 
### BOOK ONE OF THE VISION SERIES

## VISION

## OF SHADOWS

### VINCENT MORRONE

Vision of Shadows

Book 1 of The Vision Series

Copyright © 2013, Vincent Morrone

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Publisher's Note:

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

### Table of Contents

THE STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF

IT WAS GOING TO BE ONE OF THOSE MORNINGS

WE FINALLY MEET

OOPS, YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT

FINDING JARED

A CHAT WITH GRANDPA

DON'T GET DRESSED ON MY ACCOUNT

HE'S A GREAT CATCH

PAYNE'S SECRET

WELL, THAT TOOK LONG ENOUGH

DON'T LIE TO HUNTER

BOOM!

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

HAVING A BLAST AT AUNT BREANNE'S

GOING OUT ON A LIMB

SOMETIMES, DREAMS DO COME TRUE

JAY, REVEALED

FIVE MINUTES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

### ONE

### THE STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF

Journal of Bristol Blackburn

Sunday, March 17th

There are times when being psychic really bites, and this is one of them. Here it is, three in the morning, and all I can think about is the boy who will eventually have his hands on me.

I have no idea what his name is. We've never met, but I feel like we've grown up together. I've had visions of him since I was six years old. Now, eleven years later, I know we're getting closer and closer to finally meeting. I think it's going to happen any day now.

And the thought scares the hell out of me.

I know what Dream Boy will look like. In a word: hot. Dark hair that falls loosely over his deep blue eyes. He has an angel's face and the devil's grin.

I know he's got a bad boy attitude. Half the time, I get flashes of him getting hurt. Sometimes he's playing the hero. Other times, he's just being an idiot. Many times, it seems like there's someone who enjoys hurting him.

What I don't know is what he'll be to me.

There are times when he seems to love me. Don't ask me why. But he'll look at me with nothing but love and contentment in his eyes. Earlier tonight, I had one of those dreams. One where he couldn't keep his hands off of me. Weird that I know every inch of his body, yet I have no idea what his name is, huh?

Then there's the other vision. It was the first one I had of him, and the one I have most often. It's the one I woke from tonight, the feeling of his hands still on my skin.

In that vision, he doesn't look at me with love, but with hatred. He has his hands wrapped around my neck as he slowly squeezes the life out of me.

So any day now, I'm about to meet the boy of my dreams—literally. Then I get to see if he's going to be the love of my life or the end of it.

Funny thing is, I'm not sure which idea scares the crap out of me more.

### TWO

###  IT WAS GOING TO BE ONE OF THOSE MORNINGS

IN CASE YOU'RE WONDERING, I've done a lot of the things you'd expect psychics to do, including talking to ghosts. Some people might think the idea of talking to the dead is scary. Nothing could be further from the truth. I've never been afraid of ghosts. If anything, I've found it easier to talk to the dead than the living.

Take Claire, who had just appeared to me, for example. Her blond hair reached the base of her neck and framed her pear-shaped face. I could tell she had been a lovely woman when she was alive. Which, judging from the up-to-date pretty blue dress she wore, wasn't too long ago. She must have been in her early forties when she passed.

We were sitting at a restaurant with outside seating. I was waiting for my parents to show.

She was there for other reasons.

"Please, call me Bristol." I smiled, hoping she understood why I was whispering. You'd be surprised at how many ghosts take offense to the idea that I don't want to look like I'm talking to myself.

"That's such a lovely and unusual name," Claire said. "And it fits you. You're a very pretty girl."

I blushed. I'd never thought of myself as pretty, especially not compared to my parents, who looked like models. My mom had soft, blond, pin-straight hair, exotic grey eyes, and a model's waiflike figure. My dad was solid as a rock with jet black hair, a square jaw, and green eyes.

"I'm so happy that I can have someone to share this with," she said. "You're sure I'm not bothering you?"

"No, it's nice to have the company."

"That's my daughter, Chloe, and her boyfriend, Adam." Claire pointed to the couple she'd been watching. They were sitting a few tables away. "They've been together for three years. She met him after that stupid car accident took me away from her. I was always afraid she would never fall in love. You see, first her father walked out on us when she was only twelve. And then I left..."

"You didn't leave," I insisted. "If it was an accident, it wasn't a choice."

Claire smiled. "It's nice of you to say that. You seem very at ease. I take it I'm not your first ghost?"

"Definitely not."

"I never believed in ghosts until I was one." Claire grinned. "Have you ever been scared?"

"No, I've been around them since I was little. I've had a few that could be annoying. You're fine, but I once had a ghost that hung around for two weeks singing "Copacabana" over and over, each time getting the words wrong. Finally, I had to download the song and teach it to him. He was able to move on afterward."

Claire laughed. "Oh my, that must have been horrible." Her face went all motherly. "Still, I imagine it can't be easy being... different."

I glanced at my watch. My parents were twenty minutes late. Big surprise.

"I'm sure they'll be here soon," Claire said.

Man, she must have been great at the whole mother thing. "You never know with them," I whispered. "This is going to be the first time I'm with the both of them in I don't know how long.

Probably the last time."

Claire offered me a sympathetic smile, the kind mothers give their small children when putting Band-Aids on their knees.

"I'm sure that's not right," Claire said. "Your parents are probably just busy. Maybe you should tell them how you feel."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "They're coming here to tell me they're filing for divorce.

They think I don't know, but it's kinda hard to hide things from me."

"I'm sorry," she said with a grimace. "Do they fight a lot?"

"They don't see each other enough to fight."

"Bristol, they're still your parents," Claire insisted. Her eyes locked on mine firmly. "They'll always love you."

She was sweet, but we both knew better. Not all parents were like Claire. Mine weren't. We didn't even feel like a family, just three people who shared an address. Hell, I spent more time with Ricky than my parents. Of course, Ricky is my hamster, so I'm not sure he counts.

"Bristol," Claire said. "I think he's getting ready to do it!"

I followed Claire's gaze to the horse and carriage pulling up. While Chloe was distracted, Adam rose from his chair and circled around the table to stand in front of her. Chloe's eyes darted back and forth between the carriage and Adam. Claire sniffed beside me. Then Adam dropped to one knee, popped out a box from his pocket, and asked Chloe to marry him.

And I was instantly enveloped by the torrent of emotions from everyone around me.

One of my many weird talents is I sometimes sense what others are feeling, emotionally and physically. Like dreaming of the future, I can't control when it will happen. Although, it usually only occurs with really emotional situations, like a marriage proposal.

Unhindered joy radiated from Chloe. I sensed Adam's fading fears that he hadn't gotten everything right replaced by overwhelming elation when she said yes.

Claire was positively glowing. Not in a weird, paranormal way. Just in that wonderful, motherly, I couldn't be happier for my sweet little girl way.

Quite a few waitresses, and even one of the waiters, were weeping. When Adam got up, there was a moment of silence as they lost themselves in each other's eyes. They kissed and everyone applauded.

"I'm so happy for you," I said to Claire, taking advantage of the fact that no one would notice me talking right now. "I think he's going to make her very happy."

Claire cried. "I'm so glad I could see this. I wish I could be there with her for everything. I do wish I could've gotten to know him. He seems to love her so much."

I heard the unspoken fear. I'm sure Claire was happy at some point with her husband before the louse skipped out on her and Chloe. She was doing her best not to think about it, but it was there in the back of her mind. How could it not be?

I made a quick decision.

"What did you say you did for a living? Back when you were alive."

Claire thought for a moment. "I was a music teacher."

"What did your students call you?"

Claire looked perplexed. "Mrs. Caldone. Why?"

I walked to where Chloe was getting into the carriage, a giant bouquet of flowers being placed in her arms by the coach. Chloe seemed overwhelmed, almost dizzy with joy. But I could sense a tinge of sadness within her as she gazed at the beautiful ring with the tear-shaped diamond. "Hi." I offered my hand and smiled. "Congrats! I thought I recognized you. Your mom's a teacher—Mrs. Caldone, right?"

"Thank you," Chloe said, still glowing. "And yes she was. Were you one of her students?" I nodded.

"I'm afraid she died in an accident a few years ago," Chloe said with a tear in her eye. "I wish she was here, so I could share this with her. She'd be so happy."

I gripped her hand. "I'd bet a million dollars she can see you right now, and that she's thrilled for you. Trust me." I reached my other hand over to Adam. "Really, congratulations." After a final wave, I made my way back to the table where Claire was waiting.

"See, I sometimes get these visions," I explained. "Mostly when I dream, but I have been known to get them while awake. When I'm touching two people who have a strong connection, sometimes I get a flash. Circumstances help. So does luck."

Claire, however, didn't want a lesson in Weirdo 101.

"Well, did you see anything?"

"Just a flash of them putting a crib together."

"A crib?" Claire gasped. "A baby! Oh, that's wonderful." "Wasn't their baby," I added. "They were much older. Adam was working with their oldest son on putting the crib together. Their youngest son was painting the room. There was another man painting, who was their son-in-law. He was about Chloe's age now. I saw Chloe walk in with her daughter. It was your granddaughter who was pregnant. And I'm pretty sure your granddaughter's name was Claire."

I watched as Claire tried to take everything in. Chloe had met the right man. They'd be happy as they raised their family together, and Claire wouldn't be forgotten.

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much it means to me."

I blushed. I don't handle gratitude real well. But my embarrassment was forgotten as soon as I spotted my parents walking down the block.

This was it. This was the moment my parents would tell me we were no longer a family. What would I say? Should I say anything? Would it even matter? I tried to picture how it would happen, but my mind was blank. I almost didn't hear the scream.

Tires squealed as a large black car blasted past a red light into a busy intersection. The car was going at least sixty as a second car smashed into its rear right side, sending the black car fishtailing right toward the sidewalk.

And right into my parents.

I called out to them and ran, but the weepy waiter from before grabbed me. I fell to my knees, screaming. I felt their shock and pain, right before they died. I stopped struggling. It didn't matter anymore. I knew they were gone.

The waiter holding me tried to calm me down, stroking my hair as I wept. "Who were they?"

I turned away, not wanting to look. There beside me was Claire. "They were her parents," she said before fading away.

My heart pounded as I searched for my parents' ghosts. Where were they? They had to be here, someplace. They were dead. Certainly, they would come to me now. If I could see the dead, hear the dead, talk to the dead, why wouldn't I be able to see my parents? If only for one last time. But everywhere I looked, all I saw was the living. And I never felt more alone.

Journal of Bristol Blackburn

Wednesday, March 20th

It's been three days, and I still can't believe it. My parents are dead. I can say it out loud, write it my journal, even talk to Ricky, but it doesn't seem real.

We were never close, but they were my parents, and I hate that they're dead. But there doesn't seem to be a hell of a lot I can do about it.

The saddest part is, it shouldn't be that big of a deal for someone like me, right? So they're dead. They could be here if they wanted to. We could still share those special moments like my first kiss or first breakup or stuff. After all, I'm Bristol Blackburn. I talk to the freaking dead! Sometimes I can't get the dead to shut up. Claire was nice, but some of the others, oh my God! I've had ghosts insist on telling me every last detail about their lives.

Or worse, their deaths.

So why won't my parents appear? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised they want nothing to do with me now that they're dead. They didn't while they were alive. It's no big deal. I'll be fine. Life goes on.

And yes, I realize how lame this sounds.

I'm going to live in their old hometown, Spirit, which is in upstate New York, with my dad's brother, my Uncle Mark. I don't know how to feel about him. He's always sent me birthday and Christmas cards, but until now I'd never heard his voice. He's called me three times since the accident. He seems nice enough, if a bit persistent.

The first time he called was that night. Told me how sorry he was, if there was anything he could do to just say so, and he was looking forward to finally meeting me. Hard to buy that. Why would he? But I'll give him points for trying. He offered to drive down and get me that night. Said I shouldn't be alone. But I told him I had things to do, and I wasn't alone. Like he'd want to be stuck in a car with a grieving teenage girl for over six hours. I told him I'd just get a bus ticket.

He called this morning to tell me he'd made all the arrangements for the burial, was working on getting me enrolled in school there, and he didn't want me to worry. I'm sure he's thrilled to have to do all this for a girl who's never spoken to him. Never bothered to pick up the phone and call him and say, hey Uncle Mark, thanks for remembering my birthday this year, my parents didn't. I appreciate he's making an effort, but he and I both know he's simply stuck with me.

He mentioned coming to get me again, this time saying his sons are really anxious to meet me. Right. I'm sure they're delighted to have to share their home with some whackedout teenager they've never met. I turned him down again.

I hate buses, but I can't stand the thought of asking him to drive all the way down just to drive all the way home again. I'm going to have to live with them for a few years, so I figure best not get them all to hate me just yet. God, they must be tired of me already.

Uncle Mark just called again. He told me he's about an hour away. I guess some people can't take no for an answer. So, he's coming to get me, and he'll take me back to the place that my parents ran away from. Can hardly wait. At least I won't have to deal with the damn bus.

By the way, my parents are dead, and I loved them.

"WELL, THEY SHOULD BE HERE any minute now. Not that we care, do we?" I asked Ricky. "After all, we've gotten along fine without them."

I lived in an apartment building in Manhattan, on the twenty-second floor. My stuff was all packed neatly in the dining room. I was waiting for the doorman to signal my uncle was here. Until then, I was trying to be as patient as possible. For the record, I don't do patient.

"They'll hate me," I ranted. "Why wouldn't they? Who wants to be stuck with me? Probably expect me to be like what's her name, Snow White? Cinderella? Or Ariel? No, she was the one with fins. Whatever, it doesn't matter.

"I know you think I'm nuts," I continued. "But I have no idea what these people are like. I know they'll act wonderful at first, but it'll be fake. Fake wonderfulness! I can just hear their first words."

I paced. "They'll probably pat me on the back, say 'buck up, sport,' or 'it'll be all right,' or something that'll set me off like 'I know how you feel,' and I'll flip! No one knows how I feel." Finally, I stopped pacing and sat in a chair. "And no one cares. Do they? No one but you, Ricky," I whispered to my hamster. Like there would be anyone else that would listen to me rant.

The buzzer rang, and I knew that meant Eddie, the really cute—but most likely gay— doorman was telling me my uncle and cousins were on their way up. "Don't worry, Ricky. If their mom hates hamsters, we'll run away. I'm not losing you, too."

With a huff, I walked to the door and waited for these strangers to become my family.

It seemed to take forever for the elevator doors to open. All I could think the entire time was: Who will say what first? Will they say something that they expect me to respond to? I have no idea what to say. What if it's awkward? What if I break down and cry? I don't want to cry in front of them. I don't even like to cry in front of Ricky.

Finally, the doors opened and a really cute kid ran down the hallway. He had a mess of dark blond hair and freckles covering his face. Adorable, except his eyes were bulging and his face was red, not to mention he was holding himself.

He winced in pain, both hands pressed over his jeans zipper. "For Pete's sake, where's your bathroom?"

Taken aback, I opened the door and pointed to the bathroom. Without another word, the boy dashed off into my apartment.

"Leave it to my brother to make an entrance." Another boy ambled down the hallway, tripping at least three times over his own feet along the way. "I'm Simon and that was my little brother, Zack. Sorry about him."

Taller than the first boy, this kid was very thin, with glasses and combed blond hair. He wore neatly pressed jeans and a button-down shirt with red and black stripes.

Behind him was my Uncle Mark, who looks a lot like my dad, tall with dark hair, very green eyes, and a very kind face. Also in jeans, he wore a plain black tee. The boys must have taken after their mother, my aunt whatever her name is.

Oh. My. God. I had no idea what my aunt's name was. This couldn't be good. I could picture her in my head upon hearing the news of my parents' death: "You don't hear from your brother in how long, and now we're saddled with his teenage daughter! Well, she's your responsibility. And she better not hog the bathroom!"

"Hi, Bristol. I'm your Uncle Mark." He hugged me. "I hate that we have to meet under these circumstances, but I'm glad to finally see you." "Me too," I lied.

Uncle Mark walked to the dining room where all my stuff was and looked it over. "Not too bad. We can take it down in two, maybe three trips."

Zack strolled out of the bathroom, looking far more relaxed. His face was rounder than his brother's, and he wore a Transformers shirt. Zack walked over to Ricky and stared into the tank. "Man, I can't believe how much I just peed," Zack said. "It wouldn't stop. I bet even John John never peed that much, but I feel much better now. I thought I was going to explode. But anyway, are we leaving right away, or do we get to look around? We already saw a few homeless guys. I even saw one peeing on a building, but Dad said I couldn't do the same. Anyway, I want to eat a hot dog from those cart things I see. John John says those guys wash their socks in that water, which is gross. But I think he's lying, and I want to try one so I can decide for myself. Hey, cool hamster. Dad, can I get something to drink?"

I had no idea what to say. I'd never heard anyone say so much in one breath. I just stood there and blinked rapidly.

"Zack, you drank three bottles of water within the last two hours," Uncle Mark said.

"Yeah, but I just peed it all out, and now I'm empty."

"Has it occurred to you that perhaps the amount you urinate and the amount of water you consume are directly related?" Simon asked.

Zack tapped on Ricky's tank. His adorable face scrunched up. "Huh?"

Simon sighed. "The more you drink, the more you pee."

"Oh," Zack said, "but I'm thirsty." Simon shook his head.

"Why don't we all sit for a little bit and talk to Bristol," Uncle Mark said. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. They seemed nice enough, but I didn't feel like sharing at this point.

"I guess it's hard to talk about," Uncle Mark said. "Especially to strangers."

"But we're not strangers," Zack said. "She's our cousin, and Grandpa said Blackburns look out for each other. Bristol is coming home with us, right? Grandpa said Bristol belongs to us now.

She's still coming home with us, right? We can keep her?"

"Geez, Zack, stop treating her like a poodle," Simon replied.

"Poodles are weak," Zack affirmed. "If anything, she'd be a boxer or a lab or something."

"Zack, she's not a dog at all," Uncle Mark said.

"Really, if anything, I'd probably be a hamster," I added.

This earned smiles from everyone.

"Grandpa says—"

"Enough Zack," Uncle Mark interrupted. "I don't care what Grandpa says and neither does Bristol. This is hard enough on her."

Uncle Mark took my hand and led me to the couch in the living room.

"Bristol, we are your family," Uncle Mark began, his all too caring eyes looking right into mine. "I know this is rough, having to leave the only home you've known. I know you haven't been given much of a choice here."

It was true; I hadn't been asked, but I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to stay here. Besides, as zany as they seemed, I was already starting to like these people. "I want to get out of here."

Uncle Mark nodded.

"Bristol, we all know how you feel," Simon said.

"Simon, you can't know what this is like." I hated the bitterness in my voice, but really, how could a kid like this understand how I felt? It was absurd. Insulting. Just plain old wrong.

"I d-didn't mean... I'm sorry," Simon said. "It just reminds me of when my mom was killed."

I could see the pain in his eyes brought on by having to remember his mother's death. The fact that his concern was over how I felt only made me feel even worse. My stomach twisted in a mix of grief for my parents and guilt for what I'd said. Uncle Mark's warm green eyes reflected the same pain as Simon's. Zack's eyes were closed, his tiny frame slumped back in the chair.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I didn't know..."

"My brother never told you?" Uncle Mark asked, the sadness in his eyes replaced by anger. "Never mentioned Eve was killed four years ago?" I shook my head.

"Did you know your grandmother died seven years ago?" Uncle Mark continued. "Or about your cousins? Mark and Emily? They died in a fire soon after we lost Mom."

I shrank into the sofa. Why wasn't I told? I had no answer. Maybe my parents were trying to protect me? Maybe they knew about my gifts and figured if my dead relatives wanted me to know, they'd just show up and tell me themselves? There was a theory I wasn't planning on sharing anytime soon.

Uncle Mark closed his eyes and reached for my hand.

"I'm sorry. It's not your fault, Bristol.

I guess we really do have a lot of catching up to do."

I looked into his face, into the faces of his sons, and saw nothing but compassion and sympathy. I couldn't understand any of this. Why in the world did my parents not let me have these people in my life before?

"Well, let's get you packed up and ready to go," Uncle Mark said. "We have a long drive ahead of us, plenty of time to get to know one another. We can stop before we leave for one of those dirty water dogs for Zack."

With a huff, Zack got up and followed. "S'ok. Not hungry."

It took three trips to bring my stuff down. The first two were done mostly in silence, which made me worry I had already overstayed my welcome. But the third started with a huge fight between Simon and Zack over who got to carry Ricky in his tank. After an eye roll, Uncle Mark decided he would carry the "little critter." Simon and Zack were left to grab the last of my bags.

That left me with nothing but my purse.

"We got this," Uncle Mark said. "Take your time. We'll meet you in the car." He herded the boys off, leaving me a moment to say goodbye.

I walked throughout the apartment, room by room, remembering different things that had happened in each of them. Every time I turned a corner, I hoped to see my parents there, waiting to say goodbye, but the place was cold and barren.

I headed to the front door, stopping one last time to take a look. Ghosts, spirits, whatever you want to call them, appear for a number of reasons. Some just aren't ready to move on. Some have unfinished business or can't let go of someone who is still alive. The reasons go on and on.

Whatever motivations might exist, they obviously didn't apply to my parents. They were clearly done with this world and done with the living.

They were done with me.

When I got to the truck, Zack was sitting in the back playing his PSP, and Simon was next to him reading a book. Up front was Uncle Mark. His eyes found mine as soon as I stepped out. I barely knew this man, but I could see the kindness and patience within him. I'd learned over time to trust my instincts about people. My old life was over, and it was time to start again. Somehow, I was starting to believe it might not be as bad as I'd thought.

I slid into the front of the truck next to Uncle Mark and let out a deep breath. It was time to leave.

"You ready?" he asked.

I closed my eyes for a moment. "Yeah, let's go."

Uncle Mark nodded, turned the key in the ignition, and guided his truck onto the busy New York City street. I watched as he navigated his way through traffic, signaled for turns, and checked his rear-view mirror. Me? I never looked back.

WE MADE OUR WAY OUT of the city. Uncle Mark offered to let me pick the radio station. I declined, figuring it was his truck. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to find some type of acceptable music, got frustrated, and finally slid in a CD of somebody named George Strait.

Oh joy, country.

As we drove, Zack told me about his school and friends. I was given a complete character assessment of the aforementioned John John, who was apparently called that because his father's name is also John. I guess calling him John Junior was somehow unacceptable. As Zack continued, I learned John John's many talents included farting and burping on command. He was amazing at anything Wii or X-box related, and he knew all about everything to do with a variety of subjects including, but not limited to, Spiderman, X-men, baseball, football, dogs, bikes, something called Halo, and a host of other subjects. I also heard about Willie, Jimmy, Jake, Brandon, some poor boy nicknamed Pudgy, and a girl named Jo-Jo, who was cool because she played sports and could kick the butts of most of the guys in their class.

Zack spoke in what seemed like one incredibly long run- on sentence. I don't think he ever took a breath as he continued to go on and on about each subject, each with equal amounts of fascination.

In all honesty, I didn't absorb more than half of what Zack said. Eventually, he quieted down and went back to his game, piping in with a comment or question whenever something caught his ear.

It was Simon's turn next. With him, it was far more of a conversation. I could tell Simon was a very intelligent boy. Thoughtful, too.

A few times, Simon would try and tell me something using words that were more than a bit beyond me, causing me to tell him to dumb it down.

Uncle Mark smirked. "You have no idea how many times we've all told him that, one way or another."

I smiled. "I was afraid it was just me."

"You know, it's common for everyone to have to learn to rephrase things in an appropriate context," Simon said. "Especially when they are faced with a new dynamic or social setting."

"Right," I mumbled. "Keep dialing up the dumb there, Simon."

"Okay, look," Simon said. "Dad's a cop, right?" "You are?" I asked.

"Yup," Uncle Mark answered. "Sheriff, in fact."

Simon continued, "So when he's talking with his deputies, he may use certain language, terms that are meaningful to him and other cops, but may leave a layperson confused."

"I've heard Deputy Dwight Dugan talk, and I know all the words he uses," Zack said. "Dad would wash my mouth out with soap if I used any of them."

Uncle Mark sighed. "I'm going to have to have a chat with Dwight, using a few of those words myself, I imagine." "I'll get you a clean bar of soap, Dad," Zack offered.

"Anyway," Simon said. "Sometimes we have to adjust how we communicate when we're speaking with people who aren't familiar with us or our method of communication. It isn't an indicator of lack of intelligence on your part. I just sometimes forget to take that into account. Sorry."

"What my brother is saying," Zack said, "is that he forgets the rest of us don't speak geek." I couldn't help but giggle as Simon sat back in his seat, closed his eyes, and sighed.

"So you're a sheriff, huh?" I asked.

"I'll try not to scare any boys coming round the house too much," Uncle Mark added. "But I make no promises."

"Noted," I said. "Although, I doubt you have much to worry about. Boys aren't exactly breaking down my door to ask me out. Doubt that's going to change much unless most of the girls in Spirit have a third arm growing out of their forehead or something."

"Only a few, and they're married already," Uncle Mark answered. "Hard to imagine a girl like you—funny, interesting to talk to, and real pretty—has a hard time getting the boys to take a look."

I smiled at him and gave him points for putting funny and interesting first and the pretty part last. Not that I saw myself as being any of those things, but it's always nice to hear.

Dating had never been my thing. It's weird, but I always felt like it was cheating on the boy in my dreams to date somebody else. Besides, when you had the kind of secrets I do, you can't really risk going out on a date. You never knew who's going to tag along.

"I've been looked at once or twice, but that's about it. I don't think you have anything to worry about. I don't date."

"You don't do that thing kids call hooking up, right?"

"Oh my God, no."

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know you must be thinking who is this guy and what gives him the right to ask such a thing, but I'm trying to get to know you."

"Trying to figure what you're in for?" I offered. "I know it's unfair for you to be stuck with a teen out of nowhere..."

"Now stop," he commanded. "I am not stuck with you. You're family. You belong with us. It's a damn shame how this all came about, but I don't want you to think for one second that I'm not thrilled to have you. Understood?"

He said it with such certainty that it was impossible to doubt him. I simply nodded and looked ahead.

"Bristol, we have a long road ahead of us," Uncle Mark continued. "You've been through a lot and..." "I'm fine," I said.

He gave me a sad smile. "Sweetheart, I don't believe that for a second. You may believe it, but I know better. It'll hit you hard, and then just as you get up, it'll hit you again.

Something like this is supposed to be hard."

"Really," I insisted. "I'm fine."

"Right," Uncle Mark said as he tapped the steering wheel to somebody called Dwight Yoakum, who was making me miss George Strait. After hearing about the back of old Dwight's hand, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

WHEN I OPENED MY EYES, it took me a moment to realize I was still asleep but dreaming. The first clue was it was very bright outside, even though it had been dusk. The second clue was my uncle's country music was gone. So were my uncle and his two sons.

But I wasn't alone in the car. Sitting in the driver's seat next to me was a woman I'd never seen before. She had long, blond hair, which fell down loosely over her slim shoulders. Extremely beautiful, everything from her eyes to her face bore a striking resemblance to Simon and Zack. It wasn't hard to figure out who this was.

" _Hi, you must be Aunt Eve."_

" _I am." She smiled. "And you must be my niece. It's nice to meet you finally, Bristol. I'm sorry it had to be like this." "I've been hearing that a lot," I murmured._

She laughed. "I'm glad you're going to live with my boys. Sorry for the reason for it, but glad you'll be with them."

She glanced at the back seat, where I saw Uncle Mark between Simon and Zack. They were all asleep, the children with their heads against their father. Zack was drooling.

" _For some time now, I've been worried about my boys being without me," Aunt Eve said. "All three of them, really. They could use a woman's influence."_

" _Been awhile for them, I guess," I said. "I suppose I should expect to find the toilet seat up more than down, huh?"_

Aunt Eve laughed, and I couldn't help but smile. Her laughter was almost as beautiful as she was. "Mark has done a great job with them. Most times, you leave men alone together, and you're lucky if they don't think of ketchup as a vegetable." "You mean it's not?" I asked.

When Aunt Eve glanced over at me, amusement danced in her eyes. I could see instantly why Uncle Mark fell for her.

" _Do you plan on telling Mark about your gift?" she asked._

" _Have you thought about how that conversation might go? Hey, Uncle Mark, guess what? I'm a wee bit on the psychic side. No biggie, but your late wife said to say hi, put the seat down, and eat a salad every now and then." I rolled my eyes._

" _I'd love to see that." She smiled. "How do you think Mark would react to finding out about your gifts?"_

I shrugged. The thought of anyone knowing about me was terrifying.

" _Bristol, he would understand," she said. "I know my husband. He would never hurt you like you think he would."_

" _You know," I replied, "I already feel close to them. I want to fit in. I don't think I could take it if they looked at me with fear or disgust in their eyes. I just..." I shook my head as the image of her two little boys glaring at me with scorn filled my head._

Aunt Eve gave me a sympathetic smile and gazed at me with eyes filled with understanding. "That won't happen. I promise. You'll tell them when you're ready. It'll be all right." I nodded and looked silently out at the road.

" _How about some auntly advice?" she asked. "With Simon, the more techno talk you hear, the more nervous he is. Unless he goes into what Zack likes to call geek overdrive. Simon is sweet and loyal and always eager to help." Her description matched what I thought of Simon already._

" _My little Zack," Aunt Eve continued. "Now, he can be a handful, but he will make you laugh. Just don't insult the Giants."_

" _Is that a band or something?"_

" _Oh Lord, you're in for it," Aunt Eve said. "The New York Giants?" I continued to stare._

" _Just trust me on that," Aunt Eve instructed. "He'll go over the entire team roster if you let him." "God no," I said._

" _Zack was very young when I was taken away," Aunt Eve continued. "He has problems remembering me. He may feel guilty about getting close to you. There's no need for him to." "How did you die?" I asked._

My aunt's face grew cold and angry. "I was murdered. They never caught the killer. It's something that still haunts Mark. He hasn't moved on. He hasn't dated or even looked at another woman. As far as he's concerned, he's still married to me. I don't think that will ever change. I know he blames himself. I wish he could understand how much I loved him. I was the luckiest girl in the world when he married me."

I wondered if I might ever find someone to love in the way Aunt Eve was describing. But how could I? There could be no secrets between people who loved each other.

" _I would really love it if I could get to know you a whole lot better, but I can't. I don't have time."_

" _Why?" I asked. "Is something about to happen?"_

" _Yeah, you're almost home, and my husband will want you to wake up before you get there," she said. Her eyes grew intense as she held my gaze. "Listen, you're going to have to deal with my father-in-law. He moved in a few years ago. He can be...well." She hesitated. "He has a unique and challenging personality. Try not to get offended. He means well, I think. Hopefully, his time living with my boys made him a little nicer. Or, at the very least, it shouldn't have made him any meaner."_

" _What does that mean?"_

" _You'll see soon enough," she said. "Last but not least, remember now that you're in Spirit, things aren't always what they seem."_

" _Oh? And what are they?" I asked, picturing the worst and getting a little sick to my stomach._

" _Complicated," she answered. "You can trust my husband. And you're not alone. I've never subscribed to how your grandfather sees things, but you'll have to make up your mind for yourself. There is plenty of guilt to go around."_

" _Guilt?" I echoed. "Guilt about what? Aunt Eve, what happened to you?"_

But it was too late. She was gone, and I was being gently woken up by Uncle Mark.

"Hey, Bristol, you there?" He nudged my arm.

I nodded groggily and stretched out in my seat. It was dark now, and we were off the highway. I tried to take in where I was, but it was hard to make out any details.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to conk out. Where are we?"

"Not too far from home," Uncle Mark answered. "You must have been really tired. You've been out for three hours.

Looked like you were having a heck of a dream." "Must have been," I mumbled.

"Look, there's something I should tell you before we arrive," Uncle Mark said. Was this the part where I would be told that I would be living in the barn and rooming with Harry the horse or Patty the pig? "My father, your grandfather, lives with us. He's old and his house burned down some time ago so..."

"Let me guess," I said. "He has a difficult and challenging personality?"

"Uh, yeah, that's one way of putting it," Uncle Mark said. "In fact, that is exactly how my wife used to describe him. Wow."

"I don't suppose you care to expand?" I asked.

Uncle Mark considered it. "I could, but I don't want to scare you. Besides, he's not all that bad. Not really. If you take him with a grain of salt, he can be kind of amusing."

"Uh-huh," Simon said. "So amusing, I heard you laughing at the top of your lungs just last week."

"You heard that, huh?" Uncle Mark said. "Listen Bristol, your grandpa can be difficult and challenging, but he does mean well and he loves his family. I know better than anyone. On the outside he's grumpy and wacky, but inside of him is a kind and gentle man." He looked at Simon's reflection in the mirror. "Right?"

"Absolutely," Simon agreed. "Grandpa probably ate him for breakfast."

Zack hooted with laughter. "Yeah, with a side of bacon!" "No, oatmeal," Simon amended. "Grandpa eats oatmeal. And grapefruit."

Uncle Mark shook his head. "Maybe we should have moved in with you in Manhattan and not the other way around."

I snorted and looked out the window as we pulled into the driveway of my new home. The house looked nice enough, although it was hard to make out much detail in the dark. There was a weeping willow tree in the middle of the front yard.

We managed to bring my things inside despite being tripped up by two dogs who were introduced as Spock and Larry. I took a moment to look around. I was in the family room. There was a large, flat-screen TV with a brown leather couch and two recliners facing it. I glanced up to a giant family picture that looked like it was taken about five or six years ago. I could see Eve had been the center of the family. She sat in a chair, holding Zack, who looked to be all of two. Both mother and son had wide smiles plastered on their faces. Simon stood to her right, leaning in and giving a nearly toothless grin. His glasses looked thinner, and they needed to be pushed back, but he was clearly happy standing there with his mother. Behind them all was Uncle Mark, looking like the most content man in the world. As far as he was concerned, back then, he had it all.

"She's beautiful," I said.

"She was," Uncle Mark agreed. "She would've loved to have you here. I'm so sorry you never got the chance to talk to her. She could make even the worst days better." He stared at the picture for a second more before looking away and shaking his head. "I know I sound sappy, don't I?"

I smiled. "No, you sound like you loved her. It's beautiful." I looked up at Aunt Eve's picture again. "And if she were here, she'd tell you she probably felt like the luckiest girl in the world when you two got married."

Uncle Mark looked at me, his eyes wide in bewilderment. "That's the second time you've said something that reminds me of Eve."

"Grandpa," Zack called. "We got Bristol."

"That right?" a gravelly voice called from the other room. "Well, it's about time. She's about seventeen years late."

Uncle Mark gave me an apologetic smile. "Come say hello to your granddaughter."

I watched as a man in his early sixties limped forward with a cane and five o'clock shadow. He paused for a brief moment as he entered the room and gave me a cursory glance before he made his way to me. He grabbed my face and examined it like a bottle of wine. He turned my face and appraised me from several angles before letting go with a grunt and walking away.

"She'll do I guess," Grandpa said. "Oh, by the way, sorry 'bout your parents and welcome home."

Zack thought it was hilarious and kept reenacting the encounter. Simon wondered out loud if Grandpa was getting dementia. Uncle Mark was simply mortified at his father's actions and couldn't stop apologizing.

I didn't bother to mention that in the moment when Grandpa had looked me over, dozens of ghosts appeared. They were sitting in chairs, lying on the table, standing in the fireplace, and even looking in from the window, each of them nodding in approval.

### THREE

### WE FINALLY MEET

I WENT TO BED QUICKLY, but I had a hard time falling asleep. I was used to the city sounds of cars honking and police sirens wailing. I managed to nod off for a bit. I woke in a panic—where the hell was I?

Slowly, it started to come back to me. Oh yeah—parents killed, now living upstate with one nice uncle, one brainy cousin, one adorable cousin, and one slightly disturbed grandfather.

Suddenly, my thoughts became focused on one thing: food.

I could smell the coffee brewing and bacon cooking. It smelled like my favorite breakfast place in the city.

I pushed aside whatever trepidation I felt in facing my grandfather. I secured my robe around me, made my way into the bathroom to prepare myself, and then went downstairs quickly but quietly.

"Dad, should I go and wake Bristol?" I heard Simon ask.

After a moment filled with the sizzle of bacon, Uncle Mark said, "No, let her sleep for now.

Poor thing must be exhausted. I can make up some more breakfast when she's ready."

"This would be a good test," Grandpa said. "If she's really a Blackburn, she'll be down soon. Bacon, eggs, coffee. It calls to our kind."

"Can I have coffee?" Zack asked.

"No!" came the unified response of both father and grandfather.

"But it's the call of our kind," Zack complained. "I'm a Blackburn."

"So, you can hear the call," Grandpa replied. "That doesn't mean you have to answer."

"Aw."

"You want to stay short the rest of your life?" Grandpa retorted. "Even for your age you're on the tiny side." "I'm not tiny," Zack complained.

I decided now was the time to make my entrance, if only to spare poor Zack from any more humiliation. "Good morning," I said as I entered, stepping around the two dogs who were waiting for a scrap of food to be dropped.

As I received a chorus of morning greetings back, I looked at the meal being prepared by my uncle. He was moving a small omelet that looked to contain veggies and cheese to a plate. He handed it to Simon, who eagerly took it, adding a few slices of buttered toast and strips of bacon. "What can I make for you? You must be starved. You like omelets? What do you like in 'em?"

I shrugged and pointed to Simon's plate. "That looked nice, thanks."

Uncle Mark smiled and started to crack eggs. "No problem."

"So, I assume we'll use the lodge tomorrow?" Grandpa said without preamble as he sipped coffee.

"For what?" I asked.

"After the funeral," Grandpa answered. "So the family can get together. That's how we do it here. Maybe in the city you just put your dead out at the curb, but here..."

"Dad," Uncle Mark said. "Stop! I haven't even mentioned the funeral. Naturally she'd have no idea." He turned to me. "Bristol, I went by what my brother had laid out in his will. No wake, just a small service, burial, and a gathering afterward. Is that okay with you? We can change it to whatever you like. I was going to ask you later when I had you alone but..." He sent his father a scathing look.

I shook my head. "No, that sounds fine. I really have no idea what to do for these things. I appreciate you taking care of it for me."

"It's nothing," he said as he added a touch of cheese. "That's what family is for." He flipped the omelet onto a paper plate.

"Thank you," I said, "for everything. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I've never even been to a funeral before."

"Really?" Grandpa grumbled. "Don't think there's another Blackburn over three who can say the same. This may be your first, but I doubt it will be your last, now that you're home."

"Cheery," I said.

"It's about time she got to meet her family," Grandpa said. "There's a lot of catching up to do."

"Dad, there's plenty of time for that," Uncle Mark said. "I'm going to ask only a few people show up. Let's not overwhelm Bristol. This is a time for mourning. She doesn't need to meet every great uncle or third cousin on the day she's burying her parents."

"What she doesn't need," Grandpa insisted, "is to be coddled like she's nothing but a little baby. Besides, we're talking about family. We're a fun bunch. We're the cool crowd."

Zack and Simon snickered at Grandpa, while Uncle Mark poured himself another cup of coffee. "Yeah, we're a riot. But I think what Bristol needs is to take things slowly."

"Slow is boring," Grandpa said. "Slow is like getting in the pool one toe at a time. Better off just throwing her off the deep end. She'll complain more, but she'll thank you in the end."

"Somehow I doubt that," Uncle Mark replied. "Look, all I'm saying is tomorrow Bristol is not going to be in any shape to deal with meeting a bunch of new people. It's going to be hard enough for her."

"You have no idea what to do with her, do you?" Grandpa asked.

"What are you talking about?" Uncle Mark asked.

"Well," Grandpa continued, "you're trying really hard to be nice, which of course is your strong suit, but you have no idea how to handle her. After all, she's a girl." "Thanks for noticing," I said.

"Well, that's what I do." Grandpa smiled. "My son wants to make you comfortable and thinks someone in our family might make you feel awkward and out of place." "You mean more than you do?" I responded.

"Touché," Grandpa answered. "See, she's fitting in already."

"Dad," Uncle Mark said. "All I said is that we shouldn't bombard her with too much stuff right away."

"What kind of stuff are we talking about?" I asked, not liking the way Uncle Mark had said the word.

"You want to tell her," Grandpa asked, "or should I?" "Tell me what?" I asked.

"Nothing," Uncle Mark said, his eyes fixed on Grandpa's. "Dad, can I talk to you for a moment?" He indicated for Grandpa to follow him out to the backyard.

Grandpa, who had just poured himself a second cup of coffee, held it up for show. "I'm having coffee here."

Uncle Mark held the door open. "You so old and feeble you can't carry the mug with you?"

Grandpa nearly smiled at the challenge as he rose from his chair and started for the door, leaving his coffee behind. He stopped at the threshold and motioned for his son to go out first.

"After you, Sheriff Blackburn."

I waited until they had both left before I looked at Simon. "What was all that about?"

Simon shrugged. "Grandpa is a little out there. He thinks there are forces at work, beyond the"—Simon made quotation marks with his fingers in the air—"realm of normal understanding.

Says it won't be long before Dad has to choose sides." "Really?" I deadpanned. "Evil forces, huh? Like not enough restaurants with an early bird special? Raising the price of Bengay?"

"Who's Ben Gay?" Zack asked.

"It's just Grandpa being Grandpa," Simon explained.

"You always say that," Zack complained. "But maybe Gramps is right. Look at what happened to everyone in our family. Gramps says the curse explains everything from our mom to Bristol's parents."

"What curse? What is he talking about?"

"Shut it, Zack," Simon commanded. Zack pouted but obeyed. "Bristol, ignore him. I do. You don't need to be upset by this. It's all nonsense." Simon sent his brother an angry stare that Zack didn't see as he was grabbing his grandfather's cup of black, unsweetened coffee and taking a sip. I watched as Zack's eyes registered the shock of the bitter flavor before he spat it back out into Grandpa's cup. I imagined Grandpa drinking from it again and grinned. It was small of me, but hey, it felt good.

Without another word, I climbed the steps to my room. Once there, I opened the window that looked out over the backyard. As I had suspected, I could hear my uncle and grandfather's words from there.

"I'm telling you, she's different," Grandpa said. "Maybe it's because she's the first girl in our family in over fifty years, but she's different. I can feel it."

"I don't want to hear it, Dad," Uncle Mark responded.

"And I don't want Bristol to hear it either."

"You want me to let her be unprepared?" Grandpa asked. "I thought you cared about her.

Besides, isn't it your job to serve and protect?"

"Now you want me to be sheriff of this town? You've never had much use for my badge before."

"Ha!" Grandpa grumbled. "What's the point of having one if you don't use it to help your own? I still haven't forgotten you locked up your cousin Stan. And for what?"

"For drunk and disorderly," Uncle Mark answered. "And for threatening Broderick and Lucas McKnight with a pool stick. And if I hadn't gotten there when I did, it could have been worse. You were of no help, as I recall."

"You recall incorrectly," Grandpa said. "I handed him the pool stick, didn't I?" There was a moment of silence. I pictured Uncle Mark shaking his head.

"Look, I'm just trying to figure that girl out," Grandpa continued. "There is something about her. You know it, don't you?" Another pause and then, "Don't you, son?"

"I'm not doing this, Dad," Uncle Mark said. "It doesn't matter. She's my niece, your granddaughter. She watched her parents get killed for crying out loud. Can you forget about your little supernatural war for a bit and concentrate on helping her heal? Make her feel at home."

"This is her home," Grandpa responded. "Her parents never should have taken her away.

Blackburns belong here in Spirit."

"Give her a break, will you? She just got here. There's plenty of time for her to become familiar with your particular take on things, but give her a little room to breathe. Let the poor girl bury her mother and father in peace."

A door slammed. I had no idea what Grandpa was talking about. I looked over to Ricky, but as usual, he had nothing to say.

I know in the future I'll never be able to talk much about my parents' funeral. Not that I expect the memory will be so painful I won't be able to tell the tale. I'm just pretty sure I won't remember it at all.

What I do remember is waiting for my parents to appear to me. Once again, I was disappointed. I was overcome with a feeling of being abandoned. But through it all, Uncle Mark held me, making me realize I wasn't alone. When it was over, I tried my best not to be overwhelmed by tears. I could feel it all inside, but I wasn't ready to let it out. Not yet.

When the burial was over, everyone began to leave to meet at Grandpa's lodge for food, drink, and whatever else they served at one of those things. I couldn't help but wonder if there was a cookbook for the grieving.

Soon it was just the five of us left by the gravesite: my uncle, cousins, Grandpa, and me. Uncle Mark herded everyone far enough away to give me a little privacy. I guess when you bury someone you love, it's normal to take a last moment to talk to them. I just hoped they decided to answer me back.

"Hey, Mom, Dad. It's me. Bristol," I started lamely. "Look, I don't know what's going on. Why haven't I seen you? Why can't I talk to you? I wish you would give me a sign. Or for that matter, just come say hello. I know it can be done. Guys? Hello?" I waited.

"Crap," I muttered. "Sorry. Bad language. I know how you hated that, Mom. Dad, not so much. I suppose I should try and watch it. I've got a couple of young guys in the house now. They seem nice, by the way," I added. "I've decided I like my uncle and my cousins. And even their dogs. Jury's still out on Grandpa. Just thought I'd let you know.

"I love you, Mom and Dad," I finally said. "Bye."

It took far less effort than I thought to walk away. My parents weren't here. The dead don't hang out in places like this. So why should I? If my parents wanted to find me, they knew where to look.

I didn't know what was worse, the idea of saying goodbye or the realization that my mother and father couldn't be bothered with me even now. There was a cold, emptiness that gnawed at my heart, as I questioned something that no child ever should. Did my parents ever love me?

I knew I needed to cry. I could feel it building within me. I felt like everyone was watching me, waiting for the dam to break, but I was still too angry at Mom and Dad to cry for them. I felt I should be overwhelmed with grief, but there was this great big ball of emptiness inside. Where were they? Did they not love me enough to even stop by one last time and say goodbye? Was I that unlovable?

But when I looked into the faces of my new family, all I could see was love. I could only wonder how long it would last.

"Dad," Zack said. "Can we stop and see Mom before we go?" My uncle searched my face. "You okay with that?" I nodded. I was in no hurry to get to the lodge.

We only needed to walk a few feet away. I stared down at a grave marker, shaped like a giant heart, and read the words engraved on the face.

Eve Blackburn

Mother, wife, best friend

We carry you in our hearts, every day

She was only in her mid-thirties when she died. I could feel the emotion rolling off of my new family. Each of them felt the stab of loss in their own way. I watched them as they each stepped forward and said something private. Zack looked the most lost out of all of them.

I approached him and put my arm around his tiny shoulders. "Hey, kiddo. You okay?"

He sniffed and nodded. "I just wish I could remember what she sounded like."

Uncle Mark took his son's hand and drew him closer. "We have some videos at home. We'll have to dig 'em out."

"You know, Zack," Simon chimed in. "You and her have a lot in common. You look like her the most. And sound like her, too."

Stepping back a bit to give them their space as they had for me, I watched Uncle Mark put one arm over each son.

Both boys leaned against him. It was both sad and beautiful.

Then I felt it; a cold, dark stab of pain and despair. Guilt beyond anything I've ever felt before. Agony turned inward. I nearly fell from the weight of it.

It wasn't coming from my family. Slowly I turned, trying to find the person in such despair. It wasn't hard. The remorse and shame were like a beacon. It only took me a moment to focus in on the source.

He was standing only about a dozen feet away, but his face was hidden in shadow. Staring down at a grave, his body was perfectly still despite the storm of emotions that welled up within him. Anyone else who looked at him would see nothing but the silhouette of a teenage boy, paying his respects to some dearly departed soul.

I took a step toward him but someone grabbed my arm. It was Grandpa. "Don't go there," he whispered. "That boy ain't nothing but trouble."

I could hear the hatred in his voice, but despite my grandfather's warning, I wanted to know more about him. I glanced back and the boy finally looked up. My chest tightened as our eyes met.

It was him. The same boy I'd seen a thousand times in a thousand dreams.

Somewhere in the distance there was a low hissing sound that made my skin crawl, like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.

Then he turned and quickly walked away. A very big part of me felt there may be a chance my grandfather was right.

But I knew it didn't matter. Our lives were intertwined somehow. No matter what, it wouldn't be long before we were face to face again.

I could only hope I fared better than whoever's grave he was visiting. As I allowed Grandpa to pull me back to my family, I couldn't help but notice the flowers the boy left at the gravesite. They were pink tulips.

Pink tulips were my favorite.

So, I finally saw the boy from my visions who is supposed to kill me, and what was he doing? Standing over a grave feeling guilty as all hell. And what goes through my mind? That he was even hotter in person than in my dreams.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, I needed help.

### FOUR

###  OOPS, YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT

IT DIDN'T SURPRISE ME THAT there were no ghosts in the cemetery. After all, the dead linger because they can't let go of someone or something, or because they are afraid to move on. Why hang out at a gravesite? Where's the fun in that?

So, if you need a moment to talk to your late wife or to speak with your dearly departed mother, there really is no reason to make the trip down to the graveyard. Save the gas. You're better off going to a place they felt tied to, like their place of business or their home. Or for those who may have passed while in their teen years: high school.

Don't ask me why, but I have yet to visit a school that didn't have at least a few ghosts roaming the halls. Student or teacher, there's always some of the dead to be found on school grounds. Kind of brings new meaning to the term school spirit, huh?

With that in mind, I arrived for my first day at my new school unafraid of seeing these ghosts. After all, I'd never had any reason to fear the dead.

Nevertheless, I also happened to be scared out of my friggin' mind. It's high school! That morning, my sweet, caring uncle said I'd learn to fit in in no time. There could be no possible explanation for that sentence other than the fact he was insane. I didn't do fitting in.

I talked to ghosts. I had visions. I didn't hang out and chill.

I've navigated through school and life overall by following three simple rules: Never tell anyone my secret, don't let anyone get close enough to guess my secret, and always trust my instincts.

Sometimes I got these feelings out of nowhere to do or not do something. They didn't come often, but when they did, they were usually worth heeding. I got one of those feelings when I approached the intersection of the hallway, which is why I stopped.

There was a girl walking right next to me. She was really pretty. Pretty in that perfect way that makes you want to puke. She had blond hair, blue eyes, was perky and thin, and wore a blouse that proudly displayed her cleavage. From the corner of my eye, I noticed she was looking me over, checking out the new girl. I could see her trying to assess me as a threat. This wasn't a supernatural thing. Just a teen girl thing. This girl was going to be a major pain. And she may have wondered for a moment why I stopped where I was, but she continued on her way as if I wasn't worth the time.

As she started to round the corner, she was hit face first with a great, big ball of zaniness.

At least that was the only way I could think to describe the colorful girl who came careening around the corner, her frizzy hair flying in all directions, as she slammed into Ms. Pretty, Perfect, and Perky. I watched in both horror and amusement as the two of them bounced off each other and fell to the floor with a thump that echoed through the hallway.

Laughter exploded as the two girls tried to pry their way free of one another. Princess P— my new name for the blonde—was instantly livid. She let loose on the other girl, using words that would make a trucker blush.

I took a better look at the other girl. She was darkskinned, a little short, and a little chubby.

She wore a bright orange top with mint green stretchy pants. Her eyeglasses were also orange and green. To be honest, her outfit was so loud I was surprised I could hear the blonde girl scream and curse.

"What is wrong with you?" Princess P yelled as she stood. "You knocked right into me! Don't you watch where you're going? And why are you picking up your things? What about my stuff?" With flaring but still perfect nostrils, she swiped out her hand and knocked whatever books and papers the other girl had managed to get together back down to the floor. I watched in astonishment as papers floated gently in all directions.

"I'm sorry," the frizzy-haired girl muttered. "I didn't see you, Pricilla. I was just trying to get to class on time."

Pricilla—oh, what a perfect name for her; it even started with a P—shot the other girl a look of loathing, as if someone had just told the Princess that she was now required to wipe her own ass or something.

"Maggie, you imbecile," Pricilla said. "You knocked me down. You should be shot." Maggie pushed herself upright. Then with one quick motion, Priscilla tripped Maggie back to the ground.

"God, you're pathetic."

The wise course of action would be to bypass this little display and make my way to my first class. I was fairly certain getting involved in this situation would be against my better judgment. I preferred to stay under the radar. This wouldn't be under the radar. In fact, this would be right in the middle of the radar.

But looking down at this girl named Maggie with her slightly chubby frame and her wild frizzy hair that was sticking out in all directions as she failed about, trying to regain any dignity she could; the wisdom of staying out of it just didn't seem to matter.

I walked over to Maggie and extended my hand to her. When she looked up at me, her eyes were filled with tears and gratitude. As I pulled her up, I could sense her thankfulness. She looked as if she might throw herself down at my feet for such a simple act of courtesy.

I looked over Maggie's shoulder to see a boy in a Metallica T-shirt with long, dirty blond hair and ripped faded blue jeans. "Yo," he called. "Watch out behind you, dudette!" I didn't spare a moment wondering what I was watching out for. I simply grabbed Maggie and pulled both of us to the side.

I felt Pricilla brush by and trip as I hadn't quite moved my foot quickly enough. She hit the floor with a loud smack that once again reverberated through the school, followed by laughter all around. The teen in the Metallica shirt pumped his fist.

Pricilla's mouth formed a perfect O as she pushed to her knees and glared at me. "You." She pointed at me. "You did that on purpose!"

"Did what? Move out of the way so you couldn't knock me on my ass? Yeah, I did, but seeing you fall on yours wasn't planned, just a bonus."

"Shut up and help me up," Princess P demanded.

"What, so you can pull me down?" I said as Maggie moved to offer a hand to Pricilla. I yanked her back with a sigh, knowing that some people just don't learn.

Pricilla looked over to the side, batted her lashes, and a pair of hormone-driven teenage boys came to her rescue. Once she was vertical again, she patted their cheeks and then pointed to the floor for her things. The two boys obediently went to work. I couldn't help but wonder if she planned on throwing a dog biscuit their way when they were done.

Pricilla turned on me, her pretty eyes ablaze in anger.

"You must be the new girl. Brianna..." "Bristol," I corrected.

"Whatever." Pricilla shrugged. "Bristol Blackburn, of the Blackburn clan. Well, let me welcome you back to Spirit. Personally, I've never had much use for Blackburns. I prefer the McKnights."

"Whatever," I said. "I've got to go."

"Uh-huh," Pricilla said, giving me one last look up and down. "I'm sure we'll run into each other again."

"Yeah, me too," I said. "Can't hardly wait. Any idea how to get to..." I looked at my schedule. "Mr. Nataldo's history class?"

"Sure." Pricilla smiled sweetly. "Down the hall to the right." She pointed out the way with a perfectly manicured nail.

"Thanks." I took off down the hall, making sure to turn left.

Maggie was by my side in an instant; the Metallica kid fell in step as well. "Hey, I've got Nataldo now," Maggie said. "I can take you. If that's all right?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" I asked.

