 
# Spiritus

Spiritus Series Book One

### Dana Michelle Burnett

Copyright © 2011 by Dana Michelle Burnett

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real accounts. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead is completely coincidental.

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### Praise for the Spiritus Series

"With a spoon full of romance and a dash of suspense, Spiritus is a wonderful treat."-Jaskirat, See It or Read It

"If you like romantic and haunting novels, with characters and a plot that completely draws you in, then I would definitely recommend that you pick up Spiritus." ~ Ink Puddle

"The romantic tension, the tenderness, the bittersweet moments...These are all the things that really caught my attention." ~ Alexa Loves Books

"The writing is beautiful, the scenery is gorgeous. The emotions in the book...They are heartfelt and sometimes just heart wrenching." ~ Fictional Candy

"This is such a twisted love story!" ~ Rather Barefoot Than Bookless

"If you are a lover of creepy tales with swoon worthy characters, you must read the Spiritus Series because frankly, you will be thanking me later." ~ Mother Gamer Writer

With love for my family for their constant and never ending support, none of this would be possible without your constant encouragement.

# Preface

Death. It always seemed such a strange and far off event I never thought about what it would be like to actually die. That was something for the distant future, but as I heard the window shatter behind me, I knew my time had come.

What was I was dying for? The sins of the past? The wrongs of the present? Did it even matter?

I looked up at him one last time, staring into his sad and familiar eyes. I took one last breath and prepared to die.

# Chapter 1

I hoisted my suitcase up and into the back of my dad's Suburban. I winced as the hot tearing pain ripped through my lower back, but I ignored the pain and adjusted my suitcase among the last of the moving boxes.

The back of the Suburban held all the treasures I didn't trust to survive in the moving van and the things I couldn't bear to have out of my sight even for one day.

Slamming the rear door, I took one last glance at our Indianapolis town house. We were not even gone yet and already the familiar brick building was a stranger to me with dead curtain-free eyes staring back at me. It wasn't my home anymore.

Two hours away, in the small town of Corydon, a pre-Civil War mansion waited. My Dad's ancestral home. I had heard about it all my life, but it always seemed unreal and far away.

It was to that remote small town that we were moving to now. When Dad announced we were moving, I tried to pretend that it wasn't true, even as all of our things were packed and taken away. By the time I had to face what was happening, I just couldn't make myself care.

"Becca," my Dad said to me as he tossed his own small duffel bag into the back seat. "You know this is going to be great for us, right?"

I couldn't let my Dad guess how much I hated this, so I smiled up at him. I liked the way his blue eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled back. I hated to lie, but...

"I know," I said with another humoring smile. If my mother was still alive, she and I would have exchanged knowing glances as conspirators in pacifying my father.

To think of my mother made my eyes smart with unshed tears. She died in a car accident two years ago and it was from her memory we were running. No matter how much stuff we crammed into our townhouse, the rooms still echoed with emptiness left behind with my mother's passing.

I glanced back one last time at the house we all shared and then got in on the passenger side. There was really no point in looking back again.

"And we're off," Dad said with a happy smile as he got behind the wheel and snapped his seatbelt in place.

Rather than respond, I turned so I could lean against the door and stare out the window. I said nothing else as the familiar structures of the city gave way to long expanses of trees on both sides of the highway, peppered now and then by an open field.

Once I got bored looking at trees and cornfields, I took out my notebook and started doodling. I could have been creative and wrote a poem or something to capture the moment, but I refused to compare the highway to the journey of life or the path of fate in my life. That omission severely limited what I felt like writing about at the moment.

By the time we started veering toward the west; the cornfields disappeared and were replaced by rocky hills that were cut in half by the interstate. We seemed to be going uphill, causing my ears to pop.

As we drove on, rugged trucks replaced sleek sedans. I didn't have much hope for urban entertainment when the exits off the interstate led to places with names like Greenville and Edwardsville.

"Are you taking us to the middle of nowhere?" I asked, more to break the silence than any real interest.

"Hardly," Dad said with a chuckle as he flipped back some wayward strands of his salt and pepper hair. "But it will be very different from what you are used to."

I glanced out the window again at the dull view, "I'll bet you're right."

He shifted his eyes my way, letting worry and concern take the shine from his face, "Different isn't necessarily a bad thing."

I squirmed with guilt and changed the subject, "So if this house is your family's original home, why didn't you grow up there?"

The happy light came back to his eyes, "The house belonged to my ancestors back when Corydon was the capitol of Indiana. Sometime after the Civil War my family lost the house."

"How?" I asked.

"I don't know," He replied as he changed lanes with a quick glance over his shoulder. Since my mother's death, he was an overly cautious driver anytime I was in the vehicle. "I used to walk by it and tell myself that one day I'd own it."

I glanced over at him, picturing him as a dirty faced kid looking up at some _Gone with the Wind_ style house. "Seriously?"

"I always wanted to buy it, I even promised your Mom on our honeymoon," his mouth twitched a little at the corners talking about her.

I forced excitement I didn't feel and made myself smile, "She would have loved it."

He cleared his throat and nodded, setting his jaw and looking straight forward. I went back to looking out the window and tried not to think about how much I missed my mom.

It was nearing sunset when we took the Corydon exit. It seemed like nothing more than a series of truck stops and restaurants lining the four lane highway. I couldn't believe people would move here by choice.

Dad drove past the gas stations and the one shopping center, the first sign of life in the last thirty minutes, to where there were no street lights and Victorian mansions crowded the oak lined street.

It all looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, the flowers in the window boxes, and the people sipping iced tea on the porch. It was just too over the top. People didn't live like this anymore and probably hadn't for fifty years.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, not believing the time warp I was seeing out the window.

Dad looked around with a goofy grin that made me embarrassed for him even though there was no one else around, "Isn't it great?"

I didn't have to answer; we pulled into the narrow gravel drive of one of the mansions. I gazed up at the monstrous structure and tried to wrap my head around the fact that this was my new home.

The house was large, wider than most of the others. It seemed to almost squat on the lot. The multiple porches were all shaded by the tall oaks surrounding the house. The white wood siding was colored a greenish gray along the edges that made me think of the greeny growth on tombstones. When I looked at it, only two things came to mind, damp and mossy.

Getting out of the car, I saw the green gardens filled with hostas and felt the early dew already clinging to the lawn, a deep earthy scent hung in the air choking me.

"Uh! What is that smell?"

Dad came around the sedan to open my door, "It's fresh air. What do you think about that?"

"I think it stinks," I said with forced gaiety. I was used to clean lawns manicured by unseen people the apartment manager hired. There was something imposing about the lush permanence of this place.

"Come on Becca," my Dad said with a teasing smile. "You have to admit, it's beautiful. They don't make them like this anymore."

I let my eyes travel up the large columns of the porch and up to the red peaked roof. I wanted to shrink back from this ancient goliath.

"No, they sure don't." I whispered, thinking that maybe that was a good thing.

Dad opened the back of the Suburban and started pulling out my suitcase and boxes, "I got this. Why don't you go on in and have a look around?"

Inside was no different. Where our townhouse smelled of whatever scented candles we were burning, this massive place smelled of wood, leather, and some attic-library-like scent that I couldn't name.

Standing in the foyer, I inhaled the musty air with a chocking cough as I looked up at the grand staircase. If that wasn't imposing enough, far above my head hung a dusty crystal chandelier so high against the dark ceiling it seemed misty and far away.

I took a few more steps forward, not feeling that this was my home at all. Through an arched doorway to my right stood the grand piano my Dad ordered a few weeks back, looking too shiny and new for its surroundings. A glance to the left and through another arched opening showed a flat screen television and a contemporary sofa set that looked just as out of place as the piano.

A door under the staircase revealed a tiny bathroom with a sloping ceiling tucked away like an afterthought. I rationalized by the advent of indoor plumbing, it was the only available area on the first floor that wouldn't compromise the original layout.

Shutting the bathroom door, I turned my attention to the wide hall behind me. It was large enough to park a car in and at the end was a set of heavy double doors. Walking down it, to my left was a curved doorway to the dining room and to the right another opening to the room with the piano.

The double doors at the end were heavy, paneled in rich wood, and almost reached the tall ceiling. The black metal knobs almost seemed too weak to open them, but one good pull and the doors opened to an empty library twinkling with dust particles catching the light.

The room glowed orange with the light of the setting sun coming through the windows as I stepped inside. The arched empty shelves cried out to be filled with books, looking abandoned and forgotten. I inhaled deeply; noting the rich scent of cigars seemed to cling to the freshly painted walls.

I stepped around the boxes from Dad's little home office at the townhouse and went across the room to the windows where the garden trees and shrubs fluttered in the breeze. The wind tore random leaves loose to blow over the patio just outside the French doors.

As I was leaving, a large area of the floor caught my eye where the wood floor had faded nearly white. The splotchy pattern at first made me think a careless worker had spilled paint, but when I got down on my knees to examine it closer, I could see it was in the wood trapped under the varnish.

What would cause that? I reached out to touch the peculiar stain. As my finger touched the slick surface of the wood, a vibrating electric shock traveled up my hand and into my arm. My eyes instantly began to water and my ears rang.

I pulled my hand back and clutched it to me. I was too shocked to even cry out. What was that?

Jumping to my feet, I looked down at the spot on the floor and backed away. A chill ran up my spine and I broke out in a clammy sweat. Even though it was silly, I backed out of the library and closed the doors.

I heard Dad outside on the porch talking to some random neighbor about the sturdiness of the foundation as I sneaked back around and went up the staircase. Each riser gave a loud creak and pop as I went up to the second floor.

When I got to the top of the staircase I turned to the left and walked back toward the front of the house where my room looked out into one of the oak trees in the front yard. My bed sat under that window with its new mattress a glaring bare white.

All the boxes from our townhouse with my name on them were stacked near my dresser by the door, but I hesitated to unpack anything.

I went over to the window that looked out over the sprawling yard and narrow drive. Through the leafy screen, in the parallel universe of Corydon, traffic was already thinning as if it were the middle of the night. It was the perfect example of how life moved at a different pace here.

It might be nice to visit a place so charmingly out of step with the rest of the world, but it just wasn't normal to live in such a parody.

I turned away from the window and took in my new surroundings. There was nothing familiar about this room. It held other people's memories in its plastered walls. How long would it take for this room to seem like it really belonged to me?

Downstairs my Dad came in, the sound of the front door opening and closing vibrated up the walls to the second floor, I listened for the sound of his steps on the staircase, but it never came. He went to the left where the flat screen waited, no doubt much more tempting than a conversation with his pouting daughter.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I loved my Dad and knew that he thought he was doing what was best for us, but I just wasn't in the mood to pretend anymore. With him downstairs and occupied with CNN, I could sit on the edge of my bed and let a few tears escape from the corners of my eyes.

I sat there, listening to the distant chatter of the television and the house creaking, trying not to think about school tomorrow. Each time it crossed my mind, I got a hollow and sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Deep down I just knew it was going to be awful.

Even though it was the start of the new school year and tomorrow would be everyone's first day, I felt at a definite disadvantage. I almost regretted that I didn't come here with Dad at least a few times over the summer to where maybe I could have met at least one or two people before starting school.

Corydon Central High School was the one and only high school in the Corydon area. There would be no second chances, no alternatives. I would either fit in and make it or I wouldn't, and the odds were stacked against me. The other students had known each other since grade school; everyone would know everyone, except me.

In my school back in Indianapolis, I saw how everyone treated new students. They were a curiosity for about a week and then the decision was made as to if they were worthy to be with the popular crowd or doomed to obscurity. I didn't hold out much hope for myself.

At seventeen, I didn't have what it took to be popular. I wasn't blond, I wasn't the outgoing student government type, and I wasn't the sporty athlete. What chance did I have?

I was only me, somewhat pale, and while not ugly, I was far from a vision of teenage perfection. In my opinion, my hair was just a mousy brown, sadly lacking the depth of ebony or chestnut and my eyes were merely a boring blue. I was plain and forgettable; no one would even notice me.

That empty sick feeling came over me again. In a big school it was easy to fade into the background, but I didn't know if that would be possible here. I tried not to think about it anymore.

# Chapter 2

It wasn't a restful night. The gentle end of summer breeze kept the oak tree branches scraping at the window like bony fingers. I tossed and turned all night, pulling the blankets over my head and covering my ears with my hands, but it was still well after midnight before I fell asleep.

When I awoke on the first day of school, a thick mist clung to the trees out my window. I couldn't see through the branches to know if it was raining or if it was still the dew from the night before. I'd have to ask Dad about getting someone to trim some of the branches so I could at least see the ground below.

Dad was waiting in the antiquated kitchen with a bowl of cereal and milk from a plastic cooler. From the looks of the refrigerator squatting near the stove, the last time it was running was a decade or so before Woodstock.

When my Mom was alive, she made breakfast a grand affair of bacon, eggs, and made from scratch pancakes for the first day of school. She always called it my "good luck" breakfast. I tried not to miss it.

"Ready for your big day?" Dad asked with a sappy grin.

"You bet," I replied with a forced smile. I took a set at the oversized kitchen table. "Can't wait."

Dad sat down across from me and sighed, "Just try to give it a chance. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think."

In an instant the rush of guilt flowed over me. He was trying so hard and I was acting like a spoiled brat. My Mom would be so disappointed in me.

"I'm sure it will be great." I countered, really trying to sound cheerful. The effect sounded almost comical to my critical ears.

He smiled as if he believed my ruse, "That's my girl."

I choked down my breakfast while he leaned against an ancient white stove watching me. Shoving the last spoonful of my mushy feast into my mouth, I smiled as I stretched past him to put my bowl in the sink. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's nothing," He replied in a tight voice. "I was just thinking of how much you look like your mother now."

I didn't mean to, but I flinched. I sensed her absence acutely and resented being reminded of it.

A suffocating silence fell between us until I stretched my face into a smile like I knew she would have wanted me to and gathered my things.

"Wish me luck," I said as I walked toward the door, not waiting to see if he actually would.

The bright stillness of the morning met me when I stepped out on the porch. I walked down the drive to the sidewalk and looked around. The entire town seemed to still be sleeping; even the scant traffic was quiet as it passed.

It didn't even seem real. Towns like this belonged in movies, the cheap dollar matinee kind featuring white faced zombies chasing buxom blondes. I didn't know to be charmed or frightened.

I didn't hurry. I just sort of walked along, looking at the old houses and trying to guess what the owners of them looked like or what they did for a living. For some reason I couldn't get past the idea of a lot of duck hunting males married to a bunch of garden party ladies.

By the time I reached the corner I began to see a few kids near my age leaving their homes with books in hand. Even if Dad hadn't gone over it a dozen times and put the map on my phone too, I didn't have to worry about finding the school anymore.

I stayed about a block behind all of them though, just so they wouldn't think I was following them, no point in calling attention to myself. I already hated being the new kid and not knowing where I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to be doing.

Corydon Central High School looked like a scaled down version of my old high school in Indianapolis. It had the same generic exterior that tried to look cheerful and welcoming, but came off the exact opposite, looking very institutional. There was more green here, with more shrubs and larger trees, but other than that they were very much alike.

Inside it was not much different either, the same overly bright lights, the same medicine-like school smell and the same ugly tile. Did all schools in America look and smell somewhat the same? I wondered if they bought paint and tile in bulk and then just shipped it to schools all across the country.

I glanced down at my class schedule; the blurry dot matrix print read that I should be in room one thirty-two for Science. While I searched for room numbers above doors, everyone else pushed past me, already knowing where they were going.

I felt flushed; the first fluttering of panic in my chest was trying to rise to the surface. I wanted it to already be evening and then this day would be nothing more than a story of mishaps I would be recounting to Dad over dinner.

The science room was easy enough to find, but I still stood in the hall and let the other students file in past me. They were all chattering about what they did over the summer.

I saw the seats in the back of the class filling up quickly, so I went on in and claimed one of the lab tables in the second to last row. It was easier not to draw attention to myself towards the back of the room. I just sort of blended in as the rest of the class wandered in and took seats.

Science was never my favorite subject, I knew within minutes my opinion wasn't going to change. Geometry was next and it promised to be just as boring as it was in Indianapolis. At least no one seemed to notice me. I wasn't sure if everyone was still half asleep or if I really was that insignificant, but I knew my luck was bound to run out soon.

Another bell, another class. This time English and I felt somewhat better as I took a seat again near the back, pretty sure I would just get lost in the mix again.

That feeling of comfort disappeared when a lanky brown haired girl took the desk in front of me and turned in the seat as soon as she sat down, "I don't know you."

It wasn't a question, more of just an announcement of a fact.

"Hi," I said with a nervous smile. "I'm Becca McAllister."

"I'm Ally Lentz," she said without a smile. "And I don't know you."

Now I was really unsure how to respond, but she sat there staring at me as if she expected an answer of some sort.

"I just moved here," I volunteered.

I didn't have to say anything else. Ally began telling me all about Corydon Central. I couldn't even begin to keep up with everything that she was saying; something about concerts downtown, a park somewhere, and football games. I was actually grateful when the bell rang and the teacher began the class.

Mrs. Temple, a chunky woman with chalk smudges across her skirt hips, went on and on about the great American writers. She never mentioned any of them by name, but promised we would learn all about them by the end of the year.

I was saved when the bell rang. I barely had time to glance at my schedule before Ally was blocking my path, peering down at my schedule, and trying to read it upside-down.

"What do you have next?" She asked, squinting to decipher the blurry type.

"Lunch."

"Oh, so do I," She said with a big smile. "Come on, I'll show you where the cafeteria and I'll introduce you to everyone."

The way she said "everyone" made me think she meant just that. Her energy was a little overwhelming, but I was happy she was there. I had been dreading lunch all day. Nothing could be worse than sitting at an empty table alone while everyone stared.

It was obvious Ally did mean everyone. As we walked to the cafeteria, she said hello to every person that passed and made super quick introductions. She didn't slow her pace; she waved to them, pointed to me, and said what she had to say and went on.

"Hey, this is Becca, she just moved here." She'd call out even if people were only then stepping into earshot. "Becca, this is John, Caitlyn, and Shelby."

It seemed everyone liked her. It also seemed there were no cliques at Corydon Central. I said as much to Ally which really made her laugh.

"No," she replied with a chuckle. "We don't really have cliques here. Everyone knows everybody else. It's hard to act superior when we've all seen each other eating mud pies and peeing in our pants back in preschool."

