“We don’t have any ice,” Zelda said.
I’d forgotten that Prudence had something against ice cubes. “I thought you were getting that fixed.”
“The automatic dispenser still doesn’t work and I keep forgetting to buy ice trays when I’m at the store.”
“Never mind,” I called to Cornelius.
I glanced toward the window overlooking the porch and chewed on my lower lip. I didn’t know what was more upsetting, the idea that there were a bunch of ghosts standing around on the front porch that might have been piled in the back seat of my Honda on the way here, or that somehow something inside of Cornelius’s head had sucked up all of Prudence’s energy. She was one hell of a strong ghost. What had happened inside his melon? Was there another side of Cornelius that hadn’t shown its face yet? Something sinister? Something that might pop out and surprise me the next time we were alone in the dark?
“Prudence,” I spoke to the ceiling, not sure where the ghost was hovering since we’d moved to the sitting room. “What happened when you were dabbling in Cornelius’s head?”
I’d seen her wear herself out before playing puppeteer, but this was the first I’d seen Zelda suffer afterward, too.
“She says he flummoxed her,” Zelda said.
“How?”
Cornelius returned carrying a handful of cookies before she could answer. His cheeks were bulging, too. “These are delicious,” he said through a mouthful of crumbs and offered me one.
I took it. He was right. The cookie was sweet and moist, butterscotch heaven. How on earth could Zelda bake like this and stay so dang petite?
“Prudence wants to know if you have any idea what’s in your friend’s head,” Zelda said.
I swallowed the bite of cookie. “I’d guess oodles of random trivia and ghost-related flotsam.” I looked over at Cornelius, who was back at the window, staring out as he chewed. “Cornelius, what’s in your head?”
He shrugged. “Mostly mathematical equations and random facts.”
“She means his subconscious,” Zelda said, covering her eyes with her forearm.
“How is anyone supposed to know that?”
Cornelius glanced our way. “My grandmother used to tell me that I had a very chaotic, shadow-filled aura that required regular meditation to calm.”
“Did you meditate today?” I asked.
“Of course.”
I looked back at Zelda. “It’s all good. He meditated today.”
“Prudence disagrees. She says there is a small door in there that leads into a room filled with terrors.”
I shot Cornelius a grimace. “You have a room full of terrors?”
“Could be.” He walked over to the other window that looked out over the Open Cut. “I’ve seen some things in my time.”
“What kind of things?” I prodded.
“Extremely disturbing,” Zelda said, “according to Prudence.”
“Did Prudence run into any scarecrows in there?”
Cornelius grunted. “That’s not funny, Violet.”
“Seriously.” I frowned at him. “How are you able to go into the dark with me if you’ve experienced such horrors?”
“I told you, I meditate. It’s a trick my grandmother taught me to push away any disturbing thoughts and allow serenity to reign.”
Zelda lowered her arm, sending me a worried look. “Prudence says meditation cannot shield him from what she witnessed. She believes something else is at play here.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“She wants to know if his grandmother collected his fingernails and baby teeth.”
Cornelius turned, his brows raised. “How could she know that?”
“She was in your head, remember?” I said.
“Prudence believes your grandmother was more than a seer. That she wasn’t teaching you to push away your terrors, she was showing you how to lock them away for the time being.”
I leaned forward, wishing I had another cookie so I could “eat about” this bizarre turn of events (to use one of Natalie’s favorite sayings about stress eating). “Why would his grandmother do that?”
“Prudence isn’t sure.” Zelda pointed toward the window. “But she suspects that’s why he has a trail of ghosts following him. He’s somehow managed to lock away troubling pieces from their past behind that small door, thereby holding them hostage, if you will.” She lowered her arm and closed her eyes. “She says your friend is a spirit miser.”
I looked at Cornelius. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes. According to her, it’s dangerous to take him into the dark with you.” Zelda snorted. “She also called you a lubberwort.”
“She’s the lubberwort,” I shot back, having absolutely no idea what that word even meant. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. A glance at the screen showed Natalie’s name and the words: Where are you????
Crap! In the wake of everything that had happened this afternoon, I’d completely forgotten about our spying date. I checked the time. I was supposed to meet her in the parking lot behind Calamity Jane’s fifteen minutes ago.
I stood, gingerly touching my cheek again. I really needed to find some ice. “If Prudence is done insulting me, my specter collector and I need to head out.”
Zelda sat up. “She says you cannot leave yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because she needs to tell you how to catch the Duzarx.”
I crossed my arms. “What the hell is this Duzarx she keeps talking about?”
“She says it’s an extremely dangerous beast that escaped from the big pit this afternoon.”
She must mean the Open Cut. “So it’s some kind of animal?”
“She called it a stymphalist miscreant fiend.”
“ ‘Stymphalist’?” I repeated.
“I believe that means smelly,” Cornelius said, standing next to me.
“Like some kind of skunk?”
Zelda cringed. “She asked if a skunk has eight eyes, three layers of razor-like teeth, and a lust for human flesh.”
I cursed. “Why can’t it be cute and cuddly for once?”
Zelda’s face lined with worry. “You think there’s really such a creature as she described, Violet?”
“No,” I lied with a twinge of guilt, but Zelda didn’t need to know anything more about my Executioner business. “Prudence is just messing with me.”
Zelda stared at something over my shoulder. “She says the Duzarx has escaped from the