"Great!" She beamed. "Hey, how did you know Pricilla told you the wrong direction?"

I stopped in my tracks and stared at her. The Metallica kid shook his head. "How could I not?"

Maggie thought about it a moment. "Right. I'm a dummy. Okay. By the way, Maggie Sheppard," she said as she stuck out her hand and flashed what I thought was a very pretty smile.

"Bristol Blackburn." I took her hand firmly and gave it a quick shake. I looked at the Metallica kid over her shoulder, who just shrugged.

"Right," Maggie said, and we started walking again. "It's right at the end of the hall. I did hear about a new girl coming to school here. It's been all anyone could talk about. The Blackburn who left Spirit is returning. Very dramatic. Still, I was kinda hoping we could be friends. You know, being like roomies and all."

"Huh?" I said.

Maggie blinked. "Oh, you know your old house? I live there. The one where your parents lived."

"Right." I nodded. "I don't think I ever saw that house. And if I did, I was just a baby."

"I'm sleeping in the room your mom and dad prepared for you. You should come by and see it."

I sighed. I was never going to get rid of her. She was like a stray puppy. Once you feed it, it follows you forever. Not that Maggie was hard to like. She seemed real sweet and sincere. It was hard to be annoyed by her, but how was I supposed to keep my secret a secret if she was always around?

"Maggie has had, like, mucho bad luck in the amigo department," Metallica Kid said as we made our way down the hall. "No street smarts, but I sense in her a true friend to the end. And she's really got a bodacious bod if you ask me. Personally, I always liked a little meat on the bones. That Pricilla chick is too supermodel for me. You're pretty smokin', too." Metallica Kid checked me out, and I rolled my eyes.

"This is it," Maggie said. "C'mon, let's get seats in the back, and I'll tell you all about school."

"Be there in a sec," I said as I dug around in my bag for nothing.

Maggie ran inside and claimed a pair of chairs in the back. I looked at Metallica Kid.

"Thanks for the heads up, by the way," I said under my breath.

"No problema," he said and started to back away. "By the way, you can call me Jake. Hasta mañana, babe!" He gave me a two-fingered salute before fading through a wall.

I made it to my seat just as the bell rang. Maggie sat there, happy as a puppy that just got a brand new bone. I could almost hear her tail thumping on the ground.

So, to take stock of my first day of school so far, I had made my first friend in Maggie, my first enemy in Pricilla, and met my first ghost of the school in Jake. It's good to work fast.

Later, when lunch came, I finally felt free to ask Maggie questions. She would most likely be thrilled to answer them.

Upon arriving at the cafeteria, I learned Maggie hadn't lost any of her enthusiasm for our newfound friendship. In fact, the small separation seemed to have made her gusto grow. I found her holding a lunch tray, standing in the middle of the room, trying to find someplace to sit. There were plenty of empty spaces, but every time she approached a vacant seat, whoever was already sitting at the table would look up, causing her to shrink away.

I went up to her and indicated a table where there was room before proceeding to walk over and park my derrière.

Maggie followed and sat opposite me.

"So, how has your first day been?" she asked.

I shrugged as I struggled to open my milk. "Fine, I guess. You've been there for most of it.

Except math."

"Yeah, I'm in Connoly's class," she said, looking down at her hands. "Stupid, really. Don't see why."

"What's wrong with Connoly?"

Maggie shrugged. "Nothing."

I wondered if it was a remedial math class and decided to change the subject to not embarrass Maggie. "So tell me something," I said as casually as I could. "What was Pricilla saying about preferring the McKnights? Who are they?"

"Another family here in town," Maggie explained. "Like your family, in a way. Seems to be dozens of them around.

This town was built by Blackburns and McKnights."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Maggie leaned in like she was going to whisper a deep, dark secret. "From what I hear, Blackburns hate the McKnights and vice versa. There's some feud between the families that goes back years."

I bit into my apple. "Any idea what the feud is about?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Maggie shook her head. "Nope, but whenever something bad happens to someone in one family, they always blame the other family, no matter what it is. If a McKnight gets in a car accident, it's somehow the fault of a Blackburn. If a Blackburn slips and falls in the tub and kills themselves, it's the fault of a McKnight."

"That makes no sense," I said.

"I know," Maggie agreed. "But shouldn't you know more than me?"

"Probably," I admitted. "But my parents never talked about Spirit."

"Wonder why," Maggie said. "Well, I'm not close with any Blackburns or McKnights, but I've never had a problem with a Blackburn. Can't say the same for the McKnights.

Most of them seem like jerks."

"Are there any around here?"

Maggie peered around the cafeteria. "Yeah, over there. Archer and Blasé McKnight."

"Archer and Blasé?" I repeated as I scoped out the pair she was indicating on the far side of the lunchroom. "You're kidding. What kind of names are those?"

"All the McKnights have weird names," Maggie explained. "They're also, well...kinda hot, if you know what I mean."

Looking at the pair, I was forced to agree. They looked like teenage models you'd see in an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. One had dark brown hair, neatly trimmed, a square jaw and bright green eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt he magnificently filled out and blue jeans. His companion had blond hair that fell to his shoulders and blue eyes. He was taller and lankier, but still very easy on the eyes.

"I can see what you're talking about. But you said they're jerks?"

"Oh yeah," Maggie said. "If you're a freshman, one of those two will be the one to shove your head in a toilet or force you into a locker. They can't seem to help it. Their grandfather's really rich, so no matter what kind of trouble they get in, they always get away with it." What a waste of cutie pies.

"Oh, uh, look," Maggie said under her breath as if the two McKnight boys might hear us from halfway across the room. I followed her gaze back to their table to see the blonde one stick his foot out just in time to trip another student passing by. The unfortunate boy was tall, thin, and more than a bit geeky. As he fell face-first, his overstuffed book bag went flying. Laughter ensued, not just from the McKnight boys, but from a good portion of the cafeteria.

What is it about this school and tripping people, I wondered.

The McKnight boys jumped from their seats and moved to the geeky kid.

"Archer, I keep telling you to watch your giant feet," the blonde boy said.

"Sorry, Ian," the dark haired one who must have been Archer said. "Let me give you a hand."

Ian held his hand out, but I knew it was a mistake for him to take it. Archer started to pull Ian up and then let his hand slip from Ian's grasp. Once again, Ian slammed into the floor, this time on his back.

The other McKnight boy, who must have been Blasé, chuckled as he reached down and grabbed Ian's book bag. "You know, Ian," Blasé said while peering inside the bag. "Maybe if you didn't carry such a heavy bag around with you, you wouldn't fall so easily. What do you have in here?"

I could feel Ian panic. Did the bag contain homework and reports that Ian had spent long hours working on, that he now pictured the McKnight boys throwing around the cafeteria? Or was there something more private that would cause untold humiliation if revealed in such a public place?

Whatever it was, we never found out. Someone else snatched the bag away from Blasé.

I gasped at the sight of the new arrival. It was Dream Boy. This time, instead of radiating with guilt and shame, he was angry. You didn't need my abilities to know that. It was written all across his beautiful face as he glared at the McKnight boys.

"Something wrong there, cuz?" Archer asked.

Dream Boy didn't answer. Instead, he turned his gaze upon Archer, who immediately shrank away. Blasé too went back to the table and sat down. Cleary neither was willing to deal with their cousin.

"Who is that?" I asked.

Maggie all but purred as she looked Dream Boy up and down. Who could blame her? As attractive as Archer and Blasé were, this one made them look like the ugly ducklings of the family. "He's another McKnight," Maggie said. "The nicest and definitely the hottest of the McKnights. His name is Payne."

Payne McKnight. What a name. But it fit him. He had a dark and brooding quality about him.

Payne walked to Ian and offered his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Ian took Payne's hand and was quickly pulled up. Payne handed Ian his book bag. With a nod toward Ian, and one last withering look at his cousins, Payne stormed out of the cafeteria. Ian hurried after him.

"Payne McKnight, huh?" I said, trying to sound unimpressed. "Not bad."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Please. I saw the way you were looking at him."

I blinked at her, trying to keep a straight face. "And how was I looking at him?" Maggie smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Like he was the man of your dreams." I nearly choked.

Payne McKnight.

I'd been seeing him around the school for the last two weeks. We even had classes together. For the most part, he never seemed to notice me or anyone else. He kept to himself, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And while Payne hadn't noticed me watching him, Maggie had.

If she wiggled her eyebrows at me one more time, I'd have to kill her, which would be a shame since I was really starting to like her. I'd never had a best friend before. I felt almost as comfortable talking to Maggie as I did to the ghosts that came in and out of my life on a regular basis.

I was adjusting. It was strange having meals with the family. They were loud and a little crazy, but I found myself laughing and looking forward to dinner with them more and more every night. I was starting to enjoy being a part of this family.

It was so different there than in the city. When I'd lived in the city things seemed very cold and informal. I'd left my family alone and they returned the favor. Not so here.

Uncle Mark asked me the other day if I was making friends in school. I told him about Maggie, but when he asked me if there was anyone else I was getting to know, I simply replied that there were a few people I talked to at school.

I did talk to people in school all the time. I just left out the fact that most of them were dead.

There was Jake Dispost, the boy in the Metallica shirt. He'd be thirty-six years old now if he hadn't died in a car accident when he was sixteen.

There was Rose. I wasn't sure of her last name. She didn't talk much. I got the feeling she was a suicide, but I could've been wrong. She was a mousy girl, with short, dark, messy hair, dressed in a plaid skirt and sweater. I had the feeling she wanted to talk to me more, but she hadn't really opened up yet.

There was one ghost that, if he were still alive, might not have given me the time of day, but as he'd been dead for an undisclosed amount of time, he was giving me an awful lot of attention.

Not that I complained about such a gorgeous guy hanging around. His angelic face and blonde hair in combination with his grey eyes were positively yummy. And when he smiled it was enough to melt a girl's heart. I think he was thrilled to have a flesh and blood girl he could flirt with after all this time. He told me to call him Jay.

"Bristol, my darling," Jay said to me the other day as we strolled along the stream. "If I could, I'd meet you out here at dusk with a nice picnic basket and a blanket. We'd eat under the stars together. Have you ever had caviar?"

"Nope," I answered, not bothering to add that the thought of fish eggs wasn't appealing.

"Peasant." He smirked. "Well, I would introduce you to it. Bulgarian, of course."

"Of course." And for Jay, I'd probably try some.

I walked along the stream alone. I loved Zack and Simon, but there were times I just needed to get away from them. Zack was constantly throwing his football, and Simon threw around words too big for me to understand.

Usually, I never saw anyone when I took these walks, so I was somewhat surprised when I stumbled upon a young boy, a little bit older than Zack. He was dressed in jeans and sporting a blue T-shirt with the words New York Giants written across the front. His messy strawberry blond hair stuck out from under his blue Giants cap.

He was playing with a small puppy. It was a very cute picture, which would have been perfect except the little boy was getting awfully close to a place where the ground dropped out and down onto a rock bed. It was at least a six-foot drop—I'd noticed on a few occasions during my walks. The pup was providing so much entertainment that the boy seemed oblivious to everything around him. When the dog jumped up on him, he stumbled back a few inches and my heart leapt in my throat.

"Hey," I called. "Watch out for the drop behind you."

The boy blinked, surprised to see me. He gazed over his shoulder and saw the plummet that awaited him if he had backed up a few more inches. He turned back to me with wide eyes and a huge grin.

A deafening roar from an engine caused both of us to look up. Up on the hill I saw someone on a dirt bike smashing through trees and descending the rise at what can only be described as a stupid amount of speed.

Whoever this was, he was most definitely going to break his neck. The guy looked familiar, but I couldn't get a good look at him at the speed he was going. He wasn't even wearing a helmet!

How did this idiot hope to survive?

I realized the bike was heading right for the drop off. Not only was that guaranteed to get him killed, but he was about to take the boy with him. I ran toward them and screamed, but the boy seemed frozen, his puppy standing in front of him, barking.

I was still about ten feet away when the bike came crashing onto the ground in front of the boy, and they all went off the side of the ravine, puppy included.

I sensed intense pain and realized someone was still alive down there and hurt badly. If he survived, I might need to get the boy to a doctor. And the puppy might need a vet. As for the idiot on the bike, well, he was on his own. I raced to the side where the slope wasn't as severe and prayed that when I got down there, there might be something left of the kid to put back together again.

When the dust settled, I saw the biker on the ground untangling himself from his ride. He took a look at himself and his bike and shrugged.

He shrugged!

Man, I hoped he was okay so I could kill him. He looked at me, and for a moment I saw surprise and amusement cross his face.

Payne McKnight.

Whenever I've imagined how we would first meet, many different scenarios, some casual, some funny, even a few romantic scenes would play themselves out in my head.

This was never one of them.

Payne got up and dusted himself off as he walked up to me. "Sorry if I scared you. I'm fine.

Thanks for the concern but..."

He suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence, which might have very little to do with how little sense he was making and far more to do with the fact that I started beating on his chest and screaming at him.

"You moron! You idiot! You, you..." I searched for the right word to express my very rational feeling of anger at his disregard for his own and anyone else's safety. "You ninny!" Probably should have searched a bit more.

"Calm down," he said, clearly amused. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Sorry you scared me?" I echoed. "What about... oh my God!" I screamed and started to look around. In my frustration with Payne, I'd forgotten the boy. I couldn't feel the pain anymore and that terrified me.

"What's wrong?" Payne asked, confused. "What are you looking for?"

"The boy."

"What boy?" Payne asked. "I didn't see any boy."

I stopped looking just long enough to slap at him again. "I assumed as much. Unless you would intentionally crash into some kid playing with his dog." We both looked around.

Where was he? It didn't make sense.

"What did he look like?" Payne asked.

"About ten years old," I said, "give or take. He was wearing jeans, a baseball cap and Giants shirt. He was playing with a black puppy. He has to be here."

Payne stalked over, grabbed my arm, and growled, "Are you sure that's what you saw?"

I looked into his eyes and my stomach twisted. They had a dangerous gleam in them.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I responded, trying to keep my voice calm. "I saw him. He was up there on the exact spot you crashed through before you ended up down here."

I glanced to where he held my arm and his eyes followed my gaze. I guess he realized how menacing he must have appeared because he let go and took a step back. "Sorry." "No problem," I said, taking a step back as well.

"The boy," Payne said. "Did you see the color of his hair, his eyes?"

"Yeah, his hair was like a strawberry blonde. Messy. I didn't get close enough to see his eyes. I did notice the dog had a red collar on."

"What kind of dog?"

"I don't know," I said. "What do I know about dogs? Floppy ears. Wagging tail. What does it matter? He's got to be here someplace."

"Where?" Payne asked.

It was a good question. There weren't many places the kid could have hidden. Did he run off, scared? Could he have crawled into the brush? But the brush was fairly open. I stomped through it, looking, and finally came to the conclusion that he just wasn't there.

Maybe he never was.

There have been times when I'd seen the dead and it took me a moment to know they indeed were ghosts. It was one of the many reasons I never made it a habit to hang around the living too much. If the boy I saw was really a ghost then I was in big trouble.

"I must have been mistaken," I said, feeling sick to my stomach. "I'm sorry."

Payne watched me intensely. His gaze made me feel very exposed. "You're that new girl," Payne said slowly. "Bristol."

"Yeah."

"Bristol Blackburn?"

Suddenly everything Maggie had told me about the family feud between the McKnights and Blackburns came flooding back.

"Yeah, Bristol Blackburn," I said. "And you're Payne McKnight." Payne nodded. "I heard about your parents. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," I replied.

Payne walked over to where his bike lay and gave it a sour look. After a moment of reflection, he turned toward me again. "I think I may know the boy you saw," Payne said.

"Oh," I said, keeping my voice casual. "I thought we decided I must have imagined him."

"Did we?" Payne asked. "I'm not so sure. The boy I'm thinking of...I've seen him down here a few times. Not for some time, but I'd see him here with his dog. Name's Jared."

"Jared?" I repeated. "His name or the dogs?"

"His name," Payne answered. "Dog is Eli. You know what else?" I shrugged.

"Kid I'm talking about disappeared nearly four years ago.

I think he's dead."

I said nothing. I just watched Payne watch me. Felt his gaze on my face. Should I be acting surprised? Shocked? Amused? Whatever I should have acted like, it was too late. Payne was seeing right through me.

"Look, I should get back home."

"He was my cousin," Payne stated. He measured my reaction, and I was sure he could see my heart breaking for him in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I offered. "I really have to go." I turned and started to walk away. "Bristol," Payne said. My heart nearly melted hearing him say my name. "Please." I stopped and turned.

"My Aunt Breanne," Payne said. "When Jared went missing, I thought she was going to lose it. It's her little boy, and she has no idea what happened to him. She needs closure. She needs to know."

I felt the emotion rolling off him. The anguish, the sense of responsibility he was experiencing, was so enormous I was afraid it might crush him.

"I can't imagine what that must be like," I answered. "But if that's true, then it can't have been him that I saw." I watched him as I said it. Only I wasn't any good at reading the living. "I mean, that makes no sense, right?"

I waited for his answer. He came even closer to me. Close enough for anything to happen. I felt myself tremble as he looked down at me.

"Maybe," Payne said, "maybe not. In this town, things don't always make sense. But I think you did see him."

I swallowed hard. Payne was inches away from guessing my secret. Not to mention that the two of us were out here alone, and no one knew where we were. There was nothing to stop him from fulfilling my premonition of him killing me. Yet, the only thing that kept popping into my mind was the thought of him kissing me.

I can be such a girl at times.

"I really should go," I said.

"Bristol," Payne said. "On Monday, when you see me, you can say hello. I won't kill you, I promise."

I stopped dead in my tracks for a moment, his words ringing in my ears. I'm sure he believed his comment was the sole reason for my pause, but really, it wasn't.

Standing before me was the boy in the Giants shirt. He looked up at me, gave me a sad, lonely smile, and then he and his pup faded away.

I continued to walk away from Payne McKnight, stopping myself from looking back. After all, I didn't want him to see the tears in my eyes.

### FIVE

### FINDING JARED

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE moments where you know you're asleep and inside of a dream, but you still have no control over it. For me, when I'm in that moment, I try to let go. If I take control of the dream, I can't trust whatever the dream might want to show me. So, I give myself over to the vision and just try to pay attention. Details can be very important.

I was back by the stream, walking along quietly. It was dark out, but the moonlight gave off enough illumination for me to navigate my way. The air was filled with the trickling of the water and the chirps of crickets.

It was the stench that first got my attention. Rotting flesh. It was so intense I could taste the putrefied odor. Then my eyes were drawn to the water. It was filled with blood.

I followed the bloody stream, ignoring the growing number of flies buzzing by my ears and rats scurrying by my feet, until I reached the same spot where Payne had come crashing down.

I stood in the brush and waited.

I sensed movement in the shadows. I tried to make out the figure. There was nobody there, but still the shadow moved.

Then other shadows crept along the ground. As they crept forward, the grass on the ground below withered and died. A bone chilling breeze cut through me as the shadows gathered in the center of the clearing.

" _Ssssshe is more dangerous than we thought," a voice like fingernails on a chalkboard spoke._

" _Yesssss, she must be ssstopped," said a second disembodied voice._

" _McKnight," spoke a third, this one the cruelest sounding of them all, "he is the key."_

" _Will he?" asked the first._

" _He must," answered the third. "He will obey or be consumed."_

" _McKnight is amused by her," the second voice offered._

" _No matter," the third affirmed. "He mussssst obey!'_

" _What of the other?" asked the second. "He will protect her." There was a rumble of thunder. It was the third's laughter._

" _He's a child. He cannot defend her. He will perish if he daresssss." "Will he?" asked the first._

" _Can he?" asked the second._

" _Death would become him," the third answered._

The thunder returned and lightning lit up the sky as bloodsoaked rain started to fall from above.

I woke up covered in sweat and ready to vomit. I didn't know what I'd just seen, but one thing was sure: it was not good.

What were the chances I could get through Monday without seeing Payne McKnight? I needed a plan. Maybe I could just wave to him and then run the other way? Or maybe I could act like a bubble head until he decided he shouldn't even bother with me. Or maybe... Never mind. I would have to deal with him sooner or later.

"Bristol," Maggie said, "what's up with you? You seem a million miles away."

We stopped in a corner of the hallway to talk as other students passed us by.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I've just got stuff on my mind."

"Yeah, I can tell," Maggie answered. "Like what? Or who?"

I stared at her. "What do you mean, who?"

She wiggled her eyebrows. God, I wanted to hit her. "Payne McKnight," Maggie said cheerfully.

"What about him?" I snapped. "I know he's good looking. Okay, maybe hot is a better word. Or scrumptious. All right, so he's the most drop dead gorgeous guy in our school, possibly in North America. And maybe I did run into him this weekend, but I am not obsessed with him. Okay? Maggie, are you listening to me?"

But Maggie wasn't looking at me. Rather, she was looking right past me, over my shoulder.

Crap!

I closed my eyes and slowly turned around, knowing full well what I would see when I opened my eyes. Maggie hadn't just been saying his name. She was saying hi with his name.

I opened my eyes and there he was. Six feet of the most incredibly beautiful man I've ever seen in my life. He wore snug looking jeans and a blue shirt that really brought out his eyes. And, of course, he was grinning.

Double crap!

"Good morning, Bristol," Payne said. "How are you?"

Heat flushed my face so bad I'm surprised I didn't set off the fire sprinklers. "Dandy. You?"

He smiled and my heart leapt. What is wrong with me? There was a very distinct possibility this guy was going to murder me, and I was fawning over him? I really needed help.

"Maggie, right?" Payne said as he looked over my shoulder to my ex-friend.

"Yup, that's me." Maggie giggled. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too," Payne said. "Listen, I hate to be rude, but can I speak to Bristol alone for a bit? It's really important."

I turned to face Maggie. I didn't dare say anything aloud again, but I willed her to understand me. I even started to mouth Don't go to her. I was afraid she wouldn't understand, until she gave me a smile and a nod.

"Sure," Maggie said. "See you in class Bristol." She wiggled her fingers as she walked away, doing that eyebrow thing again.

Sigh. I was really starting to like Maggie. Now I'd have to kill her.

I took a moment, a really long moment, to collect myself before turning to face Payne. When I did, I immediately saw the amusement in his eyes was replaced by a deep sadness. He pulled me into an empty classroom and closed the door.

"I need you to look at something," he said as he reached into his book bag and pulled out what looked like a picture. "Please."

He presented the picture to me. I kept my eyes trained on him as I took it. I knew what the picture would have on it. If I looked, lying would be pointless. Payne had already proved he could read me, and I couldn't lie about this.

"Please," he said. I heard the despair in his voice.

God, I was such a sucker.

I looked down at the picture. Staring up at me was the image of a young boy in a Giants cap, holding a small black dog.

Payne was watching me, just like I knew he would. I couldn't bring myself to lie, but I cringed at the thought of admitting to the freak that I was.

Payne, however, didn't wait for me to utter any words. He saw the truth in my eyes and closed his in response.

"Damn." He took the picture back and walked to the window. "There was a part of me that was holding out hope." "I'm sorry." I slowly walked over to him.

He nodded. "I know that was difficult. Thank you." Then he leaned down and gently kissed my forehead.

In that instant of contact, I flashed to a future moment of intimacy shared between Payne and myself. A moment when the kiss was not so gentle, but hungry, and his touch was not filled with sadness, but need.

My knees felt like they were going to buckle.

I looked up at his kind, perfect face. I could not, at this moment, believe Payne would hurt me. I may not have said anything to confirm it, but Payne knew. He knew I had seen the ghost of his cousin. And Payne was being tender and sweet. He wasn't looking at me like I was a freak.

"So what now?" I asked.

Payne thought a moment. "I'm not sure. I can't let my aunt go on not knowing. It'll hurt her to find out, but she needs the truth. I need to..." Payne closed his eyes. "I need to find his body and put him to rest."

"Maybe I can help," I said. I wanted to pull the words back the moment I uttered them because there was only one thing I could do to help, and it wasn't something I wanted to do. Especially not in front of Payne. The mere thought of it made me queasy.

"How?" Payne asked.

I had never spoken about this type of thing with another living being except Ricky, who never judged.

"Sometimes, when I see the dead," I started, watching Payne to gauge his reaction, "they talk to me. Maybe if I find him again, Jared can tell us."

Payne moved closer. "Can it be that simple?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes they can't remember what happened themselves, but we can try."

"Where? Back at the stream?"

"Makes sense," I said. "He must like that place. Probably played there with his dog."

"Yeah, he did," Payne said. Then the first bell rang, and we both realized we were late. "We better run. Meet you there after school?"

I nodded. "See you then."

Payne smiled. "It's a date."

"No, it's not," I said. I could feel my heartbeat quicken in both excitement and fear. "I don't date."

Payne didn't say anything. He just shot me that grin that melted my heart.

Talk about having a day drag on and on. How was I supposed to pay attention to my math teacher talk about X equaling pi once you subtract the variable and multiply by the integer or something like that, while I knew that later I would go with Payne McKnight, alone, into the woods? I'd never used my abilities in front of anyone before. I'd never even admitted to anyone that I could see ghosts.

At least math was my one reprieve from Maggie. She just wouldn't leave me alone about Payne. She wanted details. How could I give her details? And why did a part of me want to? The bell rang, and I groaned. It was time to face Maggie and her romantic inquisition again. I swore this girl watched way too much Lifetime.

When the bell rang, Maggie shot out of her classroom and took to my side. She leaned into my ear as if to tell me a secret.

"Mrs. Ortiz is out," she said. Mrs. Ortiz is our Spanish teacher. "I heard they got some guy who can't even say 'this is my pen' in Spanish."

"Well, then he and I should have a lot in common," I said.

Maggie laughed. "Point is, we can sit in the back and talk. As long as we don't become loud or disruptive, he's okay with it, I've heard."

I sighed. "Shouldn't we do our homework or study or something?"

Maggie stopped dead in her tracks, looking like a puppy I had just kicked. She stared at me with those sad eyes. Did she think I didn't know I was being played? Did she think I couldn't see through her crocodile tears?

Then she looked away, and I folded in a heartbeat.

"Okay, we'll talk," I gave in with a wince.

A huge smile spread across Maggie's face, and she started clapping and twirling in a circle.

We arrived in class and Maggie pulled me to the back of the room where we had the least chance of being overheard. We waited until the period started and the dorky looking substitute teacher told us not to get too loud.

"Okay, tell me everything," Maggie demanded. "Every detail. Don't leave a single thing out.

Did he kiss you? Oh my God! Tell me he kissed you already."

"Shhh." Maggie was getting louder with each syllable.

"We didn't kiss. We didn't hold hands. There was no physical contact whatsoever."

Maggie looked crestfallen. "None? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I insisted. "I think I'd remember...well, okay. He did kiss me, but...hey, stop clapping. It wasn't a kiss, kiss. It was just a gentle peck on my forehead. That's it. Nothing else, I swear."

Maggie shrugged. "It's early yet. He has plenty of time to improve his aim for your lips."

"Ah!" My outburst was enough to earn the disapproving glare from our sub, some guy who looked like he just graduated college and probably had never been kissed himself. In fact, if his polka-dot tie was any indication, that wasn't likely to remedy itself anytime soon.

"It's not like that, Maggie. We just talked. Really."

Maggie leaned closer. "What did you talk about? Your likes and dislikes? If either of you are seeing anyone now? Where he should take you on your first date? Where you'd like to honeymoon?

How many kids you'd like to have?"

I slammed my head onto the desk top and started to beat a slow steady rhythm with my forehead. It was really rather soothing.

Maggie was giggling.

I finally looked up at her with one eye.

"Maggie, please," I begged. "I have nothing to tell you. We just talked. We ran into each other this weekend. We were just talking about..."

Maggie leaned even closer, one hand propping up her chin. "Yes?"

"Stuff."

"Not good enough, sister," Maggie complained.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment. I needed to tell Maggie something because she wasn't about to let up, but I couldn't tell Maggie about what was really going on.

"Maggie," I said. "What we talked about wasn't romantic. Not even close. It was more... family related. Payne wanted to speak to me today because of a family situation. One he thought maybe I could help with. That's all."

Maggie nodded as I spoke. She waited a beat when I was done, considering what I said.

"Family stuff?" she echoed. "What kind of family stuff?"

"Private family stuff," I answered. "His, not mine. I'm supposed to meet up with him after school in the same place. Just to talk. Nothing more. I can't tell you anymore. It wouldn't be right."

"Oh." Maggie wore a contemplative look. "Okay, I get that."

I waited for the next array of questions to begin, but they didn't come. I breathed a sigh of relief. Before long, we each pulled out homework and got busy. When the bell rang, I realized it was the last class of the day. It was time to head home before meeting Payne in the woods. Alone.

Earlier, when I was with Payne, I was certain with all my heart he meant me no harm. But all of the visions of him in my dreams squeezing the life out of me kept flooding back to my mind ever since, as did all of the other far more romantic images of us together. I wasn't sure what to make of it all. Last night's nightmare hadn't helped calm my nerves either.

"Maggie, can I tell you something?"

"Are you nervous," Maggie asked, "about Payne? I think I understand. Ever since you explained it to me, I've been rolling it around. I've got to say, I don't think I like this. This could be bad."

"You think?" I asked.

"Yeah, I do." She nodded. "I could be wrong, of course. I hope I am. But considering we're talking about Payne McKnight and his history, I have to wonder what his intentions are."

My grip tightened on my book bag, and it was all I could do to keep myself from shaking.

"Maggie," I said, "listen. There's just something about Payne...I don't know how to describe it. I may be wrong. I hope I am, but I'd feel better knowing that you know I'm going to be alone with him. So, if something should happen, and I disappear, you tell my uncle what I told you.

Okay?"

Maggie's eyes grew as wide as saucers, and her mouth formed a perfect O. Her hand flew from her open mouth to her beating heart and then back again several times.

"You think something might happen to you?" Maggie asked. "That's crazy! I can't believe..."

"What do you mean you can't believe?" I asked. "After what you just said to me about being worried about his intentions and his history? What was that all about?"

"I was afraid he was going to pull the 'can't we just be friends' card on you," Maggie explained.

"It never occurred to me you were really afraid of him."

I couldn't believe it. What was it about this girl that made me keep putting my foot in my mouth? It must be the fact that she got me to talk more than any other living— emphasis on living— person.

"What did you mean by his history?" I asked.

"Bristol, he's had a rough life. I figured that was part of what you were talking to him about?" "Keep going," I demanded.

"You know," Maggie answered, "about the car accident." "What about my parents?" I asked.

"Not your parents. Payne's Mom was killed in an accident. He was thrown clear from the car and survived. But his Mom..." She shrugged and shook her head, unable to finish her sentence.

Was it his mother's grave he was visiting?

"Okay." I sighed. "I think I get some of what was going on. He hadn't told me that part yet, but let's just say I sensed something. I was just...misinterpreting things."

Maggie nodded. "Okay, I'll leave it at that, but listen. Blackburns and McKnights have a long history, and it's not a good one. Be careful. Call me tonight and tell me what happened. Okay?" I nodded. "Okay."

"Really, Bristol," Maggie said. "Call me. Tell me."

I could tell she wasn't looking for gossip. She was just trying to be a good friend.

Looking her straight in the eye, I said, "I promise to call. As for telling you, if it's private, I may not be able to give you details. But I'll do my best."

"Okay, good," she said as she headed for the door. "But if today ends with any kind of kissing that involve two sets of lips, I want details! No excuses."

She wiggled her eyebrows one last time and ran out the door.

"I don't like it."

I was in my room, getting ready for my rendezvous with Payne. Obviously, I wasn't alone.

"Really, Jay, I'm sure everything is going to be all right," I said while I tried to decide what to wear. I needed something a bit more comfortable to move in while with Payne. And I guess I wanted to try to look nice for him at the same time. I don't know why, since there was absolutely no chance of anything romantic happening between us. Guys like Payne didn't kiss girls like me.

"Bristol, are you listening?" Jay asked. "I don't want you to go."

Jay had heard me telling Maggie about my scheduled meeting with Payne and was worried.

He waited until we were alone to approach me.

"I'm listening," I said. "And I think you're sweet for caring, but I'm sure everything will be fine. Besides, Maggie knows where we're going, so if I should suddenly disappear..."

"If you should suddenly disappear..." Jay interjected while lying on my bed. "Are you listening to yourself, darling? There would be a very excellent chance the good sheriff will be able to arrest Payne for your murder, but you'll still be dead."

I stopped brushing in mid stroke and met his eyes in the mirror. "Yeah, I get that but...I'll be fine."

"Then why are you worried about being alone with Payne?" Jay asked. "There's something you're not telling me."

"There's nothing to tell," I insisted. "Look, you're worrying for nothing. I'll be fine."

Jay looked unconvinced. "No, darling, I don't think you should go. Stay with me."

"I promised Payne I'd meet him." I sighed. "Now turn around."

"What for?"

"I want to change my top," I said, pulling out a soft pink blouse that showed off my attributes a little without being overly obvious. "C'mon now, turn."

"Is that really necessary considering the circumstances?" Jay asked as he passed a hand through the wall near him. "It's only me, darling."

"I don't care that you're a ghost," I said as I twirled my finger. "I am not letting you watch me get changed. Now turn or disappear."

With a heavy sigh, Jay closed his eyes and turned away. I quickly changed tops, keeping an eye on him. He might be dead, but he was still a guy.

When I was done, I moved over to the table where I kept my makeup. I didn't really wear much on a regular basis, but for special occasions I put a little on. Did meeting a smoking hot guy, who may or may not murder you, to try to talk to the ghost of his cousin count as special enough for eyeliner or lipstick?

"I don't know why you're bothering with that stuff, darling," Jay said.

"I guess you're right. A little lipstick isn't going to help, is it?"

Jay came to stand before me. He was so close I would have felt his body's heat, if he had a body. He looked me in the eyes and something deep within my heart twitched.

"That's not what I meant, darling," he said. "You just don't need it. You have no idea how beautiful you really are."

I felt my cheeks flush. I broke eye contact, unable to keep looking and see the raw attraction there. It was not only flattering and embarrassing, but it was also deeply sad. Jay was so young. Whenever it was that he had died, something he had yet to share with me, he was too young to have ever married. I wondered if he'd ever really fallen in love.

"I'll be fine," I insisted again. "I'm supposed to meet him at four."

Jay sighed. "Then you better get a move on."

With a huge sigh and an unbelievable amount of apprehension, I waved goodbye and shut off the lights to my room.

I walked along the stream, trying to ignore the battle of butterflies going on in my belly. As if meeting with Payne McKnight wasn't bad enough, I was about to attempt to talk to a ghost in front of him. I never thought in my life that I would ever do such a thing. I learned at a very early age that speaking to the dead was something to be kept private, because as far as the living were concerned, it was really freaky.

I found Payne waiting for me in the spot where I had seen his cousin yesterday. The little boy whom Payne called Jared was nowhere to be found, nor was his dog named Eli.

"Hi," he said. "I'm glad you came."

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I figured you'd show. I got a pretty good feeling of the type of person you are."

"Oh? Which type is that?"

Payne took a step closer and I tingled. "The amazing kind," he said, looking into my eyes with that melt my heart stare. "The kind that is willing to reveal her secret because it means so much.

The type with a very beautiful heart and soul."

"So, I have a beautiful heart and soul, huh?" I wondered if that was the first sign Maggie was right. That Bristol Blackburn sure has a beautiful heart and soul, but she's kinda plain to look at.

Payne reached out and fiddled with my hair, and my mind filled with images of visions I'd had of us over the years. How his fingers would start in my hair and then slowly go elsewhere.

"Among other things," Payne said. "I could stand here and look into your eyes all day." Payne kept gazing at me, never breaking eye contact. As each second ticked away, I felt more and more wobbly.

Finally, I backed away a few inches. "This isn't going to help," I explained.

Payne nodded. "Sorry," he muttered with a grin. If I didn't know better, I'd swear there was a twinge of regret on his face that we were here to do more than ogle each other all day.

Payne sighed as he looked around at our surroundings. "So what do we do? Should we call his name? Light candles? Is there a ritual?"

"No." I smiled. "That's just stuff from the movies. If he feels like showing up, he will. It might help if we're thinking about him, but no promises."

Payne nodded. "I know you can't guarantee anything. And I do appreciate your coming here to try. It means a lot."

"By the way, about Maggie, I told her we were talking about some private family stuff," I explained. "Just in case she says something to you."

Payne smiled. "Why didn't you just let her think that we were meeting for a good make out session?"

My eyes opened wide at the suggestion. "Oh my God! Because we're not. And I didn't want to lie. Besides, who would believe me?"

Payne walked toward me, this time with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "You don't think I'm someone you'd like to kiss?"

Okay, now I was getting very warm and flustered and more than a bit queasy. "Uh, no. I mean... yes. Of course you are... I mean... Ah!" I snapped. "That's not what I meant and you damn well know it."

I expected Payne to laugh, but instead he just got closer—and I'm talking really close—and started twirling my hair again.

"Then what did you mean?" he asked.

I stared up at him, determined not to gulp or babble. "I meant a girl like me doesn't usually get a guy's attention, especially a guy like you."

Payne listened and didn't say anything, but the finger he had used to twirl my hair was now softly stroking my face. I was having one of those Oh, dear Lord moments. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back an inch. "So, why don't we talk about Jared?"

Payne nodded. "Why don't we?"

"I saw him wearing the same cap as in your picture," I said. "Plus a T-shirt that matched.

Were the Giants his favorite baseball team?" "Football. Not baseball," he corrected.

"But he was wearing a baseball cap."

"Well, football helmets are really uncomfortable for casual wear," he responded. "Now, if it had been a party..." "Uh huh," I said. "You are kidding, right?" "I should be asking you," Payne answered.

"Tell me about Jared. You were close?"

Payne suddenly looked uncomfortable and that feeling of guilt rolled off him again. "Yes, we were. He was younger than I was. He kind of... I don't know..."

"He looked up to you," I said. "Like an older brother?"

"Maybe," Payne answered. "Maybe more. His father died a few years earlier. My grandfather told my father to look out for Jared. Which meant it fell to me. My dad's not really someone..." Payne thought better of finishing whatever thought was on his mind. "Point is, Jared kind of followed me around like his puppy followed him. And it could be kind of cool, but I was twelve when he vanished. I guess there were times I just wanted to be without a ten-year-old shadow. I had stuff of my own to deal with and... you get it."

I took his hand. "You were a kid. You hung out with him, but you needed your own space.

It's normal. You were never cruel to him."

Payne looked into my eyes. "How do you know that, Bristol? How can you possibly know if

I was cruel or kind to him?"

"Payne, it's not in you to be cruel to a child who looked up to you."

Payne smirked. "I can be a piece of work." "I'll bet," I said.

"I've never met anyone like you before in my life," Payne said.

Now it was my turn to grin. "Yeah, girls who talk to ghosts are rather unique."

"That's not what I mean," Payne insisted. "You've never told anyone about your secret before, have you?" I didn't answer, but I didn't need to.

"I cannot begin to tell you how touched I am," Payne said. "Not only that you're helping me, but also that you trust me. I know how big a deal it is."

"It's not." I shrugged. "Not really."

Payne touched my cheek, and my skin tingled underneath his fingers. "It is. Bristol, you're braver than I am."

I looked up into Payne's magnificently dark blue eyes and saw it. The emotion that I always saw in my Payne loves me dreams. It was the look in his eyes he got when we were making love, or at least would get if we ever did. There was a connection between us that went beyond anything I'd ever known. I knew Payne could feel it, too.

Payne brought his other hand up, gently caressing both sides of my face. In that moment there was no doubt he would kiss me. I was ready. I didn't care about anything else.

When I heard the laughter from behind me of a little boy, it took me a second to blink back into reality. I backed away, and Payne's face fell.

"We're not alone," I explained.

Jared McKnight had appeared, his little dog sitting obediently by his feet, its tail whipping back and forth. Jared had his hands by his eyes as if ready to cover them. A huge smile was plastered on his face.

"I can't believe Payne was gonna kiss a girl!" I closed my eyes and sighed. Well, he was!

It took Payne a few moments to realize what I was talking about. "He's here? Now?"

"Yup." I nodded. "And his dog."

"Are you Payne's girlfriend?" Jared asked. "Do you guys, like... kiss all the time?"

"No, that would have been the first," I explained, feeling quite ridiculous. "Payne is really here for you."

"Why?" Jared said. "I don't want to kiss him!" He started to howl with laughter. "Ask what happened," Payne demanded. "Ask him where his body is." Jared looked startled at Payne's statement. It looked like he might fade away. "Jared, please don't go," I implored. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to." Payne turned to me, confused. I signaled to take it down a notch.

"Has Payne kissed a girl before?" Jared asked, his humor returning.

"I don't know," I answered. Then looking at Payne and realizing that he'd probably tripped over all the girls throwing themselves at his feet, I decided to amend my answer.

"Probably, but I'm not asking him that."

"Asking me what?" Payne said. I ignored him.

Jared started to move around, his puppy trailing behind him. He was watching me with both amusement and suspicion. Often times, spirits didn't wish to talk about what killed them. It was a very unpleasant memory. Sometimes it's completely blocked out, or they simply didn't know.

"Can you ask Payne a question for me?" Jared said.

"Anything you want. What would you like to know?" "How's my mom?" Jared asked. "She must be lonely. And ask him about Cooper, too. I miss him."

I turned to Payne, who was trying very hard to be patient. "Payne, Jared would like to know how his mother and Cooper are doing."

Payne nodded. "Tell him..."

"You can just tell him," I said. "He can hear you even if you can't hear him."

Payne continued, "Well, Cooper is fine. He misses you like crazy, but he's playing baseball and going to school. He still goes to see your mom. As far as your mom, um... your mom is okay.

She uh..."

Payne looked to me, unsure of how to proceed.

"Just be honest," I urged. "He needs the truth."

Payne seemed to steady himself. "Jared, she's still grieving. Still praying for a miracle that you'll turn up, even though she tells me that she knows in her heart you're gone. I try to look out for her, but she hasn't ever been the same. She loves you so much..." Payne was unable to continue.

Jared sat on the ground. His very hyper puppy seemed to sense he was upset and nuzzled into his arm.

"I miss her, too," Jared said. "I was supposed to do some stuff like paint the fence and clear the yard. Me and Cooper were gonna do it. I kept putting it off." Jared raised his head to look at me.

"Do you think she's mad at me for not getting it done?"

"Oh, sweetie," I said. "Of course not. She doesn't care about the fence or the yard. She loved you."

"Jared," Payne interjected, "the fence got painted. The yard is done. Me and Cooper get together every year in the fall and rake her leaves, every summer to cut her grass. We take care of her."

Jared smiled at Payne. It was a smile that conveyed so much love and gratitude that I wished Payne could have seen it.

"I wish there was something I could do for her though," Jared said.

And that was my cue. I moved closer to Jared and sat down next to him. "Jared," I said.

"There is something you can do. If you're up for it."

Jared knew what was coming, but he didn't fade away. I decided that meant he was ready.

"No one knows what happened," I said. "Because of that, your Mom can't stop looking. You heard Payne. She believes in her heart that you're gone. She can feel it. Because when you died, a part of her died as well, but no one knows where your body is." I stopped a moment to let him absorb what I had said. Once again, he listened and remained unmoving. I couldn't help but admire the courage this young boy was showing. I had seen adult spirits that broke rather than face the reality of their own demise.

"Jared, if there's any way you can talk to us about what happened," I urged. "Any way to help us bring your mom some sort of closure."

Jared picked up his puppy and hugged him close to his chest, rocking back and forth.

"I remember hearing something," Jared said. "I saw a black truck. And I got real scared."

He continued to stroke his dog, which had fallen asleep in his lap. "Is that all you remember?"

Jared looked at me and nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. I was playing near here when I died. I can still play here, but if you keep going downstream, there's a bunch of trees. I can't go there. It scares me."

"Jared, that could be important," I said. "Do you think maybe you could show us? Take us as far as you can?"

Jared watched me carefully as he considered my request.

"I'll try."

"Jared," I said. "Why don't you give me a moment alone with Payne so I can catch him up on everything you've told me? He's being very patient. He can't hear a thing you're saying."

"Yeah, I bet we're driving him nuts." Jared laughed. "Payne's cool. I miss hanging out with him. I just wish he wouldn't..." Jared stopped and looked intently at Payne. "I shouldn't say anything, but let him know I've seen him a few times. He shouldn't keep pushing his luck." Now what was that supposed to mean?

I went to Payne, making sure to keep an eye on Jared. I didn't think he planned to leave, but sometimes spirits vanished on you when you weren't looking. I quickly and quietly explained what Jared had told me, leaving out, at least for now, the last warning the young boy had asked me to pass along to Payne. Now was not the time for such a distraction.

"So the black truck," Payne said after taking a moment to consider what I had told him.

"Maybe it, like... hit Jared?"

"Maybe," I agreed. "Spirits often don't remember the exact moment of their death. We can't assume that's what happened. Not at this point."

"So we follow him downstream," Payne said. "And what are we looking for as we go?"

I shrugged. "Hopefully, we'll know it when we see it. He may not be able to take us the entire way. But being with us..." I took Payne's hand. "Being with you might help. He trusts you.

Your being here helps him be less afraid. You may not be able to see it, but trust me, he loves you." "Let's go then," Payne said.

I gave him a reassuring smile and started toward Jared. I noticed Jared was standing away from us, waiting. His puppy was still dancing around his feet but never left his side.

We walked for a while in silence. Jared led the way, and Payne followed me. The silence was broken by the crunching of leaves and the snapping of the occasional branch someone stepped on.

The stream flowed peacefully beside us.

As we proceeded, Jared's face became more haunted. I could see the fear start to manifest itself on his features. Wherever we were going, we were getting close.

Then Jared stopped. He was transfixed on a cluster of trees and large rocks. Where before there had been fear, now it was abject terror written all over his face. My heart was breaking as I watched him struggle to take even one more step closer.

"I can't," he screamed. "I can't get any closer! Please don't make me."

"It's okay, sweetheart." I once again used my calm voice. "You're doing fine. We can stop here for a while."

But Jared wasn't hearing me. He was slowly stepping backwards, tears falling down his face. Eli the dog was no longer a small, playful puppy. He had grown into a full-size dog and was standing between Jared and the cluster of trees and rocks. Eli's hackles were raised, and he bared his teeth, a low and menacing growl emanating from his throat.

"Jared," I said. "It's okay. You're safe."

Jared wouldn't look at me. His fear was so powerful, it was nearly painful. It started to engulf me, but I pushed it back. I needed to stay in control.

"Bristol." Payne was by my side. "What's happening?"

Before I could answer, Jared gave one last sob of defeat and then vanished, dog and all. "He's gone, isn't he?" Payne asked.

I nodded.

Payne proceeded toward the cluster of rocks and trees. At first, he just stared as if he expected them to move aside for him. I had no doubt that if those rocks and trees could see the expression of anger on Payne's face, they would have leapt out of his way. When they didn't, Payne reached down, grabbed the largest rock, and started to roll it to the side. It looked pretty heavy, but Payne was determined to move it.

I went over and put my weight into helping. There were no words spoken between us. There wasn't a need for them. Once we got the rock tipped over, it rolled to its side.

Payne dropped to his knees and stared at the ground. His face was calm and passive, but a moment later when he looked up at me, rage blazed within his eyes.

I reached down and scooped a bit of dirt into my hand. Gripping the soil within my palm, I felt myself pulled into a terrifying vision. I could hear a dog barking, smell the alcohol on someone's breath, and feel the coolness of the dirt that was covering my face. I winced at the pain from an injury I could not identify. I could tell I was close to death, and this is where I would be buried.

Alive.

The vision lasted only a moment, but when it ended, I gasped for breath and clutched at my side. Payne gripped me tightly and shook me gently back into the now.

"Bristol! Bristol, are you okay?"

I was hyperventilating, heaving for breath. I felt like I was suffocating, that the earth was going to swallow me alive. I thought of poor Jared, lying in that hole, hurt, bleeding, and dying as someone covered him in dirt. I could still hear his desperate pleas as he called out to his mother. I fell into Payne's arms and wept. He stroked my hair until I was able to calm myself.

I had, on occasions, experienced the last moment of someone's life. It had never been pleasant. It was something I avoided whenever I could. It was exhausting and terrifying.

"He's here," I said as I managed to support myself once again. Leaning back against the rock we had moved, I looked into Payne's eyes. "He died here."

Payne hesitated. I could feel the fury within him growing hotter by the moment. "What did you see?"

I closed my eyes at the memory. "He was lying here, dying. He was hurt."

"Hurt how?"

"I'm not sure," I snapped as I pushed myself up and stalked away. "I don't know what happened. The memory only lasted a few seconds. I didn't see or feel enough. It was right before... right as he..." I stopped as Payne put his arms around me.

"I'm sorry," Payne whispered. "I never wanted you to have to go through this. I can't imagine having to see that... to feel that..."

"I'm okay," I said.

"I'm going to dig a bit," Payne said. "I need to be able to say that we found him. Why don't you work on what to tell your uncle and then give him a call? You have a cellphone on you?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'll give him a call. I'll figure something out."

Payne walked toward the cluster of trees, and I pulled my cellphone out and dialed my uncle's number. I quickly told him that I was with Payne, where we were, and what we believed we found. I could only imagine what thoughts passed through my uncle's mind in that momentary pause before he responded. "Don't touch anything and don't move. I'm on my way."

I conveyed this information to Payne, who nodded and came back over to me. "He doesn't want us to disturb the evidence. I just dug enough to find the tip of a bone. I won't do any more," he explained. "Have you figured out what you're gonna tell him when he gets here?"

I shrugged. "Not a clue."

When Uncle Mark arrived, he parked up by the road and made his way down to us. I watched as Payne pointed to the spot where Jared was buried. Uncle Mark pulled on white gloves and told us to stay where we were as he went to investigate. Payne and I found a large rock and sat on it together. Somehow, we ended up holding hands as we waited.

When Uncle Mark approached us, I saw his eyes dart down to our hands. I could hear him groan, but he quickly pushed it aside. "Bristol, how exactly did you two find those remains?"

"I was just walking with Payne," I started, trying to keep my voice even and sure. "We met here the other day, and we started to talk about... you know... stuff."

Uncle Mark glanced at Payne. "Go on."

"Well, um..." I tried to continue, but I hadn't gotten much past this point in my mind.

"We heard a dog barking," Payne jumped in. "It was digging right around that area, going crazy. We got a little closer, and the dog ran off. I went to see what it might have been digging at and saw the first of the bones. I told Bristol to call you. Once I realized what it was, I didn't want to disturb the area any more than we had."

"You mean more than the dog had," my uncle corrected.

"Yeah." Payne nodded, keeping a perfectly straight face. "Well, both of us, I guess."

"Uh-huh," my uncle said before turning to me. "And what kind of dog was it?"

"Um," I stammered. What did I know? I couldn't even remember what kind of dogs Larry and Spock were. "I don't know. Black. Long tail. Floppy ears. You know. A dog." I decided to go with a basic description of Eli.

Uncle Mark paused a moment and just looked at us. I felt like a perp in an interrogation room with a hot light shining in my face while an entire squad of burly cops cracked their knuckles, getting in my face with their whiskey-soaked breath. Of course, that might have been a little overdramatic.

Finally, Uncle Mark reached in his pocket and pulled out a cellphone. He called the station and started to give out orders. I felt a wave of relief.

"Okay, my people are on their way," Uncle Mark said. "Now, if that's not Jared, I'll be surprised. All the same, we have to proceed carefully and methodically. Gather evidence. If it's him, we'll find out, and your aunt will be able to finally put her son to rest."

"I understand, Sheriff, that you have a job to do. I'm certainly not going to tell you how to do it. But I know that's my cousin." Payne glanced toward where the body lay. "And I think I have a fairly good idea of what happened."

"And what do you think happened here, Payne?" Uncle Mark asked.

Payne turned toward where the road passed above us and pointed. "That stretch of road up there. Pretty isolated. Sometimes kids go there to play. Jared did with his dog. I told him not to, but he did. Lots of trees to climb."

Uncle Mark nodded. "Yeah, I'm familiar with the place. As well as the idea of telling kids that they shouldn't do things that could be dangerous and being ignored."

"We're not talking about me here, Sheriff," Payne snapped.

"I know, Payne." Uncle Mark sighed. "Just trying to make the point. I've lost sleep at night worrying about you and your shenanigans. I'd hate to see something happen to you."

"I was always told Blackburns don't worry about McKnights, and McKnights shouldn't worry about Blackburns."

"And I know that you know that's a bunch of hooey. But anyway, get on with your theory," Uncle Mark instructed.

"You know Boomers Bar? Not too far down the road. Real classy place." His tone told me it was anything but. "I know some of Boomer's customers have been known to use this general area for certain things."

"Things?" I asked, trying to keep up. "What things?"

"Peeing. Puking," Uncle Mark answered. "Maybe a few other things one might do when leaving a bar plastered."

"Ah-ha," I said. "Sounds lovely. First off, remind me never to go to Boomers. Second off, why would Jared, or any other kid, want to be there?"

"Boys are different than girls," Payne answered.

"Especially at that age. What grosses you out make us go cool!" I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

"Strange but true," Uncle Mark said. "But we're getting off track here."

"So we are." Payne smiled. "Bristol has a way of distracting me."

I felt myself blush at his comment and thanked God he didn't elaborate. I had no idea what Uncle Mark was thinking right about then, but I was sure I would get an earful soon enough.

"So, here's what I'm guessing," Payne continued. "I think that one of Boomer's customers left after tying one too many on, and went there to do whatever, and accidentally hit Jared while driving drunk."

My uncle glanced behind him, where the still officially unidentified body lay. "You're thinking he was killed by a drunk driver?"

"Yeah," Payne confirmed. "Then they buried him here to cover it up."

As Uncle Mark considered Payne's theory, I could sense a cold fury welling inside of Payne.

He was hiding it well, but there was a lethal anger boiling within him.

"It's possible," Uncle Mark allowed. "But there are other possibilities as well. I don't want you to go off and start accusing anybody until we have more facts. Understand, Payne?" Payne looked up as some of the deputies started to approach.

"I understand exactly what you're saying, Sheriff Blackburn," Payne answered.

There was a moment of silence, and I waited to see if Uncle Mark would point out to Payne that there was a difference between understanding and obeying.

Payne and I moved off a bit and watched as everyone did their jobs. Every few minutes or so, I would catch someone glancing in our direction. I couldn't tell if they were glancing at me, at Payne, or at the two of us together. The exception was a young, blond female deputy, who was very clearly looking at Payne. I found myself getting a little pissy over it, but was satisfied that Payne never glanced in her direction. He remained fixated on the area where the remains were being worked on.

Then it happened. My uncle's face changed. It was subtle, but if you were watching carefully you could see it. He reached down, took something, and brought it to Payne.