Stepping into the cafeteria, Ally waved to a blonde girl sitting at one end of a full table. The girl motioned us over with a welcoming smile. Was everybody here so friendly?

"You must be Becca," She said as soon as I sat down. "I'm Billie."

I was shocked she knew me and a little intimidated by how pretty she was in a girl-next-door-model-without-make-up sort of way, "Have we had a class together?"

"No, but everyone is talking about you," She said with another flash over white teeth.

"Oh," I blushed; suddenly very aware of how loud my paper lunch bag sounded as I opened it. I glanced around the cafeteria to see if everyone was staring or if it just felt like they were.

The tables were noisy with kids calling out to each other and laughing loudly. A few would look in my direction and smile, but no one was really staring

Everyone seemed friendly enough, smiling when they met my eyes. All the kids except a small group across the room at a small table in the corner. My previous experience in my old school told me that they were probably the cheerleaders and the jocks since I had yet to hear of a school where those two groups didn't cling together away from everyone else.

"I see you noticed the cheerleading sheep," Billie said with a toss of her head toward the girls. "That's Ashley Richardson and her minions."

I had no doubt which one was Ashley. The blond in the center of the group was obviously the leader, all of the other girls at that table looked up at her with an idolizing expression.

I turned to Ally, confused, "I thought you said there weren't really cliques here."

Ally took a bite of a banana and chewed before answering, "There isn't. Ashley acts like she's better than all of us, but we just ignore her, the only people that really worship her are the other cheerleaders. You know how that is."

I nodded. "We had a group like that at my old school."

"Where is your old school?" Billie asked as she took a bite of a rectangle slice of pizza.

"Indianapolis."

Ally narrowed her eyes, "What did you do to end up here?"

"My Dad grew up here," I explained, repeating the exact things I practiced the night before for this very moment. "After my Mom died, he moved us back here."

Billie stopped chewing, "Sorry about your mom. How'd she die?"

"Car accident two years ago," I said, keeping it as brief as possible.

"I'm sorry," Ally said and then as if she sensed my reluctance to talk about it, changed the subject. "So, do you like the house?"

I shrugged, "It's different."

"A lot of people live in old houses around here," Ally offered.

"This town is full to the rim with historical locations and ghost stories," Billie said with a smirk.

Ally clapped her hands together, "That's a perfect idea!"

"What?"

"We should have a séance at your house," Ally explained. "Those old houses on Capitol Avenue are always fun to do it in."

Séances were a sleepover tradition back in Indianapolis, but it was one I never really got the opportunity to be a part of. I wasn't sure I even bought into all that supernatural stuff.

"Do those ever really work?" I asked.

"You never know." Billie answered with a shrug and a giggle. "But it beats doing nothing."

They both seemed excited about the idea and Billie had a good point, what else was there to do?

"Do you want to try it tonight?" I asked.

Both girls smiled and agreed to meet me after school. I didn't realize it was happening, but it seemed I was already falling into my own little group. All I had to do was take part in a silly little séance which might at most result in some squeaking floorboards and a good laugh.

I was sitting with my new friends, enjoying this quick acceptance, when I saw him. He was beautiful, tall, blonde, and muscular all at the same time. His face was tanned and handsome in the teenage heart throb sort of way, the sort of perfect that shouldn't exist in high school.

"Who is that?" I asked my new friends.

Billie followed my eyes and then smiled when she saw who was the object of my attention, "That's Jonah Ericson."

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Ally asked.

"Every girl in school is after him," Billie added. "Even her Royal Highness Ashley."

"But he doesn't pay her a bit of attention," Ally added with a giggle.

I watched him move through the cafeteria, waving to almost everyone. He seemed completely unaware of how amazingly good looking he was. How was that even possible?

"All of us have had a crush on him at one time or another," Billie confessed with a knowing smile.

Blushing, I turned away from his perfection and refused to meet her eyes. I was grateful when the bell rang and I could escape. I promised to meet them after school and gathered my books and schedule, feeling a little more confident even though neither was in my next class.

History was my next class and it was at the other end of the building. Now that I was getting used to how the room numbers ran, I found the class easily enough and slipped into another desk in the second to the last row. I was feeling pretty convinced that I could survive the day.

Desks around me filled up as students came in. I kept my eyes down and pretended to be intent on lining up the edges of my History book and my notebook perfectly. I looked up as someone took the seat in front of me. My breath caught when I recognized Jonah Ericson.

He must have heard me gasp. Turning slightly, he smiled at me with perfect white teeth, "Hey."

I couldn't say anything. I was too stunned by seeing his perfection up close. Was it possible he was even better looking close-up? I could only imagine what he thought of me staring at him open mouthed. It obviously made him uncomfortable because he turned back around without trying to make further conversation.

The bell rang and class began. Rather than paying attention to what historical milestones we would be learning that year, I wondered if Jonah Ericson was thinking the village of Corydon just found a new idiot.

The teacher droned on about the Civil War and other events lost in time. I spent the class staring at the tanned skin of Jonah Ericson's neck. It looked strangely soft and vulnerable. If I leaned forward just a little, I could smell a trace of his cologne.

I tried to focus, but I kept getting distracted by his profile and the perfect way that his hair caught the afternoon sun in a golden halo. I was so very grateful when the bell rang and I could get out of there before I made a bigger fool of myself.

The rest of the day was a blur of more classes and more people that I didn't know. I was grateful when the final bell rang and I was free.

I met Ally and Billie outside the school and moved them away from the school as quickly as possible. I was very aware of my own voice and wasn't too sure what to do with my hands. I was ready to get away from there and relax a little.

"So," Ally began as she bounced along the sidewalk. Her stride was some sort of cross between a skip and a walk. "We're going to need some candles. Do you have some?"

"We have tons. My Mom was addicted to scented candles," I bit my lip at the last part.

Billie saw my reaction and thankfully didn't pause for sentiment. "Your Dad isn't going to freak out over this, is he?"

I reassured her, "My Dad probably isn't even home, or if he is, he'll be leaving soon. He doesn't hover."

That seemed to please them both and Billie copied Ally's happy prance. I had always envied girls with close female confidants. It was a luxury I had never really known even in my old school. There was just something about my personality that kept me from developing close friendships.

Because of that, I was in foreign territory as I opened my new home to my new friends. I had no idea what to say or do as we stood in the entry. Everything I was rehearsing in my mind sounded so stupid in my head I couldn't say it.

My Mom always knew what to say and what to do. I wished she was there to help me out, or even my dad, but he left a note on the entry table about going to look at some antiques in some place called Milltown. I was all on my own and totally lost.

Billie looked around, totally unaware of my anxiety. She let out a long sigh, "Wow."

I took a good look at the house, trying to imagine it through their eyes. The detailed moldings and spacious rooms were beautiful without being ostentatious. It was the first time I got the feeling not only was this my new home, but it was also the history I came from.

"Would you like a soda or something?" I asked, surprised by the confident tone in my voice.

Now it was them looking uncomfortable as they said no thank you and followed me up the staircase to my room. I tossed my books on my desk and plopped into the leather swivel chair, "Come on in."

Ally came in and sat down cross legged on my bed and looked around, "What was your house in Indianapolis like?"

I laughed and spun in the chair, "Not like this. We lived in a townhouse."

"This must have been a big change," Billie stated as she stretched out on the floor.

"Not really. Our townhouse wasn't small."

"So are you rich or what?" Ally blurted out.

I blushed. I'd been dreading this conversation. Would they hate me for what I had?

"Not exactly," I explained. "After my Mom died, Dad said he realized what was important. He was a partner in his law firm, owned a little real estate around the city, and stuff like that but he sold everything and moved us here."

"So, he's retired?" Billie pressed.

I could see they were trying to decide if they were going to be jealous of me or not.

"He's not exactly retired," I said. "But he made enough that he doesn't have to work for a while."

That seemed to satisfy their curiosity. Ally even added that her own father took a year off from the pharmacy when she was born.

"He said that was one of the benefits of owning your own business," She said.

I could relax then, confident I was not going to be labeled the "rich" girl. From what I saw already though, money wasn't quite as important here as it was in Indianapolis.

"So Billie, what does your Dad do?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I live with my Mom and she works up at the library."

Billie explained her Dad went out for bread and milk ten years ago and had yet to return. She spoke of her father with indifference, but I heard her admiration for her hard working mother in her voice.

Our conversation then became more casual. We talked about books we had read, movies we had seen, and music we liked. I reveled in this sudden immersion in female camaraderie. It was something so new to me that I had always thought only belonged between cheerleaders.

"So what's the story with that Ashley girl?" I asked, remembering her loud laughter in the cafeteria.

"Not much of a story," Ally said, "Her and her little pompom minions try to rule the school, but no one really pays any attention to them."

"You know the type," Billie added. "They want everyone to think that the whole world revolves around them."

"We had some girls like that at my old school."

Ally nodded as if by admitting I knew the type I was somehow agreeing with her over something, "So you know all about it. She's got perfect hair and perfect skin, but then she's a complete hater."

"The sad thing is that some of the guys at school treat her like a goddess or something." Billie complained. I wondered if there wasn't a particular boy that she had in mind.

Ally giggled, "Some of the guys, but definitely not Jonah. He wants nothing to do with her."

"Which makes her want him that much more," Billie added. "It's sort of like watching Karma in action."

I had to laugh with them over that. If my first impression of Ashley was correct, she and I were in different leagues. It was nice to have proof that someone like her could strike out too, like it balanced the universe or something. Maybe Billie was right and it was Karma.

There was more idle chatter about celebrities and clothes, and then Ally let out a dramatic sigh. "So are we doing this or not?"

"Might as well get started," Billie agreed.

I didn't really care about the séance, but I wanted to hold onto this rare moment of female bonding so I agreed.

"So what all do we need?" I asked

Billie looked puzzled, "Haven't you ever done one of these before?"

"Not really," I confessed.

Ally clapped her hands together like a little girl, almost bouncing on the bed. "Oh, this will be fun."

I brought the candles they requested and hoped the spirits didn't mind the scent of vanilla bean. As commanded, I joined the circle the two of them had started on the floor.

"Now only one person should talk at a time," Billie explained. "We don't want to confuse the spirits."

Playing along, I nodded. I didn't really expect anything to happen, but it was fun to at last take part in this ritual.

"Now join hands," Billie commanded. "And no matter what happens, don't let go."

It seemed a little overly dramatic, but I took each of their hands. Since I never did this before, who was I to judge?

"Now look into the candle flame and focus all your energy to that one spot," Billie instructed.

Again, it seemed a little over the tops, but I did as I was told and stared at the flickering flame of the candle.

Billie closed her eyes and tilted her head back, "Spirits, hear us now."

"If you're able to hear us," she went on. "Please give us a sign."

I watched the flame of the candle and waited. All of this was a little ridiculous, but it was still kind of fun to play around with the idea.

"Let me try," Ally suggested after a few more minutes. "Please give us a sign of your presence."

Again, nothing.

I strained to listen for any sound in the house, but for such an old house it was oddly quiet. I actually expected to hear the typical boards squeaking and such, but there was nothing.

"Why don't you try?" Ally proposed to me.

"What? I wouldn't even know what to say."

"Just say the things we said," Billie offered.

"But I've never done this before," I argued.

Ally squeezed my hand, "There's nothing to it. Just try."

I took a deep breath and gave it a try even though I felt very foolish.

"Spirits," I began. "I know you can hear me. Give us some sign to prove to us that you are listening."

We were all silent; patiently waiting for something that we knew wasn't going to happen. The clock in the hall ticked the minutes away.

"Try one more time," Billie ordered, "I think the flame on the candle changed."

While I was skeptical, I tried again. "Spirits, I know you are there. Give me a sign to show that you can hear me."

The flame of the candle did nothing unusual. It danced and flickered as always, not changing in any unexpected way.

I sat there, wondering how long we were going to wait before admitting that it didn't work. Ally and Billie were still looking into the flame and tilting their heads trying to hear something.

"Am I the only one that feels like an idiot?" I asked.

We all looked at each other for a brief moment before we burst out laughing. Billie had us count to three and then we released hands all at the same time.

"I don't think anything is going to happen, but better to be safe than sorry," She explained.

I leaned forward to blow out the candle, but it went out before I could even draw a breath. I stopped short and looked down at the blackened nub, debating if it really did go out on its own. There was no real proof other than the thin line of smoke still coming up from the wick.

Thinking it must have just been a random draft, I gathered the candles up and put them away. We ordered in pizza and watched television until it started getting late. Billie and Ally gathered their books and promised to see me tomorrow at school. I was waving to them from the door when Dad came home.

"New friends already?" Dad asked as he carried a box of newspaper wrapped treasures past me.

"Yeah," I answered as I watched them turn at the corner while holding the door open for him.

"So how bad was it?" Dad asked as he stepped past me and into the house.

I smiled and followed him inside, "Actually, it wasn't half bad."

I filled him in on my day and then admired his antiques as he unwrapped them one by one. He was still unpacking when I excused myself to go to bed. It was nice to see him so happy and pleased with himself. Maybe this move would be good for us.

I lay in bed, looking around my room. I wondered again how long it would be before this room really felt like mine. The only thing that was familiar was the scent of vanilla bean left over from the candles.

It was well after midnight when I awoke. Someone was in the room with me. I didn't know what it was at first that tipped me off, but I was certain that I was not alone.

I sat up in bed and listened. Someone was very close in the dark room, close enough to set off my intuition, but far enough away to be able to hide in the shadows.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted movement. I froze, moving only my eyes to see a man standing in the dark corner across from the bed.

He was young, in his early twenties, just standing there staring at me. His blue eyes were almost glowing in the dim light.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out a tousle of bronze hair and his plain button down shirt and some sort of vest. Even as I turned my head toward him, he refused to move. It was as if he had no fear of me screaming and him being discovered.

He kept staring at me. His stance was nonthreatening and his expression was a strange mix of sadness and something else I couldn't name. Why was he just standing there?

"Who are you?" I demanded, surprising myself in that I didn't feel the need to scream. "What do you want?"

The man said nothing, but continued to stare at me with those intense blue eyes.

I opened my mouth to speak and then it happened. There was a shift in the air, like that weird feeling of intense gravity before a storm, and then he was gone.

It was so strange. He was right there and then he just wasn't. He just faded away and I was left staring at a frightenly empty corner.

Without thinking, I got out of bed and went over to the corner. No one was there, but the air was frigid and cold.

I was afraid then, so afraid that my teeth began to chatter. I didn't understand what just happened. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, the last thing I wanted to do was scare Dad, but part of me wished I was still small enough to scream and have him come running.

I settled for returning to my own bed. I lay in the dark and watched that vacant corner, trying to convince myself that I imagined the whole thing.

When sleep did return, it was filled with dreams of clear blue eyes staring at me from the darkness.

# Chapter 3

The alarm woke me to what, for all appearances, was a normal morning. I switched on my lamp and looked around the room, more than a little confused. I half expected the room to be in complete disarray, but nothing was out of order.

I stared into the corner where he appeared, trying to recall every detail. The more I tried to remember, the more questions I had. What was it that woke me last night? Was it the intensity of his gaze? Who and what was he to show up in my room like that? Was he really some restless spirit we called back from hell or was he just a figment of my imagination?

The memory of the eerie glow of his eyes staring out at me from that dark corner sent a shiver up my spine. It just couldn't be real. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. Things like that just didn't happen.

In the light of the morning, the room seemed too bright, too vivid, like the walls and the furniture were waiting for something to happen. The whole house seemed to be pensive, ready for some unknown event. I listened, waiting to hear something, anything to prove to myself that I wasn't losing my mind.

"Are you there?" I called out into the sleeping silence.

Nothing answered. The only sound was the scratching of the tree against my window in the early morning breeze.

"Enough of this," I scolded myself for even considering such outlandish ideas. What was I thinking? Did I think the boogieman snuck up to my room?

I threw back the covers and got out of bed. I tried to forget all about it as I got ready for school. I tried not to think about it anymore, but I stayed clear of the far corner of my room.

After such a peculiar night, the day could only be better.

It was better since I wasn't quite so clueless as the day before. I recognized most of the students that passed me in the hall and a few even waved or said hello. It seemed like a small triumph, but I took what I could get.

No matter how hard I tried, I was distracted. I was still thinking about the phantom visitor as I pulled books out of my locker. I was so engrossed in my own thoughts; I didn't notice Ally bouncing up beside me.

"Hey, back for more punishment?" She asked with a wide smile.

"I guess," I didn't look up as I pulled books out, not even sure if they were the ones I needed.

Ally took a History book from the top of my stack and put it back in my locker. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head to clear it. "Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem blah," Ally replied sticking out her tongue.

I hesitated. Did I confess what I saw or not? After all, I only met this girl yesterday and she didn't owe me any loyalty. I really didn't want to serve my time in high school as the girl who sees things that aren't there.

"I was just thinking about last night," I tried to move on to another subject. "Where's Billie?"

"Her first class is at the other end of the building," Ally explained as she turned and walked down the hall with me. "Are you upset about last night or something?"

"No, of course not," I assured her with a nervous laugh.

Ally didn't seem convinced. She followed beside me with her bouncing stride, "Look, that stuff doesn't always work and none of us really believe in it anyway, sometimes things happen and sometimes they don't."

"And what if something _did_ happen?" I asked before I could stop myself.

The bell rang and saved me from any further explanation, but I saw the expression on her face. I gave her a quick wave and ran off to class. Great. It was only my second day and I'm already the crazy girl.

I walked into Science in a daze, stumbling to my desk where I hoped I wouldn't be noticed. I didn't speak in class and I didn't make contact with anyone. Of course that meant Mr. Coomes was bound and determined to call on me again and again.

I did try to focus on what he was saying, but Science was never my favorite subject and I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to the ghostly figure in my room. I was certain I hadn't imagined it, but how could it have been real?

As much as I was hating Science, I kept willing the clock to move slower. I was dreading English class and Ally's questions about what I had meant at my locker. Why did I have to open my big mouth?

I went into Geometry and tried to pretend to pay attention, but I kept getting that sick feeling deep down in my stomach.

When the bell rang, I took my time walking down the hall. Everyone moved past me in the hall, smiling and joking with each other. They were all completely unaware I was about to become the running joke of the day.

Ashley Richardson was standing outside my English class, speaking with a few of her followers. She stared at me with curiosity as I approached. Had it already started? Had she already heard how crazy I was?

She watched me as I approached the door, smirking to her court.

