The Kell is screaming three inches from my face and its breath smells like two corpses in summer and I have to blink my eyes against the spit. One of the less obvious perks of being able to pull a flaming gun out of the air is enjoying moments like this—alien fist around my neck, feet kicking in the air, not two seconds from death—but ready to laugh at the expression on that Kell's four-eyed face as its mandibles click for the last time and its body turns into fire.

The giant creature pulls back its other fist and its steel muscles bunch. I reach for the Light and get… nothing? Huh. Right. I used my flaming gun on those three Taken outside the obelisk. Gotta learn to count.

What I love about my Ghost—