"Payne, this isn't proof positive but..." My uncle held out a dirty blue cap with "NY Giants" written on the front.

"It's his," Payne said.

Uncle Mark didn't argue. "I'm sorry. I had always hoped..."

Payne nodded. "I know you did. I know you never stopped looking. You've followed up on any lead, no matter how small. You've even looked in on my aunt to let her know that you've never forgotten."

"I haven't, and I won't," Uncle Mark affirmed. "I'll find who did this. We aren't supposed to make promises, but I give you my word I will find whoever did this."

"I know what your word is worth, sir," Payne replied.

Uncle Mark sighed. "Come on. I'll take you home after I drop Bristol off. I've got to go see your aunt."

Payne nodded. "I should go, too, sir. She'll need me."

"Payne," Uncle Mark said, "you're only seventeen. You shouldn't take the weight of this on your shoulders. I can call another family member to meet me there. Your grandfather..."

"No, sir," Payne said. "This is my responsibility. I need to do this. Please."

Uncle Mark nodded. "Okay, let's drop Bristol at home first and then..."

"I can walk, Uncle Mark," I said. "I'd kinda like to. I could use the walk to clear my head. We're not far from home."

Uncle Mark didn't look pleased, but after a moment's thought, he agreed. He told Payne to give him a few minutes to talk to his deputies, which gave me a moment alone with Payne.

"Thank you, Bristol," Payne said. "For everything."

I smiled back. "I'm just glad I could help. Let your aunt know I'll be thinking of her. If there's anything else I can do to help, please let me know. I'll find you if I hear anything that might help."

Payne nodded his understanding. If Jared were to tell me anything, I'd bring it to him.

"I intend to see you again, Bristol," Payne said. "When there are no ghosts getting between us."

The intensity of his gaze made me quiver. All of the visions I'd had over the years came rushing back to me. It was easy to dismiss the ones of him killing me. They seemed completely irrelevant now. But the others, the ones where he and I were us, they seemed not only possible but scarier than ever. I've never had any problem talking to the dead. Ghosts had never scared me, not once in my life. But the idea of being the object of Payne McKnight's affection, that scared the living daylights out of me.

Payne could read the panic in my eyes. If anything, it amused him. He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek. "See you," he said. And then with a last wink, he turned and headed toward Uncle Mark.

I watched him go. I couldn't help but admire how he filled out his jeans. I knew without a doubt that I was way out of my league.

I turned and headed home. As much as I liked watching Payne, I did not want Payne to see me watching him.

Besides, I had to get some distance from everyone for a different reason. As I walked, I tried not to glance at the boy who walked beside me, his little dog trotting along between us.

"It'll be over soon," I told Jared. "You'll be put to rest. Your family will mourn you, and they'll never get over you, but they can at least start to heal."

"I know," Jared said. "Thanks."

"Can I ask you a question? I got the impression that Payne believes there's a certain someone who might be responsible for your death. Someone, I guess, who's known for drinking and driving. Any idea who?"

"Yeah, he's thinking about his dad," Jared said. "But I really have no idea if he's right or not."

### SIX

### A CHAT WITH GRANDPA

MY HEAD WAS SPINNING AS I made my way back to the house. This was a lot to take in on a Monday. No matter how many times I tried to wrap my mind around it, I couldn't believe it. Payne McKnight had nearly kissed me. Payne McKnight had wanted to kiss me! And if he got the chance, I was pretty sure Payne McKnight was going to kiss me. I was getting all gooey inside just thinking about it.

I didn't do gooey.

I never really thought I would ever have a chance at a boyfriend. I could never let any other guy near me. Just the thought of someone else's hands on me felt like I was being unfaithful to the boy I felt I belonged to, even though we hadn't met.

Besides, I had always assumed I'd have to hide my secret from any guy I dated. I figured any normal guy would freak out and run away while crossing himself and screaming for an exorcism.

Payne didn't do any of that.

In fact, he handled it really well. Maybe too well? Maybe...

Oh hell, I didn't want to keep analyzing it at this point. Couldn't I just be giddy about the Payne nearly kissing me thing without going crazy as to why? Isn't that what a normal girl would do?

Like I know what a normal girl would do.

Maggie would though. I was looking forward to calling her to spill all the deets. Well, most of them, anyway. I knew I better leave out the part about talking to Jared's ghost. If I was going to needle her for info on Payne's dad, I'd have to be discreet. But hey, I could be discreet.

That's when I saw my grandfather on the back porch, waiting. He was wearing a smile that made me think of a cat that had a mouse cornered. I guess that made me the mouse.

My hope was to simply say hello to Grandpa as I passed by into the house.

"Well," Grandpa said. "I've heard you've had a busy day. Finding the body of poor, little Jared McKnight while keeping company with his older cousin Payne. That's one hell of an afternoon, Bristol. I'd love to hear how that happened."

"Nothing to tell, really," I said. "We we're just talking, and we found him. I feel really bad for Payne and his family."

"Me too," Grandpa said. "Got nothing but sympathy for the McKnights. The whole bunch of 'em."

"Why do I feel he's not being completely truthful about that, darling?" Someone else said.

Jay materialized next to Grandpa. He sent me that killer grin that gave me goose bumps.

"I can't believe," Grandpa went on, completely unaware of Jay's ghostly presence, "that the two of you were just walking along together and happened across Jared

McKnight's body. People have been looking for him for years. It's quite an accomplishment." He gave me that cornered mouse look again.

"Well," I said. "There was a dog involved."

"Uh-huh." Grandpa arched an eyebrow. "A dog?"

I nodded. "Yup. Cute one, too. I'm not sure what kind, but it was black and had a long tail and ears..." I put my fingers near my head to simulate dog ears and panted a little.

"You know, a dog."

Jay giggled while Grandpa goggled.

"You know, Bristol," Grandpa said. "You can trust me. You can tell me anything. It's all right."

I stopped my dog impression and gave him my best fake smile. "Thank you, Grandpa," I said. "I'll keep that in mind." Yeah, right.

"What I mean," Grandpa continued, "is that here in Spirit, you wouldn't be the only one who is... special."

"Watch yourself," Jay warned. "I believe he's trying to trick you into revealing something about yourself you may not want to."

"Grandpa," I said. "I like to think that we're all special in our own way. Even you." Grandpa chuckled. "How very

Lifetime Channel of you." "You watch Lifetime?" I asked.

"What is Lifetime?" Jay asked.

"Bristol," Grandpa continued, "you may think you're fooling me, but you're not. I know there's something different about you."

"It's because I'm from New York City," I explained. "They make us tough down there."

"I ain't talking about you being able to hail a cab better than everyone else," Grandpa grumbled. "I'm talking about you having a little something extra. A talent if you will, that most don't have, if you know what I mean."

"Well, Grandpa, I might. It's been awhile, but there was this one thing I used to do, sometimes." "Yeah?" Grandpa leaned closer.

"Well, I used to able to burp out the alphabet," I said. "It's been a long time since I tried.

Getting past the L-M-N-O-P part was always the hardest." Grandpa looked furious.

Jay grinned. "How charming."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Grandpa barked. He shook his head. Clearly, he was trying to keep his temper in check, and I wasn't helping. I was good that way.

"Bristol, I think it's time I explained about Spirit," Grandpa said. "Why Spirit is different than anywhere else.

How our family is tied to Spirit, and why we never leave." "My parents left," I corrected.

"Yeah," Grandpa acknowledged. "Look how that turned out for them."

His words felt like a kick in the gut. Still, it didn't seem like Grandpa was trying to be mean.

"Let me tell you a story," Grandpa said and patted the seat next to him, right where Jay was sitting. Jay found it very disturbing, and I really couldn't blame him. Instead, I took a seat across from Grandpa on the bench.

"Is this a story with unicorns?" I asked. "I love stories with unicorns."

"Girls," Grandpa said. "My grandsons want stories about dragons. My granddaughter wants unicorns."

"Dragons can be nice," I offered. "Especially the cute ones who talk."

Grandpa rolled his eyes. "No talking dragons, or dancing unicorns, or singing squirrels, or anything like that. This is about your family and the McKnight family. I'm sure by now you've realized that our families don't exactly get along."

"Yeah, you mentioned that," I said. "One or two thousand times."

"All right," Grandpa said. "So first thing you need to understand is both the Blackburn and the McKnight families have been around for a long time. We were both here when Spirit was first founded. Even back then, the McKnights had the money, and we did most of the work. McKnights have always owned things. Because of that, they think that they can own people."

"Grandpa," I chastised.

Grandpa ignored me. "Look, my point is the hard feelings that exist between our families have been around for a long time. And believe me, it's mutual. They hate us as much as we hate them."

"Grandpa," I repeated, this time with the extra dramatic flair of an eye roll. "I understand you don't like them. I don't really know them. Payne seems, at least so far, to be okay."

"So far?" Grandpa smiled. "I figured as much."

"What?"

"You haven't fully decided to trust him yet," Grandpa said. "Good. I hadn't thought so. I heard you talking before in your room, having a very interesting conversation." "You what?" I felt a stab of panic.

"Take it easy," Jay cautioned. "I doubt he realizes who you were talking to."

"Talking to that hamster of yours," Grandpa said.

"Glorified rat is what it is, if you ask me."

Jay broke out in laughter. I tried my best not to look at him, but he wasn't making it easy.

"So," Grandpa said, "if I could continue. Back then there were others... I suppose they existed on both sides if I'm being honest here, that thought the feud was silly. You had an ancestor, James Blackburn, who made it his mission to mend fences. Went out of his way for nearly a year trying to be nice to the McKnights. Brought them fresh vegetables from his garden. Looked out for some of their elderly. One day, he saw a horse on his land. He recognized it as belonging to one of the McKnights. Figured it had gotten loose and wandered onto his property. So, he did the neighborly thing and returned it. Unfortunately for James, the horse belonged to some kid named Penelope McKnight. She was a very spoiled, stuck-up, piece of.... Well, you're kind of young for that kind of language."

"Grandpa, I've heard all the bad words."

"Maybe you have," Jay said. "But I'm not sure that I know them all. Maybe I would like your grandfather to enlighten me."

"The point is," Grandpa continued, "she knew that if the horse had gotten out, it was because she hadn't secured the barn door. She accused James of stealing it. Can you imagine that?

Here was this guy who normally got laughed at because of all the nice things he did for the McKnights, and they accuse him of stealing her horse! What sense did that make?"

"Not much, I suppose," I admitted. "What happened?"

"Well, they knew it would never be proven," Grandpa said, "so they just decided to teach him a little lesson themselves. I understand they broke both his arms, several ribs.... You get the idea."

"Yeah, I do, and it sounds horrible. But really, Grandpa, does it really matter?" I asked. "I mean, how long ago was this? How many greats would I have to put before Uncle James' name before I got it right?"

"A good point." Grandpa smiled. "And you're right, it was a long time ago. I'm just trying to say that Blackburns have tried to make peace with the McKnights on more than one occasion."

"Well, I'm not," I insisted. "I'm not trying to make peace between the families. I'm going to judge each McKnight for themselves. I saw a few McKnights at school the other day. Maggie told me their names were Archer and Blasé I think."

"Yeah, I've seen them," Grandpa mumbled. "I know they're both good looking boys but, Bristol, let me tell you, they're—"

"Bullies," I interjected. "I know. I saw them picking on this kid, but when Payne got there he defended him against his cousins."

Grandpa seemed to consider my words. "I understand what you're saying. But that doesn't mean..."

"Grandpa," I said, "I'm not about to run off and marry him. We're not even dating. I can't even imagine going out on a date with him. I can't imagine him wanting to..."

"Hey," Grandpa said. "Don't sell yourself short. I think anyone in this town would be lucky to take you out. You're a Blackburn! And more importantly, you're my granddaughter. I don't think you realize how lovely you are."

I was taken aback. Not just at his words but at the sincerity behind them. It was also clear the sense of pride that had been behind the words "my granddaughter." I glanced at Jay, who was watching me intently.

"He speaks the truth, Bristol," Jay said. "You are a very beautiful young lady with a charming personality. I am filled with jealousy at the thought of any young man courting you. Trust me, if our circumstances were different, I would spend all my time trying to find a way to curry your favor."

I blushed deeply at Jay's words. Old fashioned as they were, they made me feel very special.

Grandpa huffed. "All right now. Don't go getting all girly on me."

I laughed. "I would never think of it."

"Let's get back to the story, shall we?" Grandpa asked.

"There's more?"

"Yes, I was just giving you a little background. Setting the stage."

"Okay," I said. "The stage is set. What happened next?"

"I'm getting to that," Grandpa barked. "So you get the fact that neither family got along. Usually, they both kept their distance from one another. When they couldn't, problems ensued. The biggest problem was when a young girl named Annabelle Blackburn, who was just about your age, maybe a year older, caught the eye of Tristan McKnight." "Ah ha," I mumbled.

"Ah ha is right." Grandpa smiled. "Annabelle was a very beautiful young girl. Long, dark hair, breathtaking blue eyes, and like you, rather strong willed. As the story goes, Tristan was the guy that every girl in town wanted for themselves. He was known to be very polite, smart, a hard worker, and of course, the best looking guy in town. Just like me." "Yeah," I deadpanned. "You're a hottie." "I do believe I'm going to be sick," Jay said.

"The point is," Grandpa continued, "Tristan pursued Annabelle like it was his life's work. As I understand, she didn't keep him waiting long. Pretty soon they were inseparable. It was like a storybook romance. Their families wanted to burn that particular storybook. Annabelle's family warned her that Tristan would betray her. That he just wanted what he couldn't have."

"The forbidden fruit," I said.

"Something like that." Grandpa nodded. "Of course, Tristan's family tried to ward him off.

Told him Annabelle was only after his money."

"If they loved each other, they shouldn't have cared," I said. "Their families should have just left them alone."

To my surprise, Grandpa agreed. "You're right, of course. Maybe if they had, our families wouldn't be in the position we're in today."

"And what position is that?" I asked.

"We'll get to that," Grandpa insisted and I pouted.

"Don't pout."

"I don't pout," I said.

"Right," Grandpa replied. "Annabelle's family threatened to throw her out on the street if she didn't stop seeing Tristan. And that was a much bigger deal than it would be today, trust me. Tristan's family threatened to cut him off from the family fortune. To his credit, from what I understand, Tristan never batted an eye. He didn't care about the money. Neither of them did. They were in love. They wanted to get married. Have babies. Blah, blah, blah."

"Grandpa," I teased, "you romantic old fool."

Ignoring me, Grandpa continued. "So before anyone knew it, they were engaged and the wedding date was approaching. Both of them tried to get the other's family to accept them. They were making some progress. Tristan had even formally asked Annabelle's father for her hand in marriage. Her father had to admit he was impressed by the young man. For a while, it looked like there would be a happily ever after."

"I take it there wasn't," I said. "Was it picking out china patterns that did them in?"

"No, it had nothing to do with dishes," Grandpa said. "And far more to do with the fact that three days before the wedding, Annabelle disappeared. No one knew where she was. At first, they thought maybe she was with Tristan, but he had no idea where she was either, and no one doubted him. He was frantic. They say his love for her was so clear to everyone that even those McKnights who had been dead set against the wedding put aside their differences with the Blackburns and started to look for her. Then after three days, they found her." Grandpa sighed. "Or what was left of her." I gasped.

"She'd been tortured," Grandpa said. "Broken bones. Burned skin. Left naked in the woods. Worst part was her eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes that every single person in Spirit had admired were gone."

"Gone?" I repeated. "What happened to them?"

Grandpa shrugged. "No one knows. When Tristan found her they say you could hear him scream from one end of the town to the other."

"He must have been devastated."

"As the story goes, he had a small house he'd built by the stream. He was going to move into it with Annabelle after they were married. He holed himself in there, away from everyone. He wouldn't talk to anyone from either family. And while he was in there, things happened." "What things?" I asked.

Grandpa sighed. "Bad things. The families once again turned on each other. The McKnights accused us of killing poor Annabelle just so Tristan could never have her, saying the Blackburns felt she'd be better dead than to become a McKnight."

"I suppose the Blackburns blamed the McKnights?" I asked.

"You'd suppose correctly," Grandpa affirmed.

"Did they ever catch the killer? I mean really catch him and prove it was him?"

"Catch him?" Grandpa said. "Maybe they did. People on both sides seemed to take matters into their own hands. There was plenty of violence to go around. Prove it? Nope, they never did prove a damn thing. Except that McKnights and Blackburns make better enemies than friends."

I shook my head. "It shouldn't have to be that way. What happened was horrible, but it was the work of a maniac, not an entire family. And certainly that has nothing to do with members of the families today."

Grandpa laughed. "You think that was the end of the story? I haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked. "Dead brides-to-be with their eyes popped out is the warmup? What do you consider the good stuff? Cannibalism?"

"Just listen," Grandpa grumbled. "This here is important."

I rolled my eyes, then sat up straight and gave him a salute.

"Okay, so after a few days," Grandpa continued, "some people were getting very upset over the McKnights and the Blackburns beating the tar out of each other. Someone got the idea to try and end it. It started with Annabelle's mother, who was scared one of her other children would get killed. She and Tristan's father decided to go and see Tristan. Annabelle's mother had been one of the first to accept Tristan, and Tristan's father had taken a shine to Annabelle. He never had a daughter and had started to look forward to Annabelle being a part of the family. They decided they were going to go to Tristan's house and break down the door if they had to, and then the three of them would do their best to calm everyone else down.

"When they got there," Grandpa said, "the door was locked. Tristan didn't answer. His father banged at the door. Annabelle's mother begged for him to answer. Nothing. So his father yelled out if Tristan didn't open this door within ten seconds, he was going to kick the door in. He gave him twenty. Then he kicked the door in and walked into what must have been hell."

"Why?" I asked. "What did he find?"

"He found Tristan," Grandpa said, "hanging from the rafters, a noose around his neck, his bodily fluids dripping onto the floor below."

"Oh no," I gasped. It was so horrible. The story had started out with all the elements of a classic love story—a handsome young man, a beautiful young lady, and an unbreakable love, forbidden by their families. Then it turned into a Shakespearian tragedy with a huge helping of something out of a horror film thrown in.

"Instead of getting better," Grandpa went on, "things got worse. Instead of random beatings where someone limped away, members of both families started to disappear. Sometimes they would be found alive, sometimes they would be found dead. Sometimes, they were never found at all. Then it got worse."

"You're kidding," I said.

"By this point," Grandpa said, "members of the two families were becoming more desperate to end the madness. There seemed to be no way to stop it. Then someone got creative. The McKnights will tell you we were the first to do it. Most Blackburns will tell you that the McKnights crossed the line first. But the fact is no one really knows for sure.

Probably no one ever will." "Know what?" I asked.

"The first time we know it happened was when Serverne McKnight, a man who had always been quick to hurt someone if he could, came calling on Garth Blackburn and his family. Garth was a simple man who never wanted trouble. Even through most of this, he had tried to keep out of it. Garth had two daughters. One was sixteen, the other only thirteen. Serverne showed up and started to say how he was going to show the rest of Spirit how McKnights should treat Blackburn women.

Garth told him to get lost. He got a pick axe and used it to make his point.

"Garth's entire family was watching from the door," Grandpa continued. "Garth threatened Serverne, who laughed. Garth swung the axe. Just a warning swing. Garth, he didn't want to really hurt Serverne, but Serverne wanted to hurt Garth. He grabbed the axe as Garth swung it and next thing anyone knew, it caught fire. The fire seemed to come right out of Serverne, and within seconds, it engulfed poor Garth. His family watched as he was incinerated before their eyes."

"Then Serverne went for the women," Grandpa said. "They locked the door, but Serverne just blazed right through it. Garth's wife told her daughters to run, but a wall of flame kept them from getting out. Garth's wife stood in the way, and she went up in flames next. Then he went for the older daughter. She screamed for her younger sister, Riley, to run. Within minutes, the entire house was an inferno. Riley was badly burned, but she survived. She's the one who told the story. Of course, when she did, most assumed she was lying or exaggerating, but when Serverne showed up in town and started with the same fire act, they believed. Somehow, someone managed to get close enough to hit Serverne from behind. Cracked his head open."

"Grandpa," I said, "what you're saying isn't possible. People can't really do things like that. Can they?"

Grandpa gave me a long, hard look. "You tell me. Have you ever heard of anyone who might be able to do things that were different?"

Grandpa's gaze bore into me. He was studying my face, my features for any hint that would allow him to say 'Ah ha!' Well, he wasn't going to get it from me.

"Bristol," Grandpa said, "I love you. I'm your grandfather. Whatever it is, when you're ready, you can tell me."

"Grandpa," I said, "you don't think it really happened like that, do you? A McKnight suddenly developed superpowers? That's crazy! That's insane. That's..."

"That's Spirit," Grandpa interrupted. "And he wasn't the only one. Soon the Blackburns were hearing of McKnights that could do things like walk through walls, generate ice, or even read minds. It was said that someone within the

McKnight family made a deal with some sort of demonic creature; a deal to allow him or her to wipe the Blackburn family out of existence."

"Oh. My. God," I said. "You are insane."

Jay shook his head. "Really Bristol, there might be something to his story. Remember, you're seeing a ghost he can't see. That should tell you something."

I wanted to tell Jay that I was a unique freak, and that Grandpa was a loon. But if I started to yell at Jay now, it would become very difficult to keep up the pretense that I was just a normal seventeen-year-old girl, and that Grandpa was the wacky one.

"Am I insane?" Grandpa said. "I think it was the McKnights who reached into those dark powers that were insane. All I know is, before long, Blackburns made the same deal."

"Okay, what happened once we made the deal?"

Grandpa sat back and looked deflated. "I'll tell you what happened—it pretty much damned both families to hell."

"Really," I remarked. "I guess I was expecting you to defend it."

"They were all a bunch of idiots," Grandpa said. "Every last one of them. And we're paying the price."

I could see the anger in his eyes. "With the way you talk about the McKnights, I would think you would be happy for their misery."

"Is that what you think of me?" Grandpa asked. "You just came home from finding a young, innocent boy who was murdered. You think I find anything but disgust in that? No one, not a McKnight, not a Blackburn, no one should ever be forced to bury his or her own child." I shrank back, shocked by the fury in his words and voice.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You know, I haven't given much thought to the fact that I didn't just lose my parents. You lost your son."

His expression softened. I could see the moisture in the corner of his eyes before he blinked it away.

"Thank you," he said.

I looked to Jay only to see him fade away. I guess this conversation was getting too personal for him. I was now alone with Grandpa, and believe it or not, I wasn't trying to escape anymore.

"Grandpa, do you really think there's something to that? I mean really?"

"To the curse?" he asked. "You bet your New York tushy. In the last five years, the

Blackburns have buried my wife, my nephew, his wife, your parents, two of my five brothers, about eight..." He looked up as if he were doing math in his head. "No make that nine cousins. Not to mention Mark's wife. She was killed, you know."

I nodded numbly, staggered by how many family members I'd lost without ever having met them. "Yeah, I know. I know they never caught the killer either."

"That's right," Grandpa said. "Now let me tell you what I bet you don't know. When they found poor, sweet Eve, she was just like Annabelle in the end. That's how my boy found his wife." I gasped in horror.

"Simon and Zack?" I asked. "Please tell me they don't know those details. Please tell me they never saw..."

"No," Grandpa said. "They never saw her; they were just told she was killed. No details. It was a closed casket. We made up some excuse for Simon about how she wanted it that way. He was too smart even back then to buy it, but he didn't object. Zack was too young. I'm glad that your first thoughts were of them. It says a lot about you. There are others, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't mean killed like that," Grandpa said. "Although, through the years, there have been a few. Eve was the sixth over two hundred years, Annabelle being the first. Eve was the first within our lifetime. And three of those have been McKnights, by the way, but that's not what I meant."

I shook my head. "Then what did you mean?"

Grandpa sighed. "I meant there are others today who have gifts. Abilities that defy normal understanding."

"Really? Like who? What powers?"

Grandpa shrugged. "I can't tell you. Those in the family that have chosen to confide in me did so knowing I'd never tell. If they should choose to reveal themselves to you, that would be fine. I won't betray that confidence. I wouldn't betray yours either, if you should choose to tell me. I want to help you, but it's hard to do when I don't know what I'm supposed to help you with."

Looking into his eyes, I actually thought about it for a moment, but it was a very short moment.

Grandpa saw my resolve and instead of waiting for me to deny everything, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. "If you ever want to or need to talk, you should know that I'll listen, and I'll understand, and I'll believe. When you're ready."

I smiled to express my gratitude but didn't elaborate.

"This has been a long, rough day for you," he said. "Why don't you go lie down or do whatever it is that seventeenyear-old girls do to relax. Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't suppose you feel like painting toenails?" I asked.

"That was cruel, Bristol. Funny, but cruel," he said before retreating into the house.

After my chat with Grandpa, I went straight to my room with my head spinning. I felt horrible about what he had told me, especially about Aunt Eve.

Before I could think about it for very long, my cellphone rang and brought me back to reality. I looked at the caller I.D. and saw it was Maggie. Good, I needed someone to talk to. Someone sane. Guess Maggie would have to do.

"Sorry," I said. "I just got back a little while ago and I haven't had time to call. What? No, we didn't run off and get married. Stop it and listen. Something happened. Something kinda bad."

I listened as she made guesses about what bad thing happened. They ranged from the dreaded idea of Payne wanting to just be friends, to him trying to get rough with me. There was even something about him being gay, which I agreed would have been a loss to womankind as a whole.

"Nothing like that," I broke in. "Maggie, we sorta stumbled upon something while we were together." I repeated the story Payne and I had used on my uncle about the dog digging in the dirt and finding the body of Payne's cousin.

There was a pause and I imagined Maggie with her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. When she spoke, she said all the things you would expect. Asked all the normal questions, and expressed all of the proper outrage.

"Listen," I interrupted, eager to get to more important matters. "Nothing happened between Payne and me but I think, I mean, I'm not sure...but I think it almost did. He kept playing with my hair...twirling it...and then he was looking at me really...I don't know...but I really thought he was going to...kiss me."

I quickly pulled the phone away from my ear. Even Ricky seemed to shake in his soup can at Maggie's highpitched squeal.

"Maggie, Maggie, Maggie," I said over and over again. "Maggie! You stop doing a happy dance right now. I mean it. I'm freaked out! I've never kissed anyone in my life. I'll make a fool out of myself!"

More chatter.

"No, Maggie," I said as I collapsed on my bed. "I'm not kidding. Have you ever...Really? When you were thirteen? What do you mean it's no big deal? It is a big deal. Oh dear Lord! I'm such a freak," I said. "No, it's not sweet and cute! It's pathetic!"

Maggie tried her best to convince me otherwise, and I did feel a little better when she was done. Apparently, her early kissing experiences weren't all great. There were incidents of boys missing her lips, bad breath, a case of the giggles and even one boy who just at that magic moment sneezed.

"Oh my," I said, "that's appalling."

I guess I made her feel bad, so she started to tell me about a few of the better kisses she's had. (Apparently, good old sneezy was pretty good once he convinced her to let him try again.) Which led into stories of what happened after the kissing had begun. This, of course, made me feel worse.

"I don't know," I said. "He didn't ask me out or anything, but I think he might. He had to go with my uncle. Yeah, he's the sheriff. No, I don't want to disturb Payne and his family. Besides I don't have his number." Not a big obstacle as far as Maggie was concerned. "But I can't call him. No, I can't. No, I can't."

I gasped. "What do you mean this is the perfect time? What? Maggie, I am not going to use the idea of checking on him just to call. He can call me if he wants. What? No, he doesn't have my phone number; I thought you said that wouldn't be a problem? Wait, what about Pricilla?"

She kept going on and on and somehow arrived on the topic of how much Pricilla would be so mad if Payne really did ask me out. According to Maggie, Pricilla had made it her mission to bed as many McKnights as possible and Payne was the crown jewel. Payne had barely noticed her. Good! At least he had taste.

God, I hated the way I sounded.

"I'm not sure if I want to go out with Payne or any other boy. I don't date. Maybe Payne and I would be better as just fiends. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie! I am not killing you, so knock it off. If I'm not ready then I'm not ready. Has it occurred to you that after everything I've been through, maybe I'm just not ready to try my hand at dating? That maybe I have my reasons for never dating before? That I just can't handle the idea of dating someone right now? What? No, no, no! Maggie Sheppard, you do not get to cry. Listen to me. Oh man."

I listened as she apologized. "Maggie, come on. You're my best friend. Of course you are. You're probably my only friend right now. I know we've only known each other a little bit, but I swear you get me like no one else."

More eye rolls from me. "Yes, I mean that in a good way. Look, I better go. I think I should do some homework and make sure the boys eat something. We'll talk tomorrow."

I sat up and listened to her a few seconds. "No, I won't rule it out I suppose, but I really think I shouldn't date. Why? Because between the two of us there's so much baggage and...I don't know...I have a feeling it might cause a few problems between our families. You know they don't like each other. Yes, yes, yes. It's very Romeo and Juliet. Do you remember how that turned out? Yeah, oh is right. Okay. Okay. Okay. No I don't think we'll date but if I do, you'll be the first to know. What do you mean if I don't want him, can you have him? Oh hardy har har har. See you tomorrow. Bye."

I hung up and closed my eyes. Whew. Talking to Maggie was like riding a rollercoaster. You never knew where the ups and downs were going to be, but it was never boring.

Later that night after dinner was done and cleaned up, I finished as much of my homework as I could, then I sat in the living room and watched some TV. I couldn't find anything that was remotely interesting, but I was determined to be here when Uncle Mark got home. Zack went to bed at eight, and then Simon followed at nine, each taking their dogs with them. That left just me and Grandpa.

Amazingly, he didn't start to talk family history to me again. He just complained about whatever show I had on. Finally, I tossed him the remote, grabbed a book, and started to read.

I thought about calling Maggie again but decided once had been enough. I had called her earlier, and suffice to say, Maggie was officially on the Bristol and Payne wagon. And with Maggie driving, that wagon was out of control.

I kept hearing her in my head, urging me to make my move before Princess P did. According to Maggie, Pricilla had made it her mission to bed as many McKnights as possible and wanted Payne as her crown jewel. Payne had barely noticed her. Good! At least he had taste.

God, I hated the way I sounded.

Just as I was getting desperate enough to think about talking to Grandpa, Uncle Mark came home. I didn't want to just jump on him right away, so I ran to the kitchen and started to warm up some dinner for him. I knew the first thing Uncle Mark did when he got home was put his gun in a lock box and get out of his uniform. I was just placing the plate on the table when he came in looking for food.

"For me?" he asked. "Thanks, Bristol. You're a life saver." As he ate, I sat down and tried to be patient.

"I don't suppose," he said, "that there's anything that you want to add about what happened this afternoon."

"Uh," I said, "not really. I was going to ask you what happened after I left."

Uncle Mark sighed. "I took Payne to see his aunt. We told her what we'd found. I said we couldn't be sure for a week or so, but it was most likely Jared. Payne was real good with her I've got to say. Then his grandfather arrived."

"So how is the old blowhard?" Grandpa yelled from the other room. "Still expecting people to curtsy as they pass him?"

"Knock it off, Dad," Uncle Mark rebuked.

"What's his name?" I asked. "I mean, all of the McKnights have such unusual names."

Uncle Mark smiled. "Yeah, they do. The grandfather's name is Varick. He was polite and professional, but clearly wanted me to leave as soon as possible. I tried to ask Breanne a few questions, but there was nothing new she could add. I imagine Payne must be home by now. Varick thought he should leave and go home to his father, even though Payne wanted to stay and look after Breanne. Varick insisted he would care for Breanne. I personally think she would have preferred Payne to stay.

"I told Varick," Uncle Mark continued, "maybe he should let Payne spend the night there. Breanne thinks of him like a son. Besides, I'm not crazy about the idea of Payne and his father being alone tonight. I just hope Payne doesn't do anything... stupid."

"What do you mean?"

Uncle Mark shrugged. "With Payne, it's hard to know. I've worried about him for some time. He was a handful even back before his mother was killed. You know about that?"

I nodded. "I heard. Maggie told me he and his mom were in a car crash. Payne was thrown clear, but she was killed."

"More or less," Uncle Mark affirmed. "When we got on the scene we found Payne still trying to save his mother, but she was gone. She had been pinned in the car, and the car had caught fire. Payne watched her die. Man, I felt bad for Payne. We thought he'd be near death as well, but he was fine, at least physically. Ask me, that young man has never stopped blaming himself."

"For what?" I asked. "Surviving."

The word hung in the air while Grandpa came in and rummaged through the fridge.

"You ask me," Grandpa said as he pulled out a beer, "Payne isn't the only one that blames him for surviving." He gave Uncle Mark a knowing look as he limped back to the living room. "Don't get me started on him," Uncle Mark said, this time with much more venom.

"Who?" I asked.

"Balthazar." Uncle Mark looked like he had just swallowed something vile. "Understand me, Bristol, I don't subscribe to the whole McKnights are the source of all evil like some people might." He shot a look toward the living room. "But there are some people who I have no stomach for. Balthazar McKnight is one of them."

"Who is he?"

"Payne's father," Uncle Mark answered. "He's the kind of guy who uses people. He could, I suppose, be charming when he wanted something. I always wondered what Payne's mother saw in him. I imagine he got her to believe that she could change him. Girls sometimes think they can change a guy. I mean, Eve would tell you she trained me up real good." Uncle Mark smiled. "But I don't think I was that horrible to begin with.

"Women can polish a man up. Right woman makes you want to be a better man. But that don't work with someone like Balthazar. He was a pitiful excuse of a human being to begin with. Yeah, the right woman can make you a better man, but you have to start out being a good man. Balthazar never was."

I wasn't used to hearing such disgust in Uncle Mark's voice.

"I've always suspected Balthazar might have used his hands on Payne," Uncle Mark continued. "In fact, I'd bet money on it. I could never get Payne to admit it to me. And Varick won't hear of it."

"Can't you do anything?" I asked.

"What?" Uncle Mark questioned. "I have no proof. I've never seen a bruise on Payne. Not one, and I've had people look. I've looked. It's just a hunch I have. I can't do much with that."

I shuddered at the thought of Payne being hurt by his father, but suddenly many of the flashes that I'd had of Payne being injured fell into place.

"Bristol," Uncle Mark said, "I want you to be careful with Payne."

I had visions of my uncle having the talk with me, about how sometimes boys and girls get these feelings, and I so did not want that.

"I know you don't want to hear this but," Uncle Mark continued, "Payne has been known to do a few crazy things."

"Crazy?" Like hanging out with a girl who talks to ghosts? "Like what?"

"First off, I want to say that I like Payne. He's a good kid. He's done his best to take care of his aunt even before Jared disappeared. Payne's always been respectful whenever I've had to deal with him. Unfortunately, I've had more than a few encounters with the boy. He can be very reckless." "Reckless? What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," Uncle Mark said. "His own safety. Kid ran into a burning building once to save a couple of kids. He ran across a busy highway to rescue a dog once. I admire his bravery, but he was damn lucky that he didn't get himself killed. Payne never hesitates to jump in to help, but there are things that kid does that just drive me insane." "Such as?" I prompted.

"Do you have any idea how many dirt bikes that kid has probably gone through?" Uncle Mark asked. "I've found him walking home on more than a dozen occasions, his bike slammed up against a rock bed, or into the riverbed, or off one of the hills down near the lake.

"And that's not the worst," Uncle Mark continued. "We had a building knocked down in town once. I caught Payne climbing to the top of the rock pile, which was over twenty feet high. Don't ask me what he was doing up there. And before he had a dirt bike, he used to jump everything he could with his skateboard. I caught him once skateboarding on the edge of a six-story rooftop. How this kid has survived, I don't know.

"I have wondered if that's the idea. Like he's pushing every limit because he feels like he shouldn't be alive after his mother died."

I sat there, slowly tearing a napkin into little pieces. I had seen many of these things in my dreams. Only in my dreams, Payne had never been as lucky. His stunts usually ended just as he was being hurt badly. I knew they all couldn't have been true, but clearly he was the close-call king of the world.

I'd seen how Payne blamed himself for what happened to his cousin. I could only imagine how he felt about his mother. One thing was for sure. The next time I saw Payne, I would have to try and talk some sense into him.

"Bristol," Uncle Mark said, "I don't know what your relationship with Payne is—"

"Uncle Mark," I interrupted, "Payne and I aren't dating. I told you, I don't date. We were talking. That's it. But he and I dating? I can't imagine..." "Why not?" Uncle Mark asked.

"I can't really imagine going out with anyone. I can't imagine anyone wanting to go out with me. I can't..."

"I can," Uncle Mark insisted. "I think you're selling yourself short. And I can definitely see Payne asking you out. I saw the way he looked at you." I blinked, many, many times.

"The way he what?" I asked. "How did he look at me?"

Uncle Mark laughed. "Never mind. Look, like I said, I like Payne. I've seen the way he cares for his aunt, and how he looked out for Jared. Poor boy has had more than enough tragedy in his life. Maybe if he was with you, you might knock some sense into that thick head of his, but it makes me nervous."

"Of what?" I asked. "Are you afraid I'll suddenly take up dirt biking over cliffs or something? That's not a problem."

"Good," Uncle Mark said. "I'm glad to hear it. I don't think that he would ever try to get you to do stuff like that. I've seen how protective he is of people he cares for. He's just reckless with his own life."

"You have nothing to worry about," I insisted. "I don't see Payne being interested in me like that, but it's sweet you think he could be." I gave my uncle a kiss on his cheek. "It's late and after the day I've had, I'm beat. I'm heading to bed. Goodnight."

Uncle Mark and Grandpa wished me goodnight as I headed upstairs. I was exhausted. I had a feeling tomorrow would be a long day. I never even changed into PJs and just collapsed into bed. It didn't take me long to fall asleep. My last thoughts were of Payne and what would happen the next time I saw him.

I approached the house as fog billowed around me. I felt the wet grass underneath my bare feet, the moist blades between my toes.

The house looked expensive but run down, with the exception of the front garden. The truck also looked pricey but dinged up and parked crooked.

But it was the shouting that grabbed my attention. Voices filled with venom sliced through the air. Whatever was going on, it was something I needed to see. So I approached the front stoop, knowing even if whoever was in the house should storm out they would never see me. After all, I wasn't really there.

I made my way to the front door and heard a crash. The voices stopped a moment before picking up again, this time angrier than before.

"You little punk!" one voice yelled in a slurred, deep tone. "You think I don't know what you're thinkin'? I know you think I had somethin' to do with that stupid kid getting himself dead."

I quickly made my way to the window. I could see the man yelling. His messy dark hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb since the turn of the century. His clothes were disheveled and barely hid his beer gut. His eyes were dark and bloodshot. If not for all of that, he might be considered attractive, but he didn't look very appealing as he rubbed his hand against his face while he still held a beer bottle in the other.

"Now why would I think that?" said another voice. It was smooth and silky, and I knew it immediately. Payne stood defiantly in the center of the room, unafraid of the drunken man before him. "Really, Dad. It's interesting how you came to that conclusion on your own so quickly."

Payne's father snorted. "Wasn't all that hard. Well, let me tell you somethin'." He gestured toward Payne with his beer. "I aint had nothin' to do with Jared getting himself dead."

"Dad, you're drunk," Payne said. "You're slurring your words and forgetting how to speak properly. I'm sure Sheriff Blackburn will be able to find enough evidence to catch the responsible party, whoever it is."

I wondered if Payne was nuts. I could hear the accusation in his words. Did he not care if he keyed his father up?

"You little..." The last word was drowned out by the crash of Balthazar's beer bottle hitting the wall behind Payne. Payne never flinched when his father threw the bottle, whether because he knew his father would miss or because this was not a rare occurrence, I had no idea. It didn't matter. I flinched enough for us both.

Suddenly, Payne's father grunted and turned, leaving Payne alone in the room near the front of the house. Payne looked at the mess and began to pick things up. He was close to me now. I watched him closely as he leaned down and picked things up off the floor. I enjoyed the view.

So much so that I almost didn't see his father re-enter the room. Or what he was holding.

I screamed to warn Payne, but it was of no use. I was home, safely tucked into bed. I had no way of warning Payne that his father was getting ready to shoot him.

I held my breath, trying to will Payne to look up, turn around, something that would let him know the danger that he was in. I prayed Payne's father would leave. That he would realize how horrible a thing he was getting ready to do.

Suddenly, Payne looked like he sensed something. For a brief moment, he looked up at the window, and I swear he was looking right at me. Then with an odd, knowing look on his face, Payne spun around and faced his father. He didn't seem surprised to see the shotgun. His father stepped further into the room, gave Payne a look of contempt, and squeezed the trigger.

Feeling a sharp pain in my chest, I woke up in a cold sweat, the blast still ringing in my ears.

### SEVEN

### DON'T GET DRESSED ON MY ACCOUNT

I LAUNCHED MYSELF DOWNSTAIRS. I knew what I needed to do. I was living with an uncle who was the sheriff of this town. I needed to get him to Payne so we could get Payne to a hospital.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about him, but I wasn't prepared to have him killed. Not after all of this time wondering who he was or what he was meant to be to me.

I came skidding to a halt in the living room where Grandpa and Uncle Mark were watching TV. Seeing the terrified look on my face, Uncle Mark shot up.

"Bristol," he said, "what's the matter?"

I hadn't had time to figure out how to convince him of what I knew. Somewhere Payne lay either dead or dying from a gunshot wound. Grandpa struggled to get up, using his cane to push to a standing position. He watched me like a hawk, but I didn't care. I would happily spill all of my secrets out for all to see if it would help Payne.

The problem was, I was afraid telling the truth right now would just complicate matters. I needed fast action, not questions about my abilities. I knew Payne couldn't have much time. He might already be dead, although something inside of me said he wasn't. I was holding on to that something right now as I quickly tried to think of the fastest way to get Payne the help he needed.

"I think Payne is in trouble," I said as I ran my hand through my hair.

"What kind of trouble?" Uncle Mark asked.

"I called him," I said, making it up as I went along. "I just wanted to see how he was after today. He said he couldn't talk, and as he was hanging up, I heard a shotgun!"

"A shotgun?" Uncle Mark echoed. "Bristol, are you sure? It could have been anything. It could—"

Uncle Mark was cut off as something happened that neither of us expected. Grandpa hit Uncle Mark's head with his cane.

"What's wrong with you, boy?" Grandpa asked. "You see she's scared! Bristol says something is wrong with the McKnight boy, take her at her word."

Uncle Mark rubbed the back of his head. He glared at his father before turning back to me.

"Okay, okay. I can ride over and take a look."

"Thank you," I said. "Let's go."

"Go?" Uncle Mark repeated. "I don't know if that's such a good—ow!" Uncle Mark said as Grandpa used his cane again.

"I've got to go," I explained. "I'll go nuts if I stay. I need to see for myself. I just..."

"Okay," Uncle Mark said. "Let's go."

I pulled him out the door as quickly as I could, mouthing a silent thank you to Grandpa, who just nodded. Really, that man confused the hell out of me.

As Uncle Mark drove, I sat with my arms folded, feet tapping with nervous energy. I stared at the speedometer, which was hovering around fifty-five. Uncle Mark saw my gaze.

"I'm doing the speed limit, Bristol," he said. "The McKnight estate isn't too far away. We'll be there soon."

"You're the sheriff," I responded. "Can't you put on that flashy red light thing and do something like three-hundred miles an hour or so?"

Uncle Mark laughed. "I'm sure you heard wrong."

I glared. "You're the one who told me you think Payne's dad might be violent. There was something Payne said today. He thinks his father might've been the drunk driver that killed Jared. If that's true..."

Uncle Mark pressed down on the gas until our speed grew to eighty. It wasn't the threehundred miles-per-hour I wanted, but it was better.

Uncle Mark's cellphone chimed. He had it clipped to the visor and set for speaker. He flipped it open. "Sheriff Blackburn."

"Evening Sheriff," came a slow, drawling voice. "It's Dwight."

"Yeah, I got that," Uncle Mark said. "What's up?"

"Sorry to bother you," Dwight continued. "But we just got a call about a disturbance over at Balthazar's place. Old Henry Cahill said he'd sworn he heard a gunshot. I was going to dispatch

Pinky to check it out, but I figured I should let you know."

"I'm on my way there now, actually," Uncle Mark said. "I've got my niece with me. She thought she heard something when she called to check on Payne. I'll be there in a minute. Keep listening in case I call for backup."

"Yeah, okay," Dwight answered. "I thought it might be just old crazy Henry again, hearing things, but I guess.... You be careful, Sheriff. You know Balthazar. I wouldn't be surprised if he got a good one tied on tonight, stupid ass drunk."

"I'll be careful," Uncle Mark said. "I'll call back in five minutes, or you send Pinky. You hear?"

"You got it."

Uncle Mark flipped the phone off and pulled onto a side road. The road was like a long driveway that split off into smaller driveways. Each of the smaller drives led to some very large and beautiful homes.

"Welcome to the McKnight estate," Uncle Mark said. "Where you can find McKnights of all varieties, shapes, and sizes. Varick McKnight, of course, lives in the biggest house, but he likes to keep the rest of his family close by. He had houses built for all his kids, his grandkids too, once they're married. That's the traditional wedding present from Varick McKnight, a huge new house, with a professionally maintained lawn, cleaning services, and express snow removal." I nodded, not really caring. I just wanted to get to Payne.

"Here we go," Uncle Mark said. "We're here."

I sat up and saw us heading to a nicely maintained house with a dinged-up truck parked in the driveway, the same as in my dream.

"Bristol," Uncle Mark said. "I need you to promise you'll stay in the car until I say it's okay. I need to see what's happening. If I don't have your word, we're pulling away, and going home, and Dwight can send Pinky."

There was a huge part of me that wanted to argue, but I couldn't take that risk. So I agreed.

"Good, let's just see.... Well look what we have here." Uncle Mark pointed.

Payne McKnight stopped sweeping the front porch and leaned against the broom, watching us with curiosity and amusement in his eyes. He looked uninjured and healthy.

Not to mention, he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Oh. My. God.

I think I may have gulped out loud. I knew there was a gasp or a gulp from somewhere within the car, so it was either me or Uncle Mark. I'm guessing me.

The moonlight gave just the perfect amount of illumination for me to make out his muscular arms and bare chest. Seeing him there, alive and undressed... I mean unharmed, I felt a flush of relief.

I felt a whole bunch of things flood through me, in fact.

"Well," Uncle Mark mumbled, "seems safe enough, but all the same, stay close."

I opened the door and moved toward the porch, letting Uncle Mark walk before me. I could make out broken glass scattered across the porch. The bay window that I'd seen was shattered.

Payne had been trying to clean it up before we arrived.

"Payne," Uncle Mark said, "would you mind coming down here a moment."

Payne looked over at us, and I could swear he was able to see me flush. Then he leaned the broom against the house and headed our way.

There were so many things flashing through my head at that moment. I was relieved Payne was okay but confused that my vision had been so wrong. I was really enjoying the way Payne looked with his shirt off.

As difficult as it was to push that to the side, I was also starting to worry. One wrong word from Payne and my uncle would realize I had been lying about being on the phone with Payne. If Uncle Mark suspected anything, he could easily check. All he had to do was look at my cell to see there was no incoming or outgoing call since I had spoken to Maggie.

I would have happily revealed my secret to save Payne, but he apparently didn't need saving. My secret did. I knew I should have been grateful Payne was alive, but I just couldn't let my uncle see me for the freak I was. Not if I could help it.

Thankfully, I had been hiding my freakiness for some time, and I was pretty good at thinking on my feet. A plan was quickly forming in my head. I took a deep breath and prepared myself to do what needed to be done, no matter how horrible it might be.

As soon as Payne stepped off of the porch, I threw my arms around him, pressing myself against his bare, muscular chest, hugging him tightly. All of this, just to preserve my secret. The sacrifices I make.

"Payne," I gasped. "Thank God you're all right. I heard the gunshot just as we were hanging up. I thought you'd been killed! I was so worried."

I looked up to him, my hands resting on his chest, trying to look into his beautiful eyes and not at his stunning pecks. I could only pray he caught on.

Payne looked down into my eyes, his fingers once again finding that lock of hair he loved to twirl. I could see a mixture of confusion and amusement in his eyes. Finally, the corner of his lip twitched, and he gave my hair a playful tug.

"I hadn't realized you'd heard that," he said. "I thought I hung up before the accident."

"Accident?" Uncle Mark asked as he came over and pushed Payne away from me with two fingers. "Payne, why don't you tell me what exactly happened. What happened to the window? And for that matter, what happened to your shirt?"

Payne stepped back and positioned himself a more respectable distance away from me, although I was still able to admire the view from here quite nicely. I couldn't wait to tell Maggie about this. I supposed it would be in really bad taste for me to take a picture with my cellphone.

"I'm sorry to have scared Bristol like this, Sheriff Blackburn," Payne said. "No one was hurt. It was just—"

"Just what, you little punk?" said a slurring voice. "Who the hell are you even talking to? I told you to clean up this damn mess, you little..." Payne's father, Balthazar, came out, a beer in his hand and a pissed off look in his eyes. "What are you doing here, Blackburn?" He spat.

Uncle Mark stepped in front of both of us, his hand hovering by his gun.

"Balthazar, we got a report of a gunshot," Uncle Mark explained. "Payne was just explaining about an accident. An explanation that includes what happened to your window, I assume."

Balthazar kicked his way forward, knocking shards of shattered glass in all directions, obliterating the neat pile Payne had swept together.

"And I wonder exactly what the little punk told you," Balthazar said. "What did ya say, boy?"

"I doubt you even remember what happened," Payne responded. "Dad had been cleaning his gun when it happened. I told Dad to go to bed while I cleaned it up. I'm sorry for the trouble, Sheriff Blackburn."

I watched Uncle Mark take a step onto the porch, looking for anything that would contradict what he was being told.

I had seen what happened. It was not an accident. But in my vision, Payne had been shot, most likely killed. That part I had clearly gotten wrong. I normally don't get things like that wrong.

Payne McKnight had gotten me completely twisted up.

As Uncle Mark tried to move in front of the window, Balthazar attempted to stare him down. Attempted and failed. Clearly, Balthazar had no desire to take my uncle on.

As Uncle Mark looked about, Balthazar came over to leer at me. I could feel the hatred well within Payne. I was grateful when a car pulled into the driveway.

It was long, sleek, black, and screamed "Get out of my way." It was an important looking car. Whoever drove it was someone powerful.

I looked from face to face and tried my best to read emotions. Uncle Mark's here we go again. Balthazar's combined fury and panic. He both loathed and feared whoever was in that car. Payne seemed hopeful.

The door to the Cadillac opened and out stepped the most intimidating man I'd ever seen. He was very tall, at least six foot four. He wore dark slacks and a matching jacket. His white shirt was open around the collar, revealing the hair at the top of his broad chest. He had salt and pepper hair with a neatly trimmed mustache to match. He took his time approaching us, his dark eyes looking to each of us in turn. I couldn't help but notice his gaze lingered on me longer than it did on anyone else.

Payne whispered in my ear that this was his grandfather, Varick McKnight. Varick went first to my uncle.

"Sheriff Blackburn," he said, "might I ask what the devil you're doing here?"

"Mr. McKnight," Uncle Mark responded, "my niece was on the phone with your grandson Payne earlier tonight. Just as they were hanging up, Bristol thought she heard a gun go off. I brought her over to see if Payne was okay. As we arrived, there was a report phoned in to the department about a gunshot heard in this area. We found Payne outside sweeping up. Payne was explaining about an accident."

"Who cares what Payne has to say?" Balthazar yelled.

"I do," Uncle Mark said. "Go ahead, Payne. Did your father fire the shotgun, or did you?"

"Neither," Payne answered. "My dad just..." Payne glanced toward his grandfather who was standing by, listening intently. "He must have left it loaded and it fell. I know it could have been worse, but no one was hurt." Uncle Mark wasn't buying it.

Varick looked skeptical as well. "Is that what happened here, Payne?"

Payne hesitated. "Yes, sir."

"Ya see," Balthazar shouted as he came down the porch stairs, nearly tripping along the way.

"Told ya I didn't do nothing. You got no right being here, Blackburn!"

"Balthazar," Varick said. "Be quiet, you understand?" It was framed as a question, but was clearly a command. Something told me Varick was someone who was used to having his commands obeyed. "You are embarrassing yourself," Varick continued. "Not to mention myself and your son." Balthazar looked like he wanted to protest, but he refrained.

"Sheriff Blackburn," Varick said, "do you plan on pressing charges? I would hope not, as our family is currently dealing with a terrible tragedy of which you are well aware. I would hope even a Blackburn would understand that."

Uncle Mark took a moment to think as he looked hard at Balthazar and then at Payne. "Payne, all I need from you is one word that tells me you don't feel safe here tonight. You know that. I hope you know you can trust me."

"Thank you, sir," Payne answered. "And I do trust you. But I'll be fine. I promise."

"Mr. McKnight," Uncle Mark said, "I'm going to ignore the jab about even a Blackburn. I don't mind saying that I'm getting a little tired of trying to convince you that I intend to treat everyone in my town fairly. And I could lock your son up tonight for reckless endangerment. No one was hurt, but Payne might have been killed."

Balthazar snorted. Once again, Varick silenced his son with nothing but a glare.

"I'm also not convinced," Uncle Mark said, "that I'm getting the full truth here. I intend to take that gun with me and give your son a summons. He can arrange to pick it up when he's in better condition."

"Hey," Balthazar yelled. "You can't take my gun. I got me the right to bear arms."

"Quiet," Varick instructed. "The sheriff has every right to confiscate your weapon. And I will decide if and when you may retrieve it. Considering the fool you have made of yourself, you're lucky that's all he is doing. I've half a mind to let him throw you in that jail of his. You understand me?" Balthazar crossed his arms and sneered.

"One more thing," Uncle Mark said. "And this is nonnegotiable. I don't want Payne spending the night in this house tonight. I can bring him to any relative he likes, or he's welcome to stay with me but..."

"That will not be necessary," Varick interrupted. "Payne, please go inside and pack a bag. I think you will be spending a week or so with your grandfather."

Payne nodded. Despite everything, I could see the affection that Varick had for his grandson was genuine.

"Very good," Varick replied. "Go on now. I'm sure the good sheriff will wait until you're gone before he leaves. And Payne... don't forget to put a shirt on." Payne laughed and started to head for the house.

"Um, Payne," I said. "Where is your shirt? Did you just decide to put on a show for your neighbors?"

Payne shot me a grin, the kind that made me want to giggle like a silly schoolgirl, which I did not do. "No, I took it off earlier when I spilled something. That's all."

I wasn't going to complain, but I had the feeling there was something he wasn't telling me.

"I'm sorry," Payne said. "Grandpa, this is the sheriff's niece, Bristol. She was with me today when Jared was found."