"You're new, aren't you?" She asked as soon as I was close enough.

At my old school, it would have been exciting for a cheerleader to speak to me, but my experiences there taught me to be wary. Cheerleaders were another breed and should always be approached with caution.

"Yes," I said, guarded. "I'm Becca McAllister."

"I didn't ask what your name was loser," Ashley snickered, obviously pleased with herself for the set up. Her friends giggled with her. I watched them turn and go down the hall only slightly stinging from their rejection.

I was right, even here, cheerleaders are another breed. Could the day get any worse?

I walked in as the bell rang, taking my seat just as Mrs. Temple began class. Ally turned in her seat to throw me a questioning look, but the teacher called on her and she had to face the front again. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I knew that my reprieve was short-lived.

I was dreading lunch. I knew I had to say something to explain, but I wasn't sure what it would be. Part of me wanted to just blurt out the entire story, but the more rational part of me knew that it would be social suicide.

Mrs. Temple began her introduction to the thematic elements of _Hamlet_. I tried to concentrate on the lesson, I really did, but my mind kept wandering between what to tell Ally and the mysterious apparition in my room. No matter what I did, I kept going back to that man standing in the shadows.

Every detail was becoming clearer as the fear ebbed away. His skin, if that's what it was supposed to be, was smooth and poreless. There was an illusion of stubble on his chin, but it was very faint. His brown hair had glittered with bronze as if an unseen light was playing across the strands. And then there were those eyes...Those soulful blue eyes that never wavered until he faded away into the blackness.

It must have been obvious I was day dreaming because Mrs. Temple called on me every few minutes. I gave my answers, grateful I paid attention last year at my old school when we studied the play, and then went back to thinking about those intense blue eyes.

Who was he? Where did he come from?

I jumped when the lunch bell rang, giving Ally the quick excuse that I forgot my lunch in my locker. I didn't wait for her to offer to walk with me. I was out the door and down the hall before she could get up from her desk.

I knew she was waiting for me to explain, but my first thought was finding somewhere to hide until lunch was over. The problem was, being new to the school, if there were any good hiding places; I didn't know where they were yet. I decided I couldn't hide forever, so I got my lunch out of my locker and went to face my new friends.

When I got to the cafeteria, Ally and Billie were already there waiting for me. I could only assume that by the way they were leaning towards each other so secretively as they whispered, that Ally was filling Billie in on what I had said that morning. I thought about turning around and walking back out the door, but Billie spotted me and waved. Ally turned and saw me and began frantically motioning me to come over and sit down.

Seeing no way to escape, I walked over and sat down. "Hey guys, what's up?"

They both looked at me like I just grew two heads. Billie let her hands drop to the table, "Don't be cute. Ally said that you told her something happened last night after we left."

"I didn't say that exactly," I mumbled.

Ally fidgeted in her chair, "No, but you kind of sort of did."

There was no use in trying to deny it. My one moment of carelessness put me on the spot, but I still didn't want to be the creepy crazy girl so I downplayed it all as much as possible. "Look, I don't know what I saw."

"What do you think you saw?" Ally asked wide-eyed.

I paused, biting my lip and trying to think of what to say and how much to say. If I said too much they would think I was insane or lying, either way they wouldn't want anything to do with me. I couldn't lose the only two friends I had managed to make.

"I thought I saw something," I began. I was trying to gauge what I said based on their expressions. Seeing only interest, I went on. "It was just something in the corner of my room. One second it was there and the next it was gone."

"What was it?" Ally asked in amazement.

I looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "I think it was a man."

"Who was it?" Billie asked, one eyebrow going up in a flag of doubt.

I bit my lip again and changed my tactic. "I don't know. I don't even know if it was real. Like I said, it was there and then it wasn't."

I didn't wait for either of them to respond. I gathered my things. "I've got to go. I'll see you later, okay?"

It didn't matter where I went. I just knew I had to get away from their questions before I said too much.

Another class was coming into the cafeteria as I was trying to squeeze out one of the doors. In my haste, I collided with Jonah Ericson. My books and papers scattered at his feet.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," I stammered, kneeling down to collect my things.

He smiled with perfectly straight and white teeth, "I ran into you and you're apologizing?"

I sensed myself blushing and felt like a stupid little girl for being thrilled that the school jock was speaking to me and kneeling in the floor with me. Could I be anymore pathetic? He was just so handsome with his perfect face and gorgeous hair.

"I should've watched where I was going."

"Are you always this hard on yourself?" He asked, apparently oblivious to my agony. He just kept smiling. "You're that new girl, aren't you?"

We stood as he handed me a handful of my notes and papers.

"Yeah, I'm Becca McAllister."

"Well Becca McAllister," Jonah said with another brilliant smile. "I'll see you in History class."

He walked off to join a group of fellow jocks in the line, obviously too important to be troubled with bringing his lunch. I hated myself, but I couldn't help but stare after him. He glanced back at me one more time with the beautiful smile and the after sun playing in his golden hair.

At my old school, I always despised girls that fell all over themselves for the school's top jock, but just a few brief minutes with Jonah Ericson and one glimpse of that brilliant smile and I was hooked.

Before going to History class, I did something I had never done before. I went into the restroom to check my appearance. It was still just my same old face looking back at me, but now there was an excited flush to my cheeks. All because Jonah Ericson spoke to me.

Unfortunately, Ashley Richardson also decided to visit that bathroom mirror before class. She walked in and edged her way in beside me, applying her red lip gloss and eyeing me in the mirror.

"You are so pathetic," She said with a giggle. "Getting yourself all worked up over Jonah."

Ashley gave me an insincere smile, blew a kiss to her reflection and left me there.

I smoothed my hair, but had no lip gloss, so I scowled at my image and headed toward class.

As I walked down the hall toward class, I couldn't help wishing my life was one of those feel good teenage movies where the perfect guy falls for the new girl no one knows, then there's the magical kiss, some sort of happy song, and then the names of the real people would scroll up the screen.

I walked with more confidence, fully wrapped up in my fantasies. I held my breath as I walked through the door. Jonah Ericson wasn't there yet. I let out a relieved sigh and went to my seat.

My heart was pounding in my ears. I tried to focus on calming down and slowing my racing pulse, so grateful he wasn't there yet. I could feel the hot blood in my cheeks. I closed my eyes and tried to take measured, even breaths.

I heard movement in the desk in front of me. I slowly opened my eyes. There right in front of me was Jonah Ericson.

He was turned slightly, talking to the girl in the desk to his left. I didn't remember her name from yesterday, but I immediately envied her for his attention. His picture perfect face was open and friendly with a slight smile on his perfect lips. His blond hair waved just enough, making him look more like a walking model for hair products than an ordinary high school student.

I tried to focus on Mr. Abramson's lecture on the Louisiana Purchase, but my thoughts were everywhere. I couldn't look to the front of the room where he was writing on the blackboard without getting distracted by the perfection of Jonah Ericson.

His dark grey tee-shirt clung to his tanned skin, outlining his biceps where the material ended. Whenever he would turn his head to check the wall clock, I would get a glimpse of his gorgeous profile. I was enthralled, studying every detail of him, even breathing through my nose so I could get faint whiffs of his cologne.

When my admiration was cut short by the bell, Jonah left without ever once noticing me.

I passed him twice more in the hall that day. The first time he walked by without so much as a glance over to me, but oh that second time. It was right after the last class and people were in a hurry to get out of there as soon as possible and on to whatever activities school had interrupted.

I was at my locker, trying to hurry before Ally and Billie could catch me and ask more questions. I had just shut the locker door and turned to leave when I saw Jonah. He was so perfect with the afternoon sun in his face, smiling with easy confidence that only popular people know. He was like a Greek Adonis among mortals.

As I was standing there, admiring the perfection of his existence, I thought about how the nape of his neck must smell like vanilla wafers. He stunned me by giving me a casual wave.

"See you tomorrow Becca," He called out.

I could only stare after him. I knew I should say something, but couldn't form the words. He shrugged and kept walking. He was well down the hall before I could make my mouth work.

"See you tomorrow," I whispered.

Great. He must think I'm some sort of mental defect. He's also probably used to girls stammering every time he came within two feet of them. I was so embarrassed. Why did I have to humiliate myself in front of the exact person I wanted to impress?

I should have been thinking about Geometry homework, my assignment on Hamlet, or anything academic, but all I could think about as I left the school was that Jonah Ericson spoke my name. Not only did he speak my name (twice), but he formed the syllables on those delicious lips.

The blush was still on my cheeks when I slammed my locker shut. By sheer luck, I evaded Ally and Billie. I blended into a group of fleeing students as I made it to the sidewalk. I didn't calm down until I turned the corner and was out of sight of the school.

I relaxed a little then, taking the time to notice the beautiful flower gardens of the other houses on the block. People sat on front porches sipping iced tea or stood at the edge of their gardens clipping the fragrant blooms. It was another of those Norman Rockwell moments that would seem so out of place anywhere else, but so perfectly normal here in Corydon.

Too soon I stepped into the shadows of the giant oaks in the yard. A chill overtook me and I knew I was home.

It was as if a hush fell over the world as I stepped onto the stone walkway. I could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze and the far off call of a raven.

What a creepy sound, I thought as I looked up at the dark and deserted porches. Even in the daylight, the house seemed gloomy and waiting, looming over the other houses on the street.

The sky was bright and shinning above the house, intense blue and burning, but it couldn't reach the shadows of this house. I walked under the canopy of the oaks and into the house.

Inside, despite the comfortable hum of the air conditioning, the entry still held the memory of the day's heat. The scent of a century's worth of sunlight baking the old wood was oddly comforting.

I went up the staircase and into my room. Setting my books on my desk, I turned to the far corner of my room. There was nothing there, just a faint trace of dust particles dancing in the afternoon sun, but still I shivered.

I squinted my eyes, straining to see something, anything, but there was nothing. Stepping into the center of my room, I starred up at the ceiling.

"Are you there?" I whispered.

Nothing.

I turned in a slow circle, waiting for something to happen. Only minutes passed before I began to feel ridiculous.

"Okay Becca," I said to myself. "It was only a dream, time to move on."

I laughed at the absurdity of it all and walked out of my room, closing the door behind me. I felt a little saner as I walked toward the staircase, telling myself over and over that it was just a dream.

With that settled, I could let my mind wander back to the really important detail of the day. Jonah Ericson spoke to me! I almost skipped down the stairs.

My footsteps echoed as I went from room to room looking for my dad. I didn't see him anywhere so I went into the kitchen to get a soda. Taking a can from the plastic cooler on the counter, I opened it and took a few long gulps.

Standing at the sink, I looked out the window into the backyard. Off in the far left corner of the yard was my dad, carrying a notebook and walking through what appeared to be the overgrown remnants of a rose garden.

That part of the yard held only ragged patches of grass with the branches of rose bushes blocking paths here and there. Across the back, near the property line were tall trellises, leaning under the weight of the climbing roses. It was beautiful, but wild and unkempt.

It came to me in a jarring flash, the thick scent of roses in the air and heavy metal pruners in my hand. It was so foreign to me, but to that other me, it seemed so natural and right, like this was something I did often. Someone was in that garden with that other version of me, saying something that made me turn to him.

In that tilting moment, I brought my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. I was trying to see the man that stood in the garden with me, just as the face was coming into focus it was distorted again, this time by a pair of radiant blue eyes.

Everything blurred then as if I was spinning in circles. I couldn't breathe! I dropped my soda and clutched the porcelain sink with both hands.

What was that?

I looked down at the sink where my soda can lay on its side, the contents foaming down the drain. I gasped for air, my skin clammy, as my teeth began to chatter. What was happening? Was I losing my mind?

My pulse was racing, making my blood roar in my ears. All of a sudden my throat was tingling and tight. I wanted my mother. I wanted my old life.

I heard Dad stepping up to the screened porch, scraping his shoes on the edge of the concrete. He opened the wooden screen door and let it slam behind him with a bang. I dried my eyes with shaking fingers and washed the remnants of my soda down the drain.

"Home already?" he asked as he came through the kitchen door. "How was school?"

"It was fine," That was all I could say without the shrill note of panic creeping into my voice.

He tossed his notebook on the table and clapped his hands together. "You ready for me to start dinner?"

He sounded so cheerful, too cheerful. My mother was always the one taking care of the domestic chores. It really saddened me to see him trying so hard.

"Sure," I said even though it was way too early for me to be hungry yet. "What's for dinner?"

"Pork chops and mashed potatoes." He answered as he pushed me into a chair, "Just sit there, relax, and talk to me while I work."

I felt self-conscious sitting there and doing nothing while he worked. I watched him move from the plastic coolers, to the sink, to the stove, and grappled to think of something to talk about.

"So, when are they delivering the new refrigerator?" I finally asked.

He coated the pork chops in flour before dropping them into the sizzling skillet, "Tomorrow I hope. That will finish up everything in here and I'll be ready to move on to the outside."

"Is that why you were out by the roses?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

He poured a little milk into the potatoes and worked at mashing them. "Yeah, that rose garden is over a hundred years old and it's in sad shape. I've got a landscaper coming tomorrow to take a look at it and the other gardens out back and to do some fine tuning on the front."

"One hundred years old," I repeated, remembering that spinning feeling. "Really?"

"I'm boring you," Dad stated, completely misinterpreting my tone. "So tell me what the school is like? Made anymore friends?"

"Well, Ally is in my English class and she introduced me to Billie. They were the two girls that were here last night. That's all I've actually met." With one amazing exception, but I wasn't about to discuss Jonah Ericson with my dad.

He pulled plates out of the cabinet and silverware from the drawer, "It just takes a while. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"I know I will," I said with a smile to reassure him. "It's just very different from what I'm used to."

Dad filled our plates before bringing them to the table, "Yeah, small towns work a little differently."

"How so?" I asked, taking the plate he offered, surprised by how delicious the food looked and smelled.

"Well," Dad said as he got both of us a soda from the cooler. "They can be a very accepting place."

I took the soda he offered and opened it. "Yeah, I noticed that, there are not really any cliques in this school. Everyone seems to know and like everyone else."

Dad laughed, "Don't let it fool you. Small towns can also be very critical of anyone that's different."

"Why is that?"

He shrugged, "I guess it's just because since everyone knows everyone, there's no way to keep a secret."

I remembered my possible status as the new crazy girl if Ally and Billie decided to turn on me. I felt a little sick to my stomach and couldn't finish my delicious dinner.

We were mostly silent for the rest of the meal. I cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher while Dad went into the other room to watch television. I went upstairs to do my homework.

I was deep into Hamlet when the phone rang. I jumped to get to it on my night table before it interrupted my dad's news program.

"Hey," Ally's voice echoed over the line. "You took off so quick after school we didn't get a chance to talk."

"Sorry, I had something I had to do."

"It's okay." She replied. "It's just after what you said this morning and at lunch, I wanted to make sure that you were alright. Are you okay?"

Was she just being nice as a way to trick me or was she really concerned?

"I'm okay," I said with a nervous laugh.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I guess it was just a dream," I offered up as an excuse. "It just seemed so real that I guess I got confused."

"Hey, it happens," she said. "You know once I dreamed that me and Billie had a huge fight and it was lunchtime before I figured out for sure that it was just a dream. So yeah, they can seem pretty real sometimes."

I breathed a sigh of relief. The possibility of me being the new crazy girl was fading away.

"It did seem real," I confessed. "But I'm okay now."

"Glad to hear it," Ally chirped. "I've got tons of homework, so I'll just see you at school tomorrow."

I got off the phone with her and went back to my homework, finishing up just as it was starting to get dark. Rather than go back downstairs, I decided to take my shower and call it an early night. After so much tension thanks to my hallucination the night before, I was exhausted and ready to go to sleep.

Maybe I'll dream about Jonah Ericson, I thought as I settled down for the night. Laying there in the darkness, removed from the awe of his presence, I felt so very ordinary. It was so pathetic and predictable, me liking him, a stupid schoolgirl crush.

It took me a long while to fall asleep that night. I lay awake listening to the creaks and groans of the old house, willing sleep to come. That was the night the dreams began.

In my dream, I was in the rose garden and it was late afternoon. I wore a long full, skirt. I could feel the weight of it swirling around me as I moved. I lifted my skirts, noticing the white undersleeves covering my arms, and followed the mossy stone path back to the far corner of the garden where the roses grew rambling and wild.

The setting sun didn't reach this part of the yard and the tall back hedges blocked out the afternoon light so that the shadows had already taken hold of the garden. It was cooler here and the crickets were already chirping.

I breathed in the early evening air, pungent with the scent of the roses and summer honeysuckle. Life was good. It was always good here.

From behind came strong male arms to hold me close. I didn't scream. Whoever this was, I welcomed his touch.

I turned to face this man, but a random ray of setting sun was in my eyes blinding me. I caught a fleeting glimpse of his piercing blue eyes before his lips covered mine.

His kiss bruised my lips but left me craving more as he nibbled at my neck as his fingers pulled at the buttons of my dress. My naked skin was helpless against him as his kisses left my flesh burning. All too slowly this man moved back up to my lips. I was starving for the taste of him as he lowered me to the soft earth.

I woke up panting, filled with yearning, and longing for something I couldn't name.

"Do you still believe that I am only a dream?" A voice asked in the darkness, soft and beseeching.

I sat up in bed, clutching the blankets to my chest and searching the darkness for the source of the voice.

He stood in the corner, starring out from the shadows with brilliant blue eyes. His voice was so raw and emotional, tempting me even as I feared it. His perfect face was so very human, appearing sad and wounded.

I couldn't believe it. Just when I convinced myself that I imagined everything, he was back. His face perfect and so real, I could see the faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks. I could even see the lines of his sensual lips.

The light from my window played upon his ghostly form, falling upon his white shirt and open suit vest. The texture of the clothing so very different from whatever it was that made up his body.

I was shaking, trying to make myself focus completely on him. He was tall and lean, but with a muscular cut to his arms where his shirt was rolled to his elbows. His hair was a light brown, almost bronze, and mussed as if he had just ran his hands through it.

The fear was overwhelming, squeezing me tight. "Who are you?"

His blue eyes were unwavering, his voice seductive. "Do you not recognize me, my love?"

I felt a scream rise in my throat and hang there, making it difficult to breathe. His lips barely moved when he spoke, but yet his voice was clear and strong.

"Why are you here?" I demanded, panic starting to rise to the surface.

The apparition began to tremble and break apart. His voice came in a sweet caress, "I am here because of you."

