"Meanwhile, the Morton Salt girl is totally connected to the forces of evil. That would explain her coat."

"Salt destroys evil spirits. I...I read it on the Internet this afternoon."

Nudging the salt pile with his foot, Dex shrugged and said, "Okay. I can buy that. But then why come out here by yourself? Why not meet with us and let PMS get their Salt Warrior on?"

Ugh, was he secretly a member of the FBI? I had never met anyone who asked so many questions.

"I thought you guys would think it was dumb."

At that, Dex threw his head back and gave a barking laugh. "For God's sake, Izzy, we call ourselves PMS. And trust me, your salt theory is no dumber than the time Romy investigated a Civil War graveyard with tinfoil on her head."

"That...actually happened?" I'd just assumed they were joking.

Dex nodded. "Or when Anderson spent every penny he made mowing lawns for two summers on a special tape recorder that was supposed to capture ghostly voices." His eyes met mine. They were very blue and...twinkly. "Besides, your weirdness is why I like you so much."

I didn't know what to say to that, but luckily, he didn't seem to need a reply. "So. You've made this lovely little salt pile. What can I do?"

"You can go home," I told him, but he was already taking off his jacket-another peacoat, but this one was deep purple in the moonlight-and laying it gently over one of the angels' outspread wings. Then he knelt down and started spreading the salt with his hands. He had pretty hands, I decided. Thin and long-fingered and delicate. Like a pianist. I'd never really thought about boys' hands before, but looking at Dex's made me feel warm and shivery all at the same time.

Grudgingly, I knelt down next to him and pulled the other canister of salt out of my backpack. "Just...keep doing that. You have to cover the entire grave with salt to confine the spirit." Dex lifted his head, and I added, "I mean, that's what the Internet said."

Satisfied, Dex went back to the salt. After a while, he moved to the foot of the grave, pouring it there.

"This is fun," he said. "Weird and disturbing and possibly illegal, but still fun."

"Is it okay if we don't tell Romy and Anderson about this?"

He grinned at me. "Absolutely. Now we've formed our own splinter cell of PMS."

Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We've gone rogue."

I made a sound almost like a giggle. Not that I did giggle. Brannicks aren't gigglers. Dex and I spent the next few minutes pressing the salt into the grass. We didn't say anything else, but there was something nice about the silence. It reminded me of when Finn and I used to hang out in the War Room, me reading, her sharpening weapons. Just being with her had been...comforting. Nice. That's how it felt now with Dex, even doing something as bizarre as sealing a ghost in its grave.

Then we reached for the same tiny mound of salt and our hands brushed. This time, Dex didn't apologize, but as soon as his skin touched mine, I felt that little hum. That reminder that Dex wasn't a normal boy. That I didn't know what he was. And the more time I spent with him, the less sure I was that even he knew what he was.

Sobered, I stood up, backing away from him a little bit. "Okay," I said, my voice unsteady. "That's...that."

"Excellent. So no more ghosts, no more science teachers getting brained, and lockers that open mysssteriooously," Dex said, wiggling his fingers at me. I almost made that giggle sound again, but I stopped myself. Confusion flashed across Dex's face, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Well," he said, but he didn't add anything else.

Suddenly the silence between us wasn't comfortable so much as awkward. I dusted my hands off on the back of my pants. "I better head home. Mom'll be pissed if I'm out late."

Dex twisted his wrist, glancing at his watch. "It's not even eight. Are your parents Amish?"

"My mom is just...strict."

"So is my Nana, but I get to stay out until at least nine. And I don't know about you, but all this salting the earth has me craving fries. You wanna go grab something to eat?"

Eating food together. At night. I didn't even need Everton and Leslie to tell me that was a date. Or had this been a date? We'd laughed and had fun and touched hands. That felt kind of...date-y even if it was on top of a grave.

But he was smiling at me again, and now that he mentioned it, I hadn't eaten much dinner. "Can you get me home by nine?"

His grin widened. "Isolde, my friend, I can get you back by quarter 'til." He held out his hand to help me to my feet. "Shall we?"

I only hesitated for a second before taking it, and this time, when a pulse shot through me, I wasn't a hundred percent sure it was only magic I was feeling.

CHAPTER 20

Several minutes later, Dex and I were seated in a bright red vinyl booth at a place that called itself the Dairee Kween.

"What's with the misspelling?" I'd asked when we'd pulled up.

"It used to be an actual Dairy Queen, but the corporate office made them close it down after a major rat outbreak in the kitchen. So the owners just reopened it, but changed the spelling to keep from getting sued."

"That...does not make me want to eat here."

Dex laughed. "The rat thing was like thirty years ago, according to my Nana. And it's probably just a rumor anyway."

He might have been right, but I made a note to skip the burgers. Besides, it's not like I was ever going to eat here again. Mary Evans's ghost was put to rest, and Mom and I would be moving on. Which was awesome and great and not at all sad-making.

