What could Ellison know? More than I did, that was clear. But how could the ghosts on the Vicio know what she knew? The same way they knew which bedroom was mine on the Nebulous so they could repeatedly wreck it, I supposed. The same way they knew my birthday so they could destroy all my presents. The same way they knew which dog was my favorite so they could poltergeist an ax through it. That one was particularly brutal.
I stood inside the hallway door with my hand resting on the lever. It had been days since I'd heard the ghost shouting about Ellison, days that it had haunted my memories, and I wished I knew what it meant.
Between my cooking, the ship's heater, and my iron, the Vicio would likely melt from the sky or spontaneously combust. Since that night, I'd been marinating in my