And he was gone.

# Chapter 4

When my eyes opened the next morning, the world seemed no different.

It didn't seem that it should be that way since I felt so different. I couldn't explain it to anyone if I tried. I wasn't really afraid. I wasn't crazy. That thing had appeared again and this time it spoke to me.

Sitting up in bed, I looked around the room. There was no trace of my ghostly visitor.

Everything looked so perfectly ordinary. My books were sitting on my desk where I left them, my clothes were draped over the chair, and the bathroom door was slightly ajar. Everything was just like I left it.

How was it possible everything could look every bit as common as the day before?

I stretched my neck to examine the floorboards in the corner, they appeared normal and boring. The corner where the being stood was vacant in the morning light, but that was okay. I knew what I saw and heard.

It didn't matter that nothing was in chaos. It didn't matter there was no trace of the ghostly intruder. He was real, and he was there. I could feel him watching me from some invisible place.

"I know that you're there," I whispered.

I waited a moment to see if he would respond. The house creaked and groaned, but far off there was something else, almost like breathing, but not quite. It was almost an electric hum, but lower and more primal.

"I'm not afraid of you," I declared to the empty air.

With some reluctance, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I was a little embarrassed, not sure if an unseen man was watching me. I tried not to think about the possibility of a ghost seeing me naked. Many times while I was getting ready for school, I stopped and listened for some sign he was near.

Dad was already up and drinking coffee at the kitchen table when I came downstairs. After a quick "good morning", he began making telephone calls to more contractors, speaking to me only between calls when he was dialing the next telephone number.

I didn't mind his distraction. I was too preoccupied. I just kept thinking about what I saw and heard the night before, and how I knew for sure now that I wasn't crazy.

The thing that I was seeing in my room was real. I saw him with my own eyes and heard him with my own ears. He was NOT a figment of my imagination.

I ate my cereal so fast that I barely tasted it. I was excited about the day. I didn't have to worry about being crazy anymore and that was enough to improve my mood. Ghost haunting the house? That's fine; just don't let me be the crazy new girl.

Part of me knew that I should be concerned about this spirit that kept appearing to me, but I couldn't make myself worry about it. I couldn't make myself afraid of him. I wasn't crazy, which was all that mattered.

Dad didn't look up as I gathered my things and he gave me a distracted wave when I said goodbye. I didn't let it bother me. He was wrapped up in his new project and it was good to see him excited about something. Mom would be pleased to see him so happy. I always pictured her still worrying about him.

We were in unchartered territory, Dad and me. In my life, he spent most of his time at work. I would see him for a few hours on the weekends and that was it, and then my Mom died. Now two years later, we were still familiar strangers unsure of what to say to each other.

I stopped in the hall and gathered my purse and books. The air was cool there, untouched yet by the sunshine coming through windows.

Flipping through the pages of my notebook, I felt a chill go up my spine. I turned and looked around the hall. There was a thick rug going the length of the hall and as I watched, it disappeared and the chandelier overhead was lit with candles.

Out of the corner of my eye, in the doorway of the office, I caught movement. My breath caught in my throat. I forgot that I wasn't afraid. I backed against the wall, staring at the empty doorway, waiting for the spirit to show himself.

"Go away," I demanded under my breath.

Minutes went by and nothing happened. The rug returned and the candles disappeared. I waited just a moment more and then with one last glance back, I left the shadows of the hall.

I stepped out into the sharp light of the morning and stumbled down the stone walkway. I told myself over and over I was not afraid of whatever it was in that house.

I calmed down on the walk to school and let my mind wander. Who was this spirit? What did he want?

It seemed impossible to me that me and my new friends had conjured him up all on our own, but yet, here he was.

I was just about to step off the sidewalk when I heard it, that seductive voice from the night before.

"Becca stop!" The voice commanded, urgent, and from nowhere.

It happened in slow motion, I could see so many details all at once and frozen in time.

Across the street, in the window of Magdalena's Restaurant, was the reflection of a man, but there was no one there. The face was distorted, fearful and intense, and then the voice came again from unmoving lips.

"Do not move!" He ordered.

I saw it then, the white pickup speeding by. The sunlight glared off the bumper as it passed; close enough that I could feel the hot air of the exhaust. It was loud and solid as it went by—exactly where I would have crossed.

I froze, poised on the edge of the curb. I looked around me, waiting to see if anyone else had heard the voice. People were just going on about their daily routine as if they were unaware of how close I came to being annihilated.

Back across the street, the phantom was still in the window, staring at me with his entrancing blue eyes. I stood there gasping, unable to move, unable to do anything but look at him.

It was easier to see the vivid details of him in the light of day. He seemed tall, lean almost. His hair was a strange coppery brown and fell in reluctant strands over his intense blue eyes. He was younger than I first thought; making me think he must have only been a few years older than me when he died.

I shuddered at the thought and focused on the spirit's eyes as the image started to fade. That voice from nowhere came again, teasing my ears and washing over me like a caress.

"My beloved," It said and was gone.

I felt a scream pushing against the walls of my throat and my knees began to tremble. I told myself again that I was not afraid of him and walked the rest of the way to school in a daze.

In keeping with the spirit of the treacherous start, the day that followed was uneasy, embarrassing, and by the last bell eventful.

Its ridiculous routine and mundane classes kept getting in the way of my thoughts. While I knew what to expect from my day, I was still too new to not pay attention in my classes and what was going on around me.

Walking down the hall, a few more people said hello to me than the day before, but none of them actually went through the trouble of introducing themselves. I guess they figured after two days in the small school, I should know everyone's name. I shook my head, some other day I would insult them by asking who they were.

English class was torture with Ally chattering away. I couldn't concentrate long enough to put two cohesive thoughts together and that made it all too easy for the memory of that ghostly spirit to come rushing back.

While the teacher was going on and on about iambic pentameter and the thematic elements of _Hamlet_ , I was remembering the handsome face in the shadows and the melodic voice.

I let my mind wander, giving myself over to it. I saw the man's hands, slender but strong in the moonlight. My memory traveled up his forearms, the tendons and muscles appearing close under the phantom skin. I saw his shoulders, broad beneath the course fabric of his shirt. I willed myself to move up to his bare neck, browned by the sun. Almost there now, my memory traveled up to his face, so luminous and perfect, all the way up to the shimmering blue eyes.

I awoke with a start, slamming my hands down onto my desk. I hadn't realized I had even dozed off and now everyone turned in their seats to look back at me, some of them smiling in amusement. Ally questioned me with her eyes, but I just shook my head so she would turn back around.

Wanting to sink into the floor, I apologized to Mrs. Temple and tried to focus and stay awake for the rest of the class. I looked down at my English book and fought the embarrassed tears welling up in my eyes.

Lunch should have been a relief, but it was no better.

I picked at my food, not really hungry and not really listening to my friends as they talked.

I should be like Billie and Ally, talking about boys, clothes, and other things that don't matter. That should be what was on my mind, not the things that went bump in the night.

Ally waved her hand in front of my face.

"Becca, are you okay?" She asked.

I shifted in my chair, embarrassed I was caught daydreaming again.

"I'm fine," I whispered.

Billie crunched her potato chips loudly, "You sure? You look kind of sick."

"I'm just tired," I explained. "I didn't really sleep good last night."

"More bad dreams?" Ally asked with a teasing smile.

I lowered my eyes to the table, "Something like that."

I excused myself from lunch early, needing some peace and quiet before I had to pretend to be paying attention.

The door to my next class was unlocked, so I slipped in for some peace and quiet. According to the clock, I had another ten minutes before class started. I folded my arms on my desk and let my head sink down. Maybe if I sneaked in a quick nap, I'd be able to concentrate better for the second half of the day.

It wasn't a deep sleep because I was still aware of the voices traveling up and down the hall. Still, it felt good to close my eyes and just drift.

I heard lockers slam outside the door and a pair of giggling girls walked by, but for the most part it was quiet.

My mind cleared a little as I rested there. The groggy sensation lifted enough that I wasn't frustrated when I heard someone else come in the room; I just assumed it was getting close to time for the class to start. I still didn't open my eyes.

"Are you okay?" A velvety voice asked in a hushed whisper.

"Yes," I said, still not opening my eyes.

The velvety voice moved closer, "We haven't had a chance to really talk that much yet."

Who was this idiot that would not shut up and let me rest?

I opened my eyes and sat up with a start. Jonah Ericson sat across from me smiling with very even, very white teeth. I could only sit there staring at him with an open mouth, not the impression anyone would want to make.

"So you said your name is Becca," he said with that easy smile. "Why aren't you a Beckie or a full-fledged Rebecca?"

The sound of my name on his lips made my stomach flutter.

"I don't know," I stammered. "I've just always been a Becca."

Another flash of brilliant white teeth, "I like it. It's unusual."

I shrugged my shoulders and dropped my eyes. I didn't want to be unusual.

"So how are you liking Corydon?" He asked.

I looked up at him, knowing I should say something, but not sure how to make my mouth work. He was just too perfect to be talking to the likes of me.

"What do you mean?" I finally asked.

That perfect smile grew even wider, "It's a simple enough question. Do you like Corydon so far?"

I dropped my eyes again; maybe it would be easier to speak if I didn't look directly at him.

"Fine I guess," I mumbled.

"Only fine?" He teased.

"All that I've done so far is go to school," I confessed.

"That doesn't sound like much fun."

I sighed, "Nothing about this move has been fun."

Jonah nodded, "So I take it your Mom and Dad didn't ask your opinion before moving here."

"My Mom is dead," I said much harsher than I meant to. "My Dad grew up here and it's always been his dream for some reason to come back."

Thankfully, he ignored my rudeness. He only smiled again and nodded, "I take it you don't see much charm to it and just went along with the idea?"

"I guess so," I said with a nervous smile.

Jonah laughed, showing even more teeth. "It'll get better, I promise."

I stole a quick glance up at him and then quickly back down to my hands. He was just too handsome this close up. He made it hard to concentrate.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, sure that there was nothing that could make the situation better.

"Well, you need to see more of Corydon than just the school. You should come to the quarry Saturday."

"The quarry?"

"The rock quarry," He explained. "All of us go for a swim up there the last weekend in August. Sort of like our last hurrah of the summer. I'm sure someone will tell you about it."

I was too stunned to speak. He was asking me to be at the same place he was going to be. Why did that seem like such a big thing to me?

"So what part of Corydon did you move to?" He asked. It seemed he was bound and determined to keep me talking.

I tried not to get distracted by his looks again, but I couldn't help but to sneak a peek and then I had to struggle to remember what he even asked.

"Um, we moved into one of the houses on Capitol Avenue."

"Wow," He said with another brilliant smile. He leaned a little closer, "So have you seen any ghosts yet?"

My heart skipped a beat in my chest. Oh my God! I looked away quickly, "What do you mean?"

Jonah shrugged, "Nothing, forget about it. So, the quarry, will you think about it?"

I nodded my agreement just as Mr. Abramson called the class to order. I forced myself to at least try to pay attention. I couldn't believe Jonah Ericson spoke to me again and the only impression I made on him was "unusual".

Jonah was facing the front and seemed attentive to whatever it was that the teacher was saying. He was perfectly at ease in his body, leaning back in his chair. I fought the urge to lean close enough to smell his hair.

What was wrong with me? I was a basket case and he had probably already forgotten out brief conversation. I had to pull it together.

On top of all the other thoughts bouncing around in my head like if I believed in ghosts and what that thing was in my room, now I had to add a failed conversation with the perfect Jonah Ericson to the list.

When the bell rang, I was on my feet and out the door before I could make a bigger fool of myself. I didn't even look at Jonah Ericson on my way out. I didn't want to take the chance of making myself look any worse.

Dad was gone when I got home from school. I was sort of relieved to be alone. Ally and Billie both promised to call me later, but for now I could relax and it was nice to not have to try so hard to be normal.

I tossed my books onto the entry table and went into the living room. I didn't really know what to do with myself. I was thinking way too much about too many things all at once. I was still trying to make sense of the spirit in my room, the spirit appearing in the window, and Jonah Ericson. I tried watching television to take my mind off it all, but I ended up staring up at the screen, but not really seeing it.

I didn't know how much time passed. One minute I was watching a baby's paternity test results being announced on a talk show and the next thing I knew some infomercial guy was overly excited about car wax.

I had to get out of the house. I could feel it closing in around me, waiting for some unknown event to take place. I grabbed my copy of Hamlet and headed out to the backyard.

Outside in the large, square yard, I sat down under the closest oak tree, and leaned back against the trunk. Stretching out my legs and crossing them at the ankles, I thumbed through the pages of my book even though I had no intension of reading it.

It was miserable hot. The air was still and unmoving. I was shielded from the sidewalk and road, making me invisible to the rest of the world. The only things that seemed aware of my presence were the birds and even they were growing quiet as the afternoon wore on.

From where I was sitting, I could look out over the tangled rose garden. I knew immediately I chose the wrong place to relax. Suddenly all I could think of was the vision of that other me holding the pruners.

I closed my eyes, wanting to forget about the rose garden, the house, and the mysterious spirit that seemed to haunt the place. I'm not going to think about it, I told myself.

A slight breeze came and blew through my hair, carrying with it the sound of rustling leaves that echoes my name.

Becca...Becca...They called.

I refused to open my eyes, even as the whispered echoes grew louder and more rapid. It was overpowering, the faint voices coming in waves, getting louder and louder. It was reaching a frenzy when one voice overcame the others.

"Becca?" Dad called out the kitchen door, summoning me in for dinner.

I opened my eyes and sat up, a little shocked to see the light starting to fade. I jumped up, suddenly anxious, with an overwhelming sensation I was not alone. I didn't see anything, but I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched from the shadows.

I glanced around one last time and went inside.

Our meal was a lively one with Dad going over his plans for the house. He was so engrossed that I just had to nod or smile at the appropriate places and he thought I was participating.

He was so busy talking; he had barely touched his plate when I asked to be excused.

"You don't want any dessert?" Dad asked, stunned I would pass up sweets. "I got a chocolate cake at the store."

"No thanks," I said. "I'm just going to go up and do my homework."

"Well, don't stay up too late," Dad warned. "You're looking tired."

I agreed. He was thumbing through his notebook of ideas before I even got out of the room and I was sure he forgot all about me before I even got to the top of the stairs.

Once inside my room, I tried to do my homework, but I couldn't focus. Much like it was with the television earlier; I was looking at the books, but not really seeing them.

It was a relief when Billie called my cell phone.

"Hey whatcha doing?" She asked.

"Just homework. Nothing exciting."

"Well, I'll just tell you this real fast," Billie insisted. "I wanted to let you know what was going on this weekend."

"The quarry?"

"Who told you?" She asked, seeming offended someone beat her to it.

I decided it would be better to lie. "A few people have mentioned it to me."

"Did they mention that everyone goes?"

"Yes. It's some sort of tradition, right?"

Billie laughed, "None of us really care about that part, but yeah, it's become sort of a tradition."

"Sounds great," I said sarcastically.

"It is," she said. "Are you in?"

I hesitated, not relishing the idea of parading around in a bathing suit. Then I remembered that Jonah Ericson went out of his way to tell me about it. How could I not go?

"Sure," I said before I could change my mind.

Billie promised we would talk about it at school tomorrow and hung up. I was just about to give up on my homework and go to bed when a slight breeze came and fluttered the pages of my books.

Where did that come from? I turned to look at my windows, both were latched tight. I waited a moment to see if anything else would happen, but when the air remained still and nothing happened or appeared, I went on to bed.

I slipped back into dreams that night. My shadow-self walked down the staircase. Rich moonlight lit the walls as I floated down the entryway.

I could feel the caress of fine linen and lace over my body and the weight of my hair down my back. My hand on the banister was pale and glowing white in the light of the moon. I felt exactly the same, but still so very different.

All of our furniture was gone, and in its place were strange pieces that I knew were antique, but that looked oddly new. It made no sense, but that other me did not seem surprised.

At the foot of the staircase stood the man that I saw in the reflection of the restaurant window. He looked up at me with a slight smile on his sensual lips, taking my hand once I was within his reach.

"My beloved," he whispered. "I have been waiting for you."

The man's face shattered then into hundreds of pieces of blue light, each cutting threw me. I could taste the blood; I could see it smeared on the wall.

"Yes, my beloved," came the invisible voice. "I've been waiting for you."

I bolted upright in my bed, gasping for air and still feeling his touch on my hand. I could feel him watching me. I could feel him waiting for me.

# Chapter 5

Saturday arrived in a burst of brightness that woke me from my restless slumber. I opened my eyes again to my perfectly normal room, but this time it was ablaze in a hazy light. Judging from the intensity of the early morning sun, the day was going to be a scorcher.

When I mentioned my plans to my Dad the night before, he became very enthusiastic about the whole thing, even sharing his own story about swimming at the quarry. I had no idea the tradition went that far back.

He actually made me a little self-conscious the way he kept going on about how wonderful it was that I had made friends and was accepted. Was it really so surprising?

"I'm glad you've made some nice friends," he said for the tenth time. "I'm sure you all will have a great time."

"Thanks," I said before retreating to my room. I couldn't help it; his ridiculous excitement was wearing on my nerves.

Billie and Ally came to get me just after lunch. I looked out the front window and recognized Ally's mom's black Toyota. They were both in great moods and were a nostalgic type of beautiful in their bikini tops and cut off shorts. I was dressed that way too, but they made it look so easy.

It was only a ten minute ride out to the quarry. I sat in the backseat, laughing as they sang along to the radio at the top of their lungs. We rolled the windows down and enjoyed the hot, dry air on our skins.

I wanted to be like them, carefree and beautiful, but I didn't know how. I could only bask in the glow of their splendor and abandon. I couldn't really be a part of it. I didn't know how. The most I could hope for was to be guided by their gravitational pull.

I'd never seen a quarry, so I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I saw it from the road first, through a scattering of trees, the sudden rocky stop to the surrounding hills. The water below was clear, glass-like, reflecting the rocky cliff above. Along the crest were dense groups of trees. As I looked up, it seemed impossible to believe that we would be able to walk through them.

Ally turned at a sharp angle onto a winding gravel road full of dusty potholes and lined by trees. The view of the quarry disappeared behind weedy undergrowth and thorn bushes. The car rocked back and forth, making me think that only in Corydon would a Toyota compact be expected to go off road.

