"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't lie to us!" And his grip on her shoulders got tighter.

Well, they weren't the only ones who could use flesh to their advantage. Pain was a two-way street. She lifted her knee sharply, nailing the "businessman" where it counts. His cold eyes went wide, and he doubled over in pain, yowling. Then, as the "gas station attendant" reached for her, she grabbed the gas hose, and swung the nozzle at his head. It connected with his jaw, spinning him around.

Wasting no time, she peeled herself out of Wanda, returning to Everlost. The two men were on the ground now, and Allie could see the skinjackers inside them beginning to squirm their way out. They must have been spying on her the other day when she jumped into the Snickers girl. If they had been there to watch her skinjack, and saw her peel out, too, it would be easy to follow Allie all the way here, jacking these two men as soon as she took over Wanda.

Well, Wanda and those poor men would have to sort this out for themselves, because Allie wasn't about to stand there and wait to be attacked again. She turned and ran to the dock, where Mikey was waiting.

Mikey, however, was having his own problems. He had hopped off the horse right after Allie had left, and as soon as she was out of view, he began to practice changing again.

It took a minute or two to gain enough focus to do it-- especially with the rain, which was an unpleasant distraction. Just as before, he trained all of his attention on his right hand--this time trying to force the growth of a sixth finger. It worked! The finger sprouted right between his thumb and index finger, growing to be just as long as his pinky-- but then kept on growing. Soon it was as long as his index finger--and still it didn't stop. No big deal, he thought. He just needed to regain his focus. He started this, so he could stop it. But then a seventh finger began to grow next to his pinky--and an eighth sprouted from his palm.

Changing himself, it seemed, was becoming easier and easier. The problem was stopping the process of mutation, and reversing it.

Now the knuckles of his fingers were growing fingers of their own, like branches of a tree. There were too many to count. Beginning to panic, he put all of his focus into reining it in. He looked at his hand, imagining his will to be a relentless wave washing across his many misbegotten fingers. The growth finally slowed and stopped. He sent forth his will in a second wave, hoping--praying--that the extra fingers would shrivel and disappear, for how could he face Allie like this? Slowly the many fingers began to shrink.

So focused was Mikey on his current plight that he never noticed the sudden absence of the horse.

Shiloh the Famous Diving Horse was a loyal, if not entirely intelligent, animal. Only one thing was stronger than its loyalty: its desire to perform the death-defying, crowd-pleasing high dive. This was the creature's grand purpose. It had performed this feat before cheering crowds for most of its life on Atlantic City's Steel Pier, and had continued to do so in Everlost, until the day Mikey McGill climbed on its back to escape a marauding mob.

The steel pier was far away now ... however, the dock that extended into the lake looked very much like a pier. The sight of it filled the horse's spirit. True, there was no highdive platform. True, there was no tank to land in--but there certainly was water! Although Shiloh's time with Allie and Mikey had been somewhat entertaining, when the chance to perform one final leap presented itself, how could any self-respecting high-diving horse resist?

And so, by the time Mikey had gotten his hand back down to the usual number of fingers, the horse was already barreling at full gallop down the dock.

Mikey ran after it the moment he saw it, but it was no use. By the time he reached the dock, the horse was already nearing the end, and showed no signs of slowing down. Still, Mikey raced after it, hoping that the creature would come to its senses before hurling itself into oblivion.

The horse, however, was of a single mind. It reached the end of the dock, released a whinny of pure joy, and launched itself gleefully off the end. It hit the water, passed into the lake, and kept plummeting downward. In a moment it hit lake bottom, and passed into the earth, where it began its long journey toward the center of the Earth.

Deep down in its equine mind, the horse knew that there was no return, but that was all right, for it also knew that this was the greatest high dive of all!

Far above, Mikey McGill finally reached the end of the dock, stomping and cursing like a child having a tantrum, nearly sinking through the wood of the pier. The horse was gone without leaving as much as a ripple in the living-world water to mark its passage.

"Mikey!"

And of course this would be the moment Allie would choose to return! Mikey knew she had seen the whole thing--it was there in the panicked look on her face.

"I'll go after it!" Mikey told her. "I'll dive down after it and bring it back!" But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn't work. Yes, he had ridden the horse out of the earth once before, but such a feat required a certain passion he no longer had. The monster within him had been tamed, but domestication came with a cost. Surely he still had the power to pull himself out of the depths, but he doubted he could do it on horseback.

Mikey had no way of knowing that Allie's troubled look had little to do with the horse. She had run from the gas station so quickly, she actually felt out of breath--a sensation that was technically impossible for an Afterlight, and yet still she felt it. When she saw the horse go off the dock, her heart sank. First for the loss of Shiloh, and second, because with him went their only chance for a quick escape.

She tried to get Mikey's attention, but he still blustered like the storm clouds above. "Stupid horse!"

"Forget about that! We've got a bigger problem." She grabbed him and forced him to look at her. "Skinjackers."