"I see," Varick said and looked at me. I was suddenly very aware of how horrible I must have looked.

Oh. My. God.

I was out here with Payne McKnight, and I looked like I just rolled out of bed. I had a good excuse for that as I had just rolled out of bed, but I couldn't say that; they all thought I was on the phone with Payne.

"Hello, Bristol," Varick said. "I've heard of the unfortunate news of your parents. I am very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, sir," I said. "And thank you for having Payne stay with you. It makes me feel better. I'm a little embarrassed. I didn't expect to come out tonight. I must really look like a ragamuffin."

Payne smiled and twirled my hair again. "You look wonderful. I'm sorry you had to come here and see this, but after the day that I've had, seeing you was a nice surprise."

I could have spent the entire night just standing there with Payne looking into my eyes like that and twirling my hair.

Uncle Mark had other ideas. He tapped Payne's shoulder and signaled for him to move away. "You go into the house and get dressed, Payne. Now."

Payne smiled and left, making sure to keep his eye on his father as he passed.

"Well, well," Varick said. "Out of all my grandchildren, Payne is the one I see smile the least.

He's had a difficult life. It pleases me to see him happy."

I blushed. "He seems like a really nice guy. We're just starting to become friends."

Varick sent my uncle a look. It was fairly clear he had hoped that was all we were becoming. After a few seconds, Payne came running out. Varick let him give me a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. When he did, Payne whispered in my ear, "Thanks for coming. I'll see you tomorrow."

Varick herded Payne into his car. Varick looked to me one last time. "It was... interesting to meet you, Bristol. You uh.... You say hello to your grandfather for me, won't you?"

They left, and my uncle had me sit in the car. Soon, the aforementioned Pinky showed up to collect Balthazar's firearm. I didn't get to talk with him, but even from where I was, I could see why he was called Pinky. Thin as a stick, a light, pinkish complexion combined with a squeaky voice, and a short stature. This guy never had a chance of being called anything but Pinky.

Later, I watched Uncle Mark as we drove home. He gripped the steering wheel like he was imagining it was someone's neck. I couldn't help but wonder whose.

Hopefully not mine.

"I don't buy it," Uncle Mark said. "I don't buy it for one second."

I squirmed. He wasn't buying the story about me being on the phone with Payne. Payne had done a great job selling it, but all it would have taken was one stunned look from Payne for Uncle Mark to catch on.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Mark," I said. "I really am. I just—"

"Hey," Uncle Mark interrupted. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn't do anything wrong. You did the right thing coming to me. You can always come to me, okay?"

I was afraid to say anything. Not only was I afraid I would say the wrong thing, I was so touched.

"Let me ask you a question, Bristol," he said. "And I don't want any of that refusing to betray Payne's confidence crap. Not about this. Did you buy for one second that what happened there tonight with that shotgun was nothing more than an accident?"

I thought about it for a few moments, remembering how many of my visions of Payne were of him being hurt.

"No," I answered. "I don't believe it. I hate to say that, because it means that Payne lied, but no. I think Payne's very lucky to be alive."

Uncle Mark nodded. "I could have pulled him out of there tonight. Would have, if he didn't end up going with Varick, but the fact is I have no proof. It didn't look like there was a scratch on him. I looked. Maybe I didn't look as closely as you did..."

He sent me a wink. I contemplated jumping from the car but instead blushed several shades of red.

"Sorry, couldn't resist." Uncle Mark laughed. "I hope when you see Payne again, if he tells you anything different, you'll tell me. Don't make any promise to keep secrets. I know that may be really hard on you. I'm sorry for that, but I need to know. One of these days, Payne's luck is going to run out."

God, Uncle Mark had no idea what he was asking of me. He wanted me to betray the trust of the one person who knew my secret. Which meant that in retaliation, Payne could not only tell my uncle about me, but the whole ever-loving town.

But he was right. If Payne was being hurt, and Balthazar had simply missed, I couldn't not tell—no matter what the cost.

"I'll tell you," I answered. "I promise."

Uncle Mark smiled as he pulled into the driveway. "Good. I'm proud of you." He leaned over and gave me a hug. "I know a girl needs her privacy. I hope, at least as far as the important stuff is concerned, we never have any secrets between us." Oh boy. If only he knew.

I had been here many times before. I stood in an abandoned house, a fire raging out of control, but it wasn't the flames that had me terrified. I was looking into the eyes of someone who clearly wanted me dead. I was cornered.

His eyes were ablaze with hatred and the promise of violence. He was going to kill me.

Yeah, been there, done that. But this time was different.

I now knew who I was facing. His name was Payne McKnight. Even here, I couldn't help but notice how incredibly beautiful he was. His shirt was ripped, his hair messed, but he looked perfect. His dark hair fell over his deep blue eyes, but I could still see the rage within them.

I couldn't run away. Where would I go? If he didn't kill me soon himself, I'd burn to death. You would think that would worry him as well, but no. There was no fear in his eyes; just loathing, violence and more than a wee bit of insanity.

" _Please," I whispered. "Please don't. If you ever loved me. Please."_

Payne responded to my plea by reaching out and grabbing my throat. "Of course I loved you. And that's why you have to die."

His hand tightened and the flames grew closer. I tried to scream, but nothing but a whimper escaped me.

At least not until I woke up.

No matter how many times you dream it, you just never get used to seeing your own murder. I held myself, trying to keep from sobbing. Those dreams always got to me, but this time was worse. It was worse knowing who Payne was. It was harder, hearing those words about love. It told me he was going to love me, and then murder me. It was maddening because, although I most definitely did not want him to kill me, I was starting to realize how much I did want him to love me. Was it too much to ask for one without the other? Did this mean the closer I got to Payne, the closer I'd get to him killing me?

Uncle Mark burst through my door and rushed to my side, pulling me into his arms. It felt so strange and unfamiliar. Had it been that long since someone cared enough to come running into my room because I had a nightmare?

I looked over Uncle Mark's shoulder. Simon and Zack were up as well. They looked frightened. I felt mortified, realizing how loudly I must have screamed to wake the entire house.

Even Grandpa was there, pushing the kids back to their rooms.

"You got her?" Grandpa asked.

Uncle Mark nodded. Grandpa closed my door.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'm sorry I woke you. Stupid nightmare. I just..."

"Shhh," Uncle Mark whispered as he continued to hold me.

I felt stupid. I felt embarrassed. I felt...

I felt everything that'd been bottled up for so long come pouring out. All of the grief and anger and fear overwhelmed me. I cried, and once the floodgates opened, I couldn't stop the tears.

Uncle Mark held me and just let me blubber. Why didn't he run away? Why didn't he curse my parents for leaving him a weepy teenager who wouldn't even let him get a good night's sleep?

How could he stand to deal with me when even Ricky was hiding in his soup can?

So, is this what it was like to have somebody love you?

Slowly, the wet sobs were replaced by a few dry laughs. "Oh, man. I am so sorry. I hope I didn't scare you."

Uncle Mark smiled. "Just a bit. I think, all things considered, having a nightmare or two is pretty normal. I wouldn't worry about it."

I looked into his patient eyes, and the memory of my conversation with Aunt Eve came flooding back. How I could do the unthinkable and tell Uncle Mark everything. Right here, right now. I could believe that. I wanted to believe it. There was a very big part of me that wanted to tell him.

But I couldn't bring myself to get the words out. Man, I was such a wimp.

"I'm okay," I said. "Really."

"Bristol," Uncle Mark said. "You know you can tell me anything. If you need to talk, I'm here for you."

I nodded, pushing both the guilt for not opening up and the yearning to do just that aside. "I know. I really do. I just... I guess I needed a good cry is all."

He smiled. "Well, I've got a good shoulder for that, too. Whenever you need me, just let me know. Okay?"

In that moment, I so understood why Aunt Eve had fallen in love with him.

"I will," I replied. "You go back to bed. It's late. I'm okay, I swear."

Uncle Mark kissed the top of my head before pulling the covers over me and letting himself out, closing the door shut behind him.

But I still wasn't alone.

I hadn't seen Jay since earlier that afternoon. He was sitting in an old rocking chair Uncle Mark had found and put in my room, telling me he thought I'd like it. Of course Uncle Mark had been right.

Jay got up and walked across the room. I couldn't help but wonder what my uncle would have thought if he knew I had such an incredibly gorgeous guy in my room. Would it make a difference that the boy was only a ghost?

Jay sent me a smile before lying next to me.

"It's okay," he said. "Just sleep. It occurred to me you would have an easier time resting if there was someone with you to chase the nightmares away. Close your eyes, darling. I promise to be here in the morning."

I returned the smile, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.

When I woke the next morning, it took me only seconds to become aware of the stunning ghost lying next to me. It was more than a bit of a shock, but a pleasant one.

It was probably very wrong for me to have let Jay spend the night. I mean, I'm only seventeen, but did this really count? Jay was, after all, a ghost. He was an amazingly beautiful ghost, but still he had no body. I couldn't touch him, and he couldn't touch me. Not to mention I was wearing no makeup, my hair was a mess, and I probably had that crusty stuff you get in the corner of your eyes when you sleep. I must have looked frightening. In fact, I probably would have scared the poor boy to death if he weren't already among the dearly departed.

"Good morning, darling," Jay said with that seductive smile of his. "I hope you're feeling better."

I stretched, returning the smile. "Yeah, I guess. I just needed a good night's sleep."

"Good. I'm so happy to hear that," Jay replied. "Tell me, darling, what was your nightmare about?"

I shrugged. "It was silly."

Jay cocked one eyebrow. "I don't think so. There was something about the way you looked. So very haunted. It gave me quite a fright, darling. Please, why don't you tell me what it was about? I might be able to help."

I sighed. I did really want to talk to someone about this recurring dream that had been waking me up at night for as long as I could remember. I've never spoken about it to anyone, except Ricky. If I was being honest here, Ricky was never been much help. I knew he cared, but he never really had much to offer.

Jay seemed like a logical choice. After all, he'd certainly believe me. He was available, willing, and just so gosh-darn cute. I loved the way he talked to me. Very classy. Besides, who would he tell?

"Okay, maybe it would be good to talk this out," I said.

"But let me tell you the whole thing, okay?" Jay shifted positions and gave me a nod.

"Okay, then." I took a deep breath, feeling like a kid who was trying to get up the nerve to jump into the pool, afraid of how cold the water would be. Then I looked into Jay's beautiful eyes, and I decided I was ready to take the plunge. "For as long as I can remember, I've dreamt about Payne McKnight."

I started with all of the fleeting images I'd had of Payne over the years. I explained quickly all of the reckless things I'd seen Payne do. Then with a bit of guilt, I began telling Jay about all of the visions of Payne and I being together. I felt bad for describing these things to Jay. They were such wonderful moments that perhaps might lie in my future, but were possibilities that had been forever stolen from him. I wondered if Jay mourned for the life he never had, the children he'd never father.

"It's a lovely life you are describing," Jay said. "And yes I'm consumed by jealousy, but please continue."

How cruel was I being to Jay right now? But I needed to finish what I had started, so after a moment I continued.

"There has been another dream," I explained. "One I keep having over and over again. One that's a lot less happily ever after and far more psycho than all of the others."

Jay shifted. "And this more horrific dream? Am I to assume it's the reason you woke last night drenched in sweat, panic in your eyes?"

"Yeah, that would be a fairly safe bet," I answered. "And it makes no sense. There's no way all of those wonderful, lovely, storybook kind of dreams could exist and yet this other, not so nice dream also be real. It's not possible. It's really silly of me to even worry about it," I concluded, fooling no one but myself. Even Ricky in his soup can was probably shaking his head.

"So tell me," Jay urged. "I would very much like to hear your 'not so nice' dream. Indulge me. Does something wicked happen to little Payne? Perhaps one of his many reckless stunts catches up with him? That would be such a shame, wouldn't it?"

"Jay," I admonished. "That's not nice."

"Bristol dear, please forgive me. I never wished to cause you any distress. I promise to behave."

I figured Jay deserved a little leeway. After all, it must be hard for him to hear this.

"Okay," I said. "In my not so nice dream, it's not Payne who ends up getting hurt." I forced myself into a sitting position. "It's me."

Jay slowly rose as well, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by something far darker. It was like watching a thunderstorm roll into a clear sky.

"Explain, Bristol," he commanded. "How is it you are harmed in this dream?"

His intensity was palatable. So much so, it scared me. Ignoring my fear, I closed my eyes and blurted it out. "Payne kinda, sorta kills me."

I heard nothing. No response, no gasp, no laughter, or sound of shock. Just silence. I slowly opened one eye and took a peek to see if Jay was still in the room.

He was. And he looked really mad.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," I said. "I've had hundreds of dreams with Payne, and out of all of them he only kills me in the one!" Wow, that sounded really stupid when I said it out loud.

Jay put his hand up to silence me. "Just stop. Please, darling, do you even hear yourself?"

"Yeah, I know, but here's the thing. I've had dozens, if not hundreds, of dreams of Payne. Most of them have us falling in love, living happily ever after, growing old together.

We can't grow old together if he kills me."

"We're talking about your life here," he said. "I would rather not take any chances on your pretty little neck. I happen to be quite fond of it."

"So am I," I said. "Trust me, I'm not just dismissing these dreams. I feel like I'm missing something."

"Perhaps what you're going to miss is your next birthday," Jay replied. "Something I hope you have plenty of. Look, Bristol... you have no choice but to stay away from Payne. You simply cannot be involved with him. I'm sorry, but I must insist."

"You must insist?" I repeated. "You have got to be kidding me. Jay, I appreciate the sentiment, but it's my choice whether to see Payne at all. Besides, I have a plan."

"And what might this grand scheme of yours involve?" Jay asked.

I ignored the sarcasm. "It's simple. In my dreams, Payne either loves me with all of his heart or hates me enough to murder me. I just need to make sure neither happens. Payne and I will be friends. That's all. I highly doubt there's a real possibility of anything more that."

For several seconds, Jay stared at me blankly before throwing his head back and laughing so loud he would have woken up the entire house if there were anyone else that could hear him.

"What's so funny?" I asked, feeling more than a bit perturbed. "Stop laughing!"

"Bristol, my darling," Jay said. "You are a precious jewel, as unique as you are lovely. Do you really believe Payne will be able to resist you? I am sure that poor boy is already ensnared by your charms. Charms that are ever the more delectable since you seem to be completely unaware of how incredibly enticing you are."

Now it was my turn to stare blankly. I threw in a few thousand blinks as well. "I don't have any idea how to respond to you. The things you say, they're like poetry. A precious jewel? Delectable charms?" I offered Jay my most sympathetic smile. "I think it's been such a long time since you were able to talk to a flesh and blood girl that you might be getting carried away."

Jay sent me that killer smile. "And do my poetic words have any effect on your flesh or blood?" Oh boy, if he only had a pulse.

"Jay," I said, unsure of what else to say.

"Bristol," he replied, "I could make you very happy, I think. You and I could run off together, away from Spirit, away from any possibility of harm coming to you. I know it wouldn't be the most conventional relationship, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be a fulfilling one."

"Oh, Jay." My heart fluttered. "You have no idea how tempting an offer that is, but I can't leave Spirit. I know I've only been here a short time, but I can't leave my uncle, or Simon, or Zack, or Grandpa... well maybe Grandpa..."

"I had a feeling he would be the exception," Jay said. "I know it's hard to imagine, but just keep that idea tucked in your mind somewhere. I'm not giving up on you just yet." He was breaking my heart.

"Bristol, you don't know me as well as you think you do," he said. "There's a lot more to me than meets the eye."

"Such as?"

Jay sent me that wicked grin. "Why don't we save that for now? Keep an air of mystery about us. Besides, you need to get going. You'll be late for classes."

I glanced at the clock, saw the time, and leaped off the bed. "Dear God almighty! I've got to move. Jay, I'm sorry but..." I looked over my shoulder, and Jay was gone.

### EIGHT

### HE'S A GREAT CATCH

I MANAGED TO GET TO school on time. I ran into my first class as the late bell rang.

My mind was on Payne and what I was going to do. I couldn't all of a sudden abandon Payne, no matter what my visions said would happen. But I would be foolish to simply dismiss them. Payne and I would have to be just friends. As much as I may have wanted it, I couldn't allow myself to become romantic with Payne. The kiss that nearly happened was never going to happen.

Today, Maggie was decked out head to toe in a bright purple getup with canary yellow accessories. She peppered me with questions when I told her about the previous night. She listened intently to each detail. When I got to the part about Payne with his shirt off, Maggie let out a squeal and everyone stared at us.

"Please, tell me that you took a picture," she said.

I knew she would say that.

Later, I walked into the lunchroom looking for Payne but instead ran into Princess P.

She walked up to me, eyeing me like a cougar getting ready to pounce on a gazelle. She was flanked on both sides by other really pretty, snobby-looking girls. All together, there were five of them.

I had Maggie, who squeaked behind me.

"Who do you think you are, Brenda?" she said.

"Bristol," I corrected.

"Whatever," she responded with a flourish and accompanying eye roll. "What the hell kind of name is that, anyway?"

"Is there something I can do for you?" I asked.

Pricilla looked me up and down. "Yes, you can drop off the face of the earth and never show your ugly face in Spirit again. Are we clear?" Okay, I guess I walked into that one.

"Look, Pricilla," I said. "I don't know what your problem is—"

"You are my problem," Pricilla said. "What business do you have cozying up to Payne? He's a McKnight. You're a Blackburn. The two don't mix."

"So I've been told," I replied. "My relationship with Payne is none of your business."

"None of my business?" she repeated. "Payne is mine. Not yours. Do you hear me?"

I dropped my book bag and crossed my arms. "Payne is yours? Do you have a receipt? Proof of purchase? A warranty?" I accentuated my point by taking a menacing step forward.

"Chick fight," said Jake Dispost, the rocker ghost who helped me out on my first day. I tried to ignore him.

Pricilla was not ready to back down. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just warning you off. Consider it a friendly gesture."

"Uh-huh." I snorted. "I've got a friendly gesture for you, too."

Pricilla looked scandalized. I got the impression she wasn't used to people talking to her that way.

"And what about you?" Pricilla said, turning to Maggie. "Are you going to continue to be friends with this loser? I can tell you right now, Magpie, that would be a mistake. Before long, no one in this school will even want to be seen in the same class as her. You better ditch her before you get the same treatment."

I glanced at Maggie, who looked like a giant, dorky deer caught in the headlights of a massive trailer truck headed her way. Then she snapped.

"Pricilla, let me tell you something," Maggie said with fiery determination. "You're a really mean girl, and Bristol is very nice, and my friend, and I don't care what you say! You think you're so..." Maggie did some sort of wiggling motion with her fingers. "But you're really very..." Now she did a choking motion with her hands. "And I'm tired of you acting like you're better than everyone else. And you know what, if you don't like it, you can just kiss my keister!"

"Whoa!" Jake said. "Maggie just blew a gasket. I think she's, like, mucho hot when she goes off like that. But Barbie doll here doesn't look pleased at all."

Jake was right. Pricilla's face was so red she looked like she was trying to pass a bowling ball.

I could practically see the imaginary steam coming from her ears.

Pricilla pointed a finger toward Maggie. "Now you listen here, Magpie—"

I moved between Pricilla and Maggie. "No, you listen, you oversized Barbie doll."

"Hey," Jake complained, "that's my line."

"I don't know why," I continued, stabbing at Pricilla with my finger, "you feel you have the right to dictate who I'm friends with, or why you think I would care. But guess what? If I want to see Payne, I will. If I want to date Payne, I will. If I want to marry Payne, I will. And I don't care what you or your bimbo brigade has to say about it."

I was right in Princess P's face. She had a look of fear in her eyes as she stumbled backward.

Together, Maggie and I turned our backs and walked away.

There was applause from everyone in the lunchroom and then a collective gasp while Jake waved his arms and yelled out to me, "Incoming! Incoming! Move to the left!"

Without hesitation, I grabbed Maggie's arm and yanked her hard to the left. I could see something fly by as I did so. Then I heard a chorus of "oohs!"

I turned around to see Pricilla had thrown someone's lunch at me. Thanks to the warning from Jake, she missed us. The same could not be said for Mrs. Fairbanks, one of the school deans.

Mrs. Fairbanks was a short, stocky woman who wore her glasses on one of those stringy things that hung around her neck. Her previously pink sweater was now covered in lunch goo, something brown and something beige. She looked incensed. After a moment or two of shock, during which time the lunch goo slid off of her face and sweater and onto the floor, she rounded on Pricilla and dragged her out of the lunchroom by her ear.

Maggie and I looked at each other in disbelief before we broke out in laughter. It was good to have a friend to share with.

"Looks like Barbie doll is in mucho trouble," Jake said. "I remember Jackie when we were, like, classmates. She always had a temper. I don't envy Barbie now."

Maggie and I managed to get our laughter under control. As we made our way to a table, we got high fives and atta girls from all directions. It was enough to make a girl blush.

Just as we were sitting down, something caught my eye. In the far side of the room, I could see a very beautiful redhaired girl, watching, appraising me. Without a word, she turned and left.

I ran into Payne on the way to my next class. Maggie was still walking with me when he smoothly moved into place on my opposite side, like it was where he belonged. He sent me that wolfish grin. My heart seemed to tremble as I did my best to ignore the look Maggie sent me.

"I heard you had a run in with Pricilla," Payne said. "What was that all about?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. She was being a complete dweeb.'"

"Dweeb isn't the word I would use," Maggie offered. "But my parents would be very upset if I used the word that comes to mind, so I'll just let you fill in the blank, but Bristol's wrong. It wasn't nothing. She actually had the nerve to tell Bristol—ow!"

Maggie's sentence was cut off as she tripped over my strategically placed foot. Once Maggie was righted again, I gave her The Look. I just hope Payne didn't see. I was pretty sure I had been discreet.

"You okay there, Maggie?" Payne asked.

"Uh huh," Maggie said. "Yeah, just tripped over myself. You know me, big klutz. It's hard to walk with two left feet."

"Yeah," I whispered, "especially when one of those feet is in your mouth."

Thankfully, the bell rang and we had to file into class. Just as we took our seats, Payne leaned down on my desk. "If you can, I'd like to see you after school today."

I nodded, all the while trying to ignore Maggie, who was giving me a thumbs-up from behind Payne.

"Great. It's a date," Payne said before moving to take his seat.

"No, it's not," I said in a sort of whisper-shout voice. "We're just talking. I don't date."

Maggie leaned close to me. "What are you doing? If Payne McKnight wants to go on a date with you, you go. Think about how much it will kill Pricilla. Not to mention thrill me."

"Maggie." I sighed. "Am I supposed to date him just to make Pricilla nuts? Or just to make you happy?'

"Either works for me," Maggie said. "Or how about the fact that he's beautiful."

"Yeah, yeah," I murmured.

"Don't yeah, yeah me, girl," Maggie said. "We are not talking about he's okay or he's really cute here. Payne McKnight is a have your teeth fall out from all that sweet eye candy kinda beautiful. Half the girls in this school would kill to even catch his eye. And the other half, like me, will kill you if you don't go for it."

"Maggie," I said, "I understand, but if I'm not ready to date, then I'm not ready. I'm not going to do something I'm not ready for just for you, for the girls of Spirit High, or even for Payne McKnight."

"Yeah, you will," she said. "But it's because the two of you belong together. Otherwise, the thought of it wouldn't scare the living daylights out of you."

I ignored her and looked toward the teacher, who was starting to drone on about the Revolutionary War. I wasn't paying attention. I was worrying about whether Maggie was right or not.

Two classes later when the last bell of the school day rang, I felt a sense of utter panic set in. I was supposed to meet Payne. And now I was left to answer the question: What am I, insane?

I grabbed Maggie and dragged her into the girl's bathroom. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"I thought you and Payne were supposed to hang out," she answered.

"I know," I replied. "I know I'm supposed to meet him. But what am I supposed to do with him?"

"You really need me to tell you that?" Maggie asked, as she wiggled her eyebrows again.

I walked right into that one.

"Maggie," I whined. "I think I'm in over my head. I can't handle this. You don't understand!"

I think Maggie was starting to see how frightening this was for me because her eyebrows stopped wiggling. She came over, put her hands on my shoulders, and gave me a reassuring pat. Her eyes were filled with sympathy. "Bristol," she said in a gentle, kind voice. "Let me ask you a question. Are you nuts?" she yelled, her puppy dog eyes widening in horror.

I stood there, open mouthed, completely blindsided. I hated when that happened.

"Bristol," she said, "he likes you. And it's driving me crazy because I know you like him, too. You do like him, right? Because if you don't, if I'm reading you wrong, then tell me. But if you do like him, what's the problem? Because it seems to me that you just can't get yourself to believe that he really does like you. I mean, I understand. Believe me I do. But trust me, he really likes you."

"Well, no, um..." I muttered. She was making it hard to be unreasonable. "Look, I guess maybe I'm not ready for this. I'm still adjusting to life here, with my new family, without my parents.

I've never been out on a date before."

"Okay," Maggie said. "No one is saying run off and get married. Although, I would so love to be your maid of honor, but that's not the point." Maggie waved off the panic in my eyes. "Just go talk to him. When he asks you out on a date, you'll decide you're ready. But you don't want to not give yourself the chance to find out."

She was making sense. I should take this one step at a time. I decided the best thing for me to do was remain calm. I needed to keep a cool, clear head. The last thing I wanted to do was panic.

Then I looked in the mirror and screamed. "I can't see Payne when my hair looks like this."

"Yeah." Maggie started to dig into her purse. "I was wondering about that myself. You really should do something. Maybe a little makeup wouldn't hurt. You know, girl up a little."

I wasn't even sure what that meant, but I reached into my own bag for my hairbrush and went to work.

Minutes later, Maggie and I went out of the school and looked around for Payne. He wasn't hard to find, standing at the bottom of the school stairs. He seemed totally unaware of how many girls were checking him out.

Of course, the boys who passed were more interested in his companion. It was the tall, absolutely stunning redhead I'd seen. She wore a green blouse that did a phenomenal job of bringing out her equally green eyes. Her black skirt was cut above the knees and revealed long, magnificent legs.

She and Payne seemed to be deep in conversation. Her face was serious, his amused. She was doing all of the talking. And then she did something that made me want to either run away or descend the stairs and slap the red out of her hair.

She kissed Payne.

I stopped dead in my tracks and stared, trying to tell myself it was meaningless. Certainly, the kiss held no passion. It was little more than a peck on the cheek. Friendly. Nothing more. But still, her lips lingered on his cheek for more than a half second. I could sense warmness in the kiss. There was genuine emotion behind it. The fact that she had feelings for Payne was far scarier to me than Pricilla's militant demand that I back off.

How could I hate her for that? Was it fair for me to despise her for liking a boy that was not only beautiful to look at, but who seemed kind and caring as well? To loathe her for the fact that she herself was spectacular looking? Was I petty enough to abhor her when she's probably known Payne for a lot longer than me?

As it turns out, yes I was.

I was horrified when I realized that Maggie was dragging me right toward them. I would have thought even Maggie would have at least waited until the redheaded beauty departed, but Maggie just kept pulling me forward.

When Payne glanced in our direction and his eyes locked on mine, I watched the slow smile come across his face. I was overcome with a new desire, one to ignore the stunningly pretty girl by his side and simply launch myself into his arms. Who cared about her? He wanted to see me!

Still, I kept my pace steady. There was no backing out now, but I wasn't going to throw myself at him. I needed to be cool and collected. I needed to walk over to him as casually as possible. That was my plan. To walk, no, not walk. I would saunter up to him, looking not the least bit out of place. It was a good plan.

That was when I felt my foot catch on the stairs, and suddenly I was airborne. My heart lurched as I tumbled forward. Payne quickly shot toward me, and I found myself landing right into his arms. I collided with him, his solid frame gently rescuing me from my flight as I felt his muscular arms embrace me, keeping me from harm.

"Oh my," the redhead said. "Are you all right?"

I took a moment to find my legs and support myself again before reluctantly pushing off Payne and looking toward her. Her beautiful green eyes were filled with concern. Man, she wasn't making it easy to hate her.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I answered, looking the redhead up and down while trying not to appear like I was looking her up and down. "Wasn't my fault. The stairs are defective."

The redhead gave me a cautious smile. "Uh-huh. I think you like making an entrance."

"I trip there all the time," Maggie interjected. "Hi, I'm Maggie."

"Hello," the redhead said. "I'm Hunter. I saw how the two of you stood up to Pricilla.

Heard she has an in-school suspension for a week."

"Really?" I responded. "Am I supposed to feel bad about that?"

Hunter shrugged. "I wouldn't."

"I'm sure whatever it was Pricilla did," Payne offered, "Bristol was only responding accordingly. I would still like to know what it is she said to you."

There was an awkward moment of silence as Hunter, Maggie, and I exchanged glances.

Hunter patted Payne's cheek. "Live in blissful ignorance, cousin."

"Wait," I said. "You and Payne are cousins?"

Payne and Hunter nodded collectively. Hunter folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow in my direction. "Of course. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Well, um." I hesitated, trying to think of a good response. "It's just that..."

"Afraid I was the competition?"

I returned the eyebrow arch. "I don't plan on competing."

This response earned a strange contemplative stare from Hunter. She was clearly evaluating me. I looked toward Payne, who was watching Hunter watch me.

"I thought someone told me," I said, "that the McKnights were made up of boys."

"For the most part," Hunter replied. "I guess I'm the exception. I've heard the same thing about the Blackburns."

"Guess that makes me a bit of a freak," I said. "We have that in common."

"I suppose so," Hunter said. "I like to think of myself as unique. You don't think you're a freak, do you?"

Without hesitation I said, "Of course not."

Hunter frowned. I couldn't help but feel like I had said something wrong.

"You know," Payne said, "Bristol's been great. She was with me when I found Jared."

"How's your aunt?" I asked. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I want to say she's okay," Payne answered. "But I'd be lying. It's hitting her hard. My Uncle Heathcliff is with her. I'll check on her soon."

"Please, pass along my sympathies," I said. "If there is anything I can do to help, just let me know."

Hunter looked toward me, that same contemplative stare in her eyes. "You know, Blackburns aren't supposed to care about McKnights. I think there's a rule."

I sighed. "I don't care about any idiotic war between our families."

Once again, Hunter considered me before responding.

When she did, her expression softened considerably. "That's good to know. I've wanted to thank you, Bristol. I'm glad Payne had someone there with him."

"It was nothing, really," I said. "I didn't do anything special."

Something flickered on Hunter's face. I couldn't tell what, but once again she was reacting oddly to something I had said.

Payne quickly put his arm around me. "Bristol has been wonderful. She was very supportive and did everything she could to help."

I watched as Hunter looked to Payne, considering his words carefully. It was as if she was trying to decide which of us to believe.

"Really," Payne insisted. "Bristol's shown nothing but compassion for our family."

"Payne," someone shouted.

We looked up to see the geeky boy who'd been tripped by some of Payne and Hunter's cousins a few weeks back descending the stairs. His book bag was strapped to his back like he was about to go hiking.

Payne waved to him. Just as I remembered his name was Ian, I saw him stumble in the exact spot I did. I watched as he went tumbling hard down the stairs. This time, Payne wasn't fast enough.

Ian hit the ground and came rolling to a stop by our feet.

Payne ran to his side to help him while others around us pointed and laughed. Both Payne and Hunter shot angry glares at the crowd.

"Ian, you okay?" Payne asked.

Ian, clearly embarrassed, nodded. "Yeah, I'm used to it. I have... well, let's just say gravity issues and leave it at that."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I did the same thing. I told you guys it was the stairs."

"I'm beginning to believe that," Hunter said.

Ian's eyes darted from Hunter to Maggie, back to Hunter then to me, and then to Hunter again.

Payne quickly introduced us.

"I heard about your cousin," Ian said. "I'm so sorry." Payne and Hunter thanked him.

"Oh," Hunter said. "You're hurt. That must sting."

Ian's pants were torn by his right knee, and there was a trickle of blood. Ian looked surprised.

"Oh, uh." Ian's face took on a greenish hue as he looked away. "I hadn't noticed. I must have been... uh... distracted." "Does it hurt?" I asked.

"Not bad," Ian answered. "It stings now that I realize it's there. I just, uh..."

"What's the matter?" Payne asked.

Ian looked embarrassed. "I uh... I don't like the sight of blood."

Ian chanced another glance. When his eyes found his knee, he cringed, looking like he might faint.

"Sorry," Ian said. "I'm a wimp." I wanted to agree but refrained.

"Don't worry," Hunter said. "I appreciate the honesty. Why don't we go inside? I'm sure the school nurse can fix that up."

After a quick goodbye, Hunter led Ian back into the school, his eyes very much off of his knee and on Hunter. He seemed very happy to have her hold his hand.

"Well, I've got to go," Maggie announced. "Payne, all the best to your family, and if there's anything I can do, just ask."

With a wave she was off, leaving me alone with Payne.

Which was, I was sure, exactly what she intended.

"Did I say something wrong to Hunter before?" I asked. Payne thought about my question, which was annoying.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "Hunter and I are very close. She's my cousin, but in many ways, she's more like a sister to me. She knows me better than anyone else."

"I see," I said. "So, did I pass the audition?"

"You don't have to prove anything to anybody, Bristol," Payne said. "I want to talk to you about last night. I can't imagine what you might have thought happened, but..."

"Payne, I saw it," I said. "I saw the argument you had. I saw him walk out of the room. I saw you start to clean up the mess he made, and then I saw him come back in with that shotgun. I saw it!"

Payne face went pale. "What did you see?"

"That's it," I said. "I was sure you'd been shot. I woke up feeling pain like you had been..."

Payne grabbed me. "You what?"

I goggled. There was anger in his eyes but not at me. He was mad at himself.

Suddenly, he was pulling me away from the front of the school until we were around the side of the building, away from where others could overhear us. We were standing under the shade of a big oak tree, the sun on the opposite side of the school building.

"Does that happen often?" he asked. "Feeling pain like that?"

"No, not usually," I answered. "Not from a vision. Usually only when something happens in front of me, when it's for real. Clearly, you weren't shot."

I watched his eyes burn. There was something he wanted to say, but he didn't.

"Payne," I said, "we need to go talk to my uncle. The next time your father might not miss."

"Look," Payne replied. "My family life is complicated, but it's nothing. Really."

"Nothing?" I said, not believing my ears. "Payne, he had a shotgun. Do I need to wait until he pulls a bazooka on you before I'm allowed to worry?"

Payne smiled. "I like the fact that you're worried about me."

"Stop it," I complained. "This is serious. And who said I was worried about you?"

"You just did," Payne said.

"Oh shut up," I ordered. "Payne, your father could have killed you last night." Payne laughed at the thought. He actually laughed. I so wanted to hit him.

"Bristol," Payne said, "I can guarantee, I was in no danger last night. None. I know it must have seemed like that, but I was never in any danger of being hurt by my father."

"You can't be serious?" I responded. "Payne, you can't defend what he did. Maybe he isn't as bad when he hasn't been drinking but..."

"The last thing I want to do is defend my father," Payne said. "Bristol, my life is complicated. My family's different. But my father is incapable of harming me."

"Of course you would say that," I said. "You think you're invincible. I've heard of the reckless things you've done. My uncle told me. Skateboarding on the roof of a building?

Payne, you're insane."

"No," Payne said. "I'm not. And I'm okay."

"For now," I said. "Payne, I'm afraid when you go back home, you won't be so lucky."

"Then I won't go," Payne said. "I'll move in permanently with my grandfather. Grandpa even talked about that last night."

"You mean that?"

"It'll be fun. Hunter lives there, too, ever since her parents died a few years ago. I'll talk to

Grandpa tonight."

"If you don't," I said, "I will."

"You will what?" Payne asked. "You're going to talk to my grandfather? Most people find him a little intimidating."

"You mean scary as hell," I said. "But I'll do it."

"I believe you would," Payne said. "You won't have to. I promise."

"And what about the other stuff? The crazy things you do?"

"That, too," Payne said. "I won't be so reckless, okay? I won't do anything where I can get hurt."

"Thank you."

Payne smiled and took my hand. "Come with me, I want to show you something." "What?"

He just grinned. "Trust me." And just like that, I did.

Payne took my hand and led me on a path through the woods. I had no idea where we were going, and logically I knew this wasn't bright. I simply didn't care.

Before long, we came to a small stream of water flowing through a clearing. I looked around the pretty meadow and admired the small patch of wild flowers that grew past the shade of the woods. The area was open and uncluttered, with only a single weeping willow tree sitting a few feet from the stream, which offered shade to anyone who cared to sit and watch the water ebb by.

I knew this spot. It was going to be our spot. We would spend many moments under that tree, talking, kissing, exploring.

I recognized the view from the vision of Payne and I lying naked in each other's arms. Somehow, I knew when I had that vision, it was of my first time. This would be the place where we would first make love—if he didn't kill me first.

"This place is perfect," I said.

"It is now," Payne said. "I've been coming here ever since my mom died. She had told me about this place, but I didn't find it until about six months after the accident. To be honest, it never occurred to me to even look for it until she was gone. She'd mention that path there." He paused and pointed to a trail that led through the trees. "It leads straight to my grandpa's house. The one over there," he now indicated a similar path on the opposite end of the clearing. "That goes toward where you live. After she died, I made sure to find this place. It's where I can go to feel close to her again."

I hugged him. "Thank you for sharing this with me. It's beautiful."

Slowly, we found ourselves sitting underneath the tree with me in his arms, watching the stream pass by.

"We haven't talked about your parents much," Payne said. "Do they..."

"Drop by to see me? No, they haven't yet. I don't know why. My aunt, who I'd never met, came to me just before I arrived at my uncle's place. But my parents can't be bothered to say hi, we'll miss you, we love you. Maybe they never did."

"Hey," Payne said. "Don't talk like that. Of course they loved you. You just..."

"Just what?" I asked. "Payne, my parents weren't like my uncle. I'm not sure how they felt about me. We were never close."

"I'm sorry," Payne said. "I just look at Sheriff Blackburn and figured your parents were like him somehow. It must have been hard on you. Lonely."

"It wasn't too bad," I said. "I was never really alone. I always had someone with me, telling me to eat my veggies or to help with homework. It's just that they were all dead."

Payne and I sat there a few seconds in silence. Then we both burst out laughing.

"God, that sounds so insane," I said. "I never really said any of this out loud to another living person before. Emphasis on living. It feels nice to be able to talk about it."

"Have you ever been spooked by a ghost? Are they ever scary?"

"No, never," I replied. "I've been around ghosts my entire life. At first, when I was younger, they more or less just passed through. As I got older, their presence became stronger. But I've never been afraid of them. I know they can't hurt me."

"That makes sense, I suppose."

"Not to say I haven't found them disturbing in other ways," I added.

"Such as?"

"Well," I said, "hearing how they died. I've had people show up that just need to tell the story, I guess. Like they won't believe it themselves until they say it to someone, and that someone is me."

I looked to see if I was freaking Payne out. He seemed okay, so I continued.

"I really hate the ones that have been eaten," I said. "I don't care if they were torn apart by a bear, ripped to shreds by a croc, or chased down by a bobcat. I hate seeing that. I once had someone who was swallowed whole by a shark." I shuddered.

Payne laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that can ruin your appetite. But it never scared you?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't like I was about to go hug a bear or play with a giant snake. Do you get scared when you hear of a shark attack on TV? It's not nice, but when I get a visit from someone who got mauled by a grizzly, I don't go throwing out all my cute little teddy bears."

"Teddy bears?" Payne smiled. "I don't know. I think seeing and hearing things, especially when you were little, must have scared you some."

"Well, when I was little the ghosts wouldn't usually tell me vivid details."

"They didn't?"

"No, not that I can remember," I explained. "It would have been very rude, don't you think?"

"Of course," Payne agreed. "Death is never an excuse for rudeness." I arched an eyebrow. "Are you mocking me?" "Me? Mock? Perish the thought!" He grinned.

I gave him a good-natured laugh, quickly followed by elbowing him in the gut. Payne gave an exaggerated wince. His stomach was rock hard.

"But really," Payne said. "The living do rude and inappropriate things. Surely the dead do as well?"

"Well, yeah," I answered. "I've had a few wacky ones. One guy who died of heart problems, really overweight. He followed me around watching everything I ate, counting the calories, telling me how I was eating myself into an early grave. I yelled at him, 'Me having one cookie is not the same as you having twenty an hour!' He left me alone after that." "I can see how that would be annoying," Payne said.

"But most aren't like that. Most just need a little time to adjust. It's so unreal that they've been hit by a bus, or dropped their hairdryer in the tub with them, or even this one guy who had his head chopped off in a freak accident when he stuck his head in an open elevator door to see where the elevator was. He refused to believe it, even though he was standing there holding his head like a football."

"Oh, that must have been pleasant." Payne winced at the thought, making me giggle. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Um, yeah." I wondered how bad the question was going to be. It was all seeming so normal. How long would that last?

"Okay, so you can see ghosts, right?" I nodded. "And you can talk to them, so you can hear them. Can you also smell them?"

"Can I smell them?" I repeated. "You want to know if I can smell ghosts? Like if I'm a paranormal blood hound?"

"No." Payne laughed. "But dead bodies can smell pretty bad. Burn victims, drowning victims... I was just wondering if it was like a full assault on your senses."

"Oh." It was a valid question. "No, I can't smell them. I think ghosts are just images of the life force left behind. Sometimes when I see a ghost, they appear fully healthy even if they were killed in a horrible car crash. It's the way they see themselves. I don't know. Like I said, there're no rules."

"Tell me something else," Payne instructed while he continued to hold my hand, his fingers intertwined with mine.

"Like what?" I asked, wondering what part of my freakiness he would like to explore now. Did he want to know if I could spin my head around in circles? If I slept in a coffin? When I got mad, did I grow horns and puke up split pea soup?

"I don't know," Payne said. "Something about yourself. What kind of music do you listen to? I got that you're not a huge football fan. I'll have to work on that. But do you play any sports?

Any instruments? What kind of movies do you like?

Stuff like that."

Was he kidding me? What kind of music or movies do I like? We were just talking about decapitated ghosts in denial of their own demise. Now he wanted to know whom I voted for on American Idol?

It was insane. It was insane because it was normal, wasn't it? It was normal to talk about music and movies. It was wonderful to talk about them, sitting in a pretty field by a pretty stream while holding hands with a very pretty boy.

And you know what? It was nice. I found myself there, snuggled under Payne's arm, talking about things normal teenagers talk about. He made a few mock faces of disgust over my choice of music—Yes, he took the I talk to ghosts better than I listen to Fergie. I moaned when he told me he preferred country, but he also listened to rock, even if it is mostly from older bands he liked to call classic.

We talked movies. His favorite was Die Hard. When I told him mine was Ghost, he just chuckled and said, "Of course." We only briefly passed by the subject of sports. He was satisfied I would be happy to root for whatever team he wanted me to as long as he never required me to understand it.

We traded a few personal stories with an unspoken understanding to keep away from the sad ones and concentrate on the goofy. We both knew the other had seen tragedy in their lives. Neither one of us wanted those gloomy memories to define how we saw each other. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that we would share the more depressing parts of ourselves at a future date.

There was no if, just a when.

Soon enough we arrived at the point in the conversation that I was dreading. Dating history. I silently wished for a spirit to come along and interrupt our little chat. I felt lame beyond belief having to sit there and explain that I was seventeen and I'd never been on a date.

Then he said two words that, had I not been lying in his arms, would've certainly knocked me on my behind.

"Me neither," Payne announced with a shrug.

I sat up so quickly I got lightheaded. "You haven't been on a date? You, Payne McKnight, have never been on a date with a girl? You"—I waved my arms at him in an attempt to indicate his allconsuming hotness—"have never, not once, even kissed a girl?" He shrugged. "No, never. I just..." "Yes?" I urged.

Payne gave me that grin of his. "I guess, every time I've been around a girl, there's been this part of me that just knew they weren't for me. I always felt like I'd been waiting for someone." He reached out and gently placed his fingers on my cheek. My skin tingled where he touched. "Someone just for me. It didn't seem right. I've just never been interested in any of the girls I've met. Not until you."

He looked at me with such intensity; I could feel it. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I wanted to run. I wanted to leap into his arms. I wanted him to take it back because it was simply more than I could handle. But more than everything else, there was a piece of me that felt the same way.

In short, I was torn between running and doing a happy dance.

"Bristol," Payne said, "I know I'm going kinda fast here, and I'm sorry. No, wait...I'm not," he corrected as he moved even closer to me. So close I could tell what he was leading up to. And I wasn't moving away. "Bristol, I can't help it. I feel connected to you. I trust you. I don't understand it. But I know I don't want to fight it. I know we haven't even been on a date yet—"

"Yet?" I said, my eyes bulging wide. "Payne, I don't date. I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know why you would even want to date me. Of all people, why me? You could have any girl in Spirit."

"Bristol," Payne said. It made me weak, hearing him say my name.

"Payne," I countered. "This is nuts."

"Why?" he asked. "What am I saying that's so crazy? Are you saying that you don't feel the same thing? Bristol, if you don't like me, I'll understand. If you're just not interested, fine, but I think you are."

"Payne, of course I... like you, but really, what could you possibly see in me. Is it just possible what you feel is more like fascination?"

Payne grinned. "I think I am fascinated."

"I don't mean like that," I complained. "I mean because of... you know... the whole talks to the dead thing. Let's face it, it's not every day you get to spend time with someone so freaky that—"

"Hey." Payne grabbed both my hands. I stared at him, his beautiful, deep blue eyes gazing down on me, penetrating my soul.

"I don't want to ever hear you say that," Payne insisted. "Do you understand me? I don't look at you and see a freak. I can't stand that you think I do. I look at you and see a girl who is kind and funny and wonderful. You helped me when it would have been far easier to stay away from me.

"Bristol," Payne continued as he reached out and twirled my hair. "You mean something to me. I feel there's something between us. I need to ask, do you feel the same way?"

I couldn't respond. I lost the ability to speak. It didn't help that every time Payne touched me like that, I was flooded with flashes of the two of us together; his hands all over me, his mouth covering mine.

But it wasn't just the promise of sex. It was so much more.

All of the reasons why I should be wary of Payne melted away. I was done pretending that I didn't want this.

The dreams didn't matter. The feud between our families was irrelevant. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing, except the ghost of a small boy who looked terrified beyond belief.

"Please," Jared whispered, "can you help me?"

I put my hand on Payne's chest. He instantly read my face and knew something was wrong.

"What?" he asked.

"Jared," I said. "What's the matter?"

"Help me," Jared repeated. "He has my dog."

I realized for the first time, Jared had appeared without his beloved dog, Eli.

"Who does?" I asked. "Who has your dog?"

My question only served to frighten Jared more, but he didn't fade away. "Jared," I said. "You can tell us. Who has your dog? Who has Eli?" Jared's panic-filled eyes darted from me to Payne and then back again. With a deep breath, Jared spoke. "The man who killed me."

### NINE

### PAYNE'S SECRET

I FOLLOWED JARED ALONG A path leading to a development of homes. We were headed in the same direction where Payne lived with his father. Something I was sure wasn't lost on Payne.

I could feel the rage within Payne. It was as if he were radiating anger, reeking of fury.

Jared was extraordinarily despondent. I wasn't even sure if he realized Payne and I were following him. He was stumbling along, his arms still hugging himself, muttering something every now and then.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Payne came behind me and hissed in my ear, "You know where we're going, don't you?"

"Just stay calm," I urged.

"Stay calm? Are you—"

"Shhh," I commanded. I looked to Jared to make sure Payne hadn't caused him to fade, but he was still there. "First off, if you get too upset, it might frighten Jared off. Besides, I can feel your anger, and it's very... distracting."

Payne had a rebellious gleam in his eyes, but he held his tongue and made a visible effort to calm down. I could feel the fury within him pull back. It was still there but somehow muted.

We started to pass by homes I recognized from last night. Beautiful homes with wellmaintained lawns and expensive cars in the driveways. We were deep in McKnight territory.

Jared made a right turn, and I followed. Payne stopped for a moment at the corner. He looked around a moment before catching up with a few quick steps.

"Wait," Payne whispered. "Where are you going? My place is down that way." He pointed behind us.

I shrugged. "But Jared is heading this way."

Payne frowned. I could sense, not only the confusion from him, but a touch of disappointment.

"But..."

"Hush."

Payne was not happy, but he hushed.

We kept walking. Jared moved slower now. I watched him carefully, looking for any clue, any hint of what was to come. Jared grew more terrified with each painful step.

We were passing beyond what I assumed was the McKnight area. The houses looked more average, less expensive. Instead of new Cadillacs, BMWs and Mercedes, there were used Hondas, Fords, and Toyotas. Instead of large three or four story houses, with in-ground pools and long driveways, these were more modest homes.

Suddenly, Jared came to a halt. I came up behind him, trying to not stop as quickly in case anyone was watching. Payne stayed by my side. Jared glanced at me, showing me he was still aware of my presence.

"Do you hear him?" Jared asked. "I can hear him now."

"Hear what?" I asked. "I don't..."

But I did. I could hear the faint but distinct sound of a dog barking. Jared seemed slightly heartened.

"Eli," he mumbled as he started to move forward.

Once again, I followed with Payne. Jared walked faster now, mumbling Eli's name every few seconds.

"What's happening?" Payne asked, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"He hears him," I answered.

"Hears who?" Payne asked. "The guy who killed him?"

"No," I said. "Jared hears his dog, Eli."

Payne stopped, confused. Then he rushed to catch up.

"Wait," Payne said. "That can't be right."

"Why not? I can hear him, too. I can hear Jared's dog barking," I explained. "It's getting louder. We must be getting closer."

"Bristol." Payne grabbed me. "Something's wrong."

"Payne," I said, "I can hear him barking. I think it's coming from that house on the corner. Why don't you believe me?" Through all of this, Payne had never faltered in his belief in me or my abilities. Why would he stop now?

"Because," Payne insisted, "I can hear that dog barking, too!"

I started to pull away to follow Jared, who was now waiting for me at the edge of the corner house. It took me a few seconds, filled with my looking back and forth between Payne and Jared, before I understood what Payne was saying.

"What do you mean you can hear the dog barking?" I asked. "You can't hear the dog barking. Not if the dog is dead."

Payne shrugged. "What do you want me to tell you? I'm hearing a dog."

"That is not possible. It's not like you can catch what I have."

"No kidding," Payne responded.

"Then how?" I yelled. "How you can hear a dead dog? Jared can hear a dead dog because it's his dead dog, and Jared's dead. I can hear his dead dog because that's just one of the freaky things I do. So, what is your excuse?" I folded my arms and tapped my foot.

Payne shrugged. "I was kinda going with the theory that the dog I'm hearing isn't dead."

"Not dead?" I gave myself a mental head slap. "Yes, that makes sense. A living, breathing, barking dog."

Payne smiled. "I'm so happy you approve. So, does this mean that this was for nothing?

Jared's just hearing a dog bark and reacting?"

"I don't think so," I said. "We passed other dogs on the way here. Remember those big, mean looking ones that jumped up on the gate a few blocks back and made me scream?"

"That's Uncle Karsten's place," Payne said. "They're Doberman Pinschers. Good guard dogs. Uncle Karsten doesn't like them cute and cuddly."

"Right. Whatever," I said. "Then there was the little thing we passed, that little yippidy thing."

"That was a Brussels Griffon," Payne explained. "Yeah, he's annoying. Uncle Devontae doesn't care for it either, but Aunt Patty loves the little bugger."

I placed my hands on my hips and gave my best you've got to be kidding me looks. "Uncle

Devontae? Uncle Karsten? I guess there is no Uncle Bob in your family?"

"Yeah, we McKnights tend to go for unique names,"

Payne agreed. "So now what?"

"Payne, do you know who lives here?" I asked.

"Um, yeah, it's Mr. Weeder," Payne said. "He's the guy who does the gardening for the McKnight homes. Whenever I see him, he's either gardening or writing in one of his journals. Seems harmless enough."

"I've noticed," I said, "that it's often people who appear harmless that turn out to really be monsters. You know how it goes. People say 'Oh, he was such a nice, quiet guy. I can't believe he chopped those girl scouts into brownies!'"

"Well, that's pleasant," Payne said. "You think Mr. Weeder had something to do with Jared's death?"

"Could be. Does he drive a black pickup truck? Or did he when Jared was killed?" Payne nodded. "Yeah, he does."

"Well, he's a gardener, right?" I reasoned. "That would mean he would probably have a shovel handy in his truck if he needed it, right?"

"But that's not enough. We need more."

"True," I said. "But if we were in front of your house, you wouldn't be waiting before rushing in to do Lord knows what to your father."

"Yeah, well," Payne murmured. "Look, what about the dog? You've always said you saw Eli with Jared. Why would he think his dog was here now?"

"I'm not sure," I answered. "But my uncle never mentioned finding the dog buried with Jared. I couldn't figure a way to ask, but I'm pretty sure I would have heard something. Wouldn't he have buried them together if he killed them together?"

"Okay," Payne said. "That still doesn't explain how Eli can be alive when you've seen his ghost."

I thought back over my history with the dead, trying to think of something that could make sense out of all of this.

Then it hit me.

"Mr. Whiskers!" I exclaimed.

Payne didn't jump, but he did look at me like I had lost my mind.

"Excuse me?"

"Mr. Whiskers," I repeated. "It makes perfect sense. It explains everything."

"Who's Mr. Whiskers, and how does he explain everything? He's not um..." Payne whispered. "Here?"

I watched as Payne glanced about nervously. It was kind of cute.

"No," I explained. "There is no Mr. Whiskers here. As far as I know, Mr. Whiskers is still alive."

"Well, good for Mr. Whiskers?"

"Listen," I said. "Mr. Whiskers belonged to a ghost I met a few years ago. Concetta Cassandra Carmichael. She was this really old lady who'd died in her sleep. She spent a few nights with me, correcting my posture, criticizing my table manners, driving me nuts."

"Sounds like a fun gal," Payne said. "Did Mr. Whiskers kill her?" I sighed. "Don't be ridiculous." "Never," Payne replied.

"Mr. Whiskers was her cat. Well, one of her cats. She had forty. Mr. Pussems, Mr. Sweetie, Mr. Kit-Cat, Mr. Fluffy..."

"Okay, okay," Payne interrupted. "I get it! She had a bunch of cats, each with a name more ludicrous than the last."

"The point is," I continued, "Mr. Whiskers was her favorite. I don't know why. She never told me anything that made sense. Ugly little cat, if you ask me. Didn't do anything." "I'm a dog person," Payne said.

"The point is, Mr. Whiskers wasn't dead," I said. "He was still back at the house being pampered by all of Mrs. Carmichael's nieces and nephews, along with the rest of her cats. Something about the will being divided up by who took care of the cats. The more cats you adopted, the bigger of a percentage you got."

"I know I'm going to regret this," Payne said, "but why didn't everyone just each take an equal amount of cats?"