I thought I would be bounced and beaten to death, or suffocated by dust before Ally finally pulled off to the side and parked behind a long line of vehicles on the path. I felt exhausted and dirty and we hadn't even left the car yet.

The air held a damp sulfur smell and was thick with late afternoon humidity. The dappled sun was less intense here, but the leafy canopy held the heat near the ground.

We got out of the car and stumbled long the path, stepping over holes swarming with mosquitoes. Ahead, in a small clearing, despite the temperature of the day, burned a small campfire. The woodsy smoke made the smoldering day even hotter. What were these people thinking?

"You'll be thankful for the fire," Ally told me when she saw my expression. "The smoke keeps the bugs away."

Billie struggled with a bright red cooler, hoisting it to the side so that she could avoid the pits in the road. "And it will be the only light for a mile here in a few hours."

They led me to the ring of logs surrounding the fire and squeezed us in a corner spot on one of them upwind from the smoke. The smoke still burned my eyes, but at least I could breathe.

One of the boys from my Science class was roasting a hot dog on the fire for that pretty red-haired girl I always passed in the hall. Unfortunately, I didn't remember either of their names so all that I could do was smile and wave.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked, throwing a broken acorn on the fire.

"Just give me a minute to catch my breath and we'll go for a swim," Billie said with an exhausted smile.

Swimming was no new task for me, in Indianapolis I spent most of the summer at the local pool, but this was something totally different. The pools I was used to were made of concrete and filled with chlorinated water that made my eyes burn, this was a hole in the earth filled with rainwater. What if there were snakes or something?

While Billie cooled off, I tried to join in some of the conversation around me, but all of them were familiar strangers to me. I knew their faces, but had no idea about the people or places that they were talking about so I really didn't have anything to say.

I looked around, feeling very aware of my hands and feet and unsure what to do with them. Just when I thought it was impossible for me to feel more uncomfortable, I watched the boy and girl from before walk to the edge of the blunt cliff and jump off.

I couldn't believe what I just saw. That couldn't be the only way into the water!

Billie laughed at the look on my face. She stood up and pulled me to my feet. I told myself if she tried to walk me toward the edge I'd just run away, even if I had to walk all the way home, there was no way I was jumping.

"Follow me," Billie ordered, taking off toward the trees to the right.

It wasn't a long walk, but then again it wasn't exactly a trail that we were following. It seemed like just a break in the trees with lots of itchy tall grass to walk through. There were others taking this easy downhill footpath to the water, but others took the plunge from above, screaming with fear or delight as they fell toward the water.

I watched person after person, couple after couple, take the plunge as I staggered along. Were those people insane? I kept turning back to watch those lunatics even as I followed behind Billie.

Once we reached the edge of the water, I slipped out of my dusty, sticky shoes just like everyone else and stepped carefully across the slimy rocks and into the cool water. My feet, already getting blisters from my hot sneakers, felt instantly relieved once wet. I was sweaty and miserable until I eased into the refreshing water.

It felt so different than the water in regular swimming pools, slick and more there somehow. I went deeper, lowering my entire body into the water, loving the earthy smell that clung to my skin and hair.

"How sweet is this?" Billie asked as she floated by on her back.

I leaned back and soaked my hair again, trying to get rid of that itchy sweaty feeling. At that moment I agreed with her completely, "It is very sweet."

A loud whistle drew our attention back up to the edge high above. There, perched above the water, in her red bikini top, Ally was waving. She was nothing more than a speck leaning out over the water.

As I watched horrified, she stepped closer to the edge. I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could utter a sound, she jumped.

"Ally!" I screamed too late.

She fell for what seemed like an eternity before breaking through the glass-like surface of the water with a large spray. I held my breath until she bobbed back up laughing.

"Are you insane?" I scolded as she swam towards me, "You could have killed yourself!"

"It's all in how you land," she replied with a playful splash.

I couldn't stay mad at her; I was too in awe of what she just did. I didn't even say anything when she "had" to do it two more times. There was a part of me that wished I was the brave, but the real me watched terrified from the water as she threw herself off again and again.

At last, just as it was getting dark, Ally grew bored of terrifying me with her antics and agreed to go back up to the fires. Billie was right, the fires were the only light around by then, and they were too far away to do much good as we stumbled through the tall grass.

I tripped and stumbled, smacked at bugs, and all the while kept thinking to myself that this is what qualifies for a good time around here. What was wrong with this picture?

More people were surrounding the fires by the times we made it to the top of the hill. I took a seat near our cooler and dug through the melting ice for a soda, trying to search the larger crowd for one face in particular at the same time. In the dim, flickering light, and with everyone moving from group to group, it was difficult to tell who was who.

He told me to come. He said he would be here. So, where was he?

Billie and Ally soon joined the mix, leaving me alone on the log with no one to speak to. I couldn't blame them. One of the boys from my English class, I forgot his name, had Billie pulled aside and was whispering something in her ear that made her giggle. Ally was following her newest crush, a boy I had only seen a few times in the hall, from group to group.

I was only alone a few minutes before a boy sat down on the log next to me. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness to see Jonah's handsome face beside me.

"So, you made it after all," he said with one of his brilliant smiles.

"Yes, I did." I said while twisting my still damp hair. Could I look anymore awful?

If he realized how uncomfortable I was, he was ignoring it. "Having fun?"

"I guess so," I mumbled, wondering if the zit that was just starting to show that morning was glowing bright red.

Jonah frowned, "You don't like it here, do you?"

"It's my first time at a rock quarry, that's for sure."

"That's not was I was talking about," he said with a smirk. "I was talking about Corydon."

I was trying to craft the perfect response when Billie and the boy from my English class came up to get a soda. She eyed Jonah sitting next to me and smiled widely.

"How are you doing there, Becca?" She asked with a wide smile.

I was absolutely mortified. The only thing that I could be grateful for was the darkness so that Jonah couldn't see me blush.

"I'm fine, Billie." I replied through clenched teeth, wishing her and that boy would just go away.

The boy seemed amused by our exchange, clearing his throat deliberately. "So Becca, Billie was telling me you just moved into one of those old houses on Capitol Avenue. Which one?"

"You know the giant white one with the really big columns?"

"Oh wow," The boy said raising his eyebrows. "So, have you seen any ghosts yet?"

I was too shocked to answer. I cut my eyes to Billie, sure she gave away my secret, but she was staring open mouthed at the boy too.

Before I could figure out how to answer him, Billie pulled him back to the furthest reaches of the fire. I could hear her talking about the beautiful night, obviously trying to change the subject. She glanced back one last time at me, giving me a wink.

At that moment I was so grateful to her and Ally. I barely knew the two of them and here they were protecting my dark secrets. I never had friends like that before.

Jonah interrupted my thoughts, "So, you didn't answer me. You don't like Corydon, do you?"

"I don't think I'll ever get used to it," I scowled, not caring what it made me look like. He smiled and nodded sympathetically.

Why was he being so nice to me? He couldn't really care what I thought about Corydon.

I wanted to concentrate on Jonah, regardless of why he was paying me so much attention, but I couldn't get the boy's question out of my head. It kept bouncing around, blocking out anything Jonah might be saying.

"Who is that guy that Billie is with?" I finally just asked him straight out.

Jonah glanced over at the pair in the shadows. "Oh, that's Chris Powers. He's a pretty good guy."

While it was good to hear the guy wasn't a jerk, that wasn't really my point.

"Why did he ask me if I'd seen any ghosts yet?" I asked as casually as possible.

I had to focus all of my attention on my words and the sound of my own voice, trying not to think too much about the handsome boy next to me or the being in my room. If I did, I would lose my train of thought.

Jonah looked away and shrugged, "I don't know why he asked that."

"Yes, you do," I scolded.

It was a little annoying that other people seemed to know something about my house that I didn't. What if this thing that no one would take about would tell me something about the things I kept seeing?

"You asked me that same question the other day," I reminded him. "I want to know what it's all about."

He took a deep breath, turned back to me, and winked.

"Do you like a good ghost story?" He asked ominously.

"Doesn't everybody?" I asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

"Alright," he said with one of his dazzling smiles. "But keep in mind these are just old stories that get passed around."

"Fine," I agreed. I was willing to say anything to keep him talking.

"Well, this town dates back to the late seventeen hundreds. Anytime a place has that much history, there's going to be some stories." He began, dropping his voice and leaning a little closer. Under other circumstances it would have been thrilling, as it was; I just wanted him to say more.

"A Civil War battle was fought here and some people swear that the ghosts of the soldiers still fight whenever there's a full moon."

I could see him smirking in the firelight; obviously he didn't believe the stories.

"And then there are the stories about Capitol Avenue." He said with a sigh.

"There are ghost stories about my street?" I asked. I was trying to sound only the expected level of curious.

"Yeah," he said rolling his eyes. "There's a ghost that haunts one of the houses."

"Which one?" I encouraged.

"It depends on who you talk to," He said with an amused smile. "But the story is always the same."

"And what's the story?" I prodded.

Jonah leaned even closer; I could smell the earthy scent of the water on him and feel his steamy breath on my cheek. "Do you really want to know? What if it gives you nightmares?"

"It won't," I assured him the best I could. How could his little ghost story give me nightmares? The nightmare was already showing itself.

"Okay, but I warned you," He said with a playful smile. "Supposedly, the ghost is a dead civil war soldier."

"If he was a soldier, why isn't he haunting the battlefield?" I asked.

"Because he wasn't killed in battle, he was driven mad by the horrors of war." Jonah opened his eyes wide and crazy-like. He dropped his voice, sounding like an old-time radio villain. "He lost his last grip on his sanity one night and attacked his beautiful and loving wife."

"Did he kill her?" I whispered.

Jonah shook his head, "Nope. She killed him. Shot him with his own gun. His ghost has roamed Capitol Avenue ever since."

"What happened to the wife?" I asked, worried that another ghost would be appearing in the very near future.

He seemed pleased with the effect his story was having on me. "Nobody knows for sure what happened to the wife. A few days later she was found dead near Indian Creek. Some say she committed suicide, others say the soldier's ghost killed her by scaring her to death."

I couldn't say anything at first. I could only stare into the fire and wonder if this Capitol Avenue ghost was my ghost.

"Crazy story, isn't it?" Jonah said with a laugh.

"I've never heard anything like it," I said while watching the flames.

Jonah shrugged, "I think every kid in Corydon hears about twelve versions of that story by the time they reach elementary school."

"What story are you talking about?" Ashley Richardson asked as she stepped into the light of the fire. She looked beautiful, richly tanned and her hair had that perfectly mussed look that cover models worked hours for.

I couldn't help but notice that Jonah shifted away from me a little as he answered her.

"I was telling her about the old Capitol Avenue soldier," he said with a smirk.

"Is that why she looks so scared?" Ashley asked with a laugh, "How pathetic."

I told myself not to cry, but I could feel the hot tears burning somewhere behind my eyes. It was just too much, Ashley hating me for no reason, ghosts haunting the house, what was next?

Who was I kidding? Guys as perfect as Jonah belonged with a girl just as equally perfect. Someone like Ashley.

I let out a huff and stood up as Ashley sat down on the other side of Jonah. I couldn't sit there with them. I was the unwanted third wheel.

Just stepping away from them didn't help. I could still hear Ashley flirting shamelessly with Jonah.

"Your hair has gotten so light," she said. "And you know I just have a thing for blond guys."

As ridiculous as her statement was, I wished I had said something like that to him. Instead, I was collecting silly ghost stories. How could I be so stupid?

I didn't wait around to witness what would happen next between them. Even someone as out of touch as me could see the obvious outcome. I stormed away from the fire and out into the darkness.

I walked until the grass disappeared and the bare dirt fanned out in wide patches, ending at the edge overlooking the water. I stopped, afraid to look down, and wondered what exactly it was I thought I was doing.

Afraid. That was my problem. I was always afraid. If I wasn't always so scared and unsure, it would be me talking to Jonah right now. Ashley was right. I was pathetic.

I forced myself to open my eyes and look down. I knew the water was down there, but I couldn't see it. The darkness rose up to my feet, looking thick enough to walk across.

The wind whipped around me, carrying the faint scents of late summer like drying leaves and dying grass.

I stepped closer to the edge, hearing small pebbles fall, but keeping my eyes forward. I took a deep breath and tried to feel the air pushing around me.

I was tired of being afraid.

Taking another deep breath, I shifted my weight up to my toes. I told myself it was just like a diving board at a pool and there was nothing to be afraid of.

It's just like a pool...It's just like a pool....

I hesitated a moment more, feeling the edge of the rock with my toes, then I closed my eyes...

And jumped into the darkness.

There was no time to scream. I was falling toward the smooth surface of the water so quickly there was no time to think. I was staring at my own reflection getting bigger and bigger, closer and closer.

I didn't have time to think about how to land. All of a sudden I was colliding with the water and going deeper and deeper. I knew that I should be swimming to the surface, but my body was still stinging from the impact and wouldn't cooperate.

My chest ached, bursting with my held breath. My shoulder hit the rocky bottom first with such force there was no time to keep my head from hitting the hard surface also.

The world was made up of blackness, the dark night above, the inky water trapping me, and the darkness behind my eyes that was trying to claim me.

He came to me then. Through all of the darkness I saw him, the ghost from my bedroom, hanging in space next to me. In that moment I knew him. I knew his handsome face and dazzling eyes. It was exactly the face that I wanted to see as I prepared for death.

Was that it? Was I really dying?

I looked to this spirit beside me, searching his perfect face for the answer. Was I dying? Is that why he looked so sad?

His hand was pale, almost silvery, as it reached toward me. He took my hand in his and suddenly he was above me, pulling me toward him.

I was in his arms then and I wasn't thinking about dying anymore because he was lifting me toward the surface. I didn't have to do anything; I just had to trust him.

The rocky cliff came into focus above the surface. I was almost there, just a little further and I'd be able to breathe again. My lungs ached with the memory of air, suddenly craving it again.

A splash beside me rocked my body and the spirit was gone. I was sinking down again, the last of my air escaping in shinning bubbles. I watched helpless as the image of the spirit swirled and dissolved like ink in the water. I didn't want him to go, but my mouth was full of water and I couldn't speak.

The intruder grabbed me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulled me to the surface. I felt the darkness behind my eyes was pulling me back, refusing to let me go.

I let this person lift me, and then I was spinning away. The next thing I remembered was the coarse, needle-like grass poking into my back. I tried to open my eyes, but the lids were heavy like concrete.

There was buzzing everywhere, like an electrical charge or a hive of bees. As I lay there, trying to remember how to breathe, words broke through the buzzing, but then faded before I could make out what was said.

One voice rose above the den, close and hot in my face.

"Becca?" Jonah asked. "Can you hear me?"

I struggled and lifted the heavy veil of my eyelids to see him leaning over me, his wet hair dripping water down onto my face.

"Jonah?" I choked out through the rawness of my throat. It felt and sounded as though I was speaking through gravel.

He ordered me not to move, but even without turning my head I knew that a crowd had gathered and everyone was staring at me. That's what the buzzing was, all of them talking about how stupid I was. I closed my eyes and wished I could just disappear.

"Stay with me," Jonah pleaded as if he thought I was slipping back into unconsciousness. "The ambulance is on the way."

Oh God.

Sure enough, the high pitched wail of a siren was getting closer and closer. I would never be able to face anyone again. How could I have been so stupid?

I didn't hear Jonah leave my side; he was close and silent until the paramedics ordered him to move. Only then could I open my eyes and answer their questions.

"What happened?" One asked as he shone a light in my eyes.

"I jumped in and hit my head."

To add insult to injury, they strapped a hard plastic neck brace around me and placed me on a hard wooden board. I was mortified. I was relieved when I was lifted onto a stretched and then placed in the ambulance where no one could see me.

I was whisked away to an emergency room somewhere. It could have been in Corydon, the next city, or the next state. How different can hospitals look when strapped to a stretcher and your only view is the ceiling as you're wheeled down the hall?

Once in the emergency room, I was placed in a forgotten corner room. A nurse checked on me a few times, but other than that I was left alone to wonder what all had happened.

Did that spirit really come to me as I was dying?

It took hours for the doctors to run all of their tests and scans. At last I was released with a diagnosis of only a concussion to my very nervous father.

"Oh thank God!" He said, pulling me to him as soon as I walked out into the waiting room.

"I'm fine," I assured him, wanting him to stop looking so worried. "Let's just go home."

He nodded and walked me toward the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonah sitting on the far side of the waiting room; he stood when I looked his way.

Oh God! I couldn't face him. I gave him an embarrassed wave and followed Dad out the automatic glass doors.

"You don't know how scared I was," Dad said as we got into his Suburban.

"I'm okay, really, it's just a bump on the head."

"When I got the call to come to the hospital, my first thought—"

"I know," I interrupted, definitely not in the mood to talk about my mother. "But I'm fine."

He anxiously watched my every move when we got home, making me feel so guilty. When I couldn't take it anymore, I gave up and went to bed. I loved the peace and quiet as I slipped under the covers.

As I lay there with my eyelids growing heavier and heavier, he came to me again.

I had just closed my eyes when I felt a tingling sensation over my cheek. I opened my eyes and there was the ghost, standing over me and touching my face with his nothing hand.

Just as I gasped, he shimmered and faded away, leaving me alone again in the darkness.

# Chapter 6

I made up my mind early the next day I needed to get out of the house and away from my Dad as soon as possible. He watched me anxiously and asked me a dozen times if I was feeling okay.

Of course I woke up with a splitting headache to go with the deep purple bruise on the right side of my head, but I didn't tell him about the headache because I knew he would drag me back to the emergency room. So, to save us both the trouble, I lied and sneaked some Tylenol when my Dad wasn't looking.

Despite my attempts to hide my discomfort, Dad still kept me home all day Sunday and then decided to keep me home from school Monday. My protests fell on deaf ears. He didn't care about the talk my absence would cause. Finally I just gave in.

I spent the morning in my room at my laptop. I searched the internet for anything related to ghosts and hauntings. I found page after page of useless stories about headless ghosts in graveyards and old houses that just seemed creepy. At last I came across the actual definitions regarding hauntings and ghosts.

It seemed there were different types of hauntings and ghosts. There was the residual spirits that were just acting out part of their life or even their death over and over. These spirits will continue regardless if someone is there to witness the activity.

The more interesting idea was the intelligent haunting. That was a spirit that wanted to interact with the living for some reason. These spirits usually wanted something, even if it was nothing more than attention.

