May Bird and the Ever After by Jodi Lynn Anderson Page B

that comes out is very high pitched. Only his dogs can hear it—from any part of the realm. And they travel with lightning speed. The Bogey himself is mostly blind. They are his eyes and ears.”
    May shivered, remembering the sound of the dogs back at the portal. “Can he read minds too?”
    â€œOh, no.” Arista nodded. “He’s not like me. He’s not completely blind either, he’s just blind to pure goodness. He simply can’t recognize it. The dogs help him with that.”
    â€œWh-What does he do to people when he catches them?”
    Pumpkin whimpered and held his hands up to his ears.
    â€œOh, really, Pumpkin.” Arista’s antennae drooped sadly as he turned back to May. “The worst fate that can befall a ghost. He sucks you up into nothingness.”
    May tried to imagine becoming nothing. It made her stomach ache. Her lips began to tremble. “But why?”
    â€œWho can say, dear? He works for Bo Cleevil. That’s enough of a reason for evil.”
    May scratched her chin. “Mom used to say that if I stayed up too late, the Bogeyman would get me.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œWell, actually, I always thought it was the boogeyman.” May remembered with an ache in her heart, staying up in bed, imagining what the Bogeyman was like. Usually he was very scary, and he liked to dance. And then she’d run into her mom’s room and curl up under her covers with her.
    â€œWell, actually, that’s how he started out—dancing. Before he came up to this realm he used to throw big parties, apparently, for all the Dark Spirits, in South Place.”
    â€œHm.” May rested against the window, too overwhelmed to ask any more questions. She didn’t think she wanted to know, anyway. For a few minutes all she could see was the endless stretching sand in either direction. A few tumbleweeds started to bounce into sight and roll past them.
    May peered through the little slot at the front of the cab that gave a tiny view of the driver’s seat. She could see the back of the horseman, who was indeed headless, his hands outstretched and holding a pair of reins that were connected to nothing but the empty space out in front of them. There were no horses. And just inside the front of the carriage, there was a little box with two sets of blinking numbers. One was marked PRICE and the other was marked MILES . The miles number clicked past 100, 150, 200, 250, 300.
    â€œAre those really the miles?” May asked, and Arista nodded. “But we’re not going that fast.”
    â€œThings here are not like they are in the living world,” Arista said simply.
    May moved back to the window just in time to see a woman in a bathing suit ride by on a rusty bicycle. Her skin was completely blue, like she’d stayed underwater too long.
    And then Belle Morte proper came into view.
    The town of Belle Morte crouched at the base of a set of enormous cliffs that curled out above it like giant black waves. May shrank back, hating the look of them immediately. But then curiosity overcame her, and she leaned forward again. The town itself was made of the same slate gray color as the cliffs. It rose in points, its roofs puckered triangles, reminding May of a bunchof lopsided ice-cream cones—like houses that were a little bit melted, with irregular rectangular windows that shrank together at the top, blue glows emanating from inside.
    Ahead May could see the main street that cut through town, festooned with blue lights on invisible strings. At the very end of it was a glowing blue box that looked like a phone booth and said TELEPORT on top.
    â€œThe Boulevard,” Arista said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Pretty, isn’t it? Carved from rock from the cliffs. They brought the Easter Island people in to design them about thirty years ago. Of course, Easter Island was their minimalist phase. Dear, I can’t tell you what it’s