"It wasn't up to them, silly," I replied. "The cats got to choose who they went to. Mrs.

Carmichael hired a cat expert to watch. Make sure no untoward influence was placed on the cats."

"Untoward influence?" Payne asked. "You know what, never mind."

"My point," I continued, "was the entire time Mrs. Carmichael was there, so was Mr.

Whiskers. Even though Mr. Whiskers was still alive and being fed pâté on a fluffy, red pillow, Mrs. Carmichael was simply projecting the cat. It must have been too much for the old biddy to be without all of her feline friends."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but that makes sense. But why would Jared suddenly realize Eli was just a projection and not real?"

I shrugged. "Maybe he saw Eli for real. Maybe our finding his body gave him what he needed to face it? We may never know. Would you recognize Eli after all this time? He wouldn't be a puppy anymore."

"No, but when he was little, he got caught in a barbed wire fence. That's how Jared and I found him. Poor little pup was doing that high pitched, doggy cry. We got him free and nursed him back to health. He has a few scars if you know where to look."

Payne looked at me. Then he looked at the house, and I knew what he was going to do.

"Payne!"

"Just stay here," he ordered. Without waiting for me to respond, Payne jogged over to the house and hopped over the fence.

I wanted to call out to him but knew it would be a bad idea. I didn't want to draw attention to what he was doing. For all I knew, Mr. Weeder could be home. I didn't see any truck, but there was a garage.

Jared looked to me. "Make sure that Payne takes care of Eli. Okay?"

I looked at Jared, rolled my eyes, and nodded. "Sure, kid. Stay here."

Then I made my way toward the house. The fence wasn't very high, clearly designed to keep a dog inside, not an intruder out. It was a chain metal fence that ran the length of the yard.

As my supernatural abilities did not cover scaling fences, I fell on my face, but I got over it. I picked myself up and looked around to make sure no one, especially Payne, saw me. Then I went to the back of the house.

The backdoor of the house was ajar. I assumed that was where Payne had entered. It looked like Payne had picked the lock somehow. With a sigh of resignation, I went over, took one last look around, and then entered. Now I could add breaking and entering to my list of things I'd done.

As I reached for the door, I was hit by a wave of unbridled fury. I knew without a doubt that it was coming from Payne.

I pushed the door open. The room looked like a work area, with hammers, saws, and power tools all in their place. It was dark and dusty. The only light from a single bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling, still moving from when Payne pulled the string.

I could still hear the barking of the dog, now more of an impatient whine. I scanned the room and saw what certainly could be an adult version of Eli inside a dog crate. He wanted out. I couldn't say that I blamed him.

Payne was at a nearby desk. His back was to me as he continued to look at something he'd found.

"Payne? Are you okay?"

Payne straightened, his fists clenched beside him. When he turned, it didn't take my abilities to see the murderous rage that was barley being contained. The look on his face, a face still so beautiful, was the same face I'd seen in countless dreams.

Instinctively, I took a step back. For the first time since meeting Payne, I felt afraid.

"It was him," Payne hissed. "He killed Jared. It's here." Payne held up the notebook and gave it a quick wave before throwing it to the table. "He even says how he regrets hurting my aunt, but that it's for the best!"

"I'm so sorry," I said, keeping my voice soft and calm. "Jared deserved better than this. We need to call my uncle."

Payne had a look of disgust on his face. "So Weeder can get a lawyer, and a fair trial, and someone who will say he was insane?"

"Payne, we need to let the police handle this," I insisted. "Nothing you do is going to bring Jared back. If you do anything to Weeder, your life will be over. Your aunt needs you. Your family..."

"My family is in that book!" Payne shouted. "He's been watching us all. He thinks that all of us need to be killed. He thinks we're evil. Demons from hell."

"Payne," I said. "We really need to call my uncle. Please."

Payne took a step closer to me, and for a second, I felt that cold shiver of panic on the back of my neck. Then Payne pulled me to him, put his arms around me, and held on. As I held him back, I felt him gather control of the rage within him.

"Call your uncle," Payne said.

"I don't think so," someone said.

Instantly, Payne shoved me behind him. There was a man who'd come in from behind us. He was tall, reed thin, dressed in dirty blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. He wore a red ball cap that had seen better days and boots caked with dirt and grime. Most importantly, he was holding a shotgun and had it aimed directly at us.

"Payne," he said. "I suppose telling you that you shouldn't be here would seem useless at this point."

"You might say that," Payne responded. "Why, Mr. Weeder? Jared was a good kid."

"I thought so," Weeder said. "But that boy wasn't what he seemed to be. In fact, I'm wondering if you are either." Weeder then motioned toward me with the barrel of his shotgun as if he'd just noticed me for the first time. "Who's your friend there?"

"None of your business," Payne snarled.

"Well now," Weeder said. "This here shotgun says it is my business. What's your name, girl?"

I jumped as he aimed the shotgun toward me.

"I ain't waiting all day for an answer, Missy," Weeder yelled. "Now! Or so help me..."

"Bristol," I said in an embarrassingly squeaky voice. "Bristol Blackburn." For a second, he lowered the barrel of the gun just a touch.

"Blackburn? Well hell, what's a Blackburn doing down here with a McKnight? It ain't natural. Y'all are supposed to hate each other."

"I've heard," I replied. "I'm new in town, so I'm still trying to get the rules down."

"That right?" Weeder said. "Let me educate you. McKnights are a bunch of evil S.O.B.s you can't trust worth spit. And some of 'em, maybe even this one right here, are more evil then the rest. Some of 'em been touched by the devil 'emself. No one knows that better than a Blackburn. I shouldn't have to tell you nuthin'. You of all people. I heard of you, Bristol Blackburn. Aint you livin' with Gregory Blackburn?"

I didn't like discussing my personal life with people I didn't know, most especially people who were pointing shotguns at me and had killed little boys and kidnapped their dogs. However, I really couldn't think of a way to not answer without upsetting the man with said shotgun, so I nodded. "Yes I do."

"I'll bet he could tell you," Weeder said. "Your grandpa knows all about them McKnights. He'll tell you that they ain't right. For years, I thought your grandpa was full of it. Thought to myself, that Greg Blackburn, he's nothin' but a loon. No offense."

I shrugged. "None taken. To be honest, I've kinda thought the same thing myself."

"Well, let me tell you, he ain't as crazy as people might say," Weeder said. "If he knew what I'd done, he'd tell me I'd done right." "No, he wouldn't," I scoffed.

"I find that hard to believe, little Missy," Weeder said.

"First off," I said. "Grandpa would never justify killing an innocent boy. Second, and I can't stress how important this is, don't call me little Missy. I hate that."

Payne slowly looked over his shoulder and sent me an are you insane? look.

"That boy," Weeder continued, "was hardly innocent. I'm not even sure he was human. He did things. Did things with his mind. Now I'm sorry for the hurt I caused his mother. She seems like a fine woman. She deserved better."

I could feel Payne's rage building. He wanted to leap across the room and tear Weeder's heart out.

"I don't understand," I said. "What do you mean did things with his mind? What could Jared do?"

"Kid had a way with animals," Weeder said. "Was able to talk to them. Tell them what to do.

I watched him for a long time doing that."

"Are you nuts?" I asked. "A boy talking to animals makes him demonic? I talk to my hamster all the time. What does that make me?"

Weeder laughed. "A silly little girl. I'll bet you talk to your hamster, but I doubt he listens."

"Ricky listens to me all the time. Just wait until I tell him about you."

"Is she serious?" he asked Payne, although the gun was pointed more toward me.

"I can only wonder," Payne answered. "Look, Weeder. I don't know what you think you know, but Jared was just a boy."

"Was he now?" Weeder asked.

"What does it matter?" I said. "What does it matter if Jared could talk to animals, or even if he could make them dance? You didn't have to kill him."

"I thought that way at first," Weeder admitted. "Thought it was none of my business, never mind what he did. But then the voices, they started to whisper in my ear. Telling me what needed to be done."

"Voices in your head?" I said. "You know that's not exactly normal, right? Had it occurred to you that there was nothing wrong with Jared, but that you might be just a tad bit, oh I don't know... insane?"

"You might think I'm crazy, girl," Weeder answered. "But I believe those were the voices of angels, telling me God's will."

"If you believe that," Payne said. "Then let's go talk to Sheriff Blackburn. He'll understand."

Weeder narrowed his eyes. "Sheriff's a good man, but he's made it pretty clear where he stands. I don't blame him. It's hard to look past the shell of that thing I killed. Realize it wasn't..." Weeder started to look around, as if he was hearing something in the walls.

I heard it, too. It sounded like the echo of fingernails on a chalkboard. My skin crawled as it reverberated through the room. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a shadow. The shadow rushed one way, then the other, each movement accompanied by the same shrill sound.

Weeder looked around wildly now. Panic crossed his face. He took a step back, and for a moment, he lowered the barrel of the shot gun.

Payne tensed, ready to spring into action. But before Payne could, Weeder looked our way again. His eyes filled with tears as he nodded.

"What's happening?" Payne whispered.

"Something's here," I answered. "Not human. I've never..." I remembered the other night's dream. "Once. In a dream. Oh, Payne..."

"What?" I heard worry for the first time in Payne's voice.

"He's not just crazy," I said. "There is something."

"Shut up," Weeder yelled. Up until now, he had been calm, almost nonchalant. Now he was openly weeping. I felt waves of hatred pouring out of him. Underneath that was a steady stream of fear. Then came what I dreaded the most. Resignation.

"I was hoping there'd be a different way," Weeder said.

"But apparently not. I'm ready.

Looks like God has given me one last mission."

"You try and kill Bristol," Payne threatened, "I swear, you will not walk out of here alive."

"That ain't in the plan," Weeder said.

"Payne," I said. "He's going to kill himself when he's done."

Weeder nodded. "Dog there? He's a good dog. I'd appreciate him being cared for after today."

"Mr. Weeder, please," I pleaded. "You don't want to do this."

His face was a mixture of sadness and fury. "Want got nothing to do with it. Just step away from him. No need for any extra blood to be spilled today. Go stand over there." He indicated the adjoining wall, which was covered with a variety of hanging tools.

I shook my head. "No, I won't go. You can't make me."

"You go, girl," Weeder demanded. "Now!"

I was still shaking my head when Payne turned and grabbed me. He gave me one quick look of determination before throwing me across the room. I screamed his name, but he just pointed his finger at me. "Bristol," Payne yelled. "Just go. Please."

I looked at Payne and cried. How could I have ever dreamed of Payne hurting me when he was so ready to die for me? I could feel such relief emanating from Payne now that he believed me safe.

I heard Eli whine. That's when it struck me; Weeder clearly wanted me away from Payne, and Payne was right near Eli. If Weeder shot Payne, Eli might get hurt. Something was wrong.

Eli wasn't in danger because Payne wasn't the target. I was.

Weeder aimed the shotgun away from Payne and toward me. Payne's face registered shock and anger. He thought he had been protecting me by pushing me away from him. Instead, he'd just signed my death warrant.

"She ain't what she appears to be, boy," Weeder said. And with a look of both pity and loathing in his eyes, he pulled the trigger.

Payne leaped out to protect me, taking the entire blast in his stomach and chest. I slammed back against the wall, causing several tools to fall and clatter around me.

With a thud, Payne fell to the floor. His blood pooled around him. I felt the burning agony of his wounds.

Weeder gazed down at Payne with a look of regret. "I didn't want to do that," he said as the shadows started to speak to him again.

I looked at Payne on the floor, dying for me.

I was scared beyond belief, but even more, I was enraged. My hand reached out and found something hanging on the wall, something that hadn't fallen. I think it was a hammer. I threw it at Weeder. It flew across the garage and hit him in the arm, breaking him out of his trance.

"Ow," he yelled. "That hurt!"

"That hurt?" I screamed. I started to grab other objects from the ground.

"You!" I chucked a screwdriver. "Killed!" A wrench. "Payne!" A small saw hit him in the forehead, causing him to bleed. I grabbed the only other thing within reach. It was a plunger. I held it like a bat in front of me when Weeder recovered and aimed once again at me.

"I wasn't going to take any pleasure in this," Weeder said. "But maybe it would be okay to enjoy blowing you away."

I prepared to die.

Payne rolled onto his knees and leapt up onto Weeder. I was shocked beyond belief as he quickly punched Weeder in the gut and grabbed the weapon.

Weeder and Payne each gripped the shotgun as they struggled, pulling it back and forth. Payne slammed his head forward, hitting Weeder's forehead and making him stumble back. That gave Payne the leverage to smash the butt of the gun into Weeder's face.

Payne was alive and uninjured. It was impossible, incredible, and beyond imagination.

Weeder fell backwards into a workbench. More tools clattered to the ground, as did Weeder. His face was bleeding badly. Payne had broken his nose, and one eye looked like it was ready to swell shut.

Payne took a quick step back, cocked the shotgun, and aimed it at Weeder.

"You were going to kill, Bristol," Payne spat.

"You should be dead," Weeder rasped.

"You killed, Jared," Payne said, shaking with fury. "He was just a boy."

"I killed you," Weeder yelled. "I killed you, and you should be dead. You.... You're a... I don't know what you are.

Some sorta demon that needs to be sent back to hell!"

"Maybe I am," Payne said. "But you're going first."

"Payne," I screamed. "Don't!"

"Bristol," Payne said through gritted teeth. "He was going to kill you." I gently placed a hand on his arm.

"I know," I said. "You stopped him. I'm okay. You saved me."

"He killed Jared," Payne insisted. "He doesn't deserve to live."

"I know," I said. "Payne, you can't just kill him. It's not you. You're not a killer. Please, let me call my uncle."

"Call your uncle," Weeder yelled. "And I'll tell everyone about the both of you! How you're both demons!"

"Oh hush," I demanded. "You go ahead and tell. Who is going to believe a word you have to say?"

Weeder looked at me with his one good eye. "You saw! You saw me shoot him dead. What are you going to say when they ask you about it?"

"Lie," I answered. "Payne, please."

Payne just stood there, shotgun aimed right at Weeder's head. I could feel the rage within him. Then Payne glanced in my direction, and our eyes met.

"Call your uncle," he said. "He's not worth it."

I smiled at Payne before reaching into my pocket for my cell. Just as I was punching in the number, siren's blared. "I guess someone heard the shots," I said.

Payne and I allowed ourselves to be distracted by the sound of the police siren growing louder by the moment. It was all Weeder needed. He reached into the bottom of the workbench behind him, pulled out a handgun, and aimed it at me.

Once again, Payne stepped in front of me and took two to the chest. He fell back a step into my arms. I looked down at his chest and saw the blood trickle out from the wounds. Two freshly made bullet holes were clearly visible dead center of his chest. It was a wound that would have killed anyone else.

Payne healed before my eyes, the blood being the only evidence of what had happened. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I was speechless, and mystified, and so very grateful.

I shivered. Something bitterly cold had just passed by me. I had no idea what it was, but I knew something was about to happen.

I jumped at the bang of Weeder's gun going off one more time. I looked to Payne and saw he had not been shot again. And I was pretty sure I hadn't been either. I looked to Weeder.

He had put the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. His eyes were still open, a look of anger and fear locked in place.

A shimmer of darkness rose from Weeder. It was there for only a moment before dissipating into nothingness.

Slowly, we backed away from Weeder just as we heard the police car pull up in front. I looked to Payne. "Are you really okay?" I asked, trying to keep myself together.

Payne nodded. "I'm fine."

I put my hands on his chest, needing to feel him. "My God, Payne."

"Bristol, I'm sorry," he said.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, I guess we do," he agreed. "What now?"

I forced myself to calm down and went to let Eli out of the crate. "First, we deal with my uncle. How are we going to explain your shirt?"

Payne looked down at his shirt, which was riddled with holes and soaked with blood.

"Damn," he said as he pulled it off.

I wondered how he intended to explain being shirtless again to my uncle, when Payne pulled out a T-shirt from his backpack.

"Gym shirt," Payne explained as he pulled the rather worn looking shirt on. "I leave it in my school locker. Brought it home to wash."

I rushed forward into Payne's arms and started to shake. "Play along," I said as I smelled the musky scent of his shirt. I looked up into Payne's eyes and winked. "Good call on the shirt. It needs the wash," I whispered. "Uncle Mark, we're in here!"

With a kick, Uncle Mark came bursting in, gun drawn and two deputies at his back. One was Pinky; the other was someone I didn't know. He was tall, with dark skin and a shaved head.

"It's okay," I shouted, making my voice shake. "We're okay. He's dead."

Uncle Mark found Weeder, and after a quick inspection nodded in agreement. "I can see." He reached down, took the gun, and handed it to Pinky.

"You two all right?" he asked, pulling me out of Payne's hold and hugging me himself. The relief in his voice warmed my heart. I felt a little guilty for the lies I was about to tell, but what else could I do? I had to protect Payne as he'd protected me.

So, I went into cover up overdrive and managed to spin a tale that explained everything. It took a long time, but with the journals we had found to back us up, I pulled it off.

Payne looked to my uncle. "I always thought it was my dad. Even before the other day. I just always... I never even considered anyone else."

Uncle Mark nodded. "Come on, let's get you home."

We walked to the door and left the deputies to deal with Weeder. Someone had already removed Eli from the scene.

I asked Uncle Mark if I could have a moment alone with Payne. He gave Payne a good look up and down and then moved toward his car and got in.

"Payne," I said. "There's so much I need to say to you."

"I know," Payne said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm not sure what to say."

"You saved me. You saved my life. I just..." I couldn't find the words. "We need to talk when we can be alone."

Payne gave me that grin of his that made my heart flutter. "I like the idea of being alone with you."

I laughed. "I bet you do."

Payne reached up and played with my hair, and those erotic flashes danced through my mind again. "Bristol, I never would have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you." Payne touched my cheek. I could feel the warmth of his fingers, the tingle of being close to him. I felt vulnerable and at ease all at the same time.

I jumped as my uncle honked the horn from the car.

Payne sighed. "We definitely need a few uninterrupted moments."

I laughed as we made our way to the car. Payne opened the front door for me before climbing in the back. As Uncle Mark pulled away, I looked out the window toward Weeder's house. There at the edge of the lawn was Jared, standing with his puppy. He smiled at me and gave me a quick wave before fading away.

Uncle Mark told Payne to wait in the car as he walked me to the front door. I looked at my uncle's face and knew that behind the impassive facade there was a flurry of conflicting emotions just waiting to bubble out.

"Uncle Mark," I said as I stepped to the door. "I'm sorry that I've been such a handful."

"Bristol, you scare the hell out of me," he said. "I don't wanna lose you. We've had more than our share of tragedy in this family."

I tried to stifle a sob and failed miserably. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." I didn't want to finish the sentence.

Uncle Mark gave me a hug and kissed the top of my head. "Shh, it's okay. Just please tell me you're not going to get into the habit of letting Payne put you in harm's way."

"This wasn't Payne's fault," I insisted. "If either of us is to blame, it was me. Please don't be mad at him."

Uncle Mark took a step back and looked into my eyes.

"Oh, it's like that, huh?"

I shrugged. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Uh huh." Uncle Mark nodded. "So, you're dating the

McKnight boy now."

"Uncle Mark," I said. "I told you I don't date."

"Uh huh," he repeated. "That's even worse."

"Worse?" I questioned. "How so?"

"It's a family trait," he answered. "Blackburns don't date. We just meet the person that we belong with. And then that's that."

"Uncle Mark," I responded, "I'm seventeen."

"I was six when I met Eve. Never looked anywhere else. Never wanted to," he explained. "He better treat you right."

"He saved my life," I said. "If it weren't for Payne, I wouldn't be here. All he cared about was keeping me safe. He was incredible. Fearless. He..." Uncle Mark was looking back at me smugly. "But we are not dating!"

Uncle Mark leaned in and gave me one more hug. "Uh huh."

### TEN

### WELL, THAT TOOK LONG ENOUGH

Journal of Bristol Blackburn

Saturday, April 20th

I've been avoiding my Journal since coming to Spirit. Maybe it's because my life has become one big OMG moment after another, and I just didn't know how to put it into words.

It's been a week, and I still haven't heard from Payne since That Day at Weeder's.

He's been absent all week. In fact, there hasn't been a single McKnight in school since then.

This is driving me insane. I feel like my life's on pause until I see him.

I've left him messages, texts, and emailed. I'm starting to feel like I'm stalking him, but I can't help it.

I miss him. I want to know how he feels about me. I want to figure out how I feel about him. And for the love of all that's holy, maybe, just maybe, I want enough time alone with him to see if we actually will kiss one another.

Why is that so bad?

I asked Ian, since I've seen him hanging out with Payne. He told me that it's common for Varick McKnight to pull the children out of school whenever there's an unexplained tragedy. Ian seemed very interested in the feud between Blackburns and McKnights. He peppered me with a whole bunch of questions, none of which I answered.

Thankfully, the excuse that I'm new to all of this seemed to work well.

The McKnight's aren't the only ones who've done a disappearing act either. I haven't been visited by Jay either.

It's not like I'm not used to the idea of ghosts moving on, but I really liked Jay. And I didn't get the impression that anything that had happened would be enough to trigger him to finally move on. Unless it had been the sight of me first thing in the morning. That could have been it.

I should be happy if he's moved on, but I guess there's a part of me that feels more than a little abandoned. I guess I thought that I was important enough to him that he would have found a way to say goodbye.

I'm starting to feel like one day, I'll wake up, go downstairs, and find that Uncle Mark packed up the boys and the dogs and left me here alone, without even a note.

If he does that, I wonder if he'll take Grandpa with him?

"I KNOW YOU'RE WAITING FOR him," Jay said the moment I closed my bedroom door. There he was, propped up on my bed, looking totally relaxed and as gorgeous as ever.

I folded my arms and fixed my coldest are you kidding me stare on my face and aimed it right at him.

"Who I'm waiting for is none of your business," I said as I picked up a brush for lack of anything better to do.

"Darling, don't be like that," Jay said. "I know you're probably disappointed I haven't been around, but I'm here now. Talk to me."

I gave him one of those over the shoulder looks. One I hoped made him feel small and insignificant. "Has it occurred to you that I have nothing to say to you?"

Jay gave me his best Cheshire grin. "No, it hadn't. Because you and I both know that it's not true. Darling, I'm truly sorry that I haven't—"

"Haven't what?" I asked. "Haunted me in days? The last time I saw you, you wanted to run away. I guess if I'd I gone along with that, it would have just been me. Look, I know those of us in the here and now probably have different priorities than those of you in the ever after, but in case you hadn't heard, I had a bit of an incident where I almost switched sides. And quite frankly, I prefer being alive right now. So, you can imagine it was a bit upsetting."

"I know about what happened," Jay said. "Where do you think I've been, darling?"

"How am I supposed to know?" I said, throwing my brush down. "Maybe you were hanging out with other ghosts like Casper and Nearly Headless Nick? I don't know, and I don't care. The point is you weren't here."

Jay sat up, offered me a sympathetic smile, and patted the bed next to him. I simply cocked an eyebrow and pulled over a chair.

Jay sighed and shook his head as if he were dealing with a stubborn child. I swear I would have killed him if he weren't already dead.

"Bristol, I am sorry I haven't been available to you," Jay said. "But I had my reasons. I tried my best to keep watch on the McKnights. I have seen how events like this can set them off. I really don't want to alarm you, but I'm afraid you might be in danger."

"What do you mean in danger?"

"Darling, what do you think I mean?" Jay said. "The McKnights have been together, dissecting everything that happened. I do believe there are some in that family that are quite insane. The running theory is that you somehow orchestrated everything just to charm Payne into revealing his ability."

"That's ridiculous," I said.

"Perhaps," Jay responded. "But Varick McKnight can be very persuasive. Besides, you can't stand there and tell me that you've no reason to distrust Payne. You've foreseen Payne murdering you."

I shook my head. "I don't believe it. Payne won't hurt me."

"Then why hasn't he seen you?" Jay asked. "Why hasn't he talked to you since that day?"

I had no answer. Seeing this, Jay brought out the big guns.

"Bristol," Jay said. "Payne told his family about you. About everything."

"No," I replied. "I don't believe that. I know his secret, too. And he promised me." Jay was now intimately close.

"Then where is he?" Jay asked.

I had no answer to that either.

"Are you saying I should tell my family what I know?" I asked.

Jay shook his head. "I'm afraid it would only put them in danger. Your ability is passive. You see things, feel things, that others can't. Payne's ability is physical. In a fight where lives are on the line, he has the advantage. I believe he is far more dangerous than you've seen in your dreams."

I hated to admit it, but I was becoming scared. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Leave with me," Jay said. His eyes became even more intense as he spoke. "If we leave now, before they make a move, things will go back to the way they were before you arrived. I know you don't want to see your family in danger. I can take care of you. Our relationship may not be the stuff your dreams have been made of, but if you let me I can find ways to satisfy you."

I had no idea how Jay envisioned us together, but there was a part of me that wondered if it couldn't be wonderful. And the thought of something happening to my family was devastating to me. I had so fallen in love with them. I would do anything to protect them.

But there was a part of me that was selfish. I loved being here. I loved being a part of this family. I didn't want to leave.

This was my family, my home.

And I wasn't ready to give up on Payne.

"No, I'm not going," I said. "I'm not leaving Uncle Mark and the boys. And you still haven't convinced me that Payne wants to hurt me."

"You would choose him over me?" Jay asked.

"I can't be with you," I answered. "But there is something there between Payne and me. As much as I try and deny it, it's there. I need to figure out what it is."

Jay's eyes grew cold. "Bristol, I can't protect you forever."

"I'm alive," I said. "That means taking the chance of getting hurt. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm staying."

Jay's face hardened. "When things start to happen, remember I tried to save you," he spat.

Then he was gone. The change in his demeanor had been so abrupt, it was striking. There was a part of me that felt like crying. I knew I'd hurt Jay. It stinks to be rejected, even when you're dead.

When my uncle knocked on my door, I screamed. He burst through to find me leaning against my desk, my hand over my heart.

"Bristol, are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "I was just... lost in thought, and then you startled me is all. Sorry."

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," he said.

I swear I could hear Ricky laugh from his tank.

"I'm okay, really," I insisted. "What's up?"

Uncle Mark shook his head, probably deciding it must be a female thing. Then he pointed his thumb toward the door. "You've got a visitor."

Grateful for the distraction, I ran downstairs assuming I'd find Maggie. Instead, I came grinding to a halt at the foot of the stairs at the sight of Payne McKnight in my living room. He was sitting on the couch, trying his best to ignore the stares coming from Grandpa and Zack.

"Bristol's been wondering where you've been since, well... you know what happened," Grandpa said.

"Yeah, since you know what happened," Zack echoed.

Payne smiled. "I'm sure she has. You know as well as I do how my family sometimes overreacts. My grandfather can be overprotective. I haven't been allowed out or near a phone until today."

Grandpa considered Payne. "Your grandpa's probably wondering why a McKnight is spending so much time with a Blackburn. If I'm being honest, it's crossed my mind once or twice as well."

"Yeah," Zack agreed. "Me, too. Once or twice. Maybe even more than that. I haven't counted or anything."

"Mr. Blackburn," Payne said. "Quite simply, I find her amazing. If she'll let me, I'm hoping to spend more time with her."

Grandpa and Zack slowly looked at each other and then back to Payne. Together they asked him, "Doing what?"

Behind me, Uncle Mark clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention our way. Payne shot out of his seat and took a step in my direction. Grandpa and Zack simply watched him watch me.

"Zack, don't you have homework to do?" Uncle Mark asked.

Zack's shoulders slumped. "Aw, Dad. It's only Saturday. It ain't due 'til Monday."

"Why don't you get to work?" Uncle Mark said. "And 'ain't' ain't a word."

"Man," Zack grumbled as he stalked up the stairs.

"Dad, don't you have anything better to do?" Uncle Mark said. "Something that doesn't involve sitting here giving

Payne the third degree?"

Grandpa considered that. "No, not really."

"Well, find something," Uncle Mark insisted. "Or I'm going to have to think long and hard about finding something for you to do. Old Mrs. Gibble is always happy to have you over for tea and biscuits."

"Mrs. Gibble makes tea that smells like dirty socks," Grandpa responded. "And her biscuits can take out an eye."

"She's a sweet, lonely old woman who could use a little companionship," Uncle Mark said.

"That's what she's got her twelve parrots for," Grandpa grumbled. "She's been married three times. Didn't the last two choke to death on her biscuits?"

"Just the last one," Uncle Mark corrected.

"All right already." Grandpa gave in, turned toward the TV, and reached for the remote.

"There's got to be a game on or something. That okay with you, Sherriff?"

"It'll do," Uncle Mark said. "Payne, you said you wanted to talk with Bristol. Well, here she is. I assume you want to see Payne?"

"Yes, I do."

"Feel free to invite Payne to dinner," Uncle Mark said with a smile. "No being alone in your bedroom. I'll just be in the other room. I've been putting off cleaning my service revolver for a while now." I hid my smile.

"Payne, why don't we take a walk?" I asked.

"After you."

I took Payne's hand and pulled him through the kitchen and out the back door. We quickly crossed the yard to the fence that led to the path through the woods.

"Follow me," I instructed.

I waited until we reached the spot he and I had first met. I hadn't realized Payne probably had been hurt that day, but he'd healed within seconds. For that alone I wanted to rip his head off.

But really, what would be the point? He'd probably just grow a new one.

I stood there, letting the thoughts flutter through my mind, fully aware that Payne was waiting for me to say something to him. Well, just let him wait. He'd let me wait this whole time. I refused to feel bad for him.

"So, Payne," I finally said, looking him up and down.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," he said. "That's why I'm here."

I took a small step closer to him. "Does it hurt?"

"Huh?"

"When you get injured," I clarified. "Like right here, when we met on your dirt bike? Or when Weeder shot you? Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Payne answered. "Very much so. I heal quickly enough, but the pain is just as intense as it would be for anyone. Why?" he asked with a grin. "Concerned for me?"

"Just curious," I said in a sweet and tender voice. "I guess I wanted to know if you would feel enough pain to make it worth my while to kick your ass."

Payne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then amusement spread across his face. "You want to hurt me, Bristol?"

I gave him a quick slant of the eyebrow. "I'm thinking about it. Why don't you tell me why I shouldn't?" "Because you like me?" Payne said.

"Payne," I yelled. "Where the hell have you been? I watched you get shot. Twice! And then you just disappear off the face of the earth."

"I wanted to see you," Payne insisted. "You have no idea how badly. My grandfather wouldn't let me out of his sight. Took my cellphone. Kept having me go over that day with Weeder. It's been driving him insane that you now know about me. Grandpa says we've given our enemies a huge advantage."

"Did you tell him?" I asked. "About me?"

"No," he answered. "I'd never betray you. Did you think I would?"

"I didn't want to," I said. "But you disappeared. I had no idea what was happening. Then Jay said you'd told your family everything. After everything that's happened, everything I dreamed...I don't want to believe it."

"Who the hell is Jay?" he asked. "How would he know what I did or didn't say, anyway?

There's no one in my family named Jay." "Yeah, that much I got," I said.

"So who is he?" Payne asked again, not in the least bit amused.

"Jay? He's just some guy I know," I answered. "Not anyone you've ever met I'm sure."

"Well, this Jay is a liar," Payne said. "I would never do that. I didn't do that. Grandpa questioned me over and over again. He's not like your uncle. He didn't just accept my story. Your uncle, he knew we weren't telling him everything. But he didn't push. He let you keep your secret."

"What did he do?" I asked. "Did he hurt you?'

"No," Payne said. "Grandpa wouldn't do that, but he made me repeat the story over and over again. Kept asking how you fit into everything. He was trying to see if I was lying. I managed to tell him the story where I wasn't lying. I just omitted a few details."

"Not that I don't appreciate the subtle difference," I interjected. "But really that's just semantics."

Payne shrugged. "Yeah, I know it's basically the same, but I think it worked. Forget about that. Who is this Jay? I thought I knew almost everyone in this cursed town."

I sighed. "Jay is about our age. Tall, muscular. Blond.

Very, very cute."

"Cute?"

"Very cute," I affirmed and watched Payne squirm. "Jay has a way with words, too. Poetic.

He calls me darling. And he's been warning me that you're nothing but trouble." Payne got right in my face. "Is that what you think I am? Trouble?"

I smirked. "Definitely."

Payne returned the smirk, and I felt that hitch in my gut again.

"Jay wants me to run away with him," I added. "Says he can protect me."

"Is that what you want, Bristol?" Payne asked. "You want to be protected? Do I scare you?"

"I don't know what you do to me," I replied. "Payne, you drive me insane. I'm trying to figure it out, and it doesn't help when Jay materializes out of nowhere and feeds my insecurities."

"Materializes? Jay's a freaking ghost?"

"As a matter of fact," I said, "yes he is. He's a completely adorable ghost that wants to run away with me."

Payne blinked rapidly. "You're talking about running away with a ghost? Bristol, do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?" He took a step closer to me.

"It was his idea," I remarked, feeling a bit defensive now. "Besides, there might be a few advantages to being with a ghost." I stepped back, trying to keep a little distance because the closer Payne got, the harder it was to think straight.

"A few advantages?" Payne repeated as he closed the distance between us again. "Like what?

You don't have to worry about him leaving the toilet seat up?"

"There's that." I nodded. "Then there's the fact he'd be totally devoted to me. I wouldn't have to share him with his friends and family. He gets me." I felt my back press up against a tree and realized I hadn't anywhere else to go.

Payne took another step forward. "I can be devoted to you. Beyond anything you can imagine, Bristol. I would like to share my family and friends with you. McKnights aren't all bad," he said, his face less than an inch from mine. "And there are a few things where a living, breathing person might have an advantage over him."

Thoughts of Payne touching me swam in my mind as he closed in on me.

"Ghosts can't hurt me," I said in a whisper so soft he would never have heard me if he hadn't been this close. "I've never been afraid of ghosts."

"Do I scare you?" he asked again.

"Payne, I told you I don't know how I feel," I said. "I don't know—"

"Bristol," Payne interrupted. "Do. I. Scare. You?" I nodded.

"Do you want me to go?"

I trembled. "No."

"I know you've told me you've never been afraid of the dead," Payne said. "And the living can be a lot scarier. But Bristol, you're alive. It's time to live."

Before I could respond, his mouth crushed on mine, and his tongue gently explored the inside of my mouth. I felt the heat of his body against mine, and I could feel him react to the kiss.

Then the flash came, and my world shifted. Payne's hands removing my clothes. Me, on top of him as I cried out in ecstasy. The two of us together after a night of love making, holding each other as we slowly fell asleep in each other's arms.

When the kiss ended, he looked me in my eyes, and my legs turned into melted butter.

"Still scared of me?" he asked.

"Terrified," I answered. Then I pulled his face to mine and kissed him again.

After a few minutes, Payne looked at me and grinned.

"So, let's talk."

Yeah, right, I thought. Like I could even remember how to speak.

Believe it or not, we did talk a little, but I don't remember anything that was said. Payne also stayed for dinner. That was interesting, to say the least. Not only did

Grandpa and Zack glare at

Payne through the whole meal, but so did dozens of ghosts that walked through the dining room.

Finally, Payne went home and promised he'd call me the next day.

I called Maggie later that evening because I had promised her that I would and, let's face it, I was a teenage girl. And when a teenage girl made out with the hottest boy in school in such a way that it seemed like the world had stopped spinning, she needed to share it with someone who could understand and appreciate it.

"Payne came by, and we talked, and then he kissed me," I said in one quick breath. On the other side of the line, there was nothing but silence. I wondered if I had lost the connection.

"Maggie? Maggs?"

"What. Did. You. Say?"

"Um," I responded. "Payne came by, and we went for a walk, and we talked. And then he kissed me." I repeated. Again I was met with several seconds of silence.

"You had your first kiss?" Maggie's voice was calm and quiet. "With Payne McKnight?"

"Uh, yeah. He's a good kisser, but what do I know?" Once again, there was a long stretch of silence. "You there? Maggie?"

There were about five more seconds of utter silence. I was about to check if I lost the connection when she squealed. I was forced to hold the phone away from my ear. As Maggie continued to shriek her approval, I heard someone knock on my door. Uncle Mark stuck his head in.

"Bristol?" he said as he looked around. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard..."

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm talking to Maggie." I held out the phone to him. By this time, Maggie had stopped squealing and started woo-wooing. Uncle Mark and I locked eyes, and in that moment, I knew we were sharing an image of Maggie dancing a jig, pumping her fists, and maybe even doing cartwheels. Uncle Mark just shook his head and closed the door with himself safely on the other side.

When Maggie calmed down, we did what teenage girls had done for centuries. I told her each and every detail, over and over again.

Sometimes, it was just good to be a girl.

### ELEVEN

### DON'T LIE TO HUNTER

I KNEW MONDAY WOULD BE very weird. It was the first time I would be at school since the kiss. I still hadn't figured out what my relationship was with Payne yet. We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. That's just not me. We weren't dating. We weren't an item. We were just...us.

I asked Payne to meet me right by the front steps. I needed to speak to him about how we were going to handle this. Low key was important. I was going to emphasize that. I had already hinted at this to Payne over the phone, but he wasn't catching on. And if he didn't think I knew that his not catching on was on purpose, well I had news for him. I was on to him. I was prepared; I knew what I was going to say. And since I had a pretty good guess what he would say as I made my argument, I was prepared to match him, point for point. I had concerns, theories, and valid reasons.

I was pretty sure that by the time I was done, he'd see this my way. I had practiced several times. Ricky had listened to me patiently. I was ready.

So was he.

Payne grabbed me, pulled me close, and kissed me. Right in front of the entire school. I could hear the hush of voices as everyone in the parking lot, everyone on the steps, everyone, everywhere stopped to stare. I could feel their eyes on us. Everyone was pointing, whispering.

Everyone was seeing us together.

I was going to have to stop Payne.

Any minute now.

Oh, why bother.

When Payne pulled away, he wore that wolfish grin and had that devil's glint in his eyes.

"Hello," he whispered.

I think I managed to mumble the word back to him, although it came out something like "hmm...."

Before I knew it, Payne had taken my hand and led me into school. We walked right past teachers, deans, and school counselors. We were seen by McKnights, Blackburns, and tons of other students. I was so dazed from his morning kiss that I didn't even realize how embarrassed I was.

Payne took me right to my first period class and seemed to almost hand me off to Maggie, who was grinning ear to ear and bouncing in place. I was mortified. I was completely out of my element.

Until a horrified gasp managed to break me out of my trance.

Pricilla glared at me, her eyes ablaze with hatred. One of her bimbets was whispering in her ear, no doubt informing Princess P of the major lip-lock that Payne planted on me in front of the school. The look of horror only magnified as she registered the information that she was being told.

I was amazed someone hadn't texted her pictures already.

Looking pretty and perfect, in her low-cut pink top and very short skirt, Pricilla took a step toward me. Her itty-bitty brain was working overtime to attempt to find something to say. She eyed Payne like a piece of glittery jewelry that belonged on her and not me. When I looked at Payne, he seemed very happy to be watching me and wasn't even paying attention to Princess P, which was good for him.

I grabbed Payne's shirt and planted a kiss on his lips for all to see. If looks could kill, even Payne wouldn't be able to survive what she was aiming at me.

With a huff, Pricilla and her princess herd flounced past us. I turned to Payne, who was grinning. "I suppose it's a little late to ask you to keep us low key, huh?"

Before Payne could answer, the bell rang. My teacher called out for any late arrivals to take their seat or be marked tardy. Payne had to run to get to his own class.

"We better go, too," Maggie said as she walked past me into the classroom. I went to follow, but I saw something at the end of the hallway that looked off to me. A student, not moving as everyone else scrambled for class. He just stood there allowing others to pass around him.

Or through him.

Jay.

I wanted to go to him. To try and soften any hurt feelings.

"Miss Blackburn," my teacher said, "are you planning on joining us, or waiting for Mr.

McKnight to return and pick up where the two of you left off?"

I glanced for a moment at Mr. Berger, and then back down the hallway. Jay was gone, but the anger he had been directing at me was still hanging in the air.

I tried to put Jay out of my mind as I took my seat. If he appeared to me again, I would try to soothe his ego, but there was a good chance he wouldn't. It might be a bit self-serving, but seeing me with Payne might be the motivation he needed to move on. I was used to ghosts that I'd grown attached to disappearing from my life, never to be heard from or seen again. Moving on would be best for Jay. I'd miss him, and I'd be sorry for not getting the chance to put things right between us. But if it was time for him to move on, there was little I could do.

Friday came and Maggie and I were just getting out of class and heading for the stairs. Maggie was complaining because her parents were dragging her to see her grandparents that weekend. She was dressed in a pink-and-white ensemble that reminded me of those candies called Good-n-Plenty.

"I mean, it's not that I don't love them," Maggie ranted as we pushed through the hallway. "But they eat dinner at three thirty in the afternoon. That's ridiculous. And they keep asking if I'm regular. They want me to eat prunes. Prunes? Does your grandfather ask you to eat prunes?"

"No," I answered. "But I sometimes think he might be part prune."

Just as we reached the end of the hallway, I saw Jay, staring at me. Well, so much for him moving on to where he belongs. It was time to settle this.

"Maggs," I said. "Why don't you go home? I forgot something."

"You sure?" Maggie asked. "I could go back with you.

I'm sure it won't take too long."

"No, go ahead," I insisted. "It's fine." "I'll see you Monday," Maggie said.

"You, too. Don't drink any Metamucil," I responded.

Maggie made a gagging face and then disappeared down the stairwell. There were only a few people left, and they were all heading out. Casually, I headed back down the hallway to where Jay stood. He still looked angry.

As I got about halfway to him, he headed for what looked like a janitor's closet that'd been left open. Perfect, I needed to speak with him alone.

After making sure no one was looking, I stepped inside. It was a big, deep closet. There were shelves lining the walls, filled with cleaning supplies. Further on down were those buckets on wheels with mops stuck inside of them. At the end was a sink. That's where I found Jay.

I waited for him to say something. Jay was usually ready with one of his perfect opening lines, but he just glared.

"Jay," I said. "We need to talk. I know you must feel betrayed, and I'm sorry for that. But you and I could never work together."

"You should have listened to me," Jay said. "You should have left with me."

"Jay, I can't just run away from my family. From my home."

"From him, you mean," Jay said, daring me to deny it.

"Or from him," I admitted. "I don't know yet what Payne and I will be for each other, but we deserve a chance to find out."

Jay stepped forward, and I felt forced to step back. "You should have listened to me."

A chill passed me by as Jay disappeared. With it, I got a sense of what Jay was feeling. It couldn't be described as just anger or resentment. Or even jealously.

It was pure hatred. If it weren't for the fact that I was dealing with a ghost, I would have been terrified. As it was, I was incredibly unsettled. What could have caused Jay to hate me so much? Was it just the fact that Payne and I were now together? I couldn't believe it was that simple.

There had to be more.

I heard the slam of the door. I turned and ran, tripping over the mops and buckets. "Hey! Ow!" I hit the floor and felt, not only pain, but also the wetness from the soapy water. I struggled to my feet.

"Hello," I called. Waiting a moment, I listened. I was sure there was someone out there who heard me. That door didn't just close on its own. Reaching out my hands, I cautiously felt for the shelves and worked my way forward. I reached the door and grappled with the handle. It wouldn't budge. I slammed my shoulder into it. Man, that always works in the movies. I banged on the door and yelled for help. After several seconds, there was still no answer. I reached for my bag and pulled out my cellphone. No connection. Great, the girl who talks to ghosts is stuck in a closet in the middle of a dead zone. I hate irony.

"Help, please help," I screamed, hoping somebody would hear. "Come on, this can't be happening. I can't be stuck in here all weekend. My uncle won't go looking for me right away.

C'mon! Somebody!

"Oh, this just really bites," I complained. "Why do these things happen to me? I gotta get out of here," I whined. "I'm supposed to see Payne tonight. I promised I'd have dinner with him and his aunt tomorrow. I need to go home and change. I need to do my hair." I was nearly in tears by this point. "I need to pee!"

"Bristol?" someone said. "Where are you?"

"Here," I called. "Here I am. Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Hold on," they called back. The door rattled. "Someone has a broom stuck here."

There was the sound of something wooden clattering on the floor. The door swung open. I launched myself at my savior. "Oh thank you," I said.

I pulled back to see who had freed me.

"Sure, no problem," Hunter said. "Why were you in there?"

"Ah well," I said. I felt awkward now that I knew it was Hunter. For some reason I didn't understand, she'd been avoiding me for the past two weeks. Still, I knew how important she was to Payne, and she did just get me out of that damn closet. So I guess being nice to her wasn't too much to ask. "It was open and I thought I saw someone go in there, but I guess I was wrong since I was alone."

Hunter's face grew cold as she took a step back. "Whatever. I'll see you around." She shook her head, turned on her heel, and started to walk down the hall.

I watched her stalk away, shocked at her reaction. "What did I say, Hunter? What's your problem with me?"

Hunter stopped short and turned. "I don't like being lied to."

"Lied?" I responded. "I haven't lied."

"Yes," she said. "You did. Just now when I asked you about that closet."

"I didn't..." I started to deny what she said and then realized I had indeed fibbed. How

Hunter could have known was beyond me. "Maybe it's something I don't want to share?"

Hunter crossed her arms and frowned. "Then tell me it's none of my business. Just don't lie."

"Look," I said. "Somehow, I've upset you. You have been giving me the cold shoulder since

Payne and I... well, for the last two weeks..."

"You mean since you and Payne started to date?" Hunter interjected.

I winced. "I don't date. I don't know what Payne and I are but... look, that's not the point."

"What do you mean you don't date?" Hunter asked. "Are you saying you're too good to date a McKnight?"

"No," I answered. "It's just a hang up of mine. Let's forget about that a moment. Why have you been so mad at me?"

"Because of you," she said, "Payne did something he's never done before. He lied to me. And because I love him, I lied to my family, which I hate. He won't be straight with me. I know he lied about what happened at Weeder's, but he won't tell me the truth, and it's because of you."

"Me?" I said. "Hunter, I never told Payne to lie to you or your family. What is it you think he's lying about?"

"How you came to be by Weeder's," Hunter explained.

"You arranged it to learn his secret, didn't you?"

"He told you I know about..."

"That he heals from almost anything?" Hunter said.

"Yeah, I know you know, but how did you find out?"

"Weeder shot him. I saw him heal."

"Yes, I know," Hunter said. "Why did you suspect him? If you'd been wrong..."

"I never imagined Payne could do that," I said. "I didn't trick him into going there."

Hunter watched me closely. "You're telling me the truth."

"Well thank you very much," I remarked. "What are you, some sort of human lie detector?" Hunter didn't flinch at the absurdity of the question.

"Wait," I said. "You can tell when someone is lying, can't you?"

Hunter again didn't answer me, which was an answer in itself. It was such an outrageous idea that if she wasn't denying it, it had to be true.

"Are you planning on telling your family about me, too?" Hunter asked.

"No, I'd never," I said. "Hunter, I haven't told anyone about Payne either. Not even Ricky."

"Who's Ricky?"

"My hamster," I answered. "Let me ask you a question. From what you've said, it sounds like Payne lied about certain details about that day. You knew he was lying, but you didn't call him out to your family. Am I right so far?"

"Yeah," Hunter said, "more or less. I trust Payne like no one else. I kept telling myself he had a good reason to lie. He told me to leave it alone and trust him, but I was afraid you were fooling him. You've lied to me before."

"So you assumed I was somehow lying to Payne," I said. "And if you knew the truth, would you tell your family about it? Can I trust you with the truth?"

"I can't really answer that without knowing the truth, can I?" Hunter replied. "If I thought the truth meant you were a threat to my family? I couldn't keep quiet."

"Well, I suppose that's fair. I haven't told my family about Payne because it's none of their business. If I believed he might hurt them, I would, but I know Payne wouldn't. Do you believe me?"

Hunter thought a moment before answering. "Yes."

"Payne trusts you, doesn't he?" I asked. "I mean completely. He's told me as much."

"I thought he did," Hunter said.

"He's just trying to protect me," I said. "I'll tell you the truth. You want to know how we ended up at Weeder's?"

"Yes," Hunter answered. "Did Payne follow you?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "He followed me because I followed someone else. I was following your cousin. I followed Jared."

Hunter blinked. She didn't run, she didn't laugh. She just stared at me for a good ten seconds.

"You're telling me the truth," Hunter said. "But Jared's dead."

"I know," I answered. "I was following his ghost. I can see and talk to ghosts, Hunter.

Jared's ghost led us there."

"Oh my," she said. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?

You really have seen Jared's ghost." "Yup," I answered.

"Oh." She glanced behind me to the closet that she had just freed me from. "Is that why you were in there? Were you talking with Jared? Is he..." Now Hunter looked around the hallway, a bit of panic filling her eyes. "Is he here right now?"

"No," I said. "I haven't seen Jared since Weeder's. He may have moved on by now."

"What do you mean? Moved on to where?"

"I don't know," I responded. "Moved on to wherever people who die are supposed to move on to."

"Right." Hunter nodded. "So, why were you in the closet?"

"It was a different ghost," I explained. "Not Jared."

"Oh," Hunter said. "Was it Elvis?"

"Ah... no." I couldn't help but smile. "I've actually never had the pleasure."

Hunter grinned. "I think you and I need to talk, but somewhere private. Do you feel like coming over to my place?"

I looked down at myself. "I wouldn't mind, but I kinda need a change of clothing. Can I meet you there?"

"Deal," Hunter said. "One hour?"

"I'll be there."

"Um, so if you were in there because of a ghost," Hunter asked. "Does that mean a ghost is responsible for putting the broom against the door to lock you in?"

"No, ghosts can't do that," I explained. "That was the work of a regular old human." "Who?" she asked.

"I don't know. But I'd really like to find out."

An hour later, I arrived at Varick McKnight's home. It was a beautiful five story house with stained glass windows and a giant water fountain in the front garden. There was a circular driveway that allowed someone to pass right by the front door, which also went into a garage that could hold about twenty cars. The house was taupe with stone trim and had a great view of the mountains to the front and the lake in the back.

I rang the doorbell. A moment later, Hunter answered and invited me in. She quickly spirited me off to her bedroom on the second floor. As I passed through her home, I couldn't help but admire how elegant it was. I knew nothing about art, but even I could tell the paintings that adorned the walls were as expensive as they were magnificent. I spotted what were probably antique vases and furniture. I felt like I was in Wayne Manor.

"So, you live here with just your grandfather, and now Payne?"

"For the most part," Hunter answered. "There's usually some staff somewhere around, and I have a great-uncle who lives here as well. But he's been in a coma for something like fifty years, so he's not one for conversation. Of course, there are usually nurses around for him, too. They're up on the third floor on the far side of the house. Other family members spend time here. Many of my cousins have their own rooms, even if they don't live here. Here's mine."

Hunter's room was three times the size of mine. She had a canopy bed with fluffy pillows and stuffed animals crowding the top of it. The room was painted pale lavender. She had a desk with a laptop, printer, and scanner. There was a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. She had an area with leather chairs that had a great view of the TV as well as the big windows that looked out over the lake.

"You want something?" Hunter asked. "I could send down for some snacks." Send down for some snacks? Wow, how cool was that?

"No, I'm good," I said. "Hunter, are you okay? I mean, you're not freaked out by me? By what I told you, I mean."

"Well, it's a bit of a shock, I admit," Hunter said. "It's not every day that someone tells you they've spoken with your dead cousin. I think it's kinda cool. How long have you been able to see ghosts?"

"For as long as I can remember," I answered.

"Is it weird?" Hunter asked. "I mean, does it ever freak you out knowing you're talking to someone who's dead? I imagine that could be scary."

"Not really," I said. "This is stranger to me, actually. I've never had anyone to talk to about this stuff. I'm used to being open with the dead about it. No reason to hide it from them. But it's very strange to be talking to people with a pulse about this."

"Are you okay to talk about it?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I responded. "I suppose you'd like to know about what happened with Jared." Hunter nodded.

I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself. "I first saw Jared playing near my house, near that stream that runs nearby," I said.

I told Hunter everything that had happened, starting from Payne crashing down on his dirt bike to Jared leading us to Weeder's house.

"Weeder got off easy," Hunter said. "If it were up to me, he would have died a lot more slowly, with a lot more pain."

"I understand how you feel," I said. "I'm just glad he's dead. If not, he'd still be trying to kill me."

"That's the wacky part," Hunter said. "The part my family can't understand. The theory was that someone in your family used Weeder to get at our family. But why go after you? That makes no sense."

"No, it doesn't," I agreed. "I know I'm new to all this, but I haven't met anyone in my family that I believe would ever hurt a little boy. I don't think my family was behind his death. And I don't believe anyone in your family was behind Weeder trying to kill me. There's something else you should know."

I explained the shadow creatures and how they spoke to Weeder.

"Oh please," Hunter said. "Don't try and plead insanity for that man. He was responsible for killing Jared. No one made him do it."

"I didn't say that," I said. "I agree he's responsible, but I also believe there was something telling him what to do. I had a dream a while ago. In my dream I saw these shadow creatures having a chat by that stream where I met Jared."

"You dreamed it?" Hunter repeated. "Were they serving tea and biscuits?"

"Hardy har har," I sneered. "No, I'm serious. I dreamed this. They're out there."

"Bristol," she said. "I had a dream that I was stuck on a tropical island with Big Bird and

Elmo. That doesn't mean anything."

"It might," I responded. "Big Bird and Elmo? Are you kidding me? That's the best you could do?"

"Hey," Hunter said. "I had just spent the afternoon watching three of my little cousins.

They're all at that age."

"Oh, well..." I shrugged. "I guess that's okay, then."

"Thank you," Hunter said. "My point is, you can't go by dreams. They don't mean anything."

"Your dreams don't mean anything," I corrected. "Mine have this crazy habit of coming true."

Hunter stared at me, unblinking for several moments before responding. "Are you kidding me? Really?"

"Really," I confirmed. "I've been dreaming of your cousin since I was little."

Hunter gawked. "You've been dreaming about Jared since you were a kid?"

"Jared?" I repeated. "No, wrong cousin. I've been dreaming of Payne."

"Really?" Hunter said. "Wow. Like what kind of dreams? Anything good?"

"Don't go there," I insisted. "I'm not sharing any of those with you."

"Spoil sport."

"Whatever," I said. "I've had a lot of different dreams about Payne. Some were just of him growing up. Sometimes it was just flashes that didn't make sense until recently. I may have seen him when his mother was killed."

"I miss Aunt Linda," Hunter said. "She was wonderful with Payne. He was so devastated when he lost her. He blamed himself."

"Survivor's guilt," I explained. "It's not helped by the fact that anyone else wouldn't have survived. That's part of the reason why Payne is the way he is. So damn reckless. He feels pain when he's hurt even if he does heal."

