Something Deadly This Way Comes by Kim Harrison Page A

“Well, you did get kicked out because you loved someone, right?” I said, watching my shoes scuff the thick cracks as we slowly followed Nakita. It was the first time I dared to ask him about his past, and though he seemed uncomfortable, I wanted to know. “And you found value in life, not just someone’s soul. You can’t value something you don’t have, can you?”
    â€œN-no,” he stammered, but Nakita had already opened the front door and was waiting for us. The cool air flowed out, but that wasn’t why I shivered. Barnabas has a soul, doesn’t he?
    I followed Nakita inside, seeing the faded carpet with the flat, black spots that had to be old gum. It smelled like dry dirt, and there was a thick layer of dust on the narrow sections of hardwood between the carpeted stairs and the wall. A bank of mail slots took up one wall with a scratched table under it. There were a couple of pieces of mail sitting there, and nothing else.
    â€œUpstairs?” I offered, and Nakita started up, then me, and finally Barnabas, still probably thinking about his soul or the lack of one. Someone was playing music too loudly, and it rapidly grew as we ascended.
    We rounded the second landing and started up the last stairway. The music was coming from the third floor. It thumped into me, the bass being joined by a guitar and an angry vocal the higher we went. My curiosity turned into a wince as I realized that the aggressive music was coming from the apartment that Nakita had stopped in front of. C3, corner apartment, top floor. It went without saying that Tammy’s mom was probably not home.
    Suddenly unsure, I wiped my hands on my jeans. I didn’t have a clue what I could say that wouldn’t sound crazy. I didn’t care if I sounded crazy at this point. The memory of the two of them dying was too awful to risk becoming true.
    â€œWell?” Nakita prompted.
    â€œThis is a bad plan,” Barnabas said, but he leaned past me, ringing the bell and knocking on the varnished door.
    Plan? Who said anything about a plan? I don’t even have a plan! I thought in panic as a dog began to yap wildly, and the thin strip of light coming from under the door was eclipsed by frantic little paws. From behind the door came a kid’s voice telling the dog to shut up, and then, with a burst of music, the door opened.
    â€œYeah?” Johnny said, hardly looking up from his handheld game as Seether’s “Fake It” blasted. With one foot, he shoved the little yellow dog back. He was still dressed in his school clothes, and the polo shirt and black Dockers looked out of place in the untidy living room behind him with its dirty dishes on the coffee table. The adjoining dining room wasn’t much better, the table covered in what looked like college textbooks. To the right was the open kitchen, just off the narrow entryway. I blanched at the memory of the room in flame, and my eyes went to the ceiling, recalling the beautiful, deadly curls of gold and black and the searing heat in my lungs as Johnny died in my arms.
    Tonight? I wondered, scared. It had to be. The vision had been very clear.
    â€œIs your sister here?” Barnabas finally said, since I was lost in the horror of the memory.
    Still playing his game, Johnny dropped back. “Tammy!” he shouted over the music. “Your friends are here!” Head down, he walked to his room off to the left. From the kitchen, the phone began to ring. The dog, too, was still barking. Not knowing what to do, we all stood in the doorway.
    â€œCome on in,” Johnny said, walking backward and killing ninjas at the same time, and then louder called, “Tammy!” Without looking up, he edged into his room and shoved the door closed.
    I looked at the two of them, and then the empty room. “Should we go in?”
    Barnabas pushed forward. “I would,” he said, positioning himself just over the threshold.