"Brendan! Murray!" I shouted. "The door!"

Don frowned at me.

Murray's look said he didn't understand my plea any better than Don. "But the spell. We can't get out."

Brendan was already racing across the room. When he reached the door, he stopped short, as if hitting a physical barrier. Then he poked his fingers into the inch-wide gap. They passed through. He grinned.

"Good," I said. "Get out there and look for a ghost. A woman. My age. Long dark hair. Her name's Eve. Show her where I am."

As I spoke, Brendan shoved his shoulder against the crack, but it stopped, as if the breach in the spell was only as wide as that gap. He kept pushing. Murray strode over to help.

"She's stalling," Tina said. "Cast the spell, Don. At least it'll shut her up."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of ash.

Again, my gaze rose to the light. Then it shifted to that high shelf and stopped on a stuffed bat perched beside a legless dog. In my mind, I saw an image of the bird I'd accidentally raised in the garden.

But I couldn't. Not without tools. Not without time to prepare. Not without-

Don lifted his hand to his mouth, ash on his outstretched palm. He inhaled.

"Wait!" I said. "You want magic? I can give you the most powerful magic of all."

"She'll say anything-" Tina began.

"The power to raise the dead. I can do that."

"Really?" Tina's overplucked brows arched. "That'll come in handy in a few minutes… assuming you can do it to yourself."

She motioned for Don to continue with the spell, but he'd lowered his hand. The other men watched me. Seeing their expressions, I bit back a burst of hysterical laughter.

Communicating with the dead wasn't enough to sway their intentions. But to raise the dead? To play God? No matter how strongly logic told them it couldn't be done, they couldn't help hoping.

"It's a trick," Tina snapped. "Can't you see that? Now she'll tell us she needs a body, so we'll need to take her outside-"

"No, you won't." I waved at the ceiling. "Plenty of bodies here."

"And I suppose you want us to take one down, meaning we have to find a ladder, bring it back, give your friend time to recover-"

"I'll raise the bat. It has wings, right?" I flashed my best showbiz smile. "No need to be carried down when you can fly."

Even before the men agreed, I knew they would. Why not? In return for a few minutes' forbearance, I offered the possibility of a miracle. Who could refuse that?

Are you nuts? my brain screamed. Have you forgotten the minor fact that you can't do this without your equipment?

But I could try. At the very least, I'd stallthem for a while. Maybe Hope would wake. Or Jeremy would find my trail.

And if that's all I hope to do, that's all I'd accomplish. Forget stalling. My only option-the only one I'd accept-was success.

Just yesterday, raising Rachel Skye, I'd theorized that the power lay, not with the instruments, but within me. If I truly believed that, then it was time to put it to the test. Under the worst possible circumstances, but maybe that was just what I needed. Last year, in Toronto with the werewolves, I'd controlled zombies raised by someone else-a feat I'd said was impossible. But when I saw Elena's life at stake, I'd found the will and the power to do it.

Now there was another life at stake. Mine. And, for once, I was going to be the one to save it.

I closed my eyes and recited the incantation to call the dead back to their nearby bodies. In my mind, I pictured the ritual setup, envisioned myself kneeling before the symbols.

When the chant was finished, I didn't open my eyes to see whether it worked. Didn't even take a breath. Just repeated it. Then repeated it. Then-

"Oh, my God."

The reaction I'd been waiting for. I looked up to see the bat still perched there, motionless. But on an adjacent shelf, the crow's wing twitched.

"It's a trick," Tina sneered. "Even I can do that-like making a pencil levitate."

"Rawr!"

The crow had managed to push itself upright. Its head wobbled, as if its neck was broken. It threw back its head and let out another strangled caw.

"Mother of God," one of the men breathed.

Even Tina stared. Then she wheeled on me. "It's a trick. Somehow-"

A dog yipped. The terrier. Its head whipped from side to side, ears flapping, eyes wild as it tried to stand on legs it no longer had. I fought the urge to release it, sent up a silent apology, and started the invocation again.

The dog convulsed and twisted, its cries turned shrill with panic. On the adjoining shelf, the crow flapped its wings, its head still lolling, beak snapping.

A shriek. Four sets of eyes turned to see a raccoon dragging itself toward the edge…

"Oh, God, no," someone said. "Not that. It isn't-"

The raccoon toppled from the shelf as one of the men dove out of the way. It hit with a bone-crunching thud. For a moment, I blinked, certain I'd misidentified the creature. It was too small to be a-

The beast pulled itself onto its front legs, and I realized it was indeed a raccoon. Half of one. The rear quarters had been removed and a plastic shield had been affixed to the severed end, like an anatomy display.

The raccoon gnashed its teeth and rolled back onto its torso, claws waving as it struggled to get up. Above it, the dog twisted, snapping and snarling, frenzied now.