"Huh?"

"Two of them! They've been following us--we've got to get out of here!" But as she turned, she realized it was too late. The two skinjackers were at the foot of the dock, stalking toward them. Allie had not seen them in their true form--she had only seen the hosts they had inhabited. In a way it was easier to face them in the living world, where everything was limited by the simple rules of flesh and bone.

Even though she had never actually seen their faces, she knew which was which. The skinjacker to the right was tall and thin, with a puffy, rodentlike face. He had knobby knees and elbows--too knobby, actually--exaggerated like his skewed grin, which practically stretched all the way to his right ear.

"Well, well," he said. "Jackin' Jill has a friend!"

The other skinjacker was in a blue and white football uniform, and his face was little more than a pair of unpleasant eyes in a football helmet. He was big--the kind of kid who was destined to be a linebacker whether he was good at the sport or not. Now, after what must have been a very bad game for him, he was stuck as a permanent linebacker in Everlost. When he spoke, his words came out slurred and slobbery, due to the fact that he also had a mouth guard stuck perpetually between his teeth.

"Wait a shecond," he said. "That'sh not Jackin' Jill!"

"It is! It is!" said the skinny one. "She just made herself look different, that's all!"

"She can't do shumthing like that, can she?"

Allie leaned over to Mikey and whispered in his ear. "We'll run on the count of three."

To which Mikey responded, "I don't run. And neither do you."

He was right about that. But seeing other skinjackers-- it had shaken her even more than she realized. "Okay," she said. "We'll fight them." Then she thought about how she had been pushed against the gas pump. "But the football player's mine."

Both Allie and Mikey prepared themselves for the battle, but before it could begin, someone else showed up on the scene. A fleshie came running onto the dock. A teenaged, leather-clad punk with spiky hair that defied the rain. But in an instant the wet spikes resolved into dry curls, and the face became a little less angular. It took a moment for Allie to realize what was happening. A third skinjacker had arrived, and he had just peeled out of his host. He wore a striped T-shirt that was a little too tight for his muscular frame, and he was old by Everlost standards. Seventeen maybe. While the punk-fleshie toddled off in confusion, the third skinjacker grabbed the gangly kid and the football player.

"What do you think you are doing!" he demanded. He had an accent that Allie couldn't quite place at first.

"It's Jackin' Jill!" said the gangly one, weakly.

"Does she look like Jackin' Jill to you?" the third skinjacker said. The accent was definitely Eastern European. If Allie had to guess, she would say it was Russian.

The football player wasn't sure whether to shake his head or to nod, so he did a little bit of both. It made him look like a bobblehead doll. "When we shaw her jack the fat girl back in Virginia, we weren't closhe enough to shee her faish."

"Yeah, Yeah," said the other one, "and when she peeled out we had to hang way back, so we still didn't see her face then, either."

The Russian kid heaved a heavy, resigned sigh, then he turned to Allie and Mikey, apologetically. "This is my fault," he said. "When they told me they found a skinjacker, I told them to keep their eyes on you. Now I realize I should have done it myself." He let go of the other two, and took a step forward. "I am Milos--and you have already met Moose and Squirrel."

He threw an angry look at his cohorts, and Moose pushed Squirrel, nearly launching him off the side of the dock. "It was hish fault!" Squirrel pushed him back, but it wasn't nearly as effective.

"You have some nerve spying on us at all!" Mikey said.

"Please, forgive me," Milos said calmly, "but we have had some ... bad experiences, and they thought you were someone else."

"They attacked me," Allie said. "I had to hurt a couple of fleshies because of them." Mikey looked at them, furious, and clenched his fists. "They attacked you?"

"I assure you this will not happen again." The third skinjacker turned to Moose and Squirrel. "Your behavior was unacceptable. Apologize!"

The two looked down like kids in the principal's office.

"Sorry," said Squirrel.

"Yeah, shorry," said Moose.

Allie shook her head. "Sometimes sorry's not enough."

"Then," said Milos with a slight bow, "allow me to make it up to you." He held his hand out in an open-palmed gesture, as if he expected Allie to place her hand in his. She didn't.

"You can make it up to us," said Mikey, "by getting lost."

Milos remained calm and smooth. "But have you not longed for the company of other skinjackers?" he asked Mikey. "Surely we can put all this behind us and start again."

Apparently Milos just assumed that Mikey was also a skinjacker. Mikey didn't say anything to correct him, so Allie kept quiet about it as well.

"We're fine on our own," Mikey said.

Although Allie knew they didn't need Milos's help, and certainly had no desire to spend quality time with Moose and Squirrel, there was something enticing about Milos. He was civilized and sane--she could see it in his eyes--curious eyes that were blue, speckled with white, like a sky dotted with clouds. It would be a relief having another skinjacker to talk to--someone who could understand what it was like. "We're on our way to Memphis," Allie told him, and Mikey looked at her, incredulous.