave the great cats he furjacked in places where they could do no harm, but in the heat of this extraordinary and terrifying moment, he had released his beast in the middle of a crowd. Confused and frightened, the animal did what frightened predators do. It attacked.

The cat turned on a girl who was no older than twelve. She wore a crimson dress. It was probably the blood color of the dress that got the cat’s attention in the first place. Her life ended quickly with the panther’s first pounce, then the cat bounded away, disappearing into the night. Jix wailed at the sight of his deadly mistake.

Now the girl’s spirit stood in Everlost at the mouth of her own afterlife tunnel—and all because of him. Her eyes were fixed on the light, and she was already moving toward it.

“I got thish one,” said the skinjacker in football gear, then he surged forward, and tackled the girl out of the tunnel like he was sacking a quarterback. She landed right at Jix’s feet and her tunnel disappeared. Jix knelt down cradling her head in his hands.

“Lo siento,” Jix said. “I’m sorry. . . .”

She looked up at him, her pupils wide and dilated, not yet understanding any of this. “I’m sleepy,” she said. “Tell my parents I’m taking a nap. . . .” Then her eyes closed and her soul plunged into a nine-month slumber.

Milos knelt beside them. While the wild-haired girl seemed impatient, the squirrelly one just scared, and the football player proud of his accomplishment, Milos appeared to have genuine remorse. “What’s done is done,” Milos said. “At least she is at peace now. And when she wakes up, she will be young and beautiful forever, yes? Maybe someday she will thank you.”

“Thank me? She’ll never forgive me!” Jix shouted.

He held on to the sleeping girl, brushing her hair out of her face. She was Hispanic, with very strong Indian features, like himself. How could he have let this happen?

“I have a friend who is very wise,” Milos told him. “Her name is Mary. She says that life in Everlost is a gift. She says we are all chosen to be here because we have been doomed worthy.”

“Deemed,” corrected the wild-haired girl. “Deemed worthy.”

“Yes,” said Milos. “Forgive my English. The point is, if she was chosen to be here, then there is no reason for you to feel guilt.”

Jix turned to Milos, studying his face, and his eyes: bright blue with speckles of white, like a sky dotted with clouds. “What about you?” he asked Milos. “Do you not feel guilt for what you did?”

Milos took a moment before answering. “None,” he said. “None whatsoever.”

But they both knew he was lying.

Around them, in the living world, the chaos born from this awful evening was taking root. Crowds were gathering, loved ones were grieving, distant sirens drew closer. Jix was glad that the living world could be so easily tuned out by Afterlights. He did not want to witness further results of their actions.

“So what do we do with him?” asked the wild-haired girl.

“Push him down! Push him down!” said the squirrelly one.

“No,” said Milos, “he is a skinjacker. He deserves better than that.” Then he held out his hand to Jix. “Join us, and I promise you will be a part of something grand and glorious.”

Still Jix made no move. Working under His Excellency, Jix had always dreamed he’d be part of something larger than himself. He even dreamed that he would be taken into the king’s inner circle, for Jix was a well-respected scout. But scouting kept him at a distance, and when it came to the king, out of sight was truly out of mind. Whenever Jix returned with news, no matter how important, His Excellency would never even remember his name.

As Jix looked at these villainous, barbaric skinjackers, he found himself more and more curious about them, and oddly attracted to their way of life. Little was known about Mary the Eastern Witch—but here was an opportunity to learn more. What he ultimately did with that information would be entirely up to him.

He looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms, and made a decision. “I want to be there when she wakes up. I want to be the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. Then I’ll ask her for forgiveness.”

The wild-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Jix gently lifted the spirit of the sleeping girl onto his shoulder. “Take me to the Eastern Witch.”