I desperately needed sleep, so I decided to call Billy in the morning about our meeting with the Watchers tomorrow evening. I fell into bed, hoping for eight solid hours of dreamless slumber, but clearly that was too much to ask for.
I woke up with a start, a scream on the verge of exploding from my lips. I"d been dreaming that I was in the Tenderloin again and the ghost with the bowler hat, the one that was going to kill the teenage p********e/junkie, was standing in front of me. But instead of controlling her, he was controlling me, using whatever paranormal power he had to direct my hand, the hand holding my trusty yellow friend. Only my pencil had somehow turned into something else—it was a dagger, a deadly-sharp dagger that he was forcing me to use to stab myself.
I was fighting his