I settled on the idea the thing in my room was an intelligent ghost, but who was he? I needed some answers.

It was just before noon Monday before I was able to escape. I told Dad I had a History paper to research and that I needed to go to the library. He looked up from the newspaper, worry puckering his brow again.

"Why is it so urgent?" He asked, "After all, you're supposed to be sick."

"I know," I replied. "That's why I needed to go to school today so that I could use the school library. I have to turn in an outline tomorrow."

Dad folded his newspaper and set it aside, "Okay, well let me drive you."

"It's only two blocks away," I whined. "I could use the fresh air."

He relented and I got out of there before he changed his mind. Once outside and down the walkway, I looked back to make sure he wasn't following me.

The house loomed up behind me, but there was no sign of Dad at the door or peering out the windows. I breathed a sigh of relief and took off down the sidewalk.

There were only a few people tending to their lawns or sitting on their front porches. They stared at me and whispered to those near them about how I nearly died Saturday. I even heard a few of them mention Jonah Ericson.

I pretended not to hear them. I didn't want to think about the entire town knowing about my stupid accident. I pulled my hair down over the bruise on my forehead and tried to focus on just getting to the library.

There were so many questions now. I had to get some answers. I didn't know how to do it, but I had to see if Jonah's story was true and if it could be the spirit haunting me.

The library sat at the corner of Chestnut and Capitol Avenue, the only building on the block after block of antiquated shops and law offices. It was an ancient building that crowded the sidewalk and gave no evidence to what was inside.

I expected a crude collection of books and old National Geographic magazines, instead, I saw a small, but modern library complete with computers for research. I thought I would spend the day searching through scrapbooks of old newspaper clippings, but with all of this perhaps my quest wouldn't be as difficult as I thought.

I walked up to the large desk where a pretty woman was sorting books; she pushed her glasses up into her spikey blond hair as I approached. "Can I help you with something honey?"

"I'm needing to research some old newspapers from the Civil War years on up to this year. Where would I do that?" I asked with a nervous smile, wondering how odd of a request it might be.

I expected her to be annoyed I was interrupting her work, but instead she smiled and led me back to a computer station. She explained how things were filed by year, month, or I could enter keywords to search for.

"Just let me know if you need anything else." She said with another friendly smile.

Why was everyone in this town always so happy? It just wasn't normal.

My head was already starting to ache again as I sat there wondering where to start. I entered my address as a search term and chewed at my thumbnail while I waited for the results.

Despite the ancient appearance of the computer, the return was almost immediate. There were numerous pages, listed in reverse chronological order with the most recent first.

I began skimming the articles, not even sure what I was looking for. It was mostly boring things like variance hearings and real estate listings. I searched through about four pages and the only thing I learned was that the house was bought and sold many times.

After a few more pages, I narrowed my search to the obituaries and suddenly, there it was.

Alastor Sinclair, 20, died of a gunshot wound at his home in Corydon Saturday. He was laid to eternal rest at Cedar Hills Cemetery. He leaves behind a brother in Kentucky and a wife.

I read that piece over and over. _Alastor Sinclair_. At last the being had a name! It wasn't some unknown ghoul. He had a name and at one time, a life.

Alastor Sinclair.

I typed in the name and waited. I expected a handful of results; instead there was page after page again.

War Hero Found Dead in Corydon Home

Alastor Sinclair was found dead in his home on Capitol Avenue Saturday. When officials arrived at the home, they found Mr. Sinclair dead of a single gunshot wound to the chest.

Mr. Sinclair was a decorated war veteran. He served with the 13th Regiment Calvary of Indiana, Company B. He leaves behind a wife and a brother.

I clicked on the next headline, Lieutenant Sinclair Local Hero and Others Return Home. This one detailed his accomplishments in the War Between the States. He was honored for his bravery in the battle of Corydon for retrieving the bodies of many fallen comrades while under fire from the Confederates.

While I was sure this was an impressive military career, and I felt a strange surge of pride as I read his accomplishments, what I found most interesting was the photograph of Alastor Sinclair in his uniform that accompanied the story.

There he was, the ghost, in the flesh and bone of a faded black and white photograph. I looked down at his painfully handsome face, trying to wrap my mind around the idea that this man was dead.

He was stunning in the reality of one hundred years ago. His rumpled hair was tamed and combed back, looking deep brown in the sepia toned black and white. His sensual lips tilted in a slight smirk, so human compared to how I knew him. He was angular like a boy just turned into a man, looking too young to be a lieutenant.

Looking into the pale white of his eyes in the picture, my heart ached with the idea he was dead. He once was this noble man and now he was nothing more than a ghost haunting my home.

I went to the next headline, not even bothering to read it first. What I saw before me made me bolt upright in the chair, my knees banging the underside of the desk. The few people in the library turned to stare at me, but I didn't care. I was trying to process what it was that I was seeing on the screen in front of me.

Rebecca McKinley Marries Alastor Sinclair: Miss Rebecca McKinley and Alastor Sinclair were married on the evening of June second at the home of the groom. The bride was beautifully gowned in white lace and satin, trimmed with beads. Several friends were present. The groom remained with his bride one week before returning to his regiment. Mrs. Sinclair is expected to make their home at Mr. Sinclair's Capitol Avenue house.

It wasn't just the sight of my first name in the announcement that sent a chill up my spine; it was the photograph that was above it. There, even though there was no way that it was possible, was me. I was looking back in time over one hundred years and gazing at my own face. How could that be?

There was no mistaking it. It was some nineteenth century version of me in that photograph wearing a long full skirt and sitting in front of Alastor. It looked as though the picture was taken in a studio with an oil sheet background.

It was so odd to see myself in a picture that was taken before even my grandparents were born. I could feel the panic building in my chest. This couldn't be happening. Things like this just weren't possible.

I tried to get past the initial shock and really look at the photograph. In some ways it was so like every other photograph that I had seen in books, the overly formal clothes and the unsmiling faces, but there was something also something very different about it. This couple, it was easier to pretend they were nameless people, weren't in the usual stiff poses seen in old portraits, she was sitting in a chair and he stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder and she was covering his hand with her own, neither were looking at the camera. She was in the process of glancing back at him and he was looking down at her. There was something very intimate about it, like the photographer had caught them in a private stolen moment.

Looking down at the screen filled with that picture, I felt a tingling on my shoulder as if my body remembered the feeling of his touch. I brought my hand up, almost expecting to feel his hand there, but there was nothing. I wished for a moment there would have been something there.

I envied the pair in the photograph and I was jealous of that girl as if she had taken something that was mine. The resemblance between us didn't matter. She knew this entity when he was a flesh and blood man, and I hated her for that.

Moving on, I came to a much more mundane article about the Battle of Corydon on July 9, 1863 and Morgan's Raid on the town. The next article proved more interesting.

Cedar Glade Offers Shelter During Battle

During the battle with the rebel forces, many Corydon residents sought refuge from the ensuing cannon fire at the property known as Cedar Glade. Several cannon balls landed in the yard, but the inhabitants of the house remained safe.

The property is owned by Mr. Kintner as is the Kintner House Hotel where General John Hunt Morgan read the newspaper and learned of General Robert E. Lee's defeat at the Battle of Gettysburg.

While interesting, it was completely unhelpful to my research. Printing copies of the photographs and articles I found thus far, I moved on to the next headline and again stopped short.

Rebecca Sinclair Arrested for Murder of Husband

Rebecca Sinclair was arrested Saturday evening for the murder of her husband Alastor Sinclair. Upon the discovery of the body, Mrs. Sinclair admitted to shooting her husband and then broke down. She has been incoherent since that night.

The servants claim to have heard the two arguing and then a single gunshot. Finding Mrs. Sinclair standing over the body of her dying husband, the maid ran for help. Mr. Sinclair was dead when help arrived.

There is no word how soon the trial will be, but for now Corydon mourns the loss of a decorated war veteran and citizen in Alastor Sinclair.

I couldn't believe it, but yet I could. There was a deep and primal part of me that even seemed to remember the feeling of that gun in my hand, the explosion of gunpowder, and the coppery smell of blood. I knew it was true, somewhere deep in my very core, I knew it.

Murder. That is what became of that love story.

Accused Murderess Rebecca Sinclair Dead

Rebecca Sinclair was found dead in her jail cell Friday, almost one week to the day of when her husband Alastor Sinclair was found dead in their home. It is believed Mrs. Sinclair committed suicide for she was found hanging by one of her own stockings that morning.

Mrs. Sinclair was arrested last Saturday for the murder and was awaiting trial. No word on where she will be laid to rest.

I skipped past the other stories, feeling sick to my stomach as these two people disappeared from history. There were headlines referring to the scandal briefly as the home went up for auction a few times and then a mention here and there in a real estate listing. Nothing of real importance until I came to a Halloween piece about Rebecca's time in the Corydon jail, it put a tragic twist on an already sad story.

Sinclair Murder Still Haunts Corydon

Over fifty years ago, a murder took place in Corydon. The victim, Alastor Sinclair, was shot dead in his home, apparently by none other than his wife Rebecca. Despite the passage of time, this murder remains the topic of many fireside discussions and as Halloween approaches, one has to wonder if there isn't a supernatural twist to this sad tale.

Albert Durham, the grandson of Wesley Durham a deputy at the time of Mrs. Sinclair's arrest, recounts what took place at that time when we interviewed him in front of the Corydon Capitol Building where he shares his stories about this dark chapter in the town's history.

" _My granddaddy wasn't convinced at first that she did it. He told me about how pretty she was and all proper-like, but he said she never denied it. She confessed and they locked her up, plain as that."_

Mrs. Sinclair was never questioned further after her initial arrest. Records show that she confessed the night her husband died and was awaiting trial when she was found dead in her jail cell.

" _Granddaddy always wondered why she did it, but if anyone asked her, she never told them the answer. I guess she took her reasons with her to the grave. Now that was sad," Durham said. "It all started a few days after they buried Mr. Sinclair. The lady, Mrs. Sinclair that is, begun talking to her dead husband she did. Granddaddy said that she done up and lost her mind."_

" _He said it gave him the willies the way that she would just start screaming. My granddaddy was a brave man, fought with Mr. Sinclair in the war, but this was something entirely different. He said she'd yell into thin air 'Go away Alastor', 'You're too late', and other such nonsense. The last night that my granddaddy saw her alive she was on the floor in the corner of her cell, she was turning her face away from her imagined tormentor, and all of a sudden she just yells out 'Leave me alone. I will never forgive you'. Granddaddy found her dead they next morning."_

" _Now, I'm not one to say that I believe in ghosts or any other nonsense, but don't you find it strange that it's always the ghost of Mr. Sinclair that people claim to see and never Mrs. Sinclair? I think he drove her to hang herself. That was his revenge. At least that's what I would think if I believed in ghosts."_

I had seen enough. Instead of answers, I was only finding more questions without answers. I gathered the photos I printed, thanked the librarian, and left the library. I stood on the sidewalk looking around, unsure what to do next.

It was late afternoon, hot and miserably muggy. Blocks away, I could see the leafy tops of the oaks in my front yard, but I wasn't ready to go home yet. I looked up the tree lined sidewalk, shady and welcoming, all the way up Capitol Avenue, past my house, to Oak Street where Cedar Hill Cemetery waited.

I held the photographs against my chest as I walked along. It was a little easier to believe I was being haunted by a hundred year old ghost when walking down the sidewalks of Corydon. Nothing much had changed along the streets in the last century. Corydon was a place where the past wasn't forgotten, it was alive and well and part of daily life.

I tried to focus on the two most important questions that my research brought up, no matter how complicated the answers might be.

First, was I _that_ Rebecca?

Logically the answer would be no. It was silly and childish to even consider such a possibility. But if not, then what other explanation could there be?

I looked down at the photographs as I walked along, arguing with the rational part of myself. This woman did look exactly like me, we had the same name, and we both lived in that house. And even more important—the images that would flash into my memory of that other me in another time had to mean something. What was that if it wasn't me as that other Rebecca? And then there was him, appearing to me of all people.

Was that the connection between me and this spirit?

Well, there was _something_ between us. There was some sort of bond between us that crossed the sea of death. Maybe I was _that_ Rebecca, and Alastor was back—

Why was he back?

And that brought me to the most important question of all. What did it mean if it all was true?

If I was that Rebecca—an idea that still seemed ridiculous—was Alastor back because of me like he said? And what did he mean by that?

As I stepped through the gate of Cedar Hill Cemetery, I knew none of this changed anything. I couldn't tell anyone about this. I could scarcely accept the idea myself; anyone that I told about this would have me in a straitjacket by dinnertime.

I couldn't do anything, not really. Besides, if this spirit was here to harm me in some way, he had done nothing evil or sinister yet. Actually, he seemed to be trying to save me at the quarry. If he wanted to harm me, why wouldn't he have just let me drown?

I didn't know what I was doing. One minute I'm walking across grassy paths and the next I was staring down at a headstone.

ALASTOR SINCLAIR

1848-1869

The stone was really there, gray and mossy, sticking up out of the ground like a bony knuckle. I read the name aloud, noticing the way the afternoon became silent as if even the birds above were waiting to see what I would do.

I was trying to comprehend the fact that right under my feet was the physical body of the ghost. He wasn't part of my imagination. I could read his name. If I dug down in the earth, I could touch his bones.

That other Rebecca was not buried next to him and I didn't seek her out. Me or not, I had no desire to see her grave.

Reading his name again, I knew that none of it mattered. If I was that Rebecca, I obviously couldn't escape him. Because when I thought of the spirit, of his handsome face, his luminous eyes, the very feeling of his presence, I wanted nothing more than to contact him again. I reached my hand out and touched the name with my fingertip.

I turned and walked out of the cemetery with my mind made up. I wouldn't be afraid of him anymore. After all, he wasn't a nameless spirit anymore. He had a history and for whatever reason I was now part of it.

The house was squatting behind the oaks when I walked up. The afternoon was fading a twilight was creeping in from the shadows of the yard. I heard the chirping of crickets welcoming me home as I stepped up on the front porch and went through the front door.

Inside, the house was dim in the fading day. The only light came from the living room and poured out into the hall. I stepped through the doorway and there was Dad asleep on the couch as the television echoed the day's events across the world.

I left him sleeping there with a peaceful half smile on his face, perhaps he was even dreaming of my mother. It seemed cruel to wake him.

As I was walking out of the living room, my hand touched the door casing and I stopped. I looked at the carved frame, coated in many layers of paint. Was this something Alastor touched at one time?

It was suddenly very crucial I touch something he had touched. I had to know if I would be able to feel it when it happened. I wanted to feel some sort of connection to him, but all I felt was the carved moldings under my fingertips.

I left the living room then crossed to the other side of the house, running my fingers along the walls as I walked. I got to the end of the hall and stepped inside the office. It was dark and quiet in there with unpacked boxes still stacked about. I shut the door behind me and turned on the lamps on either side of the desk.

There it was, the spot on the floor that gave me that electrical jolt of visions that first day I came here. I knelt beside it, knowing now that the white boards were from where his blood had stained the floor and people had tried to scrub it away over the years.

I reached a tentative finger toward that spot. I vowed that I would not pull away, no matter how terrifying the images were.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and placed my hand flat on the faded floor.

There was a sickening tilt and spin to the world. I was falling and then I was spinning again. I felt the weight of long skirts around my legs even as I knew I was kneeling on the wood floor. Voices came from everywhere, crowding around me. These voices spoke too slow at first and then so quickly that I couldn't understand what was being said. Surrounding all of this was a prism-like light that blotted out everything.

I was falling down again and the prism became the crystal wine glass some version of me was holding as my new husband toasted me and over the rim of the glass, Alastor's blue eyes held me captive. How could I deny the truth in this?

Again there was that nauseating spinning and Alastor became nothing more than a puff of smoke. I was then standing at my bedroom window; I felt his lips on my neck as his fingers pushed my long hair aside.

"I love you my darling."

I was falling again, spinning until I stood at the door to the office; I could almost see that other me there in a long white nightgown with my hair flowing down my back. Alastor was at the desk, his clothes were rumpled and his hair was mussed as if he had just run his hands through it. His beautiful blue eyes were foggy and bloodshot as he looked up at me.

I saw the gun then, a bulky black thing in my pale white hand. I was raising it up; there was a flash of light, a cloud of smoke, and then Alastor's face contorted in pain. He fell then, the blood from his chest spilling out over the floor.

"My Becca," he grimaced as he lay dying. "Forgive me."

I fell backwards, immediately back in the here and now. I could feel the wetness on my cheeks and my vision was blurry with unshed tears.

Dear God, what have I done?

Dad was calling me for dinner, his voice echoing down the hall. I didn't want him to find me like this. Wiping my tears away, I went out to join him.

He met me in the hall with a cheery, but sleepy smile. "Where have you been hiding?"

"I just got back."

"Oh," Dad said with a stretch and a yawn. "Did you get your outline done?"

"Yep," I said and turned him back toward the kitchen. "I got it all done."

We ate in silence. I kept going over the articles in my head. Was I that Rebecca? If so, I killed Alastor. Why would I do that? The two people in the photograph seemed so happy, what happened?

I had barely eaten more than two bites when I excused myself claiming I was tired and wanted to lie down. Of course, such a logical explanation sent Dad into an immediate panic.

"You okay?" Dad asked with anxiety all over his face again.

"I'm just tired," I lied, smiling to reassure him just like my mother used to.

"Okay, get some rest." Dad agreed with a smile, "By the way, Billie and Ally both called for you earlier. You may want to give them a call."

"I'm so tired. I think I'll just wait and talk to them tomorrow, I don't want to be on the phone all night."

He smiled, "Okay, see you in the morning."

Once I was safe in my room, I closed the door and locked it behind me. Within just a few minutes, I heard the television in the living room again and I knew that Dad believed my flimsy excuse. I was glad he was so easy to deceive. I hated to make him worry.

I turned back to my empty room and stared up at the plaster ceiling. I didn't know how this was supposed to work exactly.

"Are you there?" I called into the emptiness, "Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

I stepped away from the door and listened, straining to hear anything that meant he was near. As I stood there, I felt a change in the air as it became slightly heavy, like the air just before a storm.

He was there. I could feel him swirling and gathering overhead even though I couldn't see him. I closed my eyes, trying to hone in and make him materialize by my own sheer will.

"Alastor," I called him by name. "I know you're here."

From within my room came a gentle wind from above, stretching out wide as it came down from walls. It moved across the floor to my feet and then circled around me as it rose, caressing my face and lifting my hair.