Hunter rose now and walked to the windows. "Yes, I know. I'm well aware of what happened that day she died. He tries to hide things like that, but he can't. Not from me. At least not once I can get him to talk about it. Then I know if he's trying to hide something. Of course Payne is real good at keeping quiet."

"Tell me about it." I got up and joined Hunter by the window. "The things I've seen...Well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. You know, when I have these visions I never know whether they're going to happen or not. I just know it might."

"Right." Hunter nodded in understanding. "I think it was Yoda who said the future is always in motion or something."

I rolled my eyes. "I've got to be honest, I've never seen Star Trek."

"Star Wars," Hunter corrected. "Not Star Trek."

"Whatever." I shook my head. "Point is, whenever I saw this stuff I always assumed the boy I was seeing was really lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Yeah, very lucky," I insisted. "I never saw Payne heal in my visions. I just saw him getting hurt. I knew no one could ever survive all that stuff, so I just figured it was all just really close calls.

It never occurred to me Payne was actually living through all that stuff."

Hunter grimaced. "I know. I hate some of the stuff he does. I try and get him to stop. But he never listens."

"Well, he's going to stop," I announced. "I made him give me his word; no more doing stupid things that get him hurt."

"He said that?" Hunter asked. "Payne actually gave his word he would do that?"

"Yes, he did. And I plan on making sure he keeps his word, or I'm going to hurt him myself."

Hunter smiled. "If Payne gave his word, then he means it. And the fact that he gave you his word on that is nothing short of amazing. He must really like you."

"What's not to like?" I asked. "I'm a dorky, ghost-seeing, vision-having girl whose family is your family's sworn enemy. We're a match made in heaven. Oh, and from now on, if someone steals your Barbie dolls, you'll have to find another way to get them back."

"You saw that?" Hunter exclaimed. "Man, that was like forever ago and... wait, I didn't know that Payne got hurt that day. He told me no one was home."

"I don't think any person was," I said. "But their dogs were. They took a big chunk out of Payne before he got back over the fence."

"That idiot," Hunter said. "He tricked me. He told me he went up and over and there wasn't a person in sight. He told me the truth, but left out the fact there were dogs there, and I didn't think to ask back then. I can't detect lies of omission. He's going to pay for that."

"Can I ask... how does your power work? How do you know someone is lying?"

Hunter shrugged. "When you say something, if it's a lie, I kind of hear an echo of what it is you said. I've been fooled a few times, but it's rare. I've never been wrong when I hear the echo. If I hear it's a lie, it's a lie."

"You told me I lied when we first met," I said. "About what? I don't remember lying. I can't remember everything I said, but I really don't remember lying."

"There were two things," Hunter explained. "The first was when you talked about just being with Payne when he happened to find Jared. You were lying. I understand why now. That's why Payne said what he did right afterward. About you being nothing but kind and compassionate about everything. So, I could hear him say it and know he was telling the truth. I figured maybe the two of you were maybe off making out at the time and, you just didn't want to mention it."

"No," I said. "Not at that point, at least. What was the second?"

"When I asked you if you thought of yourself as a freak," Hunter answered. "You said no.

You lied."

I broke eye contact and looked once more out to the lake. Damn, I liked Hunter. But having her as a friend was going to be hard.

"Well, I grew up where the people I spent the most time with were all dead," I explained. "You have to admit, that's pretty freaky. And I didn't know there were other people out there that were different. I hadn't grown up in Spirit. It's an adjustment talking to people about this, but it's nice."

Hunter smiled. "I think you and I are going to be good friends, Bristol. I hope we will be. I can tell you're important to Payne. And I can see he's important to you."

"He is," I admitted. "Look, back when I was in the city, I never had any close friends. I mean, I had friends. If I wanted to get together and go see a movie or something, I could. But I was never one to just hang out with others. I was always different, and I never knew when some spirit might pop out of nowhere. A few people caught me once or twice. They just all assumed I was talking to myself. I guess I'm used to being a loner."

"I'm sorry," Hunter said. "That's sad. Did your parents know about you?"

I started to say no, but then I shrugged. "I'm not sure. When I was six I told them about having a dream where my teacher had a heart attack in front of the class. I didn't want to go to school that day."

"But they made you go?" she asked.

"No, they didn't," I said. "In fact, they both called in to work themselves. We had ourselves a wonderful family day. We did the zoo, a movie, we ate out. We didn't get home until late. When we got home, we had an answering machine full of messages from other parents about my teacher dying in front of the class. My parents flipped. My mom called me a..." I hesitated to use the word, "freak. After that, I figured it was better to keep my visions and other abilities to myself."

"I'm sorry," Hunter said.

"I'm just very..." I stopped talking midsentence as panic set in. In the distance, I could hear the shadow creatures. I jumped up from where I sat and started to look around.

"Bristol, what's wrong?" Hunter asked.

I held up my hand to stop her from talking so I could listen more closely. A chill sliced through me as I realized the shadow creatures were getting closer. I went to the window and looked outside. They were by the lake. Something about the sound made me realize they were really ticked off.

"You remember those shadow things I told you about?"

"Oh boy," Hunter jumped up. "Please don't tell me they're here. Pretty please. Pretty please with sugar on top."

Suddenly, there was a bang. Everything in Hunter's room shook. Picture frames and little items that lined her shelves crashed to the ground.

When I looked Hunter in the eyes, I could see the terror.

There was another bang that sounded like the front door. Whatever it was, it was in the house. I looked over to Hunter, feeling guilty as hell for exposing her to this. "Does this mean we can't be friends anymore?"

### TWELVE

### BOOM!

"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO do?" Hunter asked.

"I'm gonna call for help," I announced and got my cellphone.

"Good," Hunter said. "Call your uncle."

"Right," I said. "I was going to call Payne, but Uncle Mark would probably be better. Oh hell, I'll call them both..." I looked at my phone and then cursed. "Or not. No signal! Do you usually get a signal here?"

"All the time," Hunter answered. "Does paranormal activity normally interfere with cellphone reception?"

"I don't know? I'm not a spookologist. We've gotta get out of here."

Hunter looked around a moment and then nodded. "Okay, follow me."

We rushed to the door. Hunter peered out first. Seeing nothing, she signaled me forward, and we proceeded out into the hallway. I started to head back toward the way we came, but Hunter pulled my arm.

"This way," she cried, her voice unsteady with terror.

We tried to move as quickly and quietly down the hallway as possible. Hunter grabbed my hand and led me around a corner.

I saw the hallway led to the front of the house. We ran for it, taking the turn at top speed.

The hallway in front of me was a long one.

I followed close behind her, this time not bothering to take note of the beautiful paintings and antiques along the way. What I did notice was how big her house was. I don't think I had ever been in someone's home and run from one wing to the other.

At the end of the hallway were two sets of stairs, one heading up and the other heading down. There was a small area dividing the two, with a little window and a vase. The vase suddenly exploded.

"Not good," I screamed, skidding to a halt. The rug under my feet went with me, and I crashed into a small bust that shattered on the ground. "Oops. Sorry, my bad."

Hunter pulled me to my feet. "I always hated that thing. Go back this way," she said.

Instead of heading straight back down the hallway, Hunter opened one of the many doors we had passed along the way. Inside was a walk-in linen closet. Toward the back of the room were other supplies and an elevator.

"Here, give me a hand," I said.

The shelves the linen was stacked on were movable. Between the two of us, we pushed them in front of the doors. Half of the linen fell off in the process, but hopefully it bought us some time.

We went into the elevator and hit the down button. Inside, we held on to each other. I could feel Hunter tremble with fear. Or maybe that was me?

The elevator car began to move. Slowly. I rolled my eyes in frustration. "This has got to be the slowest moving elevator in the entire world."

I could feel Hunter's fear mixing with my own as she slumped against the wall. "I haven't used this thing since I was little. Now I remember why."

"My grandfather could take the stairs faster than this thing," I yelled. "Where does this take us?"

"Basement."

"Basement?" I repeated. "Is that a good idea?"

There was another explosion from above. "There goes the linen door," Hunter yelled. "At least we know where he is. It will take him a few minutes to circle around."

"Unless he, she or it decides to blow up the elevator while we're on it!"

Both Hunter and I looked up at the same time. The elevator came to a halt, and as soon as the doors opened we both jumped out. We were now in a room where the laundry was done. There were two doors; both looked like doors from a restaurant. They swung both ways, and it didn't look like there was any way to block them. We started to move away when there was a boom, and the elevator doors bent outward. Hunter and I jumped back and screamed.

"Do you have any idea what it is that's after us?" Hunter asked. "What are these shadow things?"

"I don't know," I told her. "All I see are these shadows that talk in real creepy voices and say stuff about wanting me dead. They keep referring to someone named McKnight."

"How do you know it's a McKnight trying to kill us?" Hunter asked, offended. "It could just as easily be a Blackburn."

I just stared at her, stunned. "Does that really matter right now? I just told you what they said. It could be Donald Duck with a bazooka trying to take us out for all I know."

"I'm sorry," Hunter cried. "What do we do?"

"Wait," I said. "They're not after you, just me. Find a place to hide. I'll make a run for it."

"No way," Hunter countered. She shook her head stubbornly. "We're in this together."

"Hunter," I said. "They're not after you, just me."

"I don't care," Hunter answered. "I'm not leaving you on your own. Besides, in the movies, the psycho always gets them after they split up."

"Fine, so which way?" I pointed to the two doors. "Where do these go?"

"That one," Hunter pointed to the one in front of us, "leads to the kitchen."

"Well, I could use a snack," I said. "What about that one?" I pointed to the one behind me. "I'm not sure," Hunter said. "I think the cellar."

"You're not sure?"

"It's a big house!"

"Okay, never mind," I said. "I think I know what to do. Listen."

Within a few seconds, we had moved what we could in front of the doors that led to the kitchen. It wasn't going to hold off whoever or whatever was coming for more than a few seconds, but it was going to make a lot of noise when they did come after us. I flipped the lights out before moving.

"Let's go," I said.

It seemed like forever, although I'm quite sure it was really less than a full minute, before something appeared at the door that led to the kitchen. The door pushed but didn't open due to what Hunter and I had put in front of it. My heart leaped into my throat. I knew what came next.

The explosion was quick and impressive. Everything Hunter and I had piled in front of the doors was blown away. The door itself swung open and then back again. It continued to do this for a few moments, as if expressing its admiration of the blast that had occurred.

A figure appeared in the doorway. This was no shadow creature. A flesh and blood human walked through. Whoever it was strode toward the other doors.

They stopped when they heard Hunter in the corner of the room. She had dropped something that rattled to the floor and rolled away. The person slowly moved toward her.

I jumped out and smashed a large glass pitcher over his head. The glass shattered and clattered to the ground. A moment later, our attacker fell to his knees. He wobbled there a moment before falling flat to the floor.

"Did it work?" Hunter asked. "Did you get him?"

"Yeah, I did," I answered. I looked down at our fallen assailant and realized there was something familiar about him. He was young. A teenager. I was having a hard time making out the face in the dark. "Hit the lights. I think I know this guy."

I heard Hunter fumbling around in the dark. "Don't tell me some loon from the city followed you up here."

The lights clicked on, and I looked down and gasped. "I don't think so."

"Oh my God," Hunter yelled. "Archer!" She sat next to Archer and pulled him in her arms.

Archer looked stunned but was still moving.

"One of your cousins, right?" I asked.

Hunter nodded. "Bristol, Archer can be a bit full of himself, but he's not a bad guy. He wouldn't try and kill us."

I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want to end my friendship with Hunter just as it had begun, but to me it seemed clear Archer was trying to kill us.

I was about to say something to Hunter when the sounds of the shadows creatures started again. They didn't seem close. In fact, I got the impression they were outside. I shivered, feeling something cold pass me by.

Archer moaned and began to stir.

"What happened?" His eyes were glassy as he looked around. "Hunter, is that you? Where are we?"

Hunter looked up at me for an instant before her eyes went back to her cousin. "You're okay, Archer. You were hit over the head, but you're going to be okay." I pulled out my cellphone.

"Who are you calling?" Hunter asked. "Your uncle?"

I looked at Hunter, her eyes pleading. "No, I'm calling Payne. There's more than meets the eye here."

Hunter looked stunned for a moment, but she nodded and tended to her cousin. Archer insisted on being helped up. We managed to get him to the front living room and onto the couch.

He was still so stunned that I don't think he realized who I was.

Even lying there on the couch with his head bleeding, Archer McKnight was a picture to behold. Hunter held Archer's head in her lap, urging him to keep still. How many girls in school would love to trade places with her right now?

Helping to nurse back the tall, muscular, brownhaired teen with the green eyes and the adorable face? Well, they could have him. I still remembered the way he tripped poor Ian the first day I'd been at Spirit High. That alone was enough to sour my feelings for him.

I looked around. The front door was smashed through. Several paintings had fallen off the walls that might be able to be salvaged. There were also several antiques that didn't look like they'd be so lucky.

A car pulled up, and Hunter and I exchanged glances before Payne came running through the splintered doorframe. He rushed to me and pulled me into an embrace.

"Bristol, are you all right?" Payne asked. "Yeah." I nodded. "Just dandy."

"Hunter?" Payne asked.

"Ducky," she answered. "Is Grandpa with you? Oh, there he is."

I unburied my head from Payne's chest and turned so I could see Varick McKnight enter the room. He was dressed in black slacks and shirt. His frame filled the opening of the doorway and radiated power. Even the surviving paintings seemed intimidated by him. His sharp, blue eyes scanned the room and found us. He quickly crossed the room, his moustache leading the way.

I couldn't help but notice that Varick passed what must have been hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of damage and destruction to his home and never even blinked an eye. His focus was completely and utterly on his three grandchildren. And me.

This was scarier than the attack.

"What's happened here?" he asked.

"Grandpa," Hunter said. "I invited Bristol over. We were in my room when someone or something came through that door. The two of us ran. I remembered the elevator in the linen room so we took that down to the lower level. We got off just in time..."

"In time?" Varick interrupted. "In time for what?" Hunter and I exchanged glances.

"Before whatever it was that was after us blew the hell out of the elevator," Hunter answered. "Bristol got the idea to lay a trap. We blocked the doors to the kitchen from our side and then hid. We figured when whoever it was came through, we could make it look like we went the other way. Well someone did come through. I let them spot me, and then Bristol brained them with a glass pitcher."

"And how did Archer get injured?" Varick asked.

Hunter and I looked at each other. We were very aware of everyone staring at us. Payne still held me; Varick stood with his hands on his hips. Even Archer looked rapt at attention. Hunter's eyes drifted down to Archer, her hand caressing his head.

"Archer was the one I whacked," I answered. "The doors blew open, he came in, and I clobbered him upside his head."

There was a moment of silence as what I said was absorbed. Then everyone started to talk at once.

"I didn't," Archer yelled. "I wouldn't."

"Archer, I'm going to rip your arms out," Payne threatened. "You could have killed Bristol and Hunter."

"We don't know what happened yet," Hunter said. "But I can't believe Archer would have tried to hurt me."

"Enough," Varick commanded. It was amazing to see how everyone automatically zipped it.

"Young lady," Varick said, "you come into my home and disaster follows. I do not know what happened, but you've admitted to assaulting my grandson. You may want to keep that in mind when your uncle arrives."

"Grandpa," Payne said. "Don't threaten Bristol. It's not her fault that Archer attacked her."

"I didn't," Archer protested. "If you think I would do that then maybe you're the one who needs your ass kicked, cousin."

"Shut up, both of you," I screamed.

Both Archer and Payne paused for a moment. Then they started on each other again. Insults were hurled, many involving specific parts of the male anatomy.

Varick repeated his order to stop. They did. I had to admire his ability to do that.

"How long, do you suppose, until your uncle arrives?" Varick asked.

"Grandpa," Hunter said. "She didn't call her uncle."

Shock registered, not only on Varick's face, but on Archer's as well. Only Payne seemed unsurprised by this. It took Varick only a moment to recover.

"Why don't you tell us then what you plan on doing, young lady," he said.

It would seem intimidation was this McKnight's special talent. I couldn't help but wonder if the source for his power was located in his moustache. That seemed like a bad question to ask.

"I don't know," I said. "Someone is trying to kill me. I don't know who or what, but I really don't like it."

"Bristol," Archer said as he struggled to sit up. "I'd never hurt you. I don't get the whole attracted to the enemy thing, but I know you're important to Payne. I wouldn't do this, I swear. And Hunter, you can't believe that I'd risk hurting you. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." Hunter took his hand. "I know. I believe you," she said. "I believe him," she said to me.

"Okay, fine," I said. "I'm sorry I cracked your head open. Seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"I would've done the same thing," Hunter added. "It never occurred to me whoever she brained wasn't the right person until I saw Archer. What were you doing here anyway? Why were you down there?"

"I uh..." Archer started, but he looked confused. "Uh, I don't remember. I was supposed to meet up with Chase later, so I was trying to get my homework done. I may have fallen asleep. The next thing I remember I was lying on the floor downstairs, bleeding."

I looked to Hunter, who nodded in my direction casually. Archer was telling the truth. Great, now I not only had something trying to kill me, but I felt guilty about smashing the pitcher over Archer's head.

"How hard did you hit him?" Payne asked.

"Pretty hard," I said. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Archer said. "At least if my cousin has to date a Blackburn, she's not a wimp. How did you say they were attacking you again?"

"Things were blowing up," I said. "Out of nowhere, kablooy." I made an explosive sound and demonstrated it with my hands.

I noticed the panicked look on Archer's face. I would bet my last cookie that Archer had a power as well, and it was to make things go boom.

"You need to get Archer to the hospital," I said. "He could have a concussion."

"Don't worry about Archer," Payne said. "If you wanted to do any brain damage, you should have kicked him in the ass."

"Remind me to kick yours, dear cousin," Archer added as he forced himself to stand. "Just as soon as there's only one of you."

"Oh, geez, you two," I said. "Why can't you guys just say something like, are you okay? Or, I'm sorry I accused you of trying to kill someone. Do you have to be such...such..." "Boys?" Hunter offered.

"Thank you," I said. "Have you noticed the more of them you put in the same room, the stupider they talk?" I moved to Archer. "Go to the doctor and get your head looked at. I'm sorry." I leaned in and gave Archer a kiss on the cheek. Then I stepped back and looked at Payne. "See how it's done?"

Archer looked embarrassed by the tiny peck I'd given him. He clearly had no idea how to deal with anything but hostility from a Blackburn.

"Are you able to walk to the car?" Varick asked. "Payne, will you see that your young friend gets home okay?" "I'll take her myself," Payne said.

"Take the Mercedes," Varick instructed. "Get her home safely. Bristol, I must admit that you surprise me. Most Blackburns would not accept the word of a McKnight so readily."

"I don't know what other Blackburns would have done," I said. "I just know that I believe Archer wasn't responsible. I'm not out to get the McKnight family. I happen to be rather fond of a couple of them."

Varick considered me. "I'm beginning to believe that. We shall have to have you over for dinner one night."

"Thank you, Mr. McKnight," I said. "You have a lovely home." My eyes darted to the destruction at the door. "Or at least you did before I arrived. I don't know what is after me, but I'm sorry to have brought this to your home."

Then Varick did something I never would have expected. He smiled. "Things can be replaced. I'm pleased you weren't hurt. I hope to see you again, Bristol."

Varick led Archer out the shattered doorframe. Once he was gone, I turned to Payne and

Hunter. "You get to drive his car?"

"Yeah, guess I do," he said. "You want me to take you home?"

"What do you think?" I asked. "I'm hungry. Being attacked burns a lot of calories. I need food. And we need to talk. The three of us. Feel like tagging along?" I asked Hunter.

"I could eat." Hunter smiled. "Payne gets to pick up the check."

Payne drove us to Frank's, a nearby diner he told me made the best onion rings. Personally, I'm a fry girl. The important thing was Payne and I agreed on a critical point. Red meat was essential. Hunter on the other hand ordered a chicken Caesar salad. I decided to stay friends with her anyway.

We managed to snag a booth toward the back, away from prying ears. By silent consent, we kept the conversation to non-supernatural stuff until after the food arrived.

"Why don't we fill Payne in on everything?" Hunter said.

"I filled Hunter in on all of the missing details," I said. "She knows about me now."

"I figured," Payne said, "since Hunter told you her secret."

"How did you know?" Hunter asked.

"What am I, blind?" Payne asked. "I saw the way Bristol looked to you for confirmation about Archer. I'm not surprised. I figured the two of you would hit it off."

"I'll just bet," Hunter said as she reached over and gently patted Payne's cheek, making him grin. "And that reminds me." She grabbed his nipple through his shirt and twisted.

"Ow!" Payne jumped. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" Hunter asked. "It can't be nearly as bad as the time those dogs ripped into you while you rescued my Barbie doll, huh?"

Payne glared at Hunter, then me, then Hunter again.

"Oops," I said before snatching an onion ring. "You're right, these are good. You ready to hear about today?" Still glaring, Payne nodded.

"Well, let's start with school," I said as I wondered how many onion rings I could steal. They were pretty good. "First off, guess who got themselves locked in a closet?"

From there, I explained everything from Jay to Archer. When I was done, Payne's burger remained untouched. His onion rings were almost gone, but that was because I'd stolen them.

After taking a few moments to contemplate what he had just been told, Payne asked, "Did you ever figure out who locked you in that closet?"

"No," I answered. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say Pricilla, but that might be less to do with knowing she did it and more to do with my hating her with every fiber of my being."

"I don't know," Payne said.

"Why?" I asked. "You think Princess P is above such things?"

"Princess P?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah, Princess P," I explained. "As in perfect, pretty, perky, pesky, pinhead, prissy and probably a whole plethora of perturbing Ps. She's a walking cliché. The perfect figure, perfect hair, perfect blue eyes—which, by the way, she always has trained on you, Payne."

"You sound like you want to kill her for admiring me from afar," Payne said with a quick but wicked grin. "I think I like the idea that you want to fight her over me."

"Like it would be much of a fight," I responded. "Not that I would fight someone like Pricilla over you. If you were fool enough to even look at her, then she can have you. I'd just kill the both of you in your sleep."

"Well then," Payne said, "it's a good thing for me that my eyes are only interested in looking at you."

Payne tried to pull me closer for a kiss, but I elbowed him in the ribs. "Whatever. You're out of onion rings, by the way."

With a roll of his eyes, Payne ordered more.

"I think you want it to be Pricilla," Hunter offered. "I've never been a big fan of her either, but I just don't know if you can pin this on her."

"If it was just Pricilla," Payne said, "then it wasn't anything more than a stupid prank. I'm more interested in what happened at my house. You both could have been killed. We need to know more about these shadow things."

"Well, I'm pretty sure they've been watching me since I arrived in Spirit," I said. Panic spread across Payne and Hunter's faces. "What am I supposed to do, though? They haven't come in the house. They haven't made any move against me."

"Until today," Payne clarified.

"There's that," I agreed.

"Plus," Payne said, "it still leaves the question as to why.

And what do we do about it."

"I have a plan," I announced. "Trust." "Trust?" Hunter repeated.

"Yes," I responded. "Trust answers both of Payne's questions. This family feud's been going on for a long time. Our families blame each other for everything. Blackburns and McKnights don't trust each other. Maybe they don't want us to. So I think that's exactly what we do. Trust each other."

Hunter and Payne watched me closely for several seconds. I seemed to have an ability to render them both speechless. I could only assume I had impressed them both with my insightful wisdom.

"Are you insane?" Payne asked in what I noted was a tone severely lacking in the expected reverence for my insightful wisdom. "These things, these shadow creatures or whatever the hell they are, nearly blew you and Hunter to smithereens. If you're right, they're responsible for my cousin's murder. You've been nearly killed twice. And you want to use trust?"

"Look, I'm open to other suggestions," I responded. "But yes, right now I think we need to trust each other. I'm putting my trust in the two of you."

"Well, really," Payne complained. "Bristol, I trust you. Hunter trusts you. You made a good impression on my grandfather, which isn't easy. Trust isn't a problem for the three of us. But when we're talking about some creature made of shadows that wants you dead, forgive me, but I want something a bit more powerful than trust to use against it. I want something I can beat it over the head with."

"Well, here's the thing," I said. "I'm not quite sure these things have heads."

"Oh dear Lord," Payne said right before his head crashed onto the table.

Hunter chuckled. "You know, I don't know what I think of your theory. But I've got to say, it's amusing to see you ruffle my normally unflappable cousin."

Payne looked up with one eye. "Glad this is so amusing to you, cousin. You were in the line of fire today too, you know."

"Trust me," Hunter replied, "I remember. But for now, Bristol is right. We have to trust one another. But that doesn't mean we have to stop looking for something a little more potent against these things."

"Agreed," I said as we clinked our glasses together.

When we were done, we made our way out to the car. I took a moment to admire the beautiful SUV that stood before us while Payne opened the door for me. It was large, slick, and black with a leather interior. I know it was petty of me, but I hoped we passed Pricilla at some point. Her head would explode.

"So, do you think your grandfather is going to let you drive again?" I asked.

"He might," Payne answered. "He told me he would get me my own car if I kept an A average by year's end."

"I like the yellow Lamborghini," Hunter added. "But I don't think that Grandpa will let either of us drive that."

"He's got a Lamborghini?" I asked. "Wow. How many cars does he have?"

"Well, there's this," Payne said. "The Cadillac he's driving today. He owns a couple of limos and a couple of Rolls, but he only uses those when he has a driver. He has a few more Mercedes as well and, of course, a Lexus or two." "Of course," I agreed.

"I don't know," Payne shrugged. "Maybe four dozen or so in total."

"You know he can only drive one at a time, right?" I said. "What can one man possibly need with so many cars?" "It's not as much need as want," Payne answered. "Don't you have something you can't get enough of?" "Like what?" I asked.

"I don't know," Payne said. "How am I supposed to know what girls collect?"

"Like purses," Hunter said from the back seat.

"You're kidding me, right?" I said.

"I love purses," Hunter said as Payne slowly took a sharp turn onto the highway entrance ramp. "Look at this one. It's a Louis Vuitton." She held up a small but cute black and white checkered purse. It had slender straps made of brown leather. "I've got about a dozen or so Louie Vuitton's. I've also got Prada, a few Coach, some Gucci, one or two Channel, Uggs, a few Versace." Hunter kept listing names, but a strong feeling of danger distracted me.

"Payne," I yelled. "Stop the car."

"What?" Payne asked. His eyes went wide in surprise.

"Stop the car now," I insisted, certain it was absolutely imperative.

I tensed as Payne hit the brake, carefully trying to bring us to a stop on the dark, curvy road. I pressed myself into my seat to steel against the momentum, but Hunter, who had been leaning forward, hit her head into Payne's seat. With a squeal, the Mercedes finally came to a stop. I looked back to see if Hunter was all right. She seemed dazed but otherwise unhurt.

"What the hell?" Payne said.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I had this feeling something bad was going to happen."

"Yeah," Payne answered and pointed forward. "Look."

A big cow stood in the middle of the road. It was one of those adorable black and white cows. Only it didn't look so adorable right now. It just stood there, staring at us.

"It's not mooing," I said. "Cows moo. Why won't it moo?"

I reached for my door handle, but Payne stopped me. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to take a look," I explained. "There's something up with that cow."

We all looked back at the cow that continued to just stare. It was ridiculous, but there was something about the cow's stare that seemed wrong.

"If you're right," Payne said, "then there's no way you are going out there."

"What is it going to do?" I asked. "It's a cow!"

Payne looked like he wanted to object more. Within a few seconds, the three of us were outside the car. The cow just stared. Hunter had climbed out on the left side behind Payne, so I was alone on the right. Payne seemed to be aware of this and moved toward me, but I told him to stop.

He wasn't happy, but he did.

The cow didn't move or make a sound. It continued to stare—directly at me.

"Bristol?" Payne called.

Something shadowy passed over the cow. Like smoke rising from within it. And then for the first time, the cow mooed.

"It's okay," I said. "Did you two see that?'

"See what?" Payne asked. "I heard the cow moo. Is that good?"

I moved toward the cow. It was not only mooing, it was moving. It seemed to be looking around. Like it was trying to figure out how it got there. Or maybe I was just reading much more into it than I should. It was, after all, just a cow. Now that it didn't seem so fixated on me, it was much more adorable.

"There was something inside," I explained, "like smoke. I saw it leave the cow right before the cow started to act like a cow again."

"You're kidding?" Hunter said.

"No," I insisted, "I'm not."

Payne looked back and forth between me and the cow. I think he was trying to decide if the cow was really acting like a cow. "This is weird."

"I know," I answered.

"You're telling me the cow was..." Hunter waved her hands. "Possessed?" The cow mooed again, as if to say it found that quite distressful.

"More or less," I answered.

Payne took the cow's head in his hands and looked it in the eyes. The cow pulled its head away and mooed again. Now that it was mooing, it wouldn't shut up.

"Now what?" Payne asked. "What do we do with a cow that was possessed?"

"Well, whatever it was is gone now," I answered. "I don't think we have anything to fear at this point from the cow. We need to figure out what to do with her. We can't leave the poor thing out here on the road like this. It must have come from somewhere."

"The cow?" Payne said. "You're worried about the cow? Bristol, if you hadn't told me to stop when you did, we would have crashed into it. We could have been killed."

"Wow," Hunter murmured. "Murder by bovine. What a way to go. I don't even eat red meat."

"That's irony," I said. "How do you move a cow?"

Payne tried to pull at the cow, but the cow pulled away and gave him an offended moo.

"Stupid, stubborn cow! We need to call someone, or we're going to be here..."

"Until the cow comes home?" I offered. That little comment earned me a baleful stare from

Payne, Hunter, and the cow. "Why don't I call my uncle? He'll know what to do."

"Good idea," Payne said. "In the meantime, I'm going to get a couple of flares and put them on the road so no one—"

A squeal pierced the night. We turned in time to see a red truck come around the same bend we had traveled moments ago and smash into the back of the Mercedes. The two cars skidded to a halt as the airbag exploded into action. Thankfully, we were several feet away and out of danger. The same could not be said about the Mercedes.

"Uh oh," I said.

"Oh hell!" Hunter said.

"Grandpa's gonna kill me," Payne said.

The cow mooed.

"What the hell are you doing stopped in the middle of the road?" the driver said as he emerged from his damaged truck. "Is that a cow?"

I pulled out my cellphone and dialed my uncle's number. "Hey, Uncle Mark. What do you know about cows?"

Within the next ten minutes, both my uncle and Varick McKnight were on the scene. Uncle Mark had one of his deputies direct traffic to avoid another collision. After another twenty minutes, both the red truck and the Mercedes had been towed. The man got a ride from someone after being assured by Varick that any damage from the collision would be paid for. When Varick McKnight tells you he's going to pay for something, you just smiled and accepted his word.

My uncle found out where the cow came from and arranged to have it brought home. While the farm in question wasn't very far, it still seemed incredible the cow had made its way here on its own. Pinky, the deputy that had been directing traffic, wondered out loud if the cow had been planning his escape for months. Finally, the only thing left to deal with was the three of us. Uncle Mark and Varick McKnight approached.

"Okay," Uncle Mark said. "What happened?"

"Don't ask us," I told him. "Ask the cow."

"I'll take the cow's statement later," Uncle Mark answered, ignoring the cow mooing in the background. "Right now, I'm asking you."

"Sherriff," Payne said. "It's not Bristol's fault. I had my grandfather's permission to use the

Mercedes to take Bristol home. I didn't think it would be a big deal to stop for dinner."

"Wait," Uncle Mark interrupted. "I thought Bristol was having dinner at your place tonight."

"She was," Varick McKnight interjected. "However, my grandson Archer was injured earlier. He fell and hit his head.

I took him to the hospital." "Is Archer okay?" I asked.

"No permanent damage done," Varick said. "He has a slight concussion. He's spending the night in the hospital, for which he's not happy. But nevertheless, he is staying."

"Good," Uncle Mark said. "So you went to eat and then..."

"Then we left," I answered. "Payne was driving. We were going the speed limit. We stopped because there was a cow in the road. We have no idea how Bessie got here anymore than you do."

"Bessie?" Uncle Mark asked.

I shrugged. "I feel bad calling her the cow. Bessie seems like a good, solid cow name."

"Right," Uncle Mark said. "Well then, I think you've had enough excitement for now. I can take Bristol home from here."

"And I'll take my grandchildren," Varick said. "Bristol, we shall have to have you over for dinner soon."

"Sure, thanks," I said. "Just don't serve steak, okay?" Everyone except the cow laughed.

### THIRTEEN

### AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

THERE WAS MUSIC PLAYING. Really old music from the late fifties or early sixties. It was a female voice, one I wasn't familiar with, crooning out a melody, begging for her lover to let her go.

I thought the girl singing was a wimp. If you felt that way about your boyfriend, just break up with him.

Still, it was a pretty enough tune.

The music poured out of the radio in an old car. Only the car didn't look old. It was a Corvette, black, slick, and brand spanking new. The car was idling on the side of the road somewhere off the beaten trail. It looked like the perfect setting for two teenagers to make out, but the pair in the Chevrolet weren't locking lips. Instead of being snuggled next to each other in the back seat, they sat silently in the front seat. The girl seemed to shrink away from the boy. She was pretty in an understated sort of way with her dark brown hair that was tied up in a pink bow. In fact, she looked a lot like me.

The boy's face was masked by shadows as he reached his hand out to take hers. Every time he did, she would give it a gentle squeeze and then pull away. She wasn't scared of him, but whatever affection he might feel was definitely one-sided.

" _We can't go on like this," she said. "It's not fair to either of us."_

" _Why not?" he said. "I love you. I know you love me. You're just... confused."_

" _I'm not confused," she said. "I don't love you. I know that sounds cruel, but it's just how I feel. I've been honest with you. I told you it's over. You need to accept it. It's not that I don't think you're wonderful, it's just not right."_

He was silent for a moment as her words hung in the air. I couldn't help but notice his hand was now clenched into a fist.

After a few seconds, he relaxed his hand. "It's him, isn't it?"

" _It's not," she responded. "It's never been about him. Yes, I like him. If he asks me out, I'll say yes. But even if he wasn't in the picture, I'd say the same thing to you. We weren't meant for each other."_

His fist was back. Still, she showed no sign of fear. "I think we're meant for each other. I can give you so much. Be mine, and you'll never want for a single thing"

" _I'll want for love," she said. Wow, that was a corny line. I don't think I could say it with a straight face, but she managed to pull it off. Kudos. "It's never been about money. You should know that. He makes me laugh. He listens to me. He respects my opinion."_

" _He respects your opinion?" the boy repeated. "How is that possible? He is the living embodiment of sarcasm! Don't be absurd. No, you belong with me. It's as simple as that."_

She laughed. "I think he'd like that description. Oh, I hope we can still be friends after tonight. I really, truly do. But that's all I feel for you. Friendship."

" _No, you can't have it both ways." The boy's tone had changed. The hopefulness in his voice was gone, replaced by anger. "You cannot be with him and be friends with me. You know how this works. One family or the other! It can't be both ways. There's no in-between."_

" _Well, now that's just silly," she answered. "I certainly don't plan on taking sides in your ridiculous family feud. Neither does your brother. Which is convenient since your brother seems smitten with my best friend. I want to look forward to seeing you. As friends."_

" _You're wrong," the boy spat. His fist shot out, punching the radio into silence. "You belong to me. That is how it's supposed to be. You cannot have it both ways!"_

" _Stop it," she insisted. "You're scaring me!"_

He grabbed her arm. "You have no idea how frightening I can be."

For a moment, tears filled her eyes as she stared into his face, a face still hidden in shadow. Then anger set in as her hand struck out and slapped him. She reached for the handle on the door and jumped out.

He sat stunned, his hand feeling his face where she'd struck him. Then he bolted out of the car.

" _Leave me alone," she shouted. "They warned me, but I wouldn't listen. Your brother told me that you could turn mean. I thought I knew you. Clearly, I was wrong."_

" _You're not leaving," the boy screamed. I wanted to shout at her to run, but I knew I couldn't. This was all the past. A horn sounded as a second car drove up, skidding to a halt between them. Its lights were on, and I got a full view of the couple. She looked about my height and age, her hair a bit longer. Her eyes were just like mine. She was thinner than I was, and I think a little more beautiful._

He was tall, blond, with deep blue eyes. Stunning to look at, if not for the fury on his face. A face that I'd seen before.

It was Jay.

I woke covered in sweat. The look on Jay's face was truly frightening. The same look I'd seen on his face ever since I'd rejected him myself.

He's just a ghost, I told myself over and over again. As a ghost, he could hate me all he wanted, but he couldn't do to me what he clearly wanted to do to that girl.

Still, for the first time in my life, I was scared of a ghost.

I had to hand it to my family; they knew how to rise to an occasion. It started last night when I walked in the door. Grandpa said he'd heard what had happened and thought it was "udderly ridiculous." I groaned.

He asked Uncle Mark if he'd given Payne a ticket.

"For what?" Uncle Mark asked.

"A moo-ing violation." Grandpa snickered. Simon and Zack found it hysterical. Even Uncle Mark grinned.

Later in the evening, Zack brought me a plate of cookies and glass of milk. I thought he was being sweet until he asked, "You're not afraid of the milk, are you?" More fits of laughter from them, more lethal stares from me.

I think Simon was the worst because he had that way of talking that made you believe he was being serious at first.

"Really, it's not surprising," Simon said. "Clearly, she was on her way to the moovies." Later Simon said most likely the cow would not be able to produce any more milk due to the fright of what happened.

"Why?" I asked. "A traumatized cow can't make milk? Really?"

"Yeah, but don't worry," Simon added. "She can make milkshakes instead."

It was now open season on me. I could only imagine what it would have been like if they knew I believed the cow had been possessed.

It was about one thirty in the afternoon when the doorbell rang. Zack ran to get it. I knew it was Payne when I heard the slew of cow jokes.

When Payne stepped inside, I gave him a hug. "You better be ready. I've been the recipient of bovine humor since last night."

"Yeah?" Payne said. "My grandpa doesn't know any cow jokes. I'm just waiting for my cousins to start. It's gonna be brutal."

"So you came to rescue me from cow hell?" I asked.

"I would be happy to rescue you," Payne answered. "But that's not why I came by."

Payne stepped forward to stand in front of my grandfather who, as usual, had managed to avoid eye contact. "Mister Blackburn, I was wondering if I could have a few moments of your time. I'd like to speak to you in private, sir." The room went dead silent.

"Payne," Uncle Mark said. "Is there something I could possibly help you with?"

Payne smiled. "No, but thank you. I really think I need to speak with your father if that's all right."

Uncle Mark responded with a small shake of his head. "Can't say I didn't try and save you, son."

"Hold on," Grandpa said as he struggled to his feet. "You," he pointed to Payne with his cane, "want to have a private chit chat with me?"

Payne nodded. "Yes, sir."

Grandpa glared at Payne, then at Uncle Mark, and then finally at me. "You sure you want to do this, boy? Think real careful before you answer me."

"I'm sure, sir."

Grandpa smiled one of his most wicked smiles. "All right, Payne. I'll admit. I never saw this coming. Let's go out to the back and have ourselves a little pow-wow. I have to warn you. I may be old, but I'm also a mean S.O.B. So you take your chances. Make yourself useful and grab me a cup of coffee on the way. Black is fine by me. You may want something for yourself. You're probably going to need it."

Grandpa started for the back porch. "And don't the rest of you try and eavesdrop. Boy said he wanted private. You'll hear him scream if he needs help."

"Payne, what in the name of all that's holy are you doing?" I asked. "Are you insane? You must be insane. That's the only explanation for this. Where in the world did you get the idea to do this?"

"From you," Payne said while I stood there bewildered. "You said our families had to learn to trust one another. I'm taking the initiative." He stepped around me and through the back door.

I turned and stormed into the living room, plopped down on the couch, crossed my feet and arms, and proceeded to pout. "I don't know what the hell's gotten into him."

"Well, I think it's pretty clear," Simon offered. "He's got mad cow's disease." They laughed. I continued to pout.

Pouting didn't seem to do anything, so I paced. But that just made Simon and Uncle Mark watch me like a ping pong ball going back and forth from one side of the living room to the other. It got worse when Zack jumped up and started to pace with me, matching me step for step.

So I sat, reached for the TV control, and started to flip channels. Simon wanted to watch either a science program or a show about robots pretending to be human so they could wipe us out. Zack wanted to watch a cartoon with some really weird looking kids with humongous eyes. Uncle Mark wanted sports. So, naturally, I found the cheesiest chick flick I could and turned the volume up. Yes, I can be that cruel.

But even the story of a single mother with an alcoholic father, kidnapped daughter, and dying goldfish couldn't keep my attention. I flipped the TV off and started to pace again, yelling at Zack to sit when he got up to join me.

"What could they be talking about for so long?" I asked. "How long have they been out there? An hour? Two hours?"

Uncle Mark looked at his watch. "Not quite fifteen minutes yet." I glared at him, and he put his hands up in mock surrender. "Bristol, calm down. Look, your grandfather loves you. He would never do or say anything that would—"

"What?" I interrupted. "Are you really going to tell me Grandpa wouldn't do anything to embarrass me? Are you?"

"No," Uncle Mark continued. "He'll humiliate you for laughs and not think twice about it. I was going to say he would never do anything to hurt you. He knows what Payne means to you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I asked.

"I don't know." Uncle Mark shrugged. "It's all I got. Sorry."

"Hey guys," Simon said. He was standing at the edge of the living room. "I think they're done. They're coming inside." I shot over to where Simon was. Grandpa and Payne were indeed on their way in. Payne carried the two coffee mugs to the sink. Grandpa walked right up to me, grinned, and then snatched the remote out of my hand.

"Did she put on home and garden?" Grandpa asked.

"No," Simon answered. "A chick flick."

I walked over to Payne. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answered. "You feel like heading out? I've got my grandfather's BMW."

"You have your grandfather's BMW?" Zack asked.

Payne smiled. "Right outside."

"And we've been sitting here watching some girlie show?" Zack complained. "I wanna see!" He raced for the door.

"Wait for me," Simon yelled.

"Ah hell." Uncle Mark shrugged. "I'm in."

"Now look what you've done," I said to Payne. "You coming?" I asked Grandpa.

Grandpa grumbled, clearly wanting to go but not wanting to admit that he wanted to go. Still, underneath the old curmudgeon surface, there was enough little boy left that he gave in. "You better not tell your grandpa that I was outside ogling his car."

"Your secret is safe with me," Payne said.

I waited until Grandpa walked through the front door before I whispered to Payne, "Not me, I'm saving this for a special moment in time."

It took a while for us to get out of there. First Uncle Mark and Grandpa made Payne pop the hood. They nearly genuflected. Zack and Simon played with the soft closed doors, the iPod dock, the satellite radio, and the G.P.S. system. Since it was a convertible, everyone wanted the top down.

Finally, Payne and I climbed inside the beautiful, black car. Payne pressed the start button and the engine came to life. Payne pulled away from the curb as Zack yelled, "Be careful of crossing cattle!"

"You want to tell me what that was about?" I asked Payne. "What in the world did you talk to Grandpa about?"

Payne grinned. It took all of my will power to not hit him.

"I mean," I continued, "it's not that I don't get the idea of trying to get on his good side. I do. I'm just not sure he has a good side."

"Bristol," Payne said, "that wasn't just me trying to get in good with your grandpa. He and I have something in common that I wanted to talk to him about."

"Oh please!" I complained. "What could you two possibly have in common, besides football and leaving the toilet seat up? And don't tell me either of those subjects came up during your little tête-à-tête."

"Don't underestimate," Payne responded, "the ability of men to bond over sports and toilet habits." I groaned.

"We were talking about you."

"Me?" I was flabbergasted. "Payne, what have you done?"

Payne took my hand. "I did what had to be done. Bristol, there's something out there that's trying to kill you. It's not right to keep your family in the dark. So I went to your grandfather and brought him up to speed." Payne waited a beat. "More or less."

"What does that mean?" I asked. "Payne, please tell me that you didn't tell him about me."

"Of course not! I would never do that. It's your secret. It's up to you who you share it with."

I breathed out a huge sigh of relief. If Grandpa knew, it would only be a matter of time before Uncle Mark and the boys found out.

"Can I ask," I said, "what you did tell him?"

Payne pulled off the highway and drove down a dirt road. We came to a stop near a small patch of water that ran over a rock fall. Turning off the engine, Payne repositioned himself to look directly at me.

"Look, Bristol," Payne said. "There's something out there that wants you dead. I don't know what, or why it's trying to kill you, but clearly, that's its intention. My intention is to do whatever it is I have to do to keep you safe. I went to your grandfather for his help. He's going to try and see if anyone has any knowledge of these shadow creatures."

"You told him about the shadow creatures?" I asked. "Payne, how did you explain them?"

"I didn't," Payne answered. "I just told him about them. He didn't ask any further. I got the impression he assumed it was Hunter who had that ability. I didn't correct him. I'll make sure Hunter knows."

"What did he say?"

"He said he'd check if anyone in your family has ever heard of such a thing. See if there was any information on how to fight them. In the meanwhile, we agreed you shouldn't be alone. So I'm going to pick you up in the morning for school, take you home afterward. If you're not with me, you're with your family. We'll do what we can to defend you."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Payne looked taken aback. Clearly, he didn't expect me to react that way. What did he think I was going to do, swoon and fall at his feet? I don't do swooning. And I think it was about time Payne understood that.

"How dare you!" I launched myself out of the BMW. Payne followed. I paced back and forth near the rock face. "You and Grandpa agreed I wouldn't be left alone? What if I don't want to be passed back and forth between the two of you like a hot potato? I don't appreciate the fact that you took it upon yourself to just dictate to me what will happen."

I expected him to back off, hands up, pleading for mercy. Instead, he stormed forward.

"I took it upon myself," Payne countered, "to see to your safety. Bristol, there's something out there that nobody understands, and no one seems to know how to fight. But it's real. It's deadly. And it's coming for you! Now, I have no intention of crowding you. I have no desire to dominate or take away your freedom. But whatever these things are, they're responsible for Jared being killed as much as Weeder. I'm not going to lose you, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

We stood glaring at each other, each of us defiant.

"Oh dear," said a female ghost that just appeared. "He really means well, but he just went about it wrong. McKnight men tend to be very strong willed."

"You mean pigheaded, don't you?"

"I didn't say anything about pigheaded," Payne complained. "Not that it'd be inaccurate."

I glared at Payne. "I wasn't talking to you, thank you very much." I turned on my heel and looked at the ghost. She was a pretty woman in her thirties. Her light brown hair was down around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes seemed filled with both amusement and kindness. She wore blue jeans and a pink and white flowered shirt. "Pigheaded and conceited, can you believe him?"

"Well, I understand his point of view," the ghost said.

"What are you doing?" Payne asked. "Is there... is there someone here? Like... someone dead?" His eyes darted around the clearing, searching for some sign of the spirit.

"Well duh," I said. "Now hush."

The ghost laughed. "Oh what a joy it is to see Payne like this. So passionate and flustered.

Even as a boy he always took the weight of the world on himself."

I looked at Payne, who was so stunned by this turn of events that his mouth was hanging open. "Yeah, I get that about him, but he needs to rein it in. I'm not used to being told what to do.

If he thinks I'm going to respond favorably to that, then he's as stupid as he is wrong."

"Hey," Payne said. "I am not stupid or wrong. I did what needed to be done. I don't care if you like it or not. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. And I don't appreciate interference from Casper the budinsky ghost sticking their non-corporeal nose into our business."

"I said hush," I ordered. "Do you see what I have to put up with? Huh? He doesn't get that he should have come to me first. I don't like the idea of dying, but he can't protect me all the time."

Payne shook his head. "This is unreal." He started to pace.

"No," I countered, "this is my world. I have ghosts drop in on me all the time. I can't control it. If you can't handle that, then maybe you shouldn't be spending so much time with me. You know, before I came here, I spent a lot of time alone just so I could avoid this kind of thing."

"Well," Payne said, "you're not alone now and like it or not, I'm not going anywhere." We stared at each other for several seconds, neither of us backing off.

"Sweetheart," ghost lady said. "He means well. You need to take it down a notch and talk to him. Make him understand how you feel. He's just scared."

I rolled my eyes and backed away from Payne. "Scared? He's not acting scared. He's acting like a horse's ass!" I turned and leaned my own ass against the car. "What does he have to be scared about?"

Payne looked around for something to hit, but we were in an open field. His face was a mixture of frustration and despair, but I saw a shadow of panic on his eyes.

"You want to know what I'm scared about?" Payne asked. "You, Bristol! I'm scared of losing you. I'm terrified that something is going to happen to you. Do you not understand that? I've lost too many people that matter to me. I'm not going to lose you as well. And I'm sorry if I handled this badly, but maybe if you weren't so damn stubborn yourself, we wouldn't be arguing."

"Hey," I said, much more softly. "It's okay. I'll be fine. We'll figure it out, okay? Together."

Payne closed his eyes and nodded. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heart beat like thunder. When he opened his eyes, the storm was over. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed me in a way that was both gentle and strong.

"I'm so happy he found you," ghost lady said. "You're just what he needs. Unfortunately, I have to go now. I wish I didn't, but I do. Tell Payne I love him, and he shouldn't blame himself. I hope I can come see him again with you. Be good to my baby."

As her last words penetrated, I pushed Payne away from me and reached out to the ghost. "No, wait!" But it was too late. "Damn, she's gone! I can't believe this. Oh Payne, I'm so sorry, but she's gone."

Payne shrugged. "Okay, she's gone. Is that a problem? Is she someone you knew?"

"No." I looked at Payne, feeling my heart break for him. I desperately wished I hadn't just squandered an opportunity to help him reconnect with his mother. I felt like I was faced with a young child who was about to realize there's no Santa because I forgot to put any presents under the tree. "But I think you did. Payne, I think it was your mother."

Payne looked stunned beyond belief. His face was that of the same lost and lonely little boy I'd seen in my dreams for years.

### FOURTEEN

### HAVING A BLAST AT AUNT BREANNE'S

"I'M SO SORRY," I SAID. "If I'd known it was her... oh, Payne, I would have stopped that stupid fight and talked to her for you. I can't believe..."

"It's okay. It's all right." Payne shushed me. "That fight was just as much my fault as it was yours. But she came to you for me. She saw I was out of line, and she came to you for me, didn't she?"

He looked into my eyes, and I nodded. I forced a smile.

Payne stepped back and dug into his back pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he fumbled out a picture.

"Yeah, that was her," I confirmed. "But she was wearing her hair down, and she was in jeans and a pink and white flowered top. She looked nice."

"Yeah," Payne said. "Wow. You saw her. You really saw Mom. She came because she loves..." Payne's face went from amazement to horror in a second. "Oh, Bristol. Oh, I'm so sorry.

Your parents..."

Now it was my turn to shush him. "Let's just not go there today. What's important is your mom did come for you. I'm so sorry I didn't spend more time talking to her about the things that matter, but let me tell you what she did say."

I linked hands with Payne and the two of us went for a walk together. It was precious little information I could relay, but I did my best. When I was done, Payne told me a few stories. Soon enough, Payne opened up to me like never before.

We made our way back on the road. "You hungry?" he asked.

"Silly question," I said. "I'm never going to be one of those girls that eats nothing but salads."

"No, that's Hunter," Payne said. "I like a girl who can keep up with me. So will my aunt." Payne pulled off the highway and headed into a small development.

"What do you mean your aunt? Payne, where are we going?"

"To see Aunt Breanne, remember? I told you I wanted you to meet her. She's important to me."

"I know she is," I said. "But I hate to just drop by unexpectedly."

"Unexpected?" Payne said. "She is expecting us. Not my fault that you forgot."

"I didn't forget!" I insisted, though I had. "I just have a lot on my mind. You know, shadow creatures and possessed cows."

"Well," Payne said, "there will be no shadow creatures here, and unless Aunt Breanne is serving burgers or steak, no cows."

He pulled into the driveway of a pretty yellow cottage with a traditional white picket fence and nicely tended garden. Payne rushed to my side of the BMW and opened my door. I let him take my hand and lead me to the house.

"Wait," I said, a feeling of panic taking over. "What if she doesn't like me?"

"She'll love you," Payne assured. "Why would she like me?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"What if I say something stupid? Or if I offend her? Or if I accidently set her house on fire?"

Payne took my face in his hands. "Bristol, if you say something stupid, we'll all laugh and move on. It's unlikely you would ever say anything to offend my aunt because as much as I know you're going to like her, I also know she's going to like you. But if you do, you'll apologize, and that will be that."

"You seem to have an answer for everything," I remarked.

"I do," Payne agreed. "And just on the off chance you do set her house on fire, which I must admit is a smidge more likely, we'll call the fire department and have them put it out. She has insurance."

I narrowed my eyes and started to prepare what I'm sure would have been a scathing retort. But before the words formed, the front door opened and out stepped a lovely woman with strawberry blonde hair and the sweetest smile I'd ever seen. About two inches shorter than I was, she was dressed in a yellow sunflower dress and was barefoot.

"So, this is Bristol?" she said with twinkling blue eyes and open arms that demanded a hug.

"Come here."

Helpless, I allowed myself to be pulled into an embrace that I returned despite myself. When she pulled away, she held me at arm's length and gave me a good look.

"My boy here is nearly seventeen years old," she said with a smile and a wink toward Payne. "And in all this time he never bothered to notice any one of the girls in town. Ever since he met you, he's had nothing but you on his mind. Somehow, I get the impression that you didn't just throw yourself at his feet with the rest of them."

"No, Bristol did not," Payne said. "In fact, the first time we exchanged words, she was rather mean to me."

Aunt Breanne slanted an eyebrow toward me. "Were you now?" Her tone was amused, but there was a definite look of protectiveness there. "Did he deserve it?"

I looked over to Payne, who shrugged. Well hell, I thought, this was his idea. "You tell me. I was down by the stream when he came crashing out on his dirt bike. Wrecked the bike and scared the heck out of me. He was lucky he didn't break his neck."

Aunt Breanne's eyes changed to anger, aimed directly at Payne. "You know how I hate when you do that. I beg you all the time to stop. Why won't you promise me you'll be more careful and cut out all this reckless nonsense?"

Payne moved to his aunt and pulled her into a hug filled with love and understanding despite the comical fact that Payne towered over the little woman. When they separated, he kissed her cheek sweetly, rested his forehead on hers, and nodded. "I give you my word, Aunt Breanne. No more recklessness."

Quickly, Aunt Breanne pulled away and studied her nephew. "You've never been willing to say that. I can't believe you'd lie about something you know is so important to me. So why all of a sudden..." Her eyes drifted away from Payne and locked onto me. "It's you. You got him to promise to stop doing such things, didn't you?"

I was left speechless by the look of utter gratitude that appeared on his aunt's face. Her tiny frame pulled me into such a powerful embrace, I felt shaken down to my soul.

Not to mention, mortified.