"This is better than our regular PMS meetings," Dex said once we had our food. "Those are sadly lacking in fries, I've found." He reached past me for the ketchup. "And desecrating graves is a surprisingly fun bonding activity. I only defile the dead with my closest friends."

"So we're friends," I said hesitantly, swirling a french fry in ketchup. Dex snagged a fry from my plate and popped it into his mouth.

"Yes," he said, chewing. "And now that I've stolen food from you, it's official. You and me, friends for life."

"Good," I said. "I...I like being friends with you."

"Same." He made my favorite grin, the one that was surprisingly goofy for such a handsome guy.

Wait a second. I'd known him for a few weeks. How did I have a favorite grin of his?

Our eyes met and held, and it was like there was this...pulse between us. For a second I thought it was just Dex's magic or power or whatever it was that I was picking up on. But it didn't feel like that. It felt-

Dex's phone beeped, and as he looked down at it, the moment was lost. Which, to be honest, was kind of a relief. "My Nana," he sighed. "Why oh why did I ever teach that woman to text?" As his thumbs moved over the keypad, I pretended to be super-interested in my fries. Really, I was studying him.

He certainly didn't seem like a guy with anything to hide, but why had he been at Mary's grave? It couldn't just be a coincidence that he'd shown up when he did. Had he really followed me, or was there more to it than that? I needed to get closer to Dex.

The thought immediately sent a flutter through me, and I dropped my eyes back to my plate. Not close to him like that. Close in the general Finding Out Information way. "There," he said, sliding his phone into his bag. "Apparently my curfew has been lengthened by an hour since I'm with you." He waggled his eyebrows. "I told her I was with a lady who is quite the good influence on me."

"You need a good influence," I told him, smiling a little.

Dex sat back in his chair, impressed. "Isolde Brannick. Are you flirting with me?"

I tossed a fry at his head. It bounced off his shoulder, and he winced theatrically, pressing his hand to his clavicle. "Easy, slugger! In your hands, a french fry is a deadly weapon."

"No, I'm only deadly with dodgeballs," I said, and he laughed.

"Flirting and joking! Within a few minutes of each other! Is this the side of Isolde that only her friends get to see?"

He was teasing, but it gave me the opening I'd been hoping for. "Yup. And speaking of..." I ventured. "Friends...they can...they can tell each other stuff, right? I just mean...if you had some kind of secret, or something you hadn't ever told anyone, you could tell me. No matter...no matter what it was."

Oh, smooth, Izzy. Seriously. Why didn't I just grab him and yell, "TELL ME WHAT KIND OF MAGICAL POWERS YOU HAVE!" By the end of my little stuttering speech, I was blushing and Dex was frowning.

"A secret?" he asked, puzzled. Then his face suddenly cleared, and he shook his head. "Oh, right. Because of all the purple."

"Purple?"

"The clothes, I mean," he said, gesturing to his coat. "I know that I'm fashionable and well-groomed, and yes, I have been known to rock the occasional man-bracelet."

He lifted his wrist, jangling the bracelet I'd noticed earlier. I could see now that it was plain silver, just a series of links.

"But," Dex continued, dragging another one of my fries through ketchup, "I also like ladies. And not as shopping buddies, but in the carnal sense." His tone was light as always, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. Not to mention, that spiel was so smooth, he had to have done it before.

I'd only thought I was blushing before. Now my face was probably the same color as the tabletop. "Dex, I wasn't asking if you were...I didn't think you..."

"Oh." He took a drink of his soda. "Then you were just asking me to spill some...nonspecific secret?"

I shook my head. "Forget it." This was obviously getting us nowhere, so I decided to try a new subject. "Tell me more about your Nana."

Dex's face immediately brightened. "Basically, she is the bestest Nana in all the land. Bakes cookies, knits afghans, and lets me hang out past curfew with lovely ladies such as yourself. You should meet her someday. She'd love you."

Was meeting Nana a serious thing? It kind of felt like it. I really needed to get those magazines. Making a mental note to stop by the drugstore I'd noticed on my way to the graveyard, I nodded. "I'd like that. And your parents, are they also the bestest?"

If Dex's face had gone all shiny at the mention of his Nana, bringing up his parents had the opposite effect. His shoulders slumped a little, and something flickered in his eyes. "They died when I was little. Just me and my Nana for a while now." He took a long sip of his Coke, rattling ice in the cup. I had the sense that it was less about being thirsty and more about dropping the subject.

"My dad died when I was little, too," I heard myself say, and Dex lowered his cup.

This wasn't part of my cover; this was the real deal, but he had shared something with me, so it felt right to return the favor. "He, uh, was a soldier." That was literally all I knew about my dad. Men don't tend to stick around in the Brannick family.

Dex nodded slowly. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

I hadn't known my dad, so I didn't miss him the way I missed Finn, but still I replied, "It does."

A silence fell over the table, and I mentally kicked myself. I was supposed to be getting information out of him, not sharing personal feelings.