"So now you know," said the voice on the wind.

"Yes," I whispered, breathless as what seemed like particles of dust gathered together and began to take shape. I fought the urge to run away as I felt him growing stronger. "Why are you here?"

He became more solid, but flickered like a candle. "I am here because of you."

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but in a fraction of a second I decided it didn't matter. That question was better left unanswered, and what would it matter what the answer was. It wouldn't change anything.

"How long have you been here?" I asked, motioning wide with my hands.

"Since I first knew of you," He replied without hesitation and turned those luminous eyes on me.

"When was that?"

He held me with his unwavering gaze, a smirk playing across his full lips. "I don't know."

This was getting me nowhere. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I kept losing my train of thought. His face was so wistful and his eyes wouldn't release me.

"Are there other ghosts here?" I finally stammered, trying to take him in without getting distracted by his handsome face. "Other spirits watching me?"

"No," He answered simply, shifting and flickering as he moved closer.

"What's it like to be dead?" I asked, feeling so guilty.

"It is nothing."

I watched his face, the way that the illusions of him was made up of life, my heart ached at the beautiful man he must have been.

"Am I that Rebecca?"

"You will always be my Becca."

"Were we happy?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"For a while," he whispered with a smile. "I made many mistakes."

Of course he would regret marrying Rebecca. How could he not?

"Did you love me?"

He moved even closer, only inches away now, and becoming even more solid. His eyes were practically glowing as they looked into mine with such intensity I squirmed from foot to foot. His voice came from nothing and caressed my ears, "I have loved you in life and beyond."

My heart ached with those words. He moved around me, slowly and deliberately, as if he were really walking.

"May I ask a favor of you?" He asked as he stepped behind me.

How could I refuse him anything? I agreed immediately. "Of course."

"Close your eyes."

I did as he commanded. I felt the room growing colder as if he were inhaling a great intake of air. I held my breath as I felt him gathering and growing stronger behind me. I told myself again that I wasn't afraid of him.

# Chapter 7

Alastor was amazing in solid form. I just couldn't get accustomed to the sight of him even though I had been staring at him for hours.

He was breathtaking to look at, his skin so detailed I could almost make out a faint stubble on his cheek and all about him clung the faint scent of the outdoors, tinged with a slight aroma of honeysuckle. He was lying beside me, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal lean, but muscular arms. Now and then I would catch a glimpse of his bare chest through the open collar of his shirt.

It was strange, but just the sight of that small bit of naked flesh made me blush. I tried not to look, but every time I glanced over my blood would burn at the teasing glimpse of phantom skin.

His lips would twitch into a smile every so often, the action making him even more handsome. I wondered what it was exactly that would make a ghost smile. When I asked, he only smiled wider and confessed that he never thought this day would come.

I was getting so sleepy. Head splitting yawns kept overtaking me, but I stayed sitting up in bed with him stretched out beside me just like a real person.

It was one thing to have him appear in my room or speak to me in his ghostly voice, but that was nothing compared to the delicious thrill of having him so close.

He still seemed too good to be true, too perfect and beautiful to really be there. I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

Hesitantly, so afraid he would fade again into the shadows, I reached my hand out to touch his.

"Don't!" He commanded and pulled away. The doors to my bathroom shut with enough force to rattle them on their hinges.

I drew back at his reprimand. His voice was so harsh. I felt it vibrate through me. I glanced back at his face. He was watching me with extreme intensity. I fought the urge to run away from him. After all, where could I hide that he couldn't find me?

Pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around them, I tried not to focus on the sting of his rebuff.

"Why not?" I demanded.

Alastor held my gaze, but his eyes became dark and sad. "Because what you see is not real. It takes so much strength to be this way for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm here with you, but this image of me is just that—Only an image, an illusion. I don't know what would happen if you tried to touch me."

I turned over what he said in my mind. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips.

"What is it?" He asked in a whisper as if being careful not to frighten me again.

"I can't even touch you," I answered, more than a little surprised by the note of emotion cracking in my voice.

"I'm sorry," He whispered in a low and soothing tone.

"I know it's stupid," I apologized. "It's just frustrating that we can't even touch."

A smile turned up the corners of his flawless lips, "Is that what you want?"

I looked down at his perfect face with his teasing blue eyes. Suddenly, I wanted very much just to be able to touch his hand.

"Yes," I confessed. "I would like that."

His smile grew wider, "Then I shall try to do as you wish."

Even though I was watching him, and he never moved an inch, I suddenly felt invisible fingers traveling down my neck and arms. I jumped and looked around, but there was nothing visibly touching me. I felt a scream rising in my throat as the sensation died away.

Before I could recover, I felt the world shift and suddenly I was back in time and standing at the window. I was looking down and watching for Alastor to come home. I could feel the wetness on my cheeks and remembered thinking back then that I had cried so many tears waiting for him to come home.

The image spun around and was replaced by Alastor and I arguing on the staircase. He was moving toward the door and I was following him with my skirts gathered into my hands. I felt myself calling after him, but there was no sound. He turned back to me once he reached the door and ordered me to stop my hysterics. Alastor walked out the door and it slammed behind him. A coldness swept over me and my tears ceased at that very moment.

I was spinning again, this time further back, to me in Alastor's arms. I closed my eyes as he reached out his hand and touched my face. I knew that touch; it brought me back to my room where Alastor the spirit was with me.

"I'm sorry," Alastor said without changing expression. "I was trying to give you what you wanted."

I took a few deep breaths and tried to slow my pounding heart, "It just startled me. I remembered so much about us all at once. It was a little overwhelming."

He looked at me intently, "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid."

"Do you trust me?"

Did I trust him?

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

The invisible fingers were back again, caressing my hair, my face. There was no warmth to the touches, just a constant tingling sensation over my skin. I was watching him, but he never moved, even as unseen hands lifted strands of my hair.

"I have waited for you for so long," he said with serious eyes.

I didn't know how to respond to that, but a part of me loved hearing it. I allowed him to keep his ghostly fingers in my hair, not moving, even as he rose up on one elbow.

"Are you still not afraid?" He asked, suddenly seeming just as unsure as I was.

"I am afraid," I confessed. "But not of you."

He leaned closer to me. If he were an actual living person, I would have been able to feel his breath on my shoulder. The tingling sensations were still moving over my body, but I was unable to move. His luminous blue eyes held me there.

"Then what are you afraid of?" He whispered.

I could smell the scent of summer about him, noticing how it shifted from sun and honeysuckle to the clean smell of rain. I opened my eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I'm afraid because I want to be near you and I don't understand why." I blurted out without thinking, "I know what you are and why you are here, and that I should be afraid of you, but I'm not."

"And why should you be afraid my love?" He asked while holding me with his powerful gaze, "I am, after all, just a spirit. What could I possibly do to you?"

My heart skipped a beat. Was he honestly asking me to give him ideas on how to destroy me? If he was here for revenge, I wasn't going to help him out.

"Are you here for revenge? To make me pay for what I did to you?"

"That was many years ago."

"Why did I shoot you?" I demanded.

The air in the room changed, from nowhere there came a breeze to rock the chandelier and flutter the papers on my desk.

"Must we discuss that?" He hissed.

The room was erupting in chaos. It seemed everything I owned was spinning about the room suspended in midair. The invisible fingers were gone. I pulled away, backing against my headboard, and preparing for the worst.

Minutes passed before the chandelier stopped its back and forth motion and the frantic flapping of books and papers stopped. The glow of his beautiful eyes faded and they became shaded in silence.

His outburst had weakened him. He was no longer as solid. The illusion had been broken.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered and his smooth voice was like a caress. "I would die a thousand deaths before I would hurt you."

I wanted to believe him even as I watched the last sheet of paper flutter to the ground.

"You have no reason to be afraid," he whispered as his image flickered and swayed. It seemed to me he was trying to convince the both of us.

"Forgive me, my Becca," he said stiffly. "I will be the perfect gentleman the rest of the evening."

He moved closer, waiting for me to say something, but still I couldn't make my lips form words. He kept his eyes riveted on mine which was almost as unsettling as his outburst.

"It won't happen again, I promise," he vowed.

His eyes were apologetic, but still I was cautious. I nodded apprehensively and tried to smile.

Alastor's responding smile was teasing, "You must understand that this is difficult for me as well."

"How so?"

"Well in your mind, we are meeting for the first time," he explained. "But to me, you are and always will be my wife. For me, it's as if I must court you all over again."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," I confessed. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," he said with a tragic smile. "I have a second chance to win your heart."

I blushed. His words sounded as if they came straight from a romance novel.

Alastor seemed pleased with my reaction, "So, where were we?"

"It doesn't matter," I offered, not wanting to upset him again.

"No, no," he said gently. "You wanted to know why you killed me."

I fought the immediate feelings of guilt and told myself this was something that I very much needed to know.

He seemed to pause in thought for a moment and then he smiled, ashamed. "Shall we just say that some mistakes are built to last?"

His answer made no sense to me. It told me nothing about the events that brought us to this point.

"So, you don't hate me?" I asked.

Alastor smiled again, "Love and hate. Those two emotions so often feed off one another. That would be the tale of my life."

He wasn't really answering my question, but I didn't press him I tried to keep my eyes trained on the shifting vision of him.

"I've wanted to hate you." Alastor confessed. "When you touched where my blood spilled, I felt you, I felt the passage of the years, and I tried so hard to hate you. I thought if I hated you, it would be easier."

He looked at me then, his eyes so bitter, and I felt his need to hate me. I was afraid to ask what it was that was made easier if he could hate me.

"I did try to hate you," he offered.

I shifted on the bed, unsure where this conversation was going. "I believe you."

"And then I heard your voice," he said with an amused smile. "I heard your voice and I was right back to where I began, miserably in love with you."

It was so beyond anything I had ever imagined to have a ghost in my darkened bedroom declaring himself to me.

"I would come to watch you as you slept, thinking that was when I could get closest to you, but you always sensed that I was near and would awake." He seemed embarrassed to admit this to me, "Even then, I was still trying to hate you."

This time I felt a stab of pain when he said that. He had every reason to hate me.

Alastor was becoming stronger again, "Then you nearly drowned and I knew that it was hopeless. I will love you until the end of time and beyond."

My heart was pounding in reaction to the word "love". There were so many questions I still wanted to ask him, but only one resounded over and over.

"So what happens now?" I asked.

Alastor moved closer to me the way only a ghost could, not only the vision of him moved, but also the very air of the room shifted with him. I looked into his face, the illusion of the moonlight over the contours of his faultless face, the detail in the faint shadows under his eyes, and his perfect lips parted as if ready to speak.

His eyes locked on my own and they reflected nothing but intensity. I didn't fear him at the moment, on the contrary, my pulse quickened and a lump rose into my throat.

"May you close your eyes please?" Alastor requested.

I immediately obeyed him, holding my breath.

There was a great shift in the air, a roar and pull like the ocean only silent. Again, came the invisible hands, over my hair and neck. The sensation so real as long as I kept my eyes tightly shut.

And then I felt the tingling sensation over my lips, soft and fragile as the wings of a butterfly, but a kiss none the less.

It was a teasing touch that made me long for more. I wanted to pull him to me. I wanted to lock my fingers in his hair. I wanted—I wanted him, but I knew if I reached for him there would be nothing there.

As my heart pounded in my ears, I felt that dizzy, falling feeling again as the visions returned. I fell back into that other me, the me with the weight of heavy skirts swirling around me. That other me was kissing Alastor in a church somewhere with tall windows, my hands on his chest were able to feel his heartbeat, Alastor kissing me with his naked skin against mine, and his cold lips undermine as he lay dying on the floor.

I felt him fading, his unseen fingers pulling away. I opened my eyes. He was very weak now, no more than a shimmering outline in the dark.

"Alastor?"

"I apologize, my love," he said with that voice from nowhere.

"For what?"

"That I am unable to kiss you," he said. "I have missed kissing you very much, but it just wasn't the same."

I watched him struggle to remain near me; our kiss had drained him considerably. I wanted him to do it again, but knew it was impossible at the moment.

"Can you tell me about it?" I asked, tentative, afraid he would disappear at any moment.

"What?" He asked.

"About us, about our life together, and about you."

"Why would you ask about that?"

I looked into his eyes that flickered in the darkness, fading, growing clear, and then fading again.

"I'm at a disadvantage," I explained, hoping he would understand. "You remember us. You remember me. I don't."

He made a noise, almost like a sigh, "I was worried that it would upset you. After all, like you just said, these are my memories not yours."

"I would like to know," I confessed.

He nodded, looking at me with a more miserable expression than I had ever seen.

"Very well. I was born in this house in 1848." He paused and cut his eyes in my direction. I kept my face expressionless so that he would continue. He sighed and went on. "My older brother Atherton, your great-great-great-great-grandfather, and I grew up in these very rooms."

I gasped. I couldn't help it. Things just kept getting stranger. Not only was I supposedly his wife reincarnated, but I was also his great-great-great-great-great-niece. It was just too odd for words.

"I suppose that all of this seems like a long time ago, but to me it is the not so distant past." He was lost in memories for a time before he continued, "It was a nice boyhood of ponies and hunting. Then the war came. Atherton joined the army right away. I was a few years younger, so I joined the homeguard."

"Is that when we met?"

Alastor paused, a soft smile played over his lips. "No, it was about a year later. I was at the square, ready to enlist when the most beautiful girl I had ever seen walked by me. You were wearing a beautiful blue dress; I remember how it matched your eyes exactly."

He stopped and glanced over at me again, "I could smell your perfume as you walked past. As crazy as it sounds, I knew then and there that I would marry you one day, even before I knew your name."

The romance of it all had me blushing, "You hadn't even spoken to me yet?"

"I was already under your spell. When we finally did meet formally a few days later, my fate was sealed. We only exchanged a few words, but I was ready to shame my family and turn my back on my country to stay near you. You turned those blue eyes on me and I could think of nothing else."

I tried to picture it, the dashing young soldier and that other me from the visions. I tried to imagine it as really me with him and not some other person. I tried, but failed.

Alastor, on the other hand, recalled it all perfectly. "Perhaps it was the passion of the time, the uncertainty with the war hanging over our heads; we had a rather hurried courtship. We got married and then I joined my regiment."

It was there that Alastor paused. What I could see of his face became tense and hard.

"War is a horrible thing," he said with bitterness. "It doesn't matter which side you're on, it changes you forever. Many good men died, men I knew all of my life. People speak of heroes and patriots, but do you know the difference? A patriot dies for his country and a hero makes it out alive. A bullet is the only thing that separates the two."

He met my eyes again, "The war changed me. I was a very different person when I returned home. As far as the things that happened between us when I returned from the war, I think we both did things that we weren't proud of. I was an adulterous drunkard, and you shot me."

I was taken aback by the direction our conversation had taken. One minute we were discussing how the two of us met and fell in love, the next we were back to me murdering him again. Should I have expected his wrath at any second?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing that was ridiculously inadequate for a century old murder.

When I looked at him again he was smiling. It was as if he found all of this very amusing. I also noticed he was becoming more solid.

"You seem to be getting stronger," I commented to change the subject.

"Does it seem that it is so?" He asked in a lilt from another time.

"Why do you think that is?"

"I do not know." Alastor admitted as he took his full shape, "I only know that being near you, talking to you like this makes it easier."

I tried to think of the possibilities when another yawn almost split my head in two.

"You should sleep now."

"No, I'm fine." I insisted.

Alastor smiled, "Lie down my darling."

Reluctantly, I did as he commanded. I slid under the covers and lay back on the pillow.

"Goodnight Alastor."

"Sleep well my beloved."

As I watched him vanish into a soft mist that faded away, I knew that he was no ordinary spirit...I knew that he was a dangerous entity that could be in some corner of another realm planning his revenge, but I also knew that I was hopelessly in love with him.

# Chapter 8

The bright sunlight shining through the branches of the tree outside my window woke me. I blinked a few times to bring the world into focus. My room, again, seemed perfectly normal. Was last night only a dream?

"Alastor?" I called as I sat up in bed.

"I am here my love," his voice came at me from the four corners of the room.

Jumping from my bed, I stood and turned in a slow circle. "Where are you?"

A gentle rumble of laughter came from every direction.

"I am never very far away from you," he said from nowhere while I felt him swirling about me.

Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back. He continued to float around me, lifting strands of my hair.

"I can't believe this is really happening," I whispered.

"Believe."

A knock at my door put an end to his phantom caresses. Reluctantly, I staggered over to my door. I opened it, and there stood my dad, already shaved and dressed with his hair damp and combed neatly back.

"Just checking to make sure that you're up," he said. "I have some errands to run and I wanted to get an early start."

"Oh, okay," I mumbled, still dazed. Alastor was running invisible fingers up my spine. I tried to sound normal despite the sensations, "Go ahead, I'll be fine."

Dad looked a little skeptical, he craned his neck to see past me and into my room, but whatever he saw or didn't see satisfied him enough he waved and walked down the hall. "Remember to lock the door when you leave."

I shut my door and leaned back against it, feeling a little drunk. Alastor's voice whispered in my ear.

"Your father thinks that you have a boy in here or that you are hiding something."

I glanced around the empty room, "How do you know that?"

"I heard it in his thoughts."

"You can read minds?" I asked.

"I hear the idea of his thoughts."

All around me the air began to twist and churn around me again.

"Anyone's?"

"Yes."

"Amazing," I whispered. I paused there against the door, unsure of what to do next.

Part of me wanted to give myself over to him, but I needed to use the bathroom badly, which brought up another concern. If he could read minds, what else could he do?

"Can you always see me?" I asked.

"Yes."

" _Always?"_

A soft echo of laughter, like distant thunder, washed over me.

"I am always a perfect gentleman and give you your privacy when needed," he finally answered.

"Oh," I said with an embarrassed blush hot in my cheeks. I crept along the wall to my bathroom door, "Then excuse me for a moment."

Once inside with the door closed, I clutched at the edge of the sink. I still couldn't believe any of this was happening. Looking into the mirror, I half expected to see that other version of myself from the visions, but it was only me with overly bright eyes and a tangle of hair. I took a shower and did what I had to do in the bathroom and rushed back out into my bedroom.

As soon as I stepped back out into my bedroom, Alastor surrounded me again. The nearness of him made my heartbeat wildly, pounding in my ears as he moved around me.

I felt him trying to come together around me and caught a fleeting glimpse of him as he twisted and turned in the air. He was exactly the same as the night before.