I looked to Payne for help, but he just stood there wearing this big, stupid grin. Great, just great. I patted Aunt Breanne on her back and after a bit, decided to bite the bullet and return the hug.

Finally, Aunt Breanne pulled back. She still had tears in her eyes and a trembling lip. She held my hand almost as if she was afraid I might bolt. I wonder how she knew it had crossed my mind.

"Oh look at me," Aunt Breanne said, "embarrassing you like that. Please come in. We have so much to talk about."

She drew me inside and closed the door, blocking off any chance of escape. "What would make you think I was embarrassed?"

She pulled me into what must have been the living room and directed me to sit.

"Sweetheart," Aunt Breanne said. "It's written all over your face."

My cheeks grew hot. "Yeah, well, um."

I looked around the room. It was a simple space. A light brown covered the walls, with soft leather chairs that matched the couch I was sitting on. There was an old TV in the corner that didn't look like it was used very often. On the mantle were lines of pictures, all of Jared. In the middle was a single white, lit candle.

"I wanted to tell you in person how sorry I am about Jared," I said. "Payne told me about him. He sounds like he was a wonderful boy."

Aunt Breanne nodded. "He was. He was so full of life. So happy. Jared loved everyone, and everyone loved Jared." She rose and walked to the fireplace and picked up a picture frame.

Considering it for a moment, she brought it over to me.

I took the frame and studied the picture. It was Jared when he was only about six. He shared the picture frame with a ten-year-old Payne.

As I handed the picture back to Aunt Breanne, I saw a big, black dog streak in the room. "Eli!" I called. "I wondered what happened to him." Eli came over and nuzzled my hand, demanding me to pet him.

Aunt Breanne left for a moment and returned with a tray of cheese and crackers. She dispatched Payne into the kitchen to fetch a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses.

"Your uncle brought Eli to me," she explained as she poured three glasses. "He wasn't sure if I would want him, but of course I did. I almost feel like I have a little bit of Jared back."

So there we sat, nibbling on cheese and crackers, Payne "accidentally" dropping a fair share toward Eli. We spoke of Jared, but the stories weren't sad. Aunt Breanne smiled through them all. Somewhere along the line, she segued into stories about Payne. She told tales of his misadventures while Payne squirmed and offered lame defenses such as: "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

By the time we sat down to dinner, I was completely comfortable. Dinner was fantastic. She served turkey with homemade stuffing, stuffed mushrooms, peas, and carrots. After dinner, Aunt Breanne refused any help in the kitchen for cleanup from either me or Payne. She warned me that next time she would take me up on my offer. I was so proud of myself for not even cringing at the thought of a next time.

Soon she brought out carrot cake and coffee. As Aunt Breanne passed out plates, she looked over at me and smiled.

"You don't like talking about yourself that much, do you?"

"Nothing much to say," I answered. "I'm boring."

"I doubt that," Aunt Breanne responded. "I wanted to thank you for whatever your part was in finding Jared's remains and discovering the truth. Next weekend I'll finally get to lay him to rest. I hope you'll be there."

"Of course," I answered. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."

"It's been difficult. It hurts every day. But I believe my Jared wouldn't want me to just sit around and cry. I've always known he was gone. I knew he wasn't ever coming home to me." I took her hand. "Mother's intuition?"

"To a great extent, yes," Aunt Breanne said. "A mother knows. Your uncle always told me not to give up hope. Such a sweet man. He still comes to check on me, you know. Poor man, it hurt him so much to have to come to tell me when Jared was found. I knew why he was there the moment I opened the door."

I could feel the overwhelming sadness within her welling up. This was a woman who refused to let resentment and grief control her life simply because she knew her son would never want it to.

"Then there was Payne's Uncle Kayden," Aunt Breanne added. "He came to see me. Do you remember him?"

"Yeah," Payne answered. "He was the wacky one. Loner. I remember he'd talk to himself whenever I saw him. He died the same year Jared disappeared."

"Yes, he did," Aunt Breanne confirmed. "That was a few days after he came to see me. Kayden told me that he wasn't talking to himself but rather to ghosts, and he'd seen Jared's not too far from here. In fact, it was where Jared was found, now that I think about it."

"Wait, I'm sorry," I said. "This Kayden could to speak to ghosts?"

"That's what he told me," Aunt Breanne said. "I know how silly that sounds, but I think he really could. Of course, here in Spirit there are lots of things that sound crazy, but are true. Oh, now I've gone and convinced you I'm crazy."

"No, I don't think you are," I told her. "Really. It just took me by surprise."

Aunt Breanne smiled. "Do you think it's possible? For someone to speak to the dead?" Wow, what a question. "Yes, I do."

"Well, Kayden said he could," Aunt Breanne explained. "I don't think Kayden ever talked to anyone about what he could see. I was going to try to talk to him again. See if he could find Jared and talk to him, but before I could, Kayden killed himself. So tragic."

"He committed suicide?" I asked.

"Well, that's certainly what it appeared to be," Aunt Breanne said. "Your uncle was never one hundred percent sure. He went off a ledge of one of the McKnight buildings. It could've been an accident, but why was he up there to begin with?"

As the night went on, I kept thinking about Kayden McKnight. Was it an accident or a suicide? Or were the shadow creatures behind his death as well? Could talking to the dead drive someone so insane that he or she would take his or her own life? And if so, would that happen to me?

I had enjoyed my time there far more than I ever thought I would, but I was grateful when it was time to go. I wanted to talk to Payne alone.

As she saw us out, Aunt Breanne shooed Payne off. She wanted a few moments with me. Payne told me he would wait for me at the car. As he stepped off the porch, Aunt Breanne turned toward me.

"Bristol," she said. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you and Payne are together. He means the world to me. And anyone can see how he looks at you."

"It's nothing," I insisted. "We're just hanging out."

"Nonsense," Aunt Breanne said. "But I'll let you go on thinking that for now."

"Thanks," I murmured, which earned a laugh from Aunt Breanne. "And thanks for dinner.

It was great."

"Oh, it was nothing," Aunt Breanne said. "I enjoy cooking. I hate cooking for myself. So please drop by. Do you cook at all?"

"Does microwavable popcorn count?" I asked.

"Not really," she answered. "Next time you come, you and Payne can help me in the kitchen. I've taught Payne. Has he cooked for you?"

"Not yet. Should I be scared?"

"Maybe," she said. "Payne tends to try and spice things up. But he's not bad."

As Aunt Breanne kept talking, I felt something cold pass me by. There was something out there. I looked out to see Payne getting into the car. He sent me that killer grin, reached down, and pressed the start button on the car.

Aunt Breanne and I watched as the BMW exploded. Parts of the car flew in all directions as flames engulfed the vehicle and nearby trees. Aunt Breanne and I screamed. We ran to the inferno, calling for Payne.

I could feel the agony Payne experienced as his body was scorched and burned. I watched as Aunt Breanne ran toward the car screaming for the young man she thought of as a son. The pain was so intense, it was nearly impossible not to pass out.

As the inferno raged through the rubble of the BMW, Aunt Breanne tried to get close enough to help but was held at bay by the flames and heat. She was crying and screaming that maybe he was still alive. Had it been anyone else, there would be no doubt he had been killed. But this was Payne McKnight. And I knew Payne was alive because I still felt his agony.

Payne suddenly burst free of the vehicle, his body on fire. I realized his power was trying to heal him even as the flames continued to burn away his flesh. He managed to look up at me, his deep blue eyes still unmistakable.

"Fall to the ground!" Aunt Breanne yelled. "Roll!"

Payne obeyed. He fell to the ground and tried to roll, but he was too weak to do so.

"Do you have a blanket?" I asked through gritted teeth. I watched Aunt Breanne run to the house, and I prayed for her to hurry.

Aunt Breanne returned with a blue blanket that she threw over him, using it to smother out the last of the flames. I managed to stumble over to their side.

"It's out," she screamed. "The fire is out! He'll..." She stopped midsentence and looked at me. "Bristol, are you all right?"

I felt like every inch of me was being stabbed over and over again by tiny invisible daggers.

There was no end to the pain. I wept in anguish.

Then Payne went into convulsions. The black patches of skin seemed to boil and then slowly melt into flesh that was red, then soon into his normal skin. Even his nose, which looked like it had been completely blown away, was growing back. Soon he was whole, his dark hair again falling in front of his eyes. His clothes were in tatters as he sat up, struggling for breath, and pulling me into a deep embrace.

"Bristol, are you okay?" he asked.

Wow, did this guy know how to make me look bad! But I didn't care. I just wept in his arms, grateful for his abilities.

The thought of living without Payne was too much to bear. Aunt Breanne watched us intently.

"I s-see you're taking Payne's recovery in s-stride," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady while rubbing away my tears.

"More or less," Aunt Breanne admitted. "So are you. I take it this isn't the first time you've seen this little trick of his?"

I shook my head. "No, I've s-seen the show before. Weeder sh-shot him."

Aunt Breanne nodded. She looked over to Payne, who was still trying to catch his breath. Stroking his hair, she looked back at me. "You looked like you were in pain, too. You were, weren't you?"

"I'm okay right now," I said. "Can we just leave it at that?"

Aunt Breanne smiled. "Fair enough. I think we need to get away from here, call the fire department. Can you two walk?"

Payne and I got up. We turned to look at the blaze. "Wow, your grandfather is down another car. He's not going be happy."

"Don't remind me," Payne groaned.

"I guess we should also call him and my uncle while we're at it," I said. "Although it's getting harder to—hey, what's he doing here?" I said and pointed to a man coming around the blaze from the other side.

"Who?" Payne asked. "Where?"

"Right there." I pointed to the man. He was staring at the fire, stunned. "Honey," Aunt Breanne said. "There's no one there."

"Payne, right there!" I insisted.

Payne looked right where I was pointing. "Bristol, there's no one there. Maybe you just need to lie down." I heard his words, the way he said them, and understood. But it was too late. I could see Aunt Breanne had already guessed the truth.

"What happened?" the stranger asked. "How the hell did I get here?" There seemed little point in pretending now.

"Do you know anything about our car blowing up?" I asked him. "Did you do this?"

"Why would I do that?" he asked. "I don't know you. Why would I mess with your car? I don't understand this! Oh my God. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Yes," I said gently. "I'm so sorry."

The man started to weep. He shook his head as acceptance settled in. Then he was gone.

I tried to ignore the way Aunt Breanne was looking at me. Together we headed for the house. Aunt Breanne kept the blanket around us both. Before she left for the phone, she gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I understand," she said. "Thank you for finding my son." Sitting on the couch, watching her go, I felt completely undone.

"What did you expect?" Payne asked.

At this point, I really had no answer.

It didn't take long before the place flooded with two fire trucks, three police cruisers, my grandfather's old jalopy, and the latest car that Varick McKnight had pulled out of nowhere. I was told it was an Audi Rs8. It was white with black panels and looked like it went from zero to vroom in nothing flat. Every firefighter and deputy stopped and gawked when they saw it pull up. One cop, a huge accumulation of mass muscle wrapped in a six foot seven frame with dark skin and a shaved head, looked like he was ready to weep over it. He stood there, wanting to touch it, but afraid to lay his hands on the car.

Varick McKnight ignored them and headed straight for the house, where Payne and I were watching from the window. Payne had already changed into clean clothes he'd kept at his Aunt's.

"Boy," Varick said to Payne after he was satisfied that Payne was unharmed. "You may not be aware of this, but most people drive the same car more than once."

Payne winced. "Sorry."

"Think nothing of it," Varick said. "As long as you and Bristol are okay." Varick McKnight looked to the corner where my grandfather sat. "It's been a long time, Gregory. I trust you're well?"

"I'm still alive and as ornery as ever," Grandpa responded. "Before we get started, I'll tell you that, begrudgingly, I've learned to nearly like and respect Payne, despite certain character flaws such as being a McKnight and your grandson. Just thought you should know."

"Well, such praise," Varick said. "In kind, I will say that although I've had very limited contact with Bristol, I've found her to be upfront, honest, and trustworthy. She must not take after your side of the family much."

Both Varick and Grandpa sneered. Aunt Breanne came in, handed Varick a cup of coffee, reached up to kiss his cheek, then proceeded to point a finger at her former father in law. "Don't start. These two have been through enough." She whirled on Grandpa with the same finger. "That goes for you, too. I'll get you a fresh cup."

I leaned into Payne's ear. "Have I told you how much I love your aunt?" Payne tried to hide his snicker.

Before anyone could say anything else, the door opened and my uncle entered. He did a quick scan of the room. His eyes settled on Grandpa. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard there was coffee," Grandpa responded and held up his cup.

"Dad."

"My granddaughter was nearly blown into tiny pieces,"

Grandpa said. "She needs family here. Not the police." "I'm both," Uncle Mark insisted.

"We'll see," Grandpa responded.

"Just keep quiet, both of you," Uncle Mark warned.

Then he turned to me. "Okay, what happened?"

"Well," I started, "Payne's car went kaboom."

Uncle Mark groaned. Varick leaned toward Grandpa.

"I'm beginning to see the family resemblance." Grandpa just grinned.

"Bristol," Uncle Mark said as he sat on the edge of the coffee table to be eye level. "Enough is enough. Somehow, you keep getting put in situations where you're nearly killed. I can't help but notice this started since you and Payne met."

"Payne has nothing to do with it," I responded. "Uncle Mark, don't even go there."

"Then tell me where else to go," he said. "I told you from the start I liked Payne." He shifted his gaze to Payne. "You know that's true, son, but I need to know why the two of you keep nearly getting killed. That's two times. Three if you count the cow."

Aunt Breanne came in with a fresh pot of coffee and cups. She immediately filled Grandpa's and Varick's and then fixed one for Uncle Mark.

"Thank you," Uncle Mark said. "Bristol, it's not enough to tell me it's not his fault. I need to know what's going on here. I love you. I want to protect you. Both of you. Talk to me, please."

"Uncle Mark," I said. "I don't know what's happening, but I know without any doubt that Payne isn't to blame."

"I want to believe that," Uncle Mark said. "To believe you. But I need to know more."

"Sheriff," Payne said. "Please believe me. I would never do anything to put Bristol in harm's way."

"Payne," Uncle Mark responded. "Give me another explanation. Otherwise, I may have to tell you and Bristol that you can't see each other anymore."

"No, you can't," I yelled. "That's not fair. Payne hasn't done anything wrong!"

"I'm ready to be convinced otherwise," Uncle Mark said.

"You're wrong here, son," Grandpa declared. "Payne's not the problem. He's the reason you still have a niece."

"Dad, you're not helping," Uncle Mark said. "I'm trying to understand. I can't help her if I don't understand what's happening. Bristol needs to talk to me."

"She needs our family now," Grandpa countered. "Not the damn sheriff. Sometimes you just can't be both."

"If I may," Varick said. "Your niece is in trouble. She needs the support of both of our families." He paused and looked at me. "She shall have it."

"Since when are the two of you on the same side of anything?" Uncle Mark asked.

"It's been known to happen," Grandpa added. "Once every couple of decades or so."

Uncle Mark was about to say something when Pinky came in. Uncle Mark went to talk to him. I took the moment to look over at my grandfather and Varick and mouthed a sincere thank you.

A moment later, Uncle Mark came back. This time he didn't sit down. He stood there with his hands on his hips. "There appears to be a body under your car. I'm guessing that whoever it turns out to be will be the person who did whatever to make your car go, as my niece said, kablooey..." "Kaboom," I corrected.

Uncle Mark ignored me. "I don't suppose you can shed any light on why he'd do this," he asked. "Was this random? Was he targeting Bristol? Payne? Both? McKnights in general?

Blackburns?"

"Uncle Mark," I said. "There's no one for you to go arrest. I'm very grateful that you took me into your home, made me a part of your family when you didn't have to. I love being there. If you want me to leave..."

"Is that what you think?" Uncle Mark asked. "Bristol, do you think any of this makes me love you any less?" The sincerity in his voice moved me.

"Sherriff," Aunt Breanne said. "Don't you see what's happening here? Weeder killed Jared long before Bristol arrived. I know better than anyone how hard you worked to get justice for my baby. But you couldn't. It's not because you're not good at your job. I think you're a great sheriff and a wonderful man. You've been a good friend."

"That's kind of you to say," Uncle Mark responded.

"I'm not done," she said.

Looking stunned, Uncle Mark gestured for her to continue.

"The reason why you weren't able to catch Weeder is because it was something that law enforcement couldn't handle. Now I know you want to say that you believe in the law. So do I, but you and I both know that this town is different. I know you only want what's best for Bristol, but you can't give it to her with a badge. Not this time."

Uncle Mark scowled. He turned when Pinky stuck his head in again. Moving over to the door, he spoke in private to the deputy. When Pinky stepped out this time, Uncle Mark let the screen door shut. Then he closed the main door and locked it. Stepping back to the center of the room, he looked at me and sighed. I waited, certain that he was going to put his foot down or something, but when I looked in his eyes, all I saw was love.

Uncle Mark reached to his badge and pulled it off. Tossing it on the table, he gave me a reassuring smile. He sat down on the coffee table again and took my hand. "Okay, talk to me."

I was scared to death, but what could I do? I looked over at Payne, who clearly wanted me to do what my uncle had said. I looked over to Aunt Breanne, who smiled, and then finally over to Uncle Mark with his patient eyes. "I want to," I mumbled. "But I'm scared. I don't want you to look at me and see a freak."

Payne squeezed my shoulder. Uncle Mark kissed my fingers and said one word: "Never."

"All right," I said, forcing myself to take a deep breath, "here goes."

### FIFTEEN

### GOING OUT ON A LIMB

"LET'S START WITH JARED," I said. "First off, I may have been less than truthful about how we found Jared. I'm really sorry, but..."

"Let's not worry about that now," Uncle Mark said. "We're starting fresh. Tell me now. How did you find where Jared was buried? Did someone show you?"

"Yes," I answered. "I followed... Jared," I said. I saw shock and disbelief register on Uncle Mark's face. Varick looked impressed. Grandpa just smiled.

"You followed Jared?" Uncle Mark asked. "Is this the first time something like this has happened?"

"No," I answered. "I've been able to talk to the dead since I was little. It's okay. They're mostly nice." I looked to Aunt Breanne. "Jared loved you so much. He was worried about you, about the fence being painted, and you being alone and stuff."

Aunt Breanne, with tears in her eyes, smiled.

"Okay, go on," Uncle Mark urged.

I explained how we came to follow Jared to Weeder's and heard Eli barking from within.

"How did you get in?" Uncle Mark asked.

"Can we just say the door?" I asked.

"Never mind," he said. "Go on."

"You know how I told you that Weeder heard voices?" I waited for Uncle Mark to nod.

"Well that part was true. What I left out was that I could hear them, too."

"Hold on," Uncle Mark said. "These voices spoke to you?"

"No, but I could hear them," I clarified. "I don't think they liked that. They told Weeder to kill me, too. He tried but Payne saved me. If not for Payne I would be dead right now."

"Then I owe him big," Uncle Mark answered. "Tell me about these voices."

"I've heard them a few times," I answered. "In dreams, while awake. I describe them as shadow creatures because when I see them that's all I see. Shadows. I've seen them outside our house, and they were there yesterday at the McKnight's. I heard them outside before we were attacked."

"Attacked?" Uncle Mark exclaimed. "You were attacked, and I wasn't told? Bristol!" "Sorry," I answered.

"Leave the girl alone," Grandpa ordered. "She's telling you now, isn't she? Besides, what could you have done? You can't slap cuffs on disembodied voices."

"Dad, please," Uncle Mark scolded. "Okay, fine. You're telling me now. No more secrets. Tell me about the attack."

"I'll answer that," Varick offered. "The front door was blown into splinters, we have an elevator for the staff that was destroyed, and there was approximately two point five million in damages to arts and antiques."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Did you say two point five million? As in dollars?"

"Now listen," Varick said. "You don't worry about that. It wasn't your fault."

"No," Grandpa added. "It's Varick's fault. It's what he gets for having two million in art and antiques in his house."

"As opposed to a singing fish on a wall?" Varick retorted. "The point was, they could have been killed. As it was, my grandson Archer was injured by Bristol and Hunter as he accidently stumbled into a trap they had set for their attacker."

"Actually, I think I was right in braining poor Archer. I know, I know," I said when I saw Varick's reaction. "Archer isn't to blame. I think you'll understand when I get to the cow and the homeless guy."

"Cow?" Aunt Breanne asked.

"Homeless guy?" Uncle Mark asked.

"I'm getting there," I insisted as I continued to talk about that night. "When we left the diner, Payne was driving, safely. I got one of my feelings that I sometimes get..."

"Wow," Grandpa said. "You're just full of goodies, aren't you?"

"I yelled for him to stop," I continued, "not knowing why but knowing it was important. Payne did. That's when we saw a cow in the middle of the road. It was just standing there, staring at me. Like a mean cow."

"A mean cow?" Uncle Mark asked. "Bristol, cows don't act mean. They're cows."

"Well, this cow looked mean." I explained how it never mooed. "Then I saw what looked like smoke rise from it, and it started acting like a cow again."

Everyone had a similar stunned look. I knew the possessed cow would get their attention.

"When the explosion happened tonight," I continued, "I saw a ghost of a homeless guy that I've seen around town. That's probably who you found under the car, but he was confused. He had no idea who we were or how he got there. I don't think he was lying. He'd have no reason to. I think he'd been possessed."

"Like the cow?" Uncle Marked asked.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "So to sum it up, I can see and speak to ghosts and other mystic creatures of unknown origin. Along with other goodies as Grandpa said. And for whatever reason these shadow creatures want me dead. And then there's Kayden McKnight."

"Kayden?" Varick asked. "Dear, he committed suicide years ago. He had always been sick."

"Varick," Aunt Breanne said. "Kayden came to me before he died. He said he saw Jared's ghost, too. I think what Bristol's saying is he revealed his ability, and then he was dead. Was it suicide, or did these shadow creatures get to him somehow?"

The room was silent as everyone thought about what was said. Uncle Mark got up and paced. I watched him as Aunt Breanne made me drink some coffee. Finally, Uncle Mark stopped pacing.

"Okay, let's assume these shadow creatures did in fact kill Kayden McKnight," he said. "We know they're the ones who at least influenced Weeder to kill Jared. All of this before Bristol arrived. So, they've been here for a while, and no one knew about them. Bristol can hear them, see them, more or less. She can and has exposed them. That would be motive enough for them to want her dead."

"You're talking like a sheriff again, son," Grandpa warned.

"Supernatural or not," Uncle Mark answered, "these aren't random events. In that way, they are just like any other crime. Gathering information is the first step to stopping them."

"And just to be clear," Grandpa said. "When you say stop, do you mean read them their rights and give them a trial?"

"No," Uncle Mark answered. "I mean kill them."

"May I make a suggestion?" Varick said, rising to his feet. "We need to have a meeting to discuss this. Both of our families. I say we choose a place and each bring a few members."

"We can use the lodge," Grandpa volunteered. "I can make some calls and get people there within the hour."

"Hold on," Uncle Mark said. "We're tired. Bristol and Payne have been through enough for one night. She's been safe so far in my house. Why don't we do this tomorrow? Maybe at noon."

"There's something else to consider," Aunt Breanne offered. "These shadow creatures may not think Bristol's still a threat. Everyone here knows now. They're exposed, damage done. Maybe they won't go after her anymore?"

I liked the theory, but somehow I didn't think it would be that easy.

"Maybe," Uncle Mark said, "but we shouldn't assume it's the case. Is there any chance that Jared had the same power as Kayden and Bristol?" "I don't think so," Aunt Breanne said.

"I can't be sure," I volunteered. "Weeder said he could talk to animals. After Weeder died, Jared passed on, so I haven't been able to confirm it." I glanced at Aunt Breanne, who looked stunned.

"Of course," Grandpa said. "We may all be in danger now. If all of us are killed, their secret's back in the dark."

"If secrecy's what they want," Uncle Mark answered, "mass killing in both families won't help. And we can hedge that bet. When we get home, we can each contact whoever we want there tomorrow. Let's say a dozen from each family. Try and pick families without kids living at home if possible."

"Good idea," Varick agreed. "We should get started before it gets even later."

"Wait," I protested. "I spent my whole life with no one knowing my secret. It's hard enough adjusting to the fact that everyone here knows, not to mention Hunter. Now you want me to talk to people I don't know?"

Varick came over and took my hand. "Sweetheart, I know this is difficult, and you have been very brave, but it's necessary. I can assure you that this will not become a topic of conversation at the supper table. Whoever we tell will keep your secret. You need not worry about returning to school and having either McKnights or Blackburns being aware. All right then."

I didn't like it, but what could I do? Varick kissed my cheek, which made Grandpa grind his teeth.

"Okay," Uncle Mark said. "Everyone take precautions tonight. Breanne, you should go with Varick and Payne. Between the three of you, Hunter, and the staff, you should be safe. You can hang bells on everyone's doors tonight as well. Loud ones that will wake you if someone tries to get into your room. Suggest that to everyone. If someone has an alarm system, use it."

"Fair enough," Varick said. "It appears that we're about to make history. McKnights and Blackburns working together. It should be interesting."

We went to the lodge the next day. Personally, I think it was a big waste of time. No one had any real ideas. Before long, the McKnights started hinting that maybe the Blackburns were all still behind this, a ploy to bring their guard down and learn their secrets. It wasn't long before the Blackburns pointed out that since I was being targeted, the reverse was more likely.

Thankfully, both Varick and Grandpa stood their ground. In the end, both sides agreed to keep their eyes open. A temporary truce was called. Both families would try and watch over me.

Great.

Zack and Simon, who had spent the time we were at the lodge with friends, were doing their best not to ask questions, but they knew something was up. Simon kept throwing hints to his father that whatever was going on, he could help figure it out. I was tempted to let him, partially out of fear and desperation, but also because Simon was pretty sharp. This seemed right up his alley, but it was pretty clear Uncle Mark didn't want them involved, and I didn't blame him.

Zack simply didn't leave my side. He followed me wherever I went. I tripped over him when I came out of the bathroom. He made me a snack. He even sat at my side while I watched TV and let me have the remote. I could have put on anything and he wouldn't have cared. I found a Three Stooges movie, and we laughed our butts off together.

The doorbell rang. Under strict orders from Zack, I stayed on the couch while he answered it. Uncle Mark came out from his office just in time to see Aunt Breanne entering with a bag of groceries.

"Sorry to intrude," she said. "But with everything going on, I wanted to help. I figured you would be so busy with..." Aunt Breanne looked down at Zack. "Things that you might not be thinking about food. So, I brought some stuff. I'd love to cook for your family, Mark."

Uncle Mark took the grocery bag and kissed Aunt Breanne on the cheek. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you."

"I've got another two bags in the car," Aunt Breanne said. "Let me get them, and I'll get to work."

"Don't worry about it," Uncle Mark told her and took her keys. He then tossed them toward the door, which was opening again. Payne walked in and caught them. "Your aunt has two bags of groceries in the car," he explained to Payne. "Go fetch 'em for her. And try not to wreck the car doing it."

Payne shook his head at the joke, then turned around to go get the bags. He stepped aside just long enough for Hunter to walk in.

"Hey Bristol," Hunter said. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I brought Payne, as you can see." "Brought Payne?" I asked.

"Yeah," Hunter confirmed. "Grandpa gave me the keys to the Hummer. The thing is huge, sturdy, and tough, even if it is a gas guzzler. Grandpa figured between that, and the fact Payne was only allowed in the passenger side, maybe he'd get this one back in one piece." She patted Payne's cheek as he went by.

Before long, Uncle Mark was in his study with both Grandpa and Payne. I managed to get Zack to go read his book about dragons while Simon worked on his homework. I went into the kitchen with Hunter and Aunt Breanne. She had us chopping vegetables while she worked at the stove mixing up a sauce from scratch that smelled like heaven in a pot.

"Does anyone else have a problem with this?" I asked. "Why are the three women in the house working on dinner, while the big, brave men are sitting in there, discussing strategy? That just doesn't seem right to me."

"I have to admit," Hunter said as she minced garlic, "I'm a little annoyed. Bristol and I were both attacked. Why aren't we in there?"

"Girls," Aunt Breanne admonished. "Someone has to cook. Better us than them."

"Why?" I asked. "My uncle's a pretty decent cook. Better than I am. I say we drag their butts out here, slap aprons on them, get a good laugh, and we go huddle up."

"Sit," Aunt Breanne ordered, as I tried to get up. "I'm sure your uncle can cook just fine. I know Payne can. But they are men, and we are women." She finished with a nod before setting to work on some mushrooms.

"So?" I said. "What in the world is that supposed to mean? They're men so they get to be in there, beating on their chests and scratching themselves while we women stay out here and just cook?"

I rose again, then stopped in midmotion when Aunt Breanne glared at me. Slowly, I sat back down. Man, she was good at that.

"They're men," Aunt Breanne repeated. "Which means they have to do what they're doing to feel like they're protecting us. Right now, they'd be useless out here. Your uncle had no idea I was coming, yet he never even thought about food, had he? I doubt the laundry has been done, or anything else he might do on a regular day without having to be reminded, but this isn't a regular day. Right now, that," she pointed to the office with a mushroom, "is all they can handle."

"We can handle it, too," I insisted.

"Of course we can," Aunt Breanne agreed as she moved back to the pot and stirred it with a giant, wooden spoon. "We're women. We can do everything men can do. But we," she indicated the three of us with a circular motion of her spoon, "can multitask. You want to talk strategy? Let's talk.

Just chop these mushroom stems into teeny tiny bits for me while you do."

And so it went. We chopped, we talked, we threw out ideas, we stirred pots, and Aunt Breanne showed me how to make lasagna. Hunter and Aunt Breanne asked me questions, and I answered as best I could while we stuffed mushrooms. We tossed out ideas, played Devil's advocate, and made some observations while we threw together a salad.

By the time we had the table set, I felt more in control.

We called everyone for dinner. Because Zack and Simon were there, there was no discussion of exploding cars or possessed cows. Instead, we talked about Simon's science project, listened to Zack tell us about his first game in tag football, each of us cheering when he described his winning touchdown.

By the end of the meal, Aunt Breanne had managed to persuade Payne, Simon, and Zack to do the dishes without letting them realize they were being persuaded. Of course she did this with the promise of cake for desert, but hey, whatever works. Meanwhile she, Hunter, and I talked to Grandpa and Uncle Mark about what we had discussed. It sounded like we had, for the most part, covered the same ground. The women just did it in less time and while making dinner. But there were a few things they'd thought of that we hadn't. I seemed to have an ability to see and hear this other world where ghosts and these shadow creatures dwelled. Was there anyone in either family that might be able to cross over or interact physically? And if so, would they be willing to come forward? We, on the other hand, had thought of a few things as well.

"You made the observation that even though these things are disembodied spirits," Hunter stated, "there must still be a reason, a motive, for wanting Bristol dead. We think it may be to avoid exposing them. But why are they here? How long have they been here? Want do they want?"

"Wanting me dead isn't the big picture," I added. "They want me dead because I interfere with whatever the big picture is. So the question is..."

"What's the big picture?" Uncle Mark finished. "We were hoping we eliminated the danger to Bristol because she's already exposed their existence, but we still don't know their purpose. Until we know that, we have to assume she'll be a target."

"It's nice to feel so special," I said.

"The other thing we talked about," Aunt Breanne said, "was food."

"Yes, we know," Grandpa responded and patted his belly. "And it was really good food."

"Thanks," Aunt Breanne answered. "But that's not what I meant. These things have to eat, right? What do they live on? Some sort of energy, maybe? I don't know, but if we could figure it out..."

"We might be able to cut off the supply," Uncle Mark said.

There was some more back and forth for a while, but nothing new was said. When Payne was done, Hunter and I filled him in on what he missed. After everyone was up to speed on the latest theories involving homicidal shadow creatures, we all sat down for coffee and cake.

Afterward, Uncle Mark was still at the table lingering over coffee with Aunt Breanne. Grandpa had long ago meandered into the living room and turned on a game. Zack grabbed his book and disappeared while Simon asked if Hunter wanted to see his science project. I cleaned up a bit in the kitchen with help from Payne. When we were done, I asked Payne if he wanted to take a walk.

Uncle Mark seemed ready to put the kibosh on that until Aunt Breanne intervened.

"Oh Mark, let them go," she said. "She's had a rough couple of days. She could use a few minutes to feel like a normal girl."

Uncle Mark sighed. "I don't even want to know what that means. Just stay close so I'll know if something happens."

Before he could change his mind, I pulled Payne out through the backdoor and started to walk to the back of the yard. On the way, we passed Zack, lying in a hammock, reading his book.

"Are you two going to go kiss?" he asked.

"Zack," I yelled.

"I just wanna know so I can close my eyes," Zack answered.

I pulled Payne further to the back. Payne asked, "Are we going to kiss?" "Shut it," I ordered.

When we were all the way in the back, I stopped. Zack was far enough that he wouldn't hear us. I had put this off for long enough. I didn't want any interruptions.

"Payne, we need to talk," I said.

"This doesn't sound good."

"This isn't easy," I said. "But, I mean, it's the only thing that makes sense. It never made sense, this one vision. Not until I understood about the possession. I kept pushing the dream aside because it's less than pleasant, but I don't think I can ignore it anymore"

"Okay," Payne said. "So tell me."

"I didn't know what it meant," I continued. "I just knew what I didn't want it to mean. But now I think I do know what it will mean. I'm telling you, so it means I trust you. I didn't tell you at first because I didn't trust you, because I didn't know you. But then when I got to know you, I did trust you. Then I didn't tell you because I knew it couldn't be what I once thought it was. But now, knowing what we know, I know what it probably does mean. So, I have to tell you because, really, it doesn't mean anything."

"Bristol," Payne said. "That hurt worse than the explosion. Just tell me. No more of whatever the hell that was."

"Okay, okay," I said. "Payne, you know how I have these dreams, right? Dreams that are more than just dreams? Well, there's been this one dream that I've had. It's pretty bad, but I think I need to tell you."

"So tell me," Payne urged. "It's all right, Bristol. It's all going to be okay. You can tell me anything."

"I know. It's just that I know you're not going to like this dream. And I've never told anyone about this. Well, except Jay a few weeks ago."

"Jay?" Payne said. "Why would you tell him? From what you've told me about this Jay, he sounds like if he'd lived he would have been a monster."

"Not planning on defending me?" I heard Jay say from behind me. I spun around, and there he was. He still looked angry enough to kill.

Of all the times for Jay to decide to pop in and talk to me, he picked now? I needed to tell Payne about how he might murder me. This was really inconvenient.

"Jay," I said, wanting to make sure Payne understood. "What are you doing here?"

Jay was leaning on the back fence. The way he stood was relaxed, but his eyes held that same murderous glint that he had in the dream where he chased down that poor girl.

I approached him. Payne stayed right by my side.

"Darling," Jay said. "There used to be a time where you loved when I dropped in. You adored me. And feared him."

"Things change," I answered. "You haven't answered my question."

Jay ignored me, turning his attention to Payne. "What is he staring at? Is he trying to intimidate me?"

I looked over and saw Payne was staring right at Jay. Jay took a step to the left and laughed when Payne kept staring at the same location.

"Payne may not be able to see you," I said. "But if you were alive, he'd kick your butt. You should be glad you're just a ghost."

"Just a ghost?" Jay asked. "Darling, I always thought I was more than that for you. I was your favorite. You were able to tell me anything, remember?" "I remember," I answered.

"Darling," Jay said, "I know I've been unpleasant recently. I apologize for my crassness. I was just so concerned that you were allowing yourself to be injured by this child." Jay sneered toward Payne. "Certainly you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I want what's best for you."

"I doubt that, Jay," I replied. "I saw you. I had a dream, and I saw you."

"Saw me? How do you mean?" Jay's eyes narrowed.

"I saw you in my dream when that girl, whoever she was, decided to break up with you. I saw how you reacted. You began to chase her."

"Did you?" Jay said. "I know that I might have over reacted. If only she would have listened to me..."

"She listened to you far longer that I would have," I said.

"Let's not dwell on that," Jay said.

"What's he saying?" Payne asked.

"He wants to change the subject," I answered.

"Figures," Payne snorted. "Punk can't handle the fact that when he was alive and had a girl, she was able to see him for the slime he was. He comes off real slick, but he was nothing more than a wife-beater in the making."

"Payne," I said, worried he was pushing Jay too far. Payne didn't seem to care.

"What about it, Jay?" Payne asked, although in the wrong direction. I took his elbow and repositioned him. "Thank you," Payne said. "It sounds to me that you just don't know how to treat a girl. Makes me wonder how many other girls you put your hands on."

"Shut up," Jay yelled. "Shut up!"

"Who showed up that night and stopped you?" Payne asked. "Your brother? Did he kick your butt? I know I would have."

"Shut your damn mouth," Jay yelled, clearly losing control. "Why won't he shut the hell up?"

"Because," I said so both of them could hear me. "Payne can't hear you shouting at him to shut up. Payne, maybe enough is enough?

"I don't think so," Payne continued. "So, Jay, what would you have done if you managed to get that girl alone? Dragged her back to your car, kicking and screaming? Explained the error of her ways, using your fists?"

"Does he really want to know?" Jay asked. "Because I eventually dealt with all of them. Just like I'm going to deal with you, Bristol. If you don't get the hell out of this town, I will kill everyone you care about. I will make you pay for betraying me."

"What are you going to do? What can you do? You're dead. There's nothing you can do but move on. It's time to move on. I can forgive you, but you need to move on."

"You think I'm helpless?" Jay asked. "I haven't been helpless so far, have I?"

"Jay, what are you saying?" I asked.

He slowly moved back from us. "I guess we'll just have to see. Tell your little boyfriend here I will make sure he suffers the worst."

"Jay," I called, but it was too late. He was gone.

"Well," Payne said, "I take it he's gone. Do you think he moved on?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. He threatened me. He threatened my family."

"Don't worry about him," Payne said with a wave of his hand. "What can he do? He's a ghost. You said they can't do anything, right?"

I nodded. "I've never known one who can. He threatened you, too."

"Oh, now I'm worried," Payne grumbled.

"What if it wasn't an empty threat? What if he can do something? Payne..."

"Have you known any ghosts to try and hurt you?" Payne asked.

"No, not me," I answered. "But there have been a few that have told me they tried to hurt the living. Never worked but they tried."

"How?" he prompted.

"Let me think," I said. "There was this one woman who was killed in an accident. She was in a taxicab. She blamed her husband for that."

"Why?" Payne asked. "Why do women blame their husbands for everything? Was he driving the taxi?"

"No," I replied. "But she wouldn't have been in the taxi if he had remembered to pick her up at the airport, but he was busy with his secretary."

"Busy?" Payne questioned. "By busy you mean..."

"Yup."

"Well then okay," Payne said. "I guess he was to blame. What happened?"

"She tried to haunt him," I answered. "Couldn't. She tried to haunt the secretary, same thing. She tried to perform all these acts of mischief that she'd seen in movies. She couldn't even make them get chilly. She was pissed. She wanted me to do stuff. I have to give her credit for some of the creative ideas she came up with. And if I'm being honest, I felt bad enough for her, and I disliked him enough that I thought about it. He was living with the secretary the day after the funeral. And he was cheating on her as well." "So why didn't you help her?" Payne asked.

"I did," I answered. "I helped her move on. She needed to get rid of the need for vengeance to move on. She finally was able to and she did."

We stood there a moment in silence. I could tell Payne was unhappy with my solution, but he didn't say anything.

"After she moved on," I added, "I arranged for the second mistress to walk in on the husband and the secretary at a convention. Both women chased him through the hotel with all his coworkers watching while he was wearing nothing but his dress socks."

Payne smiled. "That's my..." I watched his face register shock. "What the...." He took off at top speed toward the house.

"Zack," I screamed and ran after Payne, who had already closed half the distance. "Zack!"

But Zack wasn't hearing me. He had climbed all the way up a tree. He was at least fifteen feet up on a branch that didn't look sturdy. He was jumping up and down on it, trying to get it to snap beneath his feet. The rest of the family must have heard the commotion because they were running out at top speed, Uncle Mark leading the way. I could hear the wood splinter. Payne got to the tree and started to climb. He was halfway to Zack by the time I got there. I looked up into Zack's eyes and saw only hatred pouring out. Payne was getting closer, but I could tell he wouldn't be on time. The wood started to break. Zack looked down, realized the branch would snap at any second, and stood straight up. He looked at me and sneered. "Catch me if you can, darling."

Just then, I saw the familiar sight of shadow smoke rising from Zack. I saw the hatred on Zack's face quickly change to confusion. When he realized where he was, the panic set in.

He screamed. Payne called out to Zack, inches away. But not close enough. The branch snapped and Zack fell.

Payne dove for him. Reaching him in midair, Payne spun so he was underneath. I saw Zack's terrified eyes as he fell, and both he and Payne hit the ground. I stumbled back. I could feel the pain of bones snapping. I tried to move closer, but I couldn't get to him. Uncle Mark and Aunt Breanne were in my way. Aunt Breanne was yelling not to move Zack, but Uncle Mark told her he knew what he was doing.

Hearing Zack call out for his mother was like being stabbed in the heart.

Payne healed quickly enough and sprung to his feet just as Uncle Mark scooped Zack's tiny little form in his arms. He looked at Payne. I could see the silent gratitude pass from my uncle to Payne.

Payne winced. "I think he's hurt bad."

Uncle Mark nodded and ran to the house. Everyone followed, including me. I saw Grandpa still on the porch, holding the door open for them. As everyone filed inside, I went to follow. Then Jay appeared between me and the door.

"That was just a taste of what I can do," he spat. "If you don't run, right now, I will hurt them over and over again."

I stood there, unable to move. Jay, who had been so sweet once, had done this. He'd done everything. He was never going to stop.

"Run," Jay repeated in a whisper.

I didn't have time to think. I backed up, hearing the commotion inside. I heard someone say something about Zack's spine being broken. With tears in my eyes, I ran. I ran for the back of the yard. I fought with the gate to let myself out. I took a moment to look at the house that in a few short months had become more of a home to me than my place in Manhattan with my parents had ever been. Inside was the family that I had grown to love. I knew they loved me, each and every one.

Knowing that beyond any doubt meant more to me than I ever knew it could.

I was so aware of how much it meant to me in that moment because I knew I had to go. I might never see them again. With one last silent goodbye, I turned and ran. I just hoped they understood.

### SIXTEEN

### SOMETIMES, DREAMS DO COME TRUE

THE SUN WAS JUST BEGINNING to set when I left. I kept to route near the stream. Soon it was pretty dark. I knew it wouldn't take too long for someone to see I was missing, so I changed directions. I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was I had to get away before someone else I loved was hurt.

Suddenly, I found myself in a clearing. This was where Payne and I spent an afternoon getting to know one another. I remembered Payne had told me this clearing was right between where most of the McKnights lived to one side and the Blackburns to the other.

Well, I had just come from one direction, so the other direction ahead of me was where the McKnights had their homes. There were two other directions I could take. One way I knew would lead me to the school. So, I went the other way.

As I walked, I continued to think about Jay. Could Jay have been behind everything to begin with? No, that didn't make sense. The shadow creatures had wanted me dead while Jay still liked me.

I didn't believe Jay had tried to hurt me until I had gotten together with Payne.

So the shadow creatures were still out there as well. Could Jay be the McKnight that they kept referring to? Maybe, but the name Jay wasn't very McKnight. Maybe Jay had parents that didn't want to go along with the McKnight tradition of giving their children such unique names?

I still had questions. I still had more to worry about than just Jay. What I didn't have was an umbrella and it was starting to rain. Wonderful. At least if someone found me, they wouldn't see me crying.

I kept walking through the rain, tripping as I went. At one point, there was a flash of lightning which made me jump, quickly followed by a rumble of thunder. I tripped yet again, this time falling flat on my face in the mud. I struggled to get up. There was another lightning strike, which illuminated the shadow of a house not too far away.

Maybe my luck was changing.

I ran for it. I needed to get out of the rain. I needed some time to think. How was I going to get out of town? Where would I go? Could I never speak to my family again? I needed to hear about little Zack. He had to be okay. I could kill Jay for that alone. But of course, I couldn't because you can't re-kill the dead.

How dare he? How dare Jay do this to me, to my family. Zack was an innocent little boy. He didn't deserve to have that terror thrust upon him, to have to suffer through the pain and the injury. Zack loved to run through the yard, playing football with his brother and father, sometimes just fooling around with his dog. Was all of that over for him?

There had to be a price to pay. Jay had to pay. I had no idea how long it would take me, but I would make sure he did. If Jay could somehow interact with our world, there had to be a way to reach his.

I made it to the house. It looked like no one had lived there in forever. The windows were broken. The wood was rotted. But it was still solid enough for a visitor. I stepped inside. Not only was there no light, there was no light switch. It looked like a pre-electric house.

There were no tables, or couches, or chairs. I made my way upstairs and looked around. I knew which room was the master bedroom right away, even with no bed. Each room was empty. I found myself standing in the hallway outside the bedroom. There was a spiral staircase and a candle chandelier.

The candles were long gone, and the chandelier looked ready to fall. I stood there a moment and tried to imagine who might have lived here.

It happened so quickly, a vision that nearly knocked me off my feet.

The rundown house looked brand-new. It was beautiful and just needed furniture and a family to complete it. The paint that had long peeled was now fresh. It was a solid wood floor with white trim and great bay windows.

The grand double door with stained glass swung open, and two men walked in. The way they were dressed looked like they were from the 1800s. The younger one gestured to the older one to look around, which he did. The one looking around had light brown hair, a square jaw, and was solidly built. He looked about twenty. His eyes were bright green. He was very handsome in an old fashioned sort of way. He looked to appreciate what he saw, though he seemed reluctant to admit it.

Still, when he looked at the younger man, there was nothing but affection.

The younger man watched him and beamed with pride. He looked like he knew he had a winning hand. He was simply waiting for his friend to concede the pot to him. He was equally good looking, with blonde hair and blue eyes. If anything, he looked like a fairer version of Payne. While Payne had a dark and dangerous edge to him, this guy was much more boy next door.

" _Of course, I had help," the blond said. "Her brothers all pitched in. Said if their sister was going to take up with the likes of me, she might as well be treated like she deserved." He smiled with amusement at the memory._

" _Take up with the likes of you, huh?" the other one said._

" _Oh stop it, Bryant," the blond one said. "It was a joke._

Don't you see? You and I are brothers. How many times have we taunted each other with nothing but good humor in our hearts? They put their sweat into this house and while giving me a dressing down with a belly laugh and a guffaw. And I worked with them, sweated with them, often bled with them, and did the same. It was a good thing. It was family. Bryant, they have accepted me as one of their own. It is not an honor I take lightly."

" _And you are certain she will take our name?" Bryant asked. "You're sure you want her to?"_

The blond one walked over to Bryant and placed his hands on Bryant's shoulders. "More than life itself. Be happy for me, brother."

Bryant considered his brother a moment and then smiled and returned the embrace. "Tristan my boy, I am.

Annabelle is such a lovely lass. It's hard to hold her name against her. I think you and she will make a fine family."

" _Thank you, brother," Tristan said. "We shall all be family."_

" _Speaking of which," Bryant said. "Please forgive such a crass subject, but better I bring it up now and know the truth. I am on your side, Tristan, no matter what. But there are those who believe that you and Annabelle have started that family already. I ask if this is true, not to hold it against either of you, but so I may know how best to support you."_

Tristan refused to let the question upset him. "I will not worry about such matters. Annabelle has been very clear when we shall start our family. Let them count, there shall be no doubt then."

Bryant raised his eyebrows. "Then there is no child as of yet."

" _No, brother," Tristan confirmed. "Not as of yet, but it is something Annabelle wants very much. A babe that has the blood of both of our families running through its veins. Neither family will be able to resist, but Annabelle insists that we do it correctly. First, we wed. It matters to her. And so it matters to me."_

Bryant shook his head but smiled. "If I understand correctly, we better get you married quickly, my brother.

And when you are, I will kiss your bride and call her sister."

The two men embraced. As they walked out, the house faded back to its current state of distress.

I was in the home of Tristan and Annabelle. The home they never got to live in. Why did that worry me?

I couldn't think anymore. I collapsed in a corner and slept.

I was driving. I looked older but happy. Really happy. I also looked really pregnant and thrilled to be so.

How could that be?

Then I realized it wasn't me. It was her. The girl I saw that night with Jay. She was pregnant, driving an older style white Chrysler. It looked used but in good condition. She was listening to the radio and singing along to "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" as she smiled.

She stopped at a red light. Perfectly happy and content, she glanced about and saw children playing nearby.

With one hand on her belly, she eased the car out of the intersection when the light changed.

She never saw the beat-up Dodge truck until it smashed into her car, right into the driver's side. Metal met metal at a ferocious speed. Sparks flew as metal parts twisted free. The children screamed as the Chrysler came to a halt when it hit the wall of a nearby business. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the crying of the children.

Then the truck went into reverse. The metal seemed to scream in protest as the tires screeched. It took a moment for the two cars to separate. When they did, the door to the Chrysler stayed on the front grill of the Dodge. The Dodge backed up and then stopped. The children moved a little closer. I had no idea whether it was to see if they could help or just out of curiosity.

A man emerged from the Dodge. He held something in his hand that I couldn't make out. He looked over to what was left of the Chrysler and the woman inside. He waved at the children happily. The children looked stunned beyond belief, but didn't move; not until the man put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

My dream shifted to sometime later. The police and firefighters were there. Another car pulled up, a red Ferrari this time. The driver barely stopped the car before he bolted to the wreckage. A police officer stopped him. I recognized the man by his moustache. Varick was devastated. The same could not be said for the ghost sitting by the side of the wreck. Jay was enjoying himself.

I woke in a panic. How could I have been so blind with Jay? He was truly evil. Poor Varick, to lose your wife and unborn child like that was unspeakable. All of this time, Varick must have believed they were killed by a drunk driver, a drunk driver who then immediately took his own life over what he'd done.

I walked over to a nearby window to see if it had stopped raining. It looked like it had, at least for now. It was still dark. I couldn't have slept long. I wondered if Uncle Mark had started to look for me yet.

A part of me wondered if Uncle Mark would even bother or just decide he was better off without me. I pushed those feelings aside. I was past that now. I knew my uncle loved me. I had a family, and they wouldn't stop looking for me.

In fact, as I looked down from my window, I saw a member of that family now. Bryan Blackburn. I'd met him at my parents' funeral. He was a sweet guy who had offered to help me get to know the town when I first moved in. I had never taken him up on that. Still, he never failed to smile at me whenever we passed each other in the hallway. I remembered talking to him the day Payne and I were first spotted together. Unlike some in my family who gave me a hard time for dating a McKnight, Bryan had simply said, "As long as you're happy, what else matters?"

His arrival signaled to me that my uncle had sent out search parties. I thought about hiding, but didn't think it would work. Instead, I decided to try and talk Bryan into pretending he hadn't seen me.

I went down the stairs, pausing halfway when he saw me. Our eyes met as he just had started to climb. Bryan looked at me, smiled sweetly, and waved. "Good to see you, darling." Crap!

Bryan's smile turned into Jay's sneer. I turned and ran up the stairs, tripping along the way. I groped for what was left of the banister and pushed my way up when a hand grabbed my right ankle, pulling down several stairs. I flipped over and landed on my back. Yelping in pain, I looked up to see Bryan ready to stomp. I kicked him in the face and crawled up the steps. Bryan slipped down, giving me a little room.

Again, I groped to get up. As I latched onto the banister, a piece of it broke off in my hand. I looked at the old and rotted piece of wood before looking down to Bryan, who had gotten up and started to approach me again. I flung the wood right at Bryan's face. He caught it.

The wood glowed blue as a white mist seemed to rise from it. Bryan flung it back at me. It hit the wall beside my head before shattering into a million little pieces, several of which flew right past me. I felt a few hit my skin. Ice. Somehow, Bryan had frozen the wood as if he had dipped it in liquid nitrogen.

If I wasn't so terrified, I would have said it was cool.

Bryan got up and prepared to charge me. I could run, but how far could I get? There were very few places to hide once upstairs. I would be cornered. So, instead of retreating, I charged downstairs as fast as I could. It was the last thing he expected. I smashed into Bryan using my shoulder with all my might.

I watched as Jay, in poor Bryan's body, went tumbling downward. Where the stairs curved, Bryan's descent didn't, so he hit the banister and went through it.

Stunned, he was on the ground at the bottom of the stairs. I went down, quickly picking up a large piece of wood along the way. As Bryan struggled to his hands and knees, I stood near him. I held the wood in my hands like a baseball bat. I didn't want to use it because I hated to hurt Bryan, but I did not intend to let Jay use Bryan to turn me into a Bristolcicle.

I heard a moan, followed by the familiar shadow rising from Bryan. I relaxed as Bryan collapsed to the ground. I looked him over to see how bad he was. He didn't look too badly injured, but he did need medical attention. I didn't have my cell, but I found his in his jacket pocket. Taking it, I tried to call for assistance, but there was no reception. Remembering what happened at the McKnight's home before Hunter and I were attacked, I knew I was in trouble.

The door burst open. I swung around to view what looked like five guys rolled into one. He was huge, over six feet tall, and at least three hundred pounds of pure muscle. I had seen this guy around school. When he walked through the halls, people either moved or got stepped on. He had dark hair, closely cropped, and was wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans. His arms were bigger than my head.

I couldn't recall his name, but I remembered he was a McKnight. He lumbered toward me. I didn't have to ask if it was Jay at the controls this time. I could tell by the sneer. He came at me, pausing just a moment to laugh at me.

I took that moment to swing the wood I was holding as fast and hard as I could right toward his head. With one hand, he caught it and yanked it out of my grip, sending me flying across the room. I looked up in time to see him break the board in half like a toothpick. I was next.

He barreled at me like a bull in a rodeo. I managed to sidestep at the last moment, and he crashed through a wall. Dust and splinters went everywhere. It didn't take him long to get up. I looked around for a weapon but nothing that looked feasible was by me. There were a few big pieces of wood still lying at the bottom of the stairs, but I couldn't get to them without passing Godzilla. Before I had a chance to think, he charged.

I feinted to the left this time with unfortunately less than stellar results. He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into a wall next to the one good window left in the house. I could hear him practically growl. I fell to my knees as the muscle-bound behemoth applied pressure. However, his intention wasn't to throttle me. I watched, helpless while he held me with his left hand, and he drew back his right. He balled his meaty hand into a fist and then had the gall to wink.

The window we stood near exploded in a shower of glass as a dirt bike burst through, smashing into the large figure. Crashing to the floor, I looked up and saw Payne rushing to my side. "Bristol!" Payne shouted. "Are you okay?" I felt him take me in his arms and pick me up. "We need to get out of here. The others aren't far. We knew you came in this direction, but the rain masked your trail, and..."

