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silent.
    Impact.
    A crack of bone. Like a gunshot.
    A collective gasp of horror.
    The ref, open-jawed, peered down at the motionless wrestler.
    A woman screamed, “Call 911!”
    Tucker crawled off the guy, smiling.
    His eyes found mine again.
    His hand turned palm side up.
    His fingers motioned for me to join him on the mat.
    I was already halfway there.

Chapter Eighteen
    I bounded down the bleachers, weaving through the frenzied mob.
    Tucker was waiting, shifting from foot to foot.
    â€œOg!” It was Amos. “Stop!”
    But nothing was going to hinder me from becoming tonight’s Dispenser of Justice. Evil had pounced, and I was the counterblow.
    As a growing throng gathered around the fallen wrestler, Tucker stepped a couple yards to the side to make room. Not once did my eyes unlock from his. Not once did Smiler’s demonic grin change.
    â€œOg!” Amos again.
    I kept going. Didn’t look back.
    â€œTha’ boy’ll kill ya.”
    Maybe. I’d try my luck. Marching across the floor, I rolled my shoulder to loosen it, to see if my wound was going to hamper me like last time. Nope. Felt good.
    Within ten feet now. The ball of my foot dug into the floor, traction for the hook kick that would cave in the side of Tucker’s face.
    A firm hand latched onto my forearm. Amos.
    â€œSon,” he said. “Y’ can’t win.” He patted the chest pouch of his overalls. “But I can.”
    â€œThis’s my fight, Amos! Not yours.”
    â€œKnock them both!” Tucker took a stride toward us. “Paatiennnce, Knock,” said Smiler. “The time has not yet come, my friend.”
    Amos nudged in front of me, glared at Tucker, and said, “Glory be t’ the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,” while making the sign of the cross.
    He reached into the chest pouch of his overalls. Out came a crucifix.
    Amos shoved it in Tucker’s face. “Christus Iesus, verus—”
    Tucker swatted the cross away and pushed Amos aside. He got up in my grill and said, “You wanna see your girlfriend alive again, be at the house on Hobbs Hill.”
    I held Tucker’s stare, firm, and he backed off. There was something different about his eyes. A humanity. A sadness I hadn’t seen before.
    â€œYou know th-the one.” His voice was different, tinged with fear. Gone was the arrogance. “Be there…” He glanced away awkwardly. “At eleven.” He seemed ashamed, guilty, his lips trembling, hands shivering.
    He looked to the unconscious kid on the mat. His foot rapped on the floor, nervous.
    Tucker asked me, “Did I do that?” His voice broke.
    Amos stepped forward again, crucifix ready. I put up a hand to let him know I had it covered. He, too, saw Tucker fighting for control. Saw the scared eyes of a child begging for help.
    â€œAnd come alone,” Tucker murmured to me. “Or y-your girlfriend…” He looked away again. “Is…is dead.”
    Compassion rose in me. Tucker was just another teenager. Demon-possessed, sure. But down deep, he was as confused and lonely as any of us.
    I reached out, my comforting hand settling on his shoulder. My understanding nod and pursed lips told him he wasn’t alone.
    A glimmer of gratitude flashed in his eyes.
    Right before he snatched my hand and threw it off him.
    Smiler’s grin had returned.

Chapter Nineteen
    I parked in the driveway of the house at Hobbs Hill and shut off the headlights. I couldn’t believe how willingly Amos had let me borrow his ride. I didn’t even have a driver’s license, just a permit. The car had to be a hundred years old, but he kept it up pretty good. The blue Ford Falcon station wagon had a shiny chrome roof rack, white-wall tires, and—get this—two doors. Small ones, too. Genius. A car that seated like thirty with only two doors. I liked the front grill, though. It had a resigned expression that made