Free October Girls: Crystal & Bone by L C Glazebrook Page A

friend’s hair, surprised to find it silken and solid. “I’m here for you, Bone. You’re still my soul sister.”
    “Okay.” Bone’s pout retreated.
    Crisis over, for the moment
.
Nothing like dealing with the Drama Queen of the Damned.
Crystal nodded toward the door. “Now, what are we going to do about
him
?”
    “Not my problem.”
    “Whoa. He came tagging along like a puppy at your heels. And I’m sure you didn’t do
anything
to encourage him.”
    “Well, maybe I talked to him a little.”
    “A little? He’s calling you ‘Dollface.’”
    “I asked him out, sort of.”
    Crystal got off the bed in a rusty rush of squeaks. “What, like you guys were just going to cha-cha-cha from the Land of the Dead and go get a Big Mac on bowling night or something?”
    “I was trying to throw Tim off the scent.”
    “Tim? That dweebie boy who died of cancer in seventh grade?”
    “He’s not a dweeb, he’s just kind of…not hot. Gives off this ‘little brother’ vibe.”
    “Well, Royce here has got him all beat on the Fahrenheit scale. What does he measure, 55 degrees or something? He’s so cool, he’s frigid.”
    “I don’t meddle in your love life, so please stay out of mine.”
    “Except for two things. You
do
meddle in my love life, and your coffin cutie is in my kitchen, probably trying to figure out how to work a microwave.”
    As if on cue–and Crystal wasn’t sure how keen a ghost’s sense of hearing was–a pot clanged in the kitchen and Royce called out, “Hey, Dollface, come cook me up some eggs.”
    Crystal folded her arms. “It’s your date, you take care of him. And you’re
not
borrowing my bed.”
    Bone’s lips tried to curl in disappointment but it was a lost cause. Crystal wondered if her best friend was a
permanent
lost cause. But friends were friends, until the end and back again.
    Bone rolled off the bed and slouched toward the door. “All right.”
    “He
is
kind of cute,” Crystal offered in encouragement.
    Bone sighed and adjusted the hideous floral-print blouse. “Isn’t this a Cindy Summerhill hand-me-down?”
    “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”
    Bone went out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
    As the door swept closed, Crystal called out something Momma might have said. “And have him back in the grave before midnight.”

Chapter 9
     
    M inerva had suspected something was up as soon as Crystal had assured her nothing was wrong. When nothing was wrong, that meant everything was wrong.
    But she hadn’t suspected things were so far gone. The Lurken had been growing bolder by the day, apparently annoyed that the Year 2000 hadn’t resulted in the End Times after all. They’d have to destroy the world in a steady, measured, and fairly exhausting fashion.
    The Aldridge bloodline had warded off evil for at least a millennium, despite the culling of the herd by the Catholic Church and the Salem Witch Trials. Now it was down to her and Crystal, and she wasn’t sure her daughter was up to snuff.
    The way Crystal avoided talking about Dempsey led Minerva to suspect a crush. And she didn’t doubt for a second that Darkmeet would play dirty. All was fair in love and war and interdimensional conquest.
    Minerva had intended to circle the trailer park and then cut the engine, because her Chevelle had a couple of holes in its rusted muffler and a stealth approach was out of the question. But the dang-blasted Spindale tomcat, which was black as night and twice as slick, darted in front of the car.
    A little voice implored her to mash the gas and grind the little puff-puss to Purina, but she’d learned to ignore those little voices. Instead, she swerved, running her passenger-side wheels into a drainage ditch and getting stuck tighter than a cork in a guinea hen’s noonie.
    The cat was perched on the fence, its tail whisking joyfully under the orange streetlight. Minerva was hunting for a chunk of gravel to hurl when headlights swept over her.
    The truck rumbled beside her and