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“Copy.”

Sonny looked at me. “Okay, don’t panic. It’s going to get dark, but your eyes will adjust quickly. The stars will take over in just a few minutes.”

I’d seen lots of starry skies, but I was very curious about “lights out.”

In dramatic fashion, Sonny flipped the switch.

And it got really dark.

A zip of surprise ran through me, though it wasn’t quite panic. I said something like “Oh.”

In the time it took for Sonny to make his way back to the table, my eyes adjusted enough to see the outline of his body. He sat next to me.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Okay, look up.”

There was not a drop of sky pollution out here. The blanket of stars was unlike any I’d ever seen before.

“That’s amazing,” I said.

“I agree.”

“There are so many. It’s overwhelming. It’s intimidating. It makes me feel small.”

“It does the opposite for me. I get to be a part of this gigantic organism. How lucky is that?”

I looked at Sonny. He’d taken off his glasses as he peered upward. He didn’t look much different than he did with them on, but I found something charming about his farsightedness.

Okay, that was weird. I checked myself and then forced my eyes back up to the sky.

“Look at all those bones,” Sonny said.

I laughed and a smile stayed behind.

It was late enough now. He could stay in the shadows as he made his way to Hazel’s lab, the room that had once been a studio, the place where it had all gone wrong.

He needed to see it. He needed to know if he would recognize it—when Hazel wasn’t inside it, which was the only way the old ghosts would show themselves.

There was no moon tonight, and Black Vulture had been a dark-sky community for as far back as he could remember. If no one came outside, no one would notice him. The cap hid his face well if he kept his face down. His clothes were nondescript, casual like everyone else around.

He took the path through the old closed-off space behind the post office. He’d scoped it out a while ago as a shortcut through town.

A back door flung open, stopping him in his tracks, still in the shadows, about ten feet away from the interloper.

It was the post office’s back door, and an older woman stepped out. What was her name? He should remember, but he couldn’t.

She was humming something to herself as she exited the space, closed the door, and then locked it. He held his breath as she tested the doorknob. Barely five feet, her old hands struggled with the key, but she got it done.

Why in the world did she leave through this door instead of the front?

He reached into his pocket. He carried only a folding knife, one that was so familiar to him, to most people around Black Vulture, probably. His real tools were well hidden away from any curious eyes. No one would ever guess what he kept hidden, and what those things had done.

He was good with tools. He was good with any knife. If this old lady turned his direction, he’d stab her so quickly she wouldn’t know what had sliced into her. By the time she put the pieces together, she might have only half a breath left.

No one would catch him. There were no cameras back here—that’s why he liked it so much. Black Vulture wasn’t wired up for security, which, it turns out, can be mighty convenient.