## Emil POV Why is he here? Why is he here? Why is he here? Why is he here? Why is he here of all places? Why does he have that small halo on his head? Why does he seem to not remember me? Anything about me? Why? That dream. With the black cat on my dash board. It meant something. Of course it meant something. This food truck. This wretched, uncared-for thing. It moved—lurched—into the crowd, towards him. I wasn’t even in the driver’s cab. Some people like to say that top racing drivers can form a spiritual connection with their vehicles as a result of mastery and comprehensive technical understanding. Maybe in the supernatural world, this connection works the other way around. Because just like my wretched, broken heart, this truck destroyed everything. Threw all our efforts to establish a good reputation at this Halloween festival into contention. And, unlike myself when I made mistakes, I couldn’t even resent it for what it had done.