I fell to the floor hard as Payne went flying across the room thanks to the monster of a teen. I scurried away from him as fast as I could. He grabbed one of the boards and attacked. I managed to dodge the first swings as he took out what was left of the window. I looked up to see him reach over his head with the board, preparing to bring it down and crush my skull. So I leaned back and kicked him hard between his legs, watching with satisfaction as the board fell out of his hands and hit him in the head.

Before he could recover, Payne tackled him at the legs. The giant hit the ground with a grunt. Payne flipped him over and raised his fist. "I'm sorry about this, Toby."

Somehow, the idea that this huge monster's name was Toby only made everything even more surreal. I could feel the intense regret from Payne as he slammed his fist into Toby's face. As Toby moaned, Payne punched again. Payne raised his fist to follow through once more when I grabbed his wrist.

The shadow had floated out of Toby.

"Stop," I yelled. "He's gone. Jay isn't in him anymore."

Relief flooded through Payne. "Thank God." He collapsed next to me. "I hated that. Toby's such a gentle guy."

I looked at the fallen form of Toby now in the fetal position. "Really didn't seem so gentle now."

"That was your old boyfriend, Jay," Payne said as he helped me up. "Are you all right?"

I fell into Payne's arms. "I was so scared. I'm sorry I ran, but Jay said he would keep going after my family if I didn't. We can't stop him." I looked into Payne's eyes. "We can stop whoever he possesses, but we can't really stop him. He'll just keep coming and coming!"

"Bristol, we'll find a way," Payne insisted. "Sooner or later. There has to be a way to stop him. A way to kill him."

"No, don't you see," I cried. "He's already dead. You can't kill the dead."

"We'll exorcise him or something."

I pushed away from him. "It won't work. Even if there is a way, how long until we figure out what it is? How many people like Toby or Zack have to be hurt because of me?" "Zack's fine," Payne replied.

"Don't lie," I cried. "I heard someone say something about Zack's spine. My God, Payne, do you realize if that little boy can't walk, or run, or play football again, it'll be my fault!"

"Bristol, Zack is fine," Payne insisted. "I wouldn't lie to you. It's a long story, but he's okay.

And none of this is your fault. It's Jay's."

I wept. Could Payne be telling the truth? Could Zack be okay? I hoped so. I looked at Payne and just knew he wouldn't lie to me, not about this.

"I had to run," I told him.

Payne shook his head. "I know you think that. Nobody will be mad at you, but we have to get back. We're safer together."

"No, we're not. Maybe I might be safer with everyone, but you won't be. What if he hurts Simon, or Hunter, or Aunt Breanne? I could never live with that. I have to keep running."

"Bristol," Payne pleaded. "This is your home. You belong here." He pulled me close and held on like his life depended on it. "You belong with me."

I looked into his eyes. I was in love with him. I knew that even if I didn't want to, but it didn't matter.

"Payne," I said. "I can't have anyone else be hurt for me. I just can't. Please understand, Jay will kill someone. He has before. I think he killed your grandmother."

"What?"

"I saw it in a dream," I explained. "Earlier tonight. I fell asleep upstairs and dreamed about your grandmother's car accident and..."

"Wait, what?" Payne interrupted. "Car accident? That's not right. Grandma died in a fire."

I was stunned. I was sure of what I saw, but it changed nothing. I told Payne as much.

"Fine," Payne said. "Then I'm coming with you. And no, don't try and talk me out of it. It won't work. Your leaving didn't keep Jay from coming after you. I can still protect you. I have money."

"I don't care about your damn money," I said.

"I know," Payne said. "But money will help. I'm going. You can't stop me."

I was speechless, but when I saw Bryan stir, I decided there wasn't time to argue. "All right then, let's go." Payne smiled right before he kissed me.

A ball of flame hit Payne square in the back. I felt the heat from the fire as Payne's jacket burst into flame. I looked to the door to see the latest arrival. Blasé McKnight stepped through. He pointed at me with his left hand as he balanced a ball of flame in his right.

"I will sear the flesh right off of your boyfriend, darling," Jay said in Blasé's voice. "And while he's trying to heal, I'll burn you alive."

Payne stripped off what was left of his jacket. His shirt was in tatters. I would have found the sight of him quite appealing if I wasn't terrified for my life. Payne stepped between me and Blasé as Payne's jacket smoldered in the corner.

"Jay, I presume?" Payne asked.

An all too familiar sneer crossed the face of Jay's latest victim. "Are you ready to watch your girlfriend die?"

Payne snorted. "You want to know what I've come to realize here, Jay?"

Jay tossed a fireball from one hand to the other. "Do tell."

"I think it's been a long time since you had a body of your own to walk around in," Payne explained. "You don't seem to like pain."

Payne rushed forward and tackled Jay. They went down in a blaze of dust and flames. Jay screamed as he lit Payne on fire, but Payne kept pummeling Blasé's body. "Bristol!" he screamed.

"Get out of here."

I watched in horror as Payne's skin was burned off his face. It would heal within seconds, only to be set ablaze again. I should have been in agony, but somehow I wasn't. In the process, the entire house was starting to catch fire. Being made of old, dry wood, I knew it wouldn't take long before the whole place was reduced to ash.

I cried out to Payne. How could I leave him like this? I had to do something, but Payne just kept yelling at me to run.

I hated myself for it, but I ran. When I reached the door, the huge body of Toby McKnight blocked it. I was able to climb over him, but I couldn't just leave him here to burn.

I tried not to think about Payne as I managed to get the door open. I grabbed Toby by the ankles and pulled, but he was so large and heavy that I couldn't get him to budge. I swung his foot over my shoulder for leverage and then forced my way forward. I made it out of the door and pulled Toby down the stairs. Unfortunately for Toby, he was lying face down as he went.

"Sorry, Toby," I said as his face smashed down, one step at a time. "But you don't want to be in there right now." After I managed to tug Toby to a safe distance, I ran back in.

I was hit in the face with a wall of heat. I felt like I had just dived head first into a barbecue. I searched for Payne and Blasé. All I saw were mountains of flames. I didn't know what that meant, but I ignored it and ran for Bryan. He was much lighter than Toby but still heavy enough to be a burden. Still, I was able to swing his arm around my shoulder and drag him to the door. I made it to the front steps. A few more feet and I could drop Bryan off and search for Payne.

When Payne put his hand on my shoulder, I felt like my heart had stopped. I dropped Bryan, who fell to the bottom of the stairs and settled by Toby's giant feet. Catching my breath, I went to give Payne a hug.

Instead of returning it, I felt the wind knocked out of me as Payne grabbed me and threw me across the room. I landed hard on something lumpy. Blasé. Payne had managed to knock him unconscious.

I looked up at Payne. He was standing across the room, partially hidden by flames. But even through the licks of fire that whipped between us, I could see enough.

I got up and looked for a way to escape. I couldn't get to the front door without getting past Payne, and I couldn't get to the back door because of the fire. I didn't know what to do.

What I did know was he wasn't my Payne.

If it had been, he would have dashed through the flames to get to me. He would have gotten me to safety, annoyed me by ordering me to stay put, and then gone back to get his cousin. Instead, this monstrosity took its time making his way through the flames. I realized Payne must have been knocked out as well. The candle chandelier, now in the middle of the floor, must have fallen on him, and that was all Jay needed to take him over.

I looked around for something, anything, that I could use as a weapon. I picked up a piece of wood that had fallen, but it was so burned it fell apart in my hands. I took a moment to look at Blasé, who was still unconscious at my feet. The fire seemed to not affect him, which was to be expected. But how long could he last before he died of smoke inhalation, or until the whole house came down on us?

"Darling," Jay said through Payne, "you should have known it would end this way. You dreamed it. You knew it would end here, with these hands"—he paused to sneer at me—"around your pretty little throat."

I tried to run to the left, but he grabbed me and threw me against the wall. I felt the burns of hot ash as it fell on me. I punched at Payne, knowing he'd want me to do whatever was possible. Jay, using Payne's body, slapped my face.

I was crying. I was terrified. I was going to die, and the worst part about it was that Payne would know it was by his hand. He would never forgive himself.

"Bristol, darling," Jay said. "What do you think your little boyfriend will do when he realizes what happened? Will he try and kill himself, over and over again? I think I'll enjoy watching that."

"Please," I whispered. "Please don't. If you ever loved me...Please."

Payne responded to my plea by reaching out and grabbing my throat. "Of course I loved you. And that is why you have to die."

His grip tightened as I watched the flames grow closer. I tried to scream, but I wasn't able to. I couldn't breathe. I fought against his grip, but it was too strong. I looked into Payne's eyes, eyes that had looked at me with love, and saw only the hatred from Jay pouring out. It seemed impossible to deny. My vision was getting blurry. My chest felt like it was going to explode. I was going to die.

Jay was going to kill me with Payne's hands.

That's when I decided I wasn't going to go without a fight.

I grabbed Payne's face and drew him to me. I kissed him. Jay was stunned. Then I kneed him in the groin.

I collapsed as I tried to suck in a breath. My lungs felt like they were on fire, but I was alive.

Payne rushed at me, the madness of Jay shining in his eyes. I prepared myself for the blow, but it never came. Opening my eyes, I saw something I didn't expect.

Payne was fighting back. I could see his face contorted in anguish. He stumbled back and fell to the floor. I started to move closer.

"No, get away," Payne yelled. "I need you to run. I need you to get Blasé and get out of here."

"Payne," I screamed. He was on his knees and shaking all over. "We can get him out of you."

"No," Payne yelled. "I don't want him out of me."

I was shocked. What was Payne up to? Why would he be holding onto Jay? But that's what he was doing. I could see the distinct shadow mist try and float away from Payne, only to be willed back in. Payne struggled to get to his feet. Each inch looked like torture.

"I figured it out." Payne shouted over the roar of the fire. "I know how to kill him. You've got to kill him while he's inside of someone. That someone is me."

"What?" I screamed. "Payne, no. We can find another way."

"No," Payne shouted. "There's no other way. Get out of here, Bristol. I love you. Go now."

I watched in horror as Payne ran into the heart of the inferno. I tried to get to him, but I couldn't. He was on fire and screaming. His face contorted, and for a moment, it looked more like Jay than Payne. His body seemed to lunge for the doorway in a panic.

Payne reasserted and threw himself backward on the broken banister of the stairway. A sharp piece of wood that had caught on fire plunged through Payne's back and came out through his chest. Fire continued to burn his skin. All I could do was watch and cry.

I was overcome with the tide of torment and agony mixed with panic and fear. I knew which feelings belonged to Payne and which belonged to Jay. I could barely move from the pain, but I forced myself. I made my way over to Blasé and pulled at his arm. Blasé seemed to stir just enough to work with me.

"Where are we?" he asked in a slurred voice. If he wasn't so close to my ear, I never would have heard him. "Gotta find Payne's girlfriend. Promised. Gotta find..."

"Blasé," I screamed. "I'm here. We got to move!"

He kept babbling, but I ignored him, just as I tried to ignore the screams coming from the great ball of fire. I knew Payne was in there, burning alive. Killing himself over and over again to save me.

I made it to the doorway and tripped down the stairs. I landed on top of Bryan. I heard him "oof" as I landed. He seemed to be starting to stir, and he didn't seem too pleased that I was on him. Or that he was on Toby. Toby, however, had the biggest problem with it all.

"Why is everyone on top of me?" Toby said.

I slid off the top of the pile, ignoring his question. Instead, I was focused on the house that was now completely engulfed in flame. I barely registered the voices and movement behind me as I screamed for Payne. I tried to launch myself into the house, but I was being held back. I started to fight to get to the inferno and then watched in abject terror as it collapsed in on itself.

I fell to my knees and wept. I felt somebody's arms around me, and I felt the heat from the fire, but that was it. I didn't feel the agony from Payne anymore. I couldn't sense him anymore. I wasn't sure what that meant. I didn't want to think of what that meant. I just wanted Payne.

"What's happened?" Varick McKnight asked as he appeared by my side. "Where's my grandson?" He looked at me and knelt down to take my hand. "Where's Payne?" I couldn't answer him. Following my gaze, he understood.

I watched as he ran to the wreckage of the house. I was ordered by Uncle Mark to wait there as he joined Varick. I realized it was raining when I couldn't feel my tears. More and more people arrived and ran around the house. I didn't know which ones were Blackburns and which were McKnights. I didn't care. I just wanted Payne back.

With no one left to stop me, I ran to the remains of the house. The wood and ash was still hot to the touch. I could barely breathe for all the smoke I'd inhaled, but I needed to try and find him. For my entire life, I wondered if the nameless boy from my dreams would murder me. Instead, he may have died a thousand times over just to save me.

"I found him," Uncle Mark yelled. I looked around until I saw Uncle Mark carrying Payne's body out of the wreckage.

I ran to his side. Varick got there just before me.

"Dear God, boy," Varick cried. "What have you done?"

Payne was burnt beyond recognition, the wooden stake still protruding through his chest. It looked like it may have gone through his heart. He wasn't breathing.

I watched and waited, but he didn't heal. I prayed with all my heart, but he just lay there, motionless. Varick reached down and grabbed the board. "Hold him down," Varick told my uncle.

"Varick," Uncle Mark said. "He's gone. There's nothing we can..."

"You just hold him, dammit!" Varick shouted. Then without waiting for further protest, he pulled the stake out of Payne's chest. Throwing it to the side, Varick leaned in to Payne. "You come back to me now. You hear me. Come back to me now. Payne!"

Please, I thought, don't leave me.

"Payne tried to kill him," I said through tears. "The ghost that was possessing people. He must have possessed Payne. Payne fought him and did this to himself." I felt a chill and looked over my shoulder.

Jay. He looked weak, unable to even try and possess anyone, at least for now, but he was still alive. It hadn't worked. Payne had died for nothing. You can't kill the dead. I had lost the most important person in my life for nothing.

Jay looked at me with loathing. This wasn't over, though it was over for tonight. I could tell it would be awhile before Jay could attack again. He looked like he could barely hold his form. He was only there to let me know he wasn't dead.

"What in the name of Sam Hill is going on here?" I heard Grandpa say as he made his way to us.

Varick looked up with tears in his eyes. "Payne. My grandson. He won't heal."

"Heal?" Uncle Mark asked. "Varick, he's been burnt beyond belief, and he had a piece of wood in him. He's not going to just get better. I'm sorry, but he's gone. Varick, I thought the world of him, but..."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Varick snapped. "My grandson can heal! He can heal from anything." "What are you talking about?" Uncle Mark asked.

"He's right, son," Grandpa said. "Payne told me the other day. Boy heals from anything.

Gunshots, burns. But this might have been a bit much. Let me see him."

"Dad, no," Uncle Mark yelled as Grandpa clumsily got down on the ground near Payne's still form. "You can't. Not after Zack."

"Wait, what?" I asked, confused. "What's happening?" "Hush, Bristol," Grandpa said. "You listen to me, son. That boy put our girl before everything. Can you imagine the pain that boy felt in there? I'm not going to sit here and do nothing. Varick and I may not be much by way of friends anymore, but that's his grandson there. Now, get the hell out of my way."

Reluctantly, Uncle Mark shifted to allow Grandpa to get near Payne. Grandpa reached out and touched Payne's forehead and then closed his eyes. Grandpa looked like he was trying to hear something faint. He shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking at Varick McKnight, Grandpa said, "I can't promise you anything, Varick. You know that."

Varick pleaded. "Please, Gregory. I know what I'm asking."

Grandpa held eye contact for a moment. Then he nodded. "For our ladies."

I watched as Grandpa moved his hand from Payne's head down to his heart. It seemed more a gesture of love than anything else.

"C'mon boy," Grandpa muttered. "I know you're there. Your girl needs you."

Hearing Grandpa call me Payne's girl felt like a stab through the heart. I looked to my uncle who seemed to be ready to give up hope, and then to Varick, whose eyes were locked on Grandpa.

Payne started to convulse. One spasm after another rocked his body, making it difficult for Grandpa to hold on.

Suddenly, Payne's eyes opened. They fell on me.

I sprung forward and caught his hand as he reached out to me. The burns on his skin swiftly melted away. Within minutes, Payne was whole and healthy again. He sat up with a wheezing breath, Grandpa helping him. I cried his name as he fought for breath. Payne looked at me just long enough to send me that wicked grin of his before collapsing.

"I'll be damned," Uncle Mark said.

Varick reached out to Grandpa and took his hand. "Thank you."

Looking uncomfortable with the gratitude, Grandpa just nodded. "Can we get out of here now?"

Before long, someone came to pick up Toby, Bryan, and Blasé. Varick had given instructions to any McKnights that were there to not ever speak of what they witnessed Grandpa do.

Varick let Uncle Mark carry Payne up to his car. It was a white Rolls Royce, elegant on the outside and beyond belief on the inside. Not only were the seats made of leather, but the carpeting was lamb's wool. There was a bar, a TV, and what looked like a couch for a back seat. I barely registered any of it. I sat next to Payne and held his hand. Uncle Mark, Varick, and Grandpa got in as well.

I explained to them about Jay and his power to possess people. Apologizing profusely, I told them why I ran. As I explained, I felt so ashamed. If I hadn't run, they wouldn't have come looking for me. Now Bryan, Blasé, and Toby were hurt. Not to mention what Payne had endured in his failed attempt to kill Jay. I explained all of this and begged for forgiveness.

"Bristol," Uncle Mark said. "I think that everyone here understands, but you can't run. It's not going to stop this Jay. He'll keep coming after you."

I just shook my head. "I can't let him hurt anyone else. Can you imagine if he had managed to kill me through Payne? Payne never would have forgiven himself."

"Bristol, my dear." Varick leaned forward in his seat and took my hand. "I must say you take my breath away. Your biggest worry about someone murdering you is that they will feel bad about it afterward? I find that extraordinary."

"It's not funny," I complained. "Payne's just beginning to forgive himself for not being able to save his mother. I should go. You were all better off before I arrived. I've got to get out of this town where Jay can't follow me."

"Enough," Uncle Mark said. "You think we would ever forgive ourselves if one of us killed you while we were possessed by this Jay guy? How do you think we'd feel if you were killed by some stranger under the same circumstances because you left? You're family. We stick together.

Understand?"

"I never wanted to leave, Uncle Mark. You know that, right?"

Uncle Mark nodded. "We all know that."

"There's a few other things to consider as well," Grandpa said. "First off, it sounds like the shadow whatchamacallits were the ones who set this Jay after you. Since it didn't stop once you told us about them, we have to guess that they just don't want you around to get hints of what they're up to, which is why we obviously need you here.

You're too important." "I am?" I sniffed.

"Yeah, you are," Grandpa said. "But don't let that go to your head. Besides, you're pretty much stuck here like the rest of us."

"What?" I said. "Stuck here? What do you mean?"

Varick sighed and squeezed my hand. "Bristol, it has long been believed that neither family can leave Spirit. We are tied to this place. Whatever dark forces give us these abilities also bind us to this town. I can leave for a business trip. We can send our children away to college, but this has to be our home."

"But my parents, they left," I said.

"They thought," Uncle Mark added, "because they had a girl that maybe the curse was wearing off. Or it didn't apply to them. But it did. Who knows how it affected them."

"Point is, kiddo," Grandpa said, "you're stuck looking at our ugly mugs, so you better get used to it." He reached forward and patted my hand. The same hand Varick was holding.

I watched a younger Varick staring at the wreckage of the car. The woman I had thought was his pregnant wife was inside, but Payne had said that Varick's wife hadn't died in a car crash. So, who was it?

Then I saw a woman in Varick's arms. She was weeping. Inconsolable, she had her face pressed against Varick's chest. Varick tried to soothe her, but it seemed useless. She looked up at the sound of a car screeching to a stop. She was very pretty, even through the tears. She looked a lot like Hunter.

Both Varick and the woman looked up as a man came running. Gracefully dodging police who tried to stop him, he ran past Varick and the woman. Falling to his knees, I watched as my much younger grandfather took the hand of his dead wife while placing his other hand over her heart. He closed his eyes, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, as he tried to will her back to life like he had done to Payne.

I watched in horror as Grandpa was flung backward. He convulsed in pain as Varick ran to his side.

" _Gregory, you fool!" Varick said. "You cannot heal the dead. I'm so sorry, but she's gone. They're both gone."_

Stunned, Grandpa pushed away from Varick. "Get away from me! I can. I have to."

I watched as Grandpa struggled to get back to his dead wife. Unable to walk, he tried to crawl, only to be held back by Varick. They fought. Varick tried to remind Grandpa that he had sons who needed him. If he died here, now, who would care for them?

As this played out, I could hear laughter. Who would laugh at this tragic scene? How could they?

Jay. His cruel face enjoying the sight of the misery he had created. As Grandpa and Varick struggled, Jay walked over to what must have been Varick's wife. She was crying as she watched Grandpa and Varick fight.

" _I know how much you're afraid of fire," Jay said to her, even though she couldn't hear him. "But we'll wait until the time is right. You haven't even had a chance to tell him you're pregnant again, have you?"_

I was back. The flash was gone and I was back. My uncle was calling my name, concerned that I had blanked out on him. Everyone was looking at me with concern, except for Payne who was still sleeping peacefully.

"Grandpa," I said, taking his hand and hating what I was about to tell him. "I need to tell you about Grandma."

WHEN WE PULLED UP IN front of my house, Varick leaned forward to kiss my cheek. "We shall handle this. I promise you. You will be protected. Now, do you believe that you will be safe for the night?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Then you get some rest," Varick said. "Tomorrow, we will deal with this..." An expression of revulsion crossed Varick's face. "Jay."

I climbed out, followed by Uncle Mark, who turned to the car to make sure his father got out all right. When there was no movement, Uncle Mark stuck his head in. "Dad, you coming?"

"I'll be in soon," Grandpa said. "Go on in, son."

"Dad," Uncle Mark said. "Now isn't the time to have it out with Mr. McKnight."

"What am I? Twelve?" Grandpa growled. "I don't need you telling me how to act. Varick and I just want a chance to catch up, is all. We need to discuss old man stuff." Grandpa moved his arm back and forth. "I'm thinking it might rain tomorrow."

Uncle Mark looked unconvinced but decided he just didn't have the energy or the will to fight with his father anymore. He slammed the door shut and brought me into the house.

I didn't get two feet before Simon ran up to me and nearly tackled me in a hug. I could feel him shaking. I held on to him as Aunt Breanne came in and explained to Uncle Mark how the boys wouldn't go to bed until they saw me and knew I was all right.

As I hugged Simon, I looked around for Zack. Where was he? They told me he was fine.

Grandpa had healed him the same way he healed Payne. So where was he?

"Zack's upstairs," Aunt Breanne said. "He waited up until he saw you come out of the car and then he ran upstairs. You should go see him."

I nodded and looked down at Simon. He had stopped shaking, but he still looked frightened. "I kept thinking about Mom and I thought..." Simon stopped talking when his voice hitched. I pulled him back into a hug.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I'm okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"You better get up to Zack," Simon said. "He's just a kid, and sometimes he can be such a baby."

I gave Simon a kiss on the cheek, wishing Uncle Mark and Aunt Breanne would do a better job of hiding their grins.

I knocked on his door before entering. "Zack, can I come in?"

Zack was in bed. The lights were out, but I could tell he was still awake and avoiding looking at me. I flipped on the lights, moved to the bed, and sat.

"You're back," Zack said.

"Yeah, I'm back," I said. Slowly, I put my hand on his. He didn't pull away, which I took as a good sign. "I never should have run. I was scared. Zack, do you understand what happened tonight before I left? Do you understand why I left?"

"Yeah, I got hurt," Zack said. "But it wasn't my fault, I swear. I don't remember even climbing up there. Grandpa believes me. He said someone made me do it and not know it."

"I know," I said. "It wasn't your fault. But the person who did it, they did it because of me. They hurt you because of me." Suddenly, despite my best effort to remain calm, I couldn't hold back the tears.

"Zack, I love you," I said. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. I was so scared.

And this person told me he wouldn't leave you or Simon alone unless I ran, so I ran, and I'm sorry." Zack sat up and hugged me. "I thought you didn't want us anymore."

"Oh no, Zack. I love you. I really do. I ran because I love you. I know that sounds stupid but..."

"It is stupid," Zack insisted. "You belong with us. We can protect you. I know I'm little, but I can protect you."

All I could do was apologize again and again. After a while, I think Zack forgave me. Now all I had to do was forgive myself. I tucked him in and started to leave. Before I got out the door, he called me back.

"Whoever this guy is that did this to you," Zack said. "I hope somebody kills him bad."

I didn't answer him. How do you tell an eight year old that the person in question is already dead?

### SEVENTEEN

### JAY, REVEALED

THE NEXT DAY WE DROVE over to McKnight Manor.

Grandpa, who was being unusually quiet, had told us we were expected there after lunch. As such, it was just before one p.m. and we were all squished into Uncle Mark's car.

Varick met us outside. It didn't take long before Simon impressed him by knowing about all the art he had displayed. It seemed all of the pieces that had been destroyed had already been replaced. Zack impressed Varick because he was simply an adorable ball of energy.

Hunter came trotting down the stairs. She said hello to everyone, and then with a glance from Varick she turned toward Zack and Simon.

"Hey, you two," Hunter said. "You guys like to bowl?"

Zack looked excited. "Yeah, and I rock at it. Are we going down to the Bowl-a-Rama?"

Hunter laughed. "No, I was thinking we'd use the bowling alley in the basement. C'mon."

"You know," Simon said. "We both know you're just getting us out of the room so the adults can talk about something without us there."

Hunter laughed as they all went through a door.

"Yeah," Uncle Mark said. "But the boy went without much argument. And he hates to bowl."

Just then, Payne came down the stairs.

"Bristol," he yelled. I wanted to say so much to him and had no idea where to start. When Payne reached me, he grabbed me and kissed me hard. Anything that might have been in my head was lost now. I could do this all day.

Uncle Mark had other ideas. He tapped Payne's shoulder and used his thumb to tell him to back off.

"If you two are done," Varick said. "We have business to discuss. I believe I have a solution for what to do with the person that Bristol refers to as Jay."

That got everyone's attention. At Varick's suggestion, we all took seats in his living room. The room was about the size of the entire first floor of my house, filled not only with beautiful art and antique furniture, but also tons of expensive and rare books that lined the walls.

Payne whispered in my ear that this was the formal living room. Was there a not-so-formal living room? And probably a den, and a great room, and who knows what else.

"Bristol, dear," Varick said. "I would like you to look through here. Tell me if you notice anyone in particular."

I took what looked like an old family photo album from Varick. It was a large brown leatherbound book, bursting at the seams. I placed it on the table and started to look through it. I saw pictures of members of the McKnight family. All blood relatives, no wives.

"What are we doing here, Varick?" Grandpa asked. "I thought we had this thing settled?"

"We do," Varick responded. "But I want to be absolutely sure before we take the next step. I want there to be no room for doubt. For everyone's sake." He glanced at me.

"And once there isn't?" Grandpa asked.

Varick looked sad but resolute. "I have made all preparations. We shall finish it."

That seemed to satisfy Grandpa.

I kept flipping pages. "Mr. McKnight, this is you, isn't it?" I said as I held up the page.

"Yes, from a long time ago," Varick said. "A very long time."

Varick McKnight was a very powerful and attractive man now, but back then, he was a cutie pie. I scanned the faces. Wow, he had a lot of brothers. Or maybe some of them were cousins. Each one looked like eye candy. There was a tall, very broad shouldered type, a pair of redheads that looked like twins. When I flipped the page, I felt like my heart was going to stop.

"That's him," I whispered. "Jay." I placed the book on the table. Payne grabbed it to look.

"Where?" Payne asked. I pointed Jay out and Payne growled. Okay, I admit it was pretty cool to see Payne react so protectively. It was shallow, but it still made me smile.

Varick put on a pair of glasses and leaned over the table to look for himself. He nodded toward Grandpa and sat down. "I knew him very well I'm afraid. He always had a penchant toward violence."

"That's a real pretty way to put it," Grandpa said. "He was a bully. Nothing more. But a slick one. Your grandmother fell for him for a spell, but she saw through him in the end. It didn't last between them more than a few weeks."

"As I recall," Varick said, "you were there to console and protect her rather quickly. When

Jay got obsessive, it frightened poor Jeanette. You were able to play the hero."

"Yeah, he made me look good," Grandpa acknowledged. "Didn't see you complain how good he made you look to Jacquelyn by standing up for her best friend to your older brother."

"Brother?" I shot up. "Jay was your brother?"

"I'm afraid so," Varick said with much regret. "Jay, as you call him, was always an unstable young man with some very unusual abilities. Abilities that many in my family thought would be a great asset. I believed then he was too dangerous. There were rumors, but back then people were more... discreet," Varick said. "Still, people talked. He had gotten rough with a girl that rejected him.

I'm afraid my brother never took rejection very well. Jay could be very charming, at first."

"I know," I said, which earned a lethal stare from Payne. "What? He was charming. He wanted me to run away with him."

"What!" Uncle Mark said. He stared at me like I had just told them I was the Queen of England.

"I know," Payne added, shaking his head in frustration.

"Take a pill, both of you," I told them. "It's not like I went. I mean, it was sweet..."

"Sweet?" Payne said. "He tried to kill you."

"Well." I shrugged. "This was before. It was like up until you and I, he was a different guy.

He just wanted to, you know..."

"Keep you to himself?" Uncle Mark said. "Sounds like classic abuser to me."

"Thank you," Payne said.

"You're such a girl," Grandpa remarked. "Some pretty boy flashes his baby blues and says something flattering, and you think they're deep and wonderful, and you flounce after them."

"Hey," I protested. "I didn't flounce. I don't flounce. I don't even know how to flounce."

"I think," Uncle Mark interrupted, "that we're getting a little off topic here. So, we've identified the ghost in question as being a McKnight and Varick's brother. We all know there are members of both families that could become violent. The fact that he is a McKnight shouldn't have any impact." Uncle Mark aimed that last remark toward Grandpa.

"Maybe my son here," Grandpa retorted, "would like to take a few moments to join hands and sing Kumbaya." "Dad," Uncle Mark warned.

"What?" Grandpa continued. "Can't we all just get along?"

I snorted. It may have taken some time, but I think I was finally getting my grandfather's sense of humor.

"The question is," Uncle Mark continued. "How does this help stop him? We're still talking about trying to kill a dead guy, aren't we?"

Grandpa looked at Varick and sent him the same look that seemed to have been going back and forth between them since we got here. "You want to tell them, or should I?" Grandpa asked.

Varick stood. "Perhaps it would be better if I showed them. Please follow me."

We all got up to follow. My uncle had to help Grandpa stand. His limp had become far more pronounced since last night. I had to believe it was the cost for healing both Zack and Payne, things that I was eternally grateful for. Grandpa hadn't complained once.

Varick led us down a hall, one that I hadn't seen on my first visit. We came to an elevator. I felt apprehensive about getting in, considering what happened the last time I was in a McKnight elevator, but I knew it was important, so I held my breath and got in.

"How are Toby and Blasé?" I asked, trying to keep my mind off the confined space. I had never been claustrophobic before. Amazing what nearly being killed in an elevator will do.

"Both are recovering, thank you," Varick said.

The elevator door opened, so I popped out quickly.

Varick took the lead and motioned us down the hall. We found a nurse standing outside a door. Varick asked us to wait for a moment as he talked with her. We watched as Varick went over and exchange a few words, which made the nurse very weepy. The nurse nodded and left.

Varick opened the door and signaled for us to all go in. We did so with me being the last one in. Inside, we found a very old and fragile looking man in a hospital bed attached to tubes and monitors. The tube going down his throat was clearly breathing for him. Others were giving him fluids. I could see a resemblance between him and Varick, but the old man had none of the dignity or strength of presence. This man looked like he might be Varick's grandfather. Why were we here?

I felt like I was missing something that was right in front of my face.

"Everyone," Varick said. "This is my brother, Jasper. He has been like this since he was seventeen years old. It was a family decision to keep him alive. We always thought a recovery was possible. Now, I can tell you that's never going to happen."

"That's one way of putting it," Grandpa added.

"Dad," Uncle Mark said.

"Your father is eager for his ounce of flesh," Varick said. "As am I. Allow me to get to the point. My brother Jasper never liked his name. He'd insist everyone call him Jay."

"What?" I yelled. I looked at the wrinkly, old man, lying in the bed, and shuddered. "Are you telling me that this is Jay? My Jay? But he was cute! He was adorable. He was...young."

Payne stepped forward, anger in his eyes. He was stopped short by my uncle. "Don't, son. I know you want to. I want to. But don't."

Payne just stared at the old man on the bed. "Ever since I realized he was behind this, I've been wishing he were alive so I could kill him."

"Payne," Varick said. "I doubt very much that he would feel anything you did to him right now."

Payne sneered. "I'd like to try anyway."

"I understand," Varick said. "Jasper always had the ability to project himself. He could send himself out into the world without his body and see what others were doing. He always described it as being ghost-like. It would seem that was far more accurate than I ever expected."

"So Jay," I said, "has been alive and projecting himself into my life where only I could see him? And all this time he was here? Like this? Ew!"

I stared at him with disgust. I had been attracted to him, and he spent the night with me in my room. I knew that nothing happened, but still. I let myself be comforted by a man who made Grandpa look young and hip.

"So now what?" Payne asked. "What do we do?"

Varick moved back to his brother's bedside. Putting his hand on one of the machines that was whirling away, he looked right at me.

"Now we finish it," Varick said. "The doctors have told me for the last twenty years that it was time to take him off life support, to let him go. This morning, I handled the legal issues. It was odd, being told by both the doctors and my attorney that it was an act of kindness and love toward my brother." He looked down at the old man in the bed with disdain. "Little did they know, eh?"

We all stood there and stared at the frail old man. No one spoke a word. Was this murder? It happened all the time, but we knew Jay's mind was still out there, somewhere. Was it self-defense? If someone came at you with a gun, no one expected you not to shoot back to save yourself. But when the person's lying there, helpless in front of you—what then?

But Jay, or Jasper, or whatever his name was, he wasn't helpless. He would come after me and my family. I closed my eyes and saw Zack falling from that tree. I saw Payne impale himself on that wooden stake in the middle of that blaze. I opened my eyes, and I was ready.

"Now," Varick said, "I will do what needs to be done."

I moved over next to Payne and took his hand. I wondered if there was any chance that we could be wrong.

Then I got my answer. "Wait," I said. "He's here." "Where?" Payne asked.

I pointed to the corner of the room where Jay stood, naked fear painted on his face. "Don't do this," Jay said.

"Please, Bristol. I beg of you. I'm not ready."

I turned to Payne. "He's begging us not to. He's scared."

Payne glanced in the direction where Jay stood. "Good."

"Bristol, please," Jay said. "I know I did things that I shouldn't have done, but being alone for so long can drive you insane."

I shook my head. "I saw you chase my grandmother from that car. I saw you there, laughing when you killed her. You killed Payne's grandmother as well, didn't you? Being alone didn't make you insane. You were insane to begin with."

"Bristol," Jay kept begging. "It wasn't my fault, the shadows...they made me. They're real."

"I know they are," I said. "But you chose to listen to them. Just like Weeder did. He knew killing a little boy was wrong, but he did it. You knew what you were doing, and you enjoyed it."

"I saved you from Weeder!" Jay said. "In the end, when he shot himself—I made him do that!"

It might have been true, but it didn't matter. "You hurt people I love. I can't forgive that."

"Varick likes you," Jay announced, changing tactics. "He'll listen to you. Have him spare me. I could tell you things, things about him and the whole McKnight clan. You'll give your family a great advantage when the final battle begins. It will begin. There can be no peace between the two families. While there are two families, both will know anguish and despair. I can be your weapon!" Jay smiled, convinced he had found my weak point.

"I can help you protect your family," he continued. "You'd never forgive yourself if a McKnight were to kill little Zack. He adores you, you know. I could see it in his mind. Let me help you protect him."

I looked to Varick, who was waiting on word from me to continue. "Mr. McKnight," I said and watched how hopeful Jay's face grew. "He just offered to sell your family out if I try and convince you to spare him. He'll tell me all of your secrets." I glanced over to Grandpa, wondering what his reaction would be.

"That should tell you something right there," Grandpa said. "Finish it, Varick. For our ladies."

Varick nodded. "They were the best of us, weren't they? And Jasper was behind their deaths and the deaths of our unborn children."

Jay looked at Varick with hatred. "Yes, I hated them! I hate you."

I shook my head in disgust. "He just admitted being behind their deaths. It's time. I don't want him to hurt anyone again. Not from either of our families."

"You think you're going to end up with Payne?" Jay yelled. "You won't. A McKnight can never love a Blackburn! Will never trust a Blackburn. He will turn on you."

I ignored him. Varick put his finger on the switch. Jay looked panicked, but he had nothing else to say and no venom left to spew. Varick flipped the switch, and all the machines went silent.

"No!" Jay got up and charged at me. He made it two steps. Then he was gone. I never flinched.

After it was over, I walked to Varick. I could tell he was mourning the death of his wife all over again. I leaned in and gave him a hug.

Payne pulled me out of that room. Jay didn't deserve anymore of my time.

### EIGHTEEN

### FIVE MINUTES

Journal of Bristol Blackburn

Saturday, May 4th

It's been a week since the death of Jay, or Jasper McKnight, or whatever I'm supposed to call him. I wondered if he might return to me in actual ghost form, but he hasn't. I hope he never does. I wondered if I might feel guilty about how Varick took him off life support, but I don't. Not after everything he'd done to me and my family.

I wonder how many other lives he destroyed that I didn't know about. Could he have been behind what had happened to Aunt Eve?

I don't know, and I don't want to think about it now.

Today is Saturday. Payne will be by later. We promised to take Simon and Zack to a movie with us. I invited Hunter and Maggie. After all, I don't want to be outnumbered by the boys.

It seems so strange to me, waking up and not having to wonder if that nameless Dream Boy is really going to murder me. I think a part of me always believed it was more likely that whoever he was, he'd want me dead and gone. Instead, Payne clearly wants me by his side for life.

He said those words to me. I love you. He meant them.

And I think I know how I feel about him, but I just can't get myself to say it.

But now that I know I have a future, I can start to try and picture it with Payne.

I HEARD A KNOCK AT my door and called for whomever to come in. A moment later, Grandpa made his way in and plopped down on my bed.

"Did I interrupt anything?" he asked as he put his foot up.

"Nope," I said.

"I didn't sit on a ghost, did I?" Grandpa asked. "Or are they standing in the corner?"

I fought the urge to laugh and instead rolled my eyes. "No, we're alone. Just you, me, and Ricky."

Grandpa glanced toward Ricky's tank. Ricky stopped running on his wheel and ran into his soup can.

"You've been through a lot lately, kid," Grandpa said. "I know it's been hard. That's not an invitation to whine. Life's rough. But you've handled yourself okay, so far."

"Grandpa," I said while faking a sniffle. "That's so sweet."

"You're a bratty one, too," Grandpa said. "I admire that, but being a pain in the keister will only get you so far. Trust me, I know. If something happens, you need to know to come to me. I can help. I mean, not with girlie things or anything like that, you know."

"Right," I said. "Just the manly, macho things."

"Look, I'm going to be straight with you," Grandpa said.

"That McKnight boy..."

"Payne," I said.

"I know," Grandpa responded. "Look, Payne impressed me. He came to me about you when you were in trouble. He put you first. I admire what he did, but that don't mean the two of you are destined to live happily ever after."

"Grandpa," I said. "We're not going out to shop for rings." I thought about Payne saying the L-word and felt a sense of panic. "I mean, he hasn't said anything to you or Uncle Mark, has he?"

"Kinda old-fashioned," Grandpa said. "Asking for your hand first."

I stopped breathing for a good ten seconds before Grandpa started to laugh.

"Relax," he said. "Payne hasn't asked for your hand or any other part of you. Nice to know where you stand."

"Funny, real funny."

"I thought so," Grandpa agreed. "What I was trying to say before you went down the path of wedded paranoia was that we're all cursed. McKnights and Blackburns. As long as both families exist, neither will find peace. You and Payne aren't the first since Tristan and Annabelle to get together.

You won't be the last. I just thought you should know that."

"Thanks."

"But," Grandpa added. "I can guess you're not going to listen. You're a teenage girl. Listening to what's best for you is medically impossible."

"Grandpa," I said. "You can be so sweet."

"I know, now shut up and let me finish," Grandpa responded. "You also remind me of your grandmother. Now she was a wonderful woman. More than I deserved. More than any man deserved. I'm sorry that you never got a chance to meet her. You would have liked her, and she would have gotten a hoot out of you."

Incredibly touched, I moved over to the bed next to Grandpa and gave him a hug. After all this time, Grandma was still the only woman for him.

"You know," I said, "except in my dreams, I've never seen Grandma. I don't know a thing about her."

Grandpa smiled and reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he pulled out his wedding picture. Grandpa looked like an old fashioned version of my father. Grandma looked like a more beautiful version of me.

She positively glowed, even in the non-color picture.

Grandpa started to tell me about my grandmother. I was amazed by the love and affection in his voice as he told me story after story of someone who was clearly an amazing woman. My grandfather, who was in his late sixties, sounded like he was my age again. I laughed, I cried, and I was completely moved by the image of the woman he described. She was funny, smart, and didn't take any nonsense from anyone. Together, they had four sons. It would have been five had Jay not killed her.

But Grandpa didn't focus on the bad times. He recalled stories where Grandma had gone camping with a family of men. She had proved herself the most able to handle Mother Nature. Grandpa told me about her giving birth to each of their sons. While he was a wreck, Grandma was calm, in control, and thrilled to be bringing life into this world.

When we were done, I felt like I knew Jeanette Blackburn enough to describe her to anyone I met. She was amazing, kind, and was woman enough to love Grandpa, who told me that no matter how he was feeling, "Five minutes of talking with my Jeanette was enough to set my head on straight again."

I thought about her as I took a walk later. I decided I needed a moment alone before Payne arrived. I wanted to mourn for a woman I'd never met, who clearly was a part of me.

"Hello Bristol," the ghost of Grandma Jeanette said to me. "I've been waiting for a chance to meet you."

Standing under the tree in the backyard, she looked so much like me, only so much more beautiful. She was in a blue dress, and her hair was longer than mine, with a matching blue headband.

I couldn't believe she was here for me.

"Hi Grandma," I said. "I so wish I could hug you right now. I feel like I know you after everything Grandpa just told me about you."

"I do know you," Grandma said. "Just because I haven't appeared to you until now doesn't mean I haven't been with you. There's always a part of me with you. You should know that."

I shrugged. "It's not the same as you being here. I wish I had met you for real. I wish you were a part of my life."

"I am," Grandma said. "More so than most people understand. So don't get whiney. After all, we don't have a lot of time."

"Let me guess," I said. "Five minutes?"

"More or less," Grandma said. "I understand your grandfather warned you about your relationship with that young man of yours. It's got you worried, even if you don't want to admit it."

I sighed. "I don't know what to do with Payne. He loves me. Look what he did. But really? Someone like him with me? Why? What could Payne possibly see in me? I mean, have you seen him?"

Grandma nodded. "I have. He's stunning."

"I know," I said. "And while he can be sweet, and funny, and heroic, he can also be pigheaded as heck. But I can deal with that. I can be more pig-headed. But Grandma, how can he ever be happy with me? I'm plain. I'm boring. Okay, so maybe the fact that I can talk to ghosts isn't that freaky to him, but that's just because he can be set on fire and be just dandy. Isn't he going to get tired of me having conversations with people he can't see? Or hearing about dreams that may come true?"

"Why would he?" Grandma asked. "Sounds like it would just keep things from getting boring."

I rolled my eyes. "Look, it's not just that. It's everything else. Grandpa was right. Look at what we have against us. Sure, the two families came together for a bit, but that was because Jay was trying to kill me and had already killed people on both sides."

"Yes," Grandma said. "I'm well aware of what he did."

"Oops," I murmured. "Sorry."

"Seems to me," she said in that no nonsense tone that I imagined she used on Grandpa, "your real problem is you think no one can or should love you. You're shocked by the fact that my son loves you as if you were his own. He's already dreading the fact that the time will come when he'll have to give you away. You're amazed that my grandchildren love you so much. Zack is already telling his friends that you're not just a cousin but a sister. Simon spends time worrying about the family curse because he knows you were in danger from it, and he wants to figure it out and protect you. With everything you grew up with, it's only natural that you're not able to understand why Payne loves you, but he does. Just let that be enough."

I thought about what she said. I wanted it to be that simple, but it couldn't, could it?

"My parents didn't love me," I said. "I don't think they ever did."

Grandma moved closer to me. She clearly wanted to take me in her arms. I wished she could. "I think they loved you far more than you think. Someday, I hope you know how much. For now, you need to forgive them for not being able to show you. So you can move on."

"How do I do that?"

"Time," she answered. "It takes time. Which I'm afraid we are both out of for now. I have to go, but I hope to be back. And your young man is here."

I turned and saw Payne approaching. Dressed in jeans and a black shirt, he looked like a hero come to my rescue and just a bit dangerous at the same time. My heart melted when I saw him.

When our eyes met, I felt a flutter in my belly. I couldn't understand why, but he loved me.

"He does take your breath away," Grandma said. "Or, in my case, he would if I still had any breath."

"Grandma."

She laughed. "Go to him. That boy is in love with you. Enjoy it."

With a nod, I ran to Payne. He gave me a slow, tender kiss. When we pulled back, he reached up and played with my hair like he liked to do.

"Hunter and Maggie are inside," Payne said. "I get the impression I may have interrupted something." "Not really," I answered. "She had to go anyway." "Anyone I know?" he asked.

How strange of a conversation was this? Payne knew I was just talking to someone who fit into the dearly departed department, but what was even more amazing was that it was normal to him. He didn't look at me like I was a freak, and I didn't feel like one talking about it.

"No," I said. "Actually, it was my grandmother. I just got to meet her for the first time. She was... amazing."

He smiled as he put his arm around me. "We have an hour before we have to leave for the movie. Tell me about her."

I realized Payne really was in love with me. I still didn't get it. But maybe I was starting to believe it.

The most important thing was that it took me one step closer to the point where I accepted being loved. I hadn't gotten there yet, but I could almost believe that someday soon I'd get the courage to look at Payne and say, "I love you, too."

### ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BORN AND RAISED IN BROOKLYN NY, Vincent Morrone now resides in Upstate NY with his wife. (Although he can still speak fluent Brooklynese.) His twin daughters remain not only his biggest fans, but usually are the first to read all of his work. Their home is run and operated for the comfort and convenience of their dogs.

Vincent has been writing fiction, poetry and song lyrics for as long as he can remember, most of which involve magical misfits, paranormal prodigies and even on occasion superheroes and their sidekicks.

As they say in Brooklyn: Yo, you got something to say?

Vincent would love to hear from you at Vincent@vincentmorrone.com

You can check his website http://vincentmorrone.com/ or connect with him on Twitter https://twitter.com/Vince524 and Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Morrrone.

Turn the page for an exciting preview on the 2nd book in the Vision Series, Vision of Serpents!

### CHAPTER ONE

### O.M.G.

Journal of Bristol Blackburn

Just woke up after another vision. All I can say is wow.

I know I've gotten hung up on the idea of being able to say I love you to Payne. I should be able to say it. Lord knows he loves me.

But what I don't understand is how. How could he love a girl who might have a ghost tag along as a third wheel on any of our dates? Or one he can't surprise with a romantic picnic date under our favorite willow tree, because I'd seen it already in a vision?

And yet, clearly he does love me.

It's been just under four months since his Great-Uncle Jasper tried to kill me. Four months since Payne, possessed by his uncle, who I knew as Jay, nearly killed himself protecting me. Four months since he told me he loved me, right before being set ablaze and getting impaled through the chest.

Four months, and I haven't been able to say it back. I can't even refer to the two of us as boyfriend and girlfriend. I correct other people who call me his girlfriend. Like I'm afraid I'll break out in hives by being the girlfriend of the most gorgeous boy on the face of the Earth.

There's just something holding me back.

I've told Zach and Simon that I love them. And though I may not have said it to him, I can admit that I love my Uncle Mark. I can even admit I love Grandpa, although I guess that depends on the day.

But when it comes to Payne? I just can't say it. I know he'd like me to, and he's been so patient. He hasn't pressured me at all, but I know he wants to hear me say it back.

So I have this vision. I'm in that perfect spot, by our willow tree, and I'm finally able to get those words out.

I say, "I love you."

You'd think that would make me happy. The pressure's off, right?

It might, if I were saying it to Payne.

The new guy in my dream is tall and muscular, with dark blond hair and such pretty gray eyes. He has a goofy, lopsided grin on his beautiful face, and I can tell that he has a great laugh. He looks like a nice guy. What's worse is that when I say I love you, he looks like he loves me back.

Like I said: WOW.

"NO, NO, NO!" I WAS standing on my front porch, waiting to go to school, talking on my cell phone with Maggie.

"I promise Payne and I did not get married over the summer break."

Every year, Maggie's family went away on a long vacation. She'd just gotten back the night before, and had already missed our first week of school. Lucky girl. Now, she wanted me to catch her up to speed on everything she'd missed.

By everything, I meant what was happening with me and Payne. But she wouldn't accept my word that nothing had changed. He and I were still...well, whatever it is that we were.

"Listen," I said, rolling my eyes as she babbled. "I swear you didn't miss anything. I wouldn't run off to have a Vegas wedding. And if I did, I wouldn't do it without you. I'd need a maid of honor."

I pulled the phone away from my ear to keep from hearing the screech I knew would follow.

"I mean it. I would choose you over Hunter. I love Hunter, but you're my best friend."

Damn, I didn't move the phone fast enough that time.

"No, Maggie, don't start planning a bachelorette party. We just started our senior year! I'm not even thinking marriage."

I rolled my eyes again as I looked up and saw Eric Wilson walking toward the house. Eric and his family had moved in across the street a couple of months ago, right after the Jay incident. He'd been getting bullied at his old school pretty badly. His luck hadn't been much better here. I watched as he stopped short on the curb; Mrs. Hickle from down the block didn't even bother to hit the brakes as she drove past. Eric looked both ways, which he should have done to begin with, and finally crossed.

"Maggie!" I yelled into the phone. I needed to get her off her rant. "I've got to go, or I won't see you at school. Yeah, okay. Bye."

Eric climbed the steps of the front porch, already laughing. I decided to explain myself.

"Maggie's hatching up crazy ideas about me and Payne."

"Of course," Eric said as he sat on the bench across from me. "Maggie without a crazy idea would be as sad as, well...Maggie not dressed in one of her colorful ensembles."

I laughed. I did look forward to seeing Maggie's outfits.

"I'm guessing," Eric said, "you haven't checked your email yet?"

"No," I answered, glancing down at my phone. "Why?"

"I sent you something last night. Don't worry. It's probably better that I say it in person."

"Say what?" I asked, as I started to check my email.

"Nothing important," Eric answered. He motioned for me to put my phone away as he nervously tapped his feet on the floor of the porch. "Mostly, I wanted to thank you and Payne. Meeting the two of you, and Maggie and Hunter, has been the best thing about moving here. Especially since you guys drive me to school every morning so I don't have to take the bus."

"Please, Eric, it's no big deal. I love hanging out with you. Especially on mornings like today. Payne looks like he's going to take his sweet time getting here."

"Well," Eric said with a shrug. "I know what you've been doing."

I tried to sound like I had no idea what he was talking about. "I haven't been doing anything."

"I've heard you read the riot act to anyone who even looked at me funny." I just shrugged again.

"Bristol," Eric said. "I want you to know I appreciate it."

"It's nothing," I replied. "Really." Where the hell was Payne, I thought. I didn't like mushy gratitude, especially first thing in the morning. "It's not like I went around the entire school, telling everyone to shut their traps about you if they didn't have anything nice to say."

"Well, did I tell you what happened Friday with Archer McKnight?"

"No," I said. "What?"

Payne had a legion of cousins, and Archer was one of them. Most of them had names just as interesting as Payne's: Archer, Hunter, Chase, Blasé, Tobias. Some of these cousins, like Hunter and Toby, were really nice. Others, like Chase, Blasé, and Archer, could be more than a little full of themselves. Archer was still on the fence. He'd never gotten over the fact that while possessed, he had nearly killed me and Hunter, so he was more or less nice to me. But, if Archer had been harassing Eric again, Payne was going to have one less cousin, because I was going to kill him.

"It was after gym class," Eric continued. "Everyone else had cleared out of the locker room. I hadn't realized we were alone, and I was trying to get out without him seeing me. I tried to sneak. I don't sneak well." "And then what?" I asked.

Eric blushed. "I tripped over some gym equipment and fell on my face. I didn't go down easy. It must have been pretty comical."

He stood up, rolled his arms in wild circles and pretended to fall down. We both laughed. That was one of the things I loved about Eric. He always made me laugh.

"I felt like such an idiot," he said. "I figured the fall would give Archer plenty of ammo, but he didn't give me a hard time. He just shook his head.

Then he gave me a hand to get up." "Did he?" I asked. "Well, that's good." I guess Archer could live.

"Yeah, then when I was on my feet, he took it a step further. He actually told me he was sorry for giving me such a hard time last year. Said it was stupid."

"I might have to allow myself to believe in miracles." "Of course, then Blasé came in," Eric said.

I groaned. Blasé was an idiot.

"Yeah," Eric turned red as he recalled whatever happened. "Blasé started to make kissing sounds and made some...rude suggestions. Archer just told him to shut up and left. I tried to follow, but Blasé just kept on...you get the idea."

"Yeah," I said. "I'll deal with him."

"Bristol, you can't keep doing that. He's Payne's cousin. You don't want to upset his family."

"Payne won't mind, trust me. He likes it when I tear into them."

"I like Payne," Eric said. "He never makes me feel like he's doing me a favor by hanging out with me."

"That's because he's not," I said. "Payne thinks you're cool."

Eric smiled. "I know. You're both great friends. It's meant so much."

"Look," I interrupted. "You really need to stop. We love hanging with you. I know that Blasé must have ruined your weekend, but you have to look at the good stuff. Maggie's back. Archer might be growing up. It's our senior year. It's all going to get better. Just give it time."

Eric seemed to be really thinking about what I was saying when Payne finally pulled into the driveway, driving a silver Lexus. He climbed out of the driver's-side door, wearing blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. His deep blue eyes found mine and he grinned.

Man, it should be illegal to be that hot.

"Good morning," Payne said, as he came up onto the porch and gave me a long, slow kiss that made my toes curl. Then he looked around. "We need to hurry if we're going to make it to school without breaking all the speed limits. That wouldn't go over well with your uncle. Where's Eric?"

"He's right here," I said. I glanced over to Eric, who was standing in plain view.

"Bristol," Eric said. "I think I did something stupid."

"Eric, what are you...?"

My voice trailed off. Payne and I turned to stare at each other.

In a moment, he understood, and took off running across the street as I followed, barely hearing Eric yell how sorry he was.

We both heard his mother scream as we reached their front porch.