"Were you here all night?" I asked while turning in a circle. I was trying to pinpoint his exact location.

"Of course, where else would I go?"

I had no idea where ghosts went when they weren't scaring people half to death. That juicy little tidbit was always left out of the campfire stories.

"Are you always here?" I asked, still trying to place the exact spot where he was, but it seemed the entire room was alive and pulsating with his presence.

"I am always near you." He whispered on the air, "I could let you be, but I find it impossible."

A secret smile spread across my lips as I turned in another slow circle. "You do?"

"Yes. You are my life. You are my death. You are my fate."

How could I say anything after that? What else was there to say? I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the sensation of Alastor surrounding me. I felt the room growing brighter, but I waited, savoring the closeness of him.

I waited as long as I dared before pulling away and going downstairs, surprised to feel him still with me on the staircase. In the back of my mind, I half expected him to stay behind in my room. Instead, he remained by my side as I moved through the house.

The kitchen was empty and bathed in misty light. Dad left a box of cereal next to the empty bowl and spoon that he set out for me. I went to the refrigerator to get the milk and when I turned back to the table, there sat Alastor. Before I could stop myself, I let out a scream.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a teasing smile.

He was very solid, so much so that he was even casting a faint shadow on the table. The sun coming through the window behind him created a pale copper halo around his head as it shone through his phantom hair. More impressive was the way his blue eyes caught the light and followed me as I moved back to the table. He seemed so real. I could even hear a slight noise as he drummed his fingers.

"You just startled me." I replied with a shaky laugh, trying not to let on how badly he frightened me.

"I do apologize," He said as I sat down across from him. He watched my every move, making me shift in my chair nervously.

"What?" I demanded, squirming under his gaze.

"It is nothing. I simply enjoy watching you."

I ate my cereal, but hated how loud my chewing sounded. He kept gazing at me, the amused smile never leaving his lips.

"What?" I finally asked, feeling the hot blood in my cheeks.

Alastor narrowed his eyes, "I was just curious why you would worry about making noise while you eat?"

I was a little taken back. It was one thing to have him reading my dad's thoughts; it was something else to have him inside my head. "You know, that's really annoying."

"What is?"

"The way that you can read my mind and I have no say in it."

He smiled wider, "Why should that bother you?"

"It's really not fair," I complained.

He shrugged and began to fade away, "I never meant to offend you."

"Well don't go," I whined.

"I am always here." He whispered within the walls of my head, "And now you best hurry or you will be late for school."

It was uncommonly cooler outside. There was no trace of the miserable heat of the weekend. I walked along, feeling Alastor swirling around me. I had to smile at the idea of having a real invisible friend right there with me as I walked down the sidewalk.

"Do you mind if I stay with you?" He asked in a soft murmur as if he was speaking directly in my ear.

I stopped in my tracks, grateful the sidewalks were empty. Alastor was really asking me what I wanted—I could send him away, as if I would.

"I'd like it if you'd stay," I mumbled, moving my lips as little as possible. The last thing that I wanted was for someone to see me and think that I was talking to myself. Something like that would make the incident at the quarry seem insignificant.

"Then I shall stay."

I began walking again, sensing him spreading out around me. He stayed close to my side as I stepped up to the front entrance of the school. I felt like I should say something else to him, but it was too late, we were too close to other people.

"Your friend Ally is waiting for you," Alastor said in a secret whisper inside my head.

Sure enough, up ahead, Ally stood by the door waiting. She stretched her neck from side to side as she searched through the sea of approaching students for me.

_What does she want_? I asked in my own hidden voice, more to myself than to him.

"She's worried. You never telephoned her after the accident." His silent voice answered in an odd cadence.

It struck me as odd that a ghost from the time of the civil War was aware of things such as a telephone. How could he know of such things? When I asked, what he said was more of a riddle than an answer.

"It was in her mind and then I knew of it," he said, telling me nothing.

I called out to Ally once I was only a few feet from her. "Hey Ally, what's up?"

"There you are!" Ally replied with her usual exuberance, "You didn't call me back."

"Sorry."

She danced around me, "It's okay. I was just worried. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Seriously," she said as she stepped in front of me and put her hands on my shoulders. "You almost died. Did you see a white light or anything?"

How could I explain to her what had happened? I barely understood what happened myself.

Unfortunately, Ally wasn't the only one curious about my accident. It seemed I was the center of attention for most of the day. Everyone wanted to know the details and exactly what it was like to almost die.

Billie and Ally, of course, focused on the fact it was Jonah that pulled me from the water. At lunch, it was all the two of them could talk about. They just kept going on and on about how romantic it was.

I tried to give them what they wanted, but it was Alastor that I remembered, not Jonah. It was Alastor's face that shone in the murky darkness, but I couldn't tell them that. So, I smiled and claimed I recalled very little about that night.

"Why are you lying to your friends?" Alastor whispered in my head.

They wouldn't understand.

"Why not? Everyone is curious. You are like Lazarus," He teased.

You're not funny.

"That boy that just passed wants to know if you heard angels singing."

I don't care.

I watched Ashley Richardson walk past, I heard her whispering to her friends and saw all of them glance my way at the same time.

What is she saying about me?

Alastor was silent, refusing to answer me. I asked him again in my thoughts, begging him to tell me.

"She doesn't like you," he hissed. I could feel the anger radiating from him as he surrounded me. "She told her friends that almost drowning was the only way that you could get any attention."

I tried to keep my thoughts calm and nonchalant, but something betrayed me because Alastor seemed to grow angrier. He went back to reading the minds of every person that walked by.

It was difficult to carry on a conversation with anyone with Alastor speaking to me in that secret voice at the same time. I caught myself wanting to answer him aloud which made my friends look at me oddly while it made Alastor chuckle inside my brain. By the time lunch was over I had a splitting headache.

"What is wrong my love?" Alastor asked as I walked down the hall to my History class.

I'm just ready for this day to be over.

I felt awful. Was Jonah being pestered for his own version of what happened at the quarry? If people were asking me, the unknown new kid, they must be bugging him to no end. He must hate me for putting him through this.

As usual, I was the first person in the classroom. I took my seat, counted the hours left in the day, and went back to doodling on the cover of my notebook. All day I had been drawing a great swirling pattern over and over, one way that I looked down at it I thought it appeared like the dark water when I was sinking, but then another glance and it seemed to be how I imagined Alastor to look as he was floating around me.

I was keenly aware of Jonah when he entered the room. Looking down, I hoped he would just take his seat and ignore me, but I wasn't that lucky.

"How are you?" Jonah asked.

I looked up slowly, knowing how embarrassed I was going to feel about the whole situation as soon as I looked into his handsome face. To make matters worse, Alastor was voicing his opinion at every opportunity.

"I do not like this boy," Alastor complained inside my head.

I did my best to ignore him. I gave Jonah an anxious smile, "I'm fine."

Jonah smiled back, confident and sure. "You really gave me quite a scare."

"Send this boy away," Alastor demanded.

Hush.

I opened and closed my eyes slowly, concentrating on tuning Alastor out. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Jonah smiled wider, showing off his beautiful whiter than white teeth. "I'm just glad to see that you're okay."

Alastor grumbled in my ear, mostly incoherent, but every now and then I would catch an oath or two.

I looked at Jonah again, shocked as always by his all American good looks. He was such a delicious cliché.

"I guess I have you to thank," I admitted. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't jumped in after me."

Alastor was irate inside my head, his voice so loud I winced uncontrollably.

"I would NEVER let anything happen to you," He complained.

I'm just being polite.

If Jonah noticed anything peculiar, he was kind enough not to mention it. Other people came in, staring at us as if we were celebrities. Jonah looked nervously at them. He actually seemed embarrassed by my gratitude, looking grateful when the teacher began class.

I tried to focus on the teacher, but Alastor kept a constant lament inside my head.

"He is just a boy," He said. "His intensions are not honorable."

Please, be quiet.

"You are still my wife."

Well, I don't remember any of that.

"Deep down you know you remember."

Just be quiet.

"I will not be silent," he argued.

Go away and give me some peace.

"As you wish."

With that, the lights overhead flickered, the chatter in my head stopped, and there was silence.

# Chapter 9

Life fell into an unconventional routine. I went to school and tried to keep Alastor at a distance to save my sanity. I did my best to just fit in and appear normal.

Alastor remained with me, my invisible shadow throughout the day. I could sense him hanging in the air around me even if he was silent. I felt him near me, knowing he was there even if I couldn't hear him or see him.

Unfortunately, when I needed him to be silent the most that was when Alastor would decide to be the most vocal.

"That boy does not deserve so much thought," Alastor complained when my mind drifted to Jonah. It was impossible to think of clever things to talk about with Jonah when I couldn't get Alastor out of my head.

Alastor...Don't start...

"You belong to me," He whispered on the air. "The boy is nothing."

I know, but he saved my life. I can't not talk to him. I won't be rude to him just to make you happy.

Every day Jonah would walk into History class with his dazzling smile and say something witty and charming. I would try to have a normal conversation, but I would fail miserably.

"Am I bothering you?" Jonah asked when all I could do was stammer a short "hi" after his greeting.

I could almost feel Alastor's breath on my neck as I tried to think of something normal to say. Part of me was still infatuated, but another part felt guilty for thinking that way about anyone, but Alastor.

"Of course you're not bothering me," I finally said as Alastor shifted around me. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

Jonah smiled wider, flashing his even white teeth. "Really? Like what?"

"Just school and stuff," I lied as Alastor began swirling between us, creating an ice cold breeze I was sure even Jonah could feel.

Something must have changed in my expression because the smile faded from his face.

"I see," He said as he turned away.

Not sure exactly what it was I did wrong, all that I could do was analyze every detail of our conversation while the teacher tried to explain the process of state succession, a topic Alastor took very personally and added his own opinions to the lecture.

"Damn rebels!" He complained inside my head. "If they hadn't left the Union, things could have been so very different. They ruined everything just so they could keep their slaves."

I ignored him and tried to concentrate, but my mind kept drifting back to Jonah.

Alastor's icy phantom touch tingled the skin of my throat, "You waste too much thought on the boy. Always remember that it is I that loves you."

I know that you love me.

"But it is still not enough," he said with a ghostly sigh.

A few people turned and looked back towards me as if they actually heard Alastor's breath, but it was only a brief glance. Perhaps they were only checking the time on the clock over my head.

How was I supposed to have any semblance of normalcy with Alastor whispering inside my head? No matter how predictable my odd little routine was, I felt like I was floundering. Time and time again, a lost, tight feeling clamped down on my chest. I was sinking quickly and I didn't know how to stop.

The problem was I wanted Alastor near me. It wasn't just the thrill of an invisible friend that could read everyone's minds, it went deeper than that. Every time I felt him churning around me, I was overcome with memories and a sense of him that at times was so powerful it would leave me breathless. I loved him plain and simple.

My friends noticed changes in me. All too often I would make plans and cancel or just avoid them all together.

"I don't really feel like shopping today," I told Ally when she called one weekend.

Never one to take no for an answer, she of course pressed me on the issue.

"Why not?" She whined, "Billie is coming and we're going for pizza later. We might even go see a movie."

Alastor was circling me, touching me with invisible fingers. How could I ever leave this sort of tortured bliss?

"I'm just not really feeling up to it," I said as a tingling sensation swept up the side of my face.

"Well, suite yourself," She said, obviously disappointed.

I came up on them one day on the sidewalk after school. I was still in the shadows of the crape myrtle trees outside the science labs, unnoticed by them. I stopped short when I realized I was the topic of their conversation.

"Do you think she's actually coming this time?" Ally asked Billie as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

Billie stood there in all of her model without make-up beauty. She was calm and unmoving. "At lunch she said we'd all hang out after school. She'll be here."

"What's been going on with her?" Ally wondered.

Always the voice of fairness and reason, Billie just shrugged. "Who knows? New in town, new school, I'm sure it's all still a little overwhelming."

"That doesn't explain why she's been acting so weird."

"It explains why Becca is acting weird, but what's your excuse?" Billie teased.

Even though we hadn't been friends that long, they knew something was up. I saw it in the way that they looked at me. How could I keep them as friends and explain what was happening? No one in their right mind would believe me.

My evenings at home were no better; Dad also seemed to sense something was wrong. He was more talkative, asking all sorts of questions about my day and my friends. His newfound concern made me miss the days when my Mom was alive and Dad never got home until after I was in bed.

"When are you and your friends going out again?" He asked for the third time in a week.

"I don't know."

He was clearing the dishes after dinner when he brought it up again.

"You could have the girls over here anytime you want," he said with a smile as he scraped the remains of my plate to his before stacking them together. "I promise to stay out of the way."

"I know."

"Maybe you all could do something this weekend?"

"Maybe," I said without any sound of real commitment. "Can I be excused?"

And now I was back in my bedroom, alone and unobserved. I stood in the center of the floor, facing the windows. I didn't call to him yet, but I stood there waiting.

From behind, somewhere just over my left shoulder, I felt him watching me.

I didn't turn around, but my heart was pounding as I felt him gathering together behind me. I watched him in the reflection of the windows as he became solid.

When he spoke to me, it was in the soft type of voice I imagined a lover would use during an intimate embrace.

"I have been waiting for you, my love." He whispered.

I turned around to face him. He stood only a few feet from me wearing a pale shirt open at the collar, his handsome face perfection in the moonlight. He was so very solid I could see the light and shadows moving over his face as he stepped even closer.

I watched him approach; we were only inches away from each other. His brilliant blue eyes focused on mine, true and unwavering.

Even though I knew better, I reached my hand toward him. My fingers were so close to touching his that I could feel the wintry heat radiating from him. I held my breath, reaching closer and closer.

Just as my fingers reached his, the vision of him twisted and turned into itself, disappearing in an ice cold blast of air that made me stagger backwards. Despite all of that, I felt him. I touched his cold hand for the briefest moment.

My room was empty again, only my curtains were still fluttering to a stop. I turned in a slow circle again, knowing I wouldn't see him, but searching anyway.

"You're still here, aren't you?" I whispered up into the emptiness.

"Of course."

I smiled at the sound of his voice, "I broke the rules, didn't I?"

"Pardon?"

"I wasn't supposed to touch you," I said. "It broke the illusion."

He said nothing, but he was closer now. There was no sound to his breathing, but there was a pulsating in the air that came with his presence.

I stared back up into the empty air, "Are you still here?"

"Yes, my love." He answered in an outdated cadence.

"Why do you say it like that?" I asked.

"Because you are my love, and my life, and my fate."

"And what is my fate?" I asked.

Alastor laughed. It was a gentle rumbling like distant thunder. "My darling, your fate was sealed long ago."

"Because I shot you?" I asked.

Nothing.

I turned in a circle again, narrowing my eyes as I searched for some trace of him.

"Alastor, why are you here?" I asked, knowing the answer would be the same as every other night. "Tell me the truth."

"I would never lie to you," He whispered as he closed in to surround me again. "I am here because of you."

I was strangely anxious as I walked to the cafeteria with Ally, and it had nothing to do with her fidgety constant chatter.

Maybe it was because for the first time in weeks Alastor wasn't hanging over my shoulder. He was still with me, but slightly more distant than usual.

I almost felt normal.

Billie noticed the change in me immediately as soon as I sat down at the table.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked.

I tried to brush her off, "Nothing, why?"

Billie narrowed her eyes, "I don't know. You just seem different."

Luckily Ally didn't care if I seemed different than my usual self or not. She launched right back into her tirade about her favorite reality show and a particular contestant that got booted off.

Since Alastor came into my life, there was little time for television so I was clueless about the latest travesty to primetime justice. I just nodded and smiled anytime she paused to take a breath and let Billie handle the bulk of the conversation since she seemed to at least know what was going on.

I was just about to excuse myself when I saw Jonah heading my way. I pushed my hair back from my face and tried to get some sense of where Alastor was, hoping he would keep his distance for the next few minutes.

Alastor might be my husband from a former life, but this was flesh and blood Jonah. My chest was heavy with guilt as Jonah stepped up to the table and gave me his most sparkling smile.

"Hey girls," He said to all of us before turning his charm on me alone. "Did you finish that essay on General Sherman?"

I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks, hating I was blushing as if he had just complimented me when all he did was merely acknowledge my existence.

"I'm almost finished," I answered. "I was going to try to get to class a little early so that I could finish it up."

"Me too." He said with another dazzling smile.

"I guess I'll see you there."

Something magical happened then—Jonah smiled directly at me with his eyes focused intensely on my face.

"I can't wait," he said.

I don't remember watching him leave. I don't remember leaving the table myself. One minute I was in the cafeteria, the next I was floating down the hall to History.

Somehow along the way, I took a wrong turn and when I snapped out of my daze, I was outside standing under the shade of the birch trees near the gym.

"What did the boy want?" Alastor's voice demanded from behind.

I jumped and spun around as a reflex, not expecting to see him, but there he was.

Alastor stood in the twisting shadows of the tree. I had never seen him so solid. I could see the lines in his lips and my own image was reflected in his stunning blue eyes.

He lowered his voice to a gentle purr, "Would you betray me so quickly? Does my love mean nothing to you?"

I couldn't answer him; the movement of his hair in the early autumn breeze had me mesmerized. There was something so terrifying about it. How could he appear so real?

Alastor seemed amused by my reaction. To show how powerful he was, he reached his hand out and caressed my cheek.

"Do you not love me?" He asked.

His fingertips were cold against my cheek, solid and real, but ice cold, like no human touch. I shivered under his hand, but there was something else, a strange, vibrating, electrical sensation that ran through my body and settled somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

The world spun and faded away, taking me to a long ago place where we once stood just like this. I looked up into his face, alive and real, coming closer to give me my first kiss as his wife.

"I will love you until the end of time," He had whispered and touched my face in exactly the same way.

The memory faded, swirling away like a puff of smoke, and I was back to the here and now. I was left with a deep ache in my heart, pulling at me, reminding me of my vows.

Forsaking all others...

He was touching me and he wasn't disappearing. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw myself into his arms. I wanted to slap at him.

"Why did you ever come back?" I choked.

Alastor's own eyes were shinning with unshed tears; his lips trembled as he caressed my face, "Oh my Becca, I have waited so long for this moment. I would have traded my soul to hell just to touch you again and now I am selfish enough to still want more."

I closed my eyes. I was trembling under his fingers, but savoring the feeling of his icy touch. It was real, it was solid. I wanted to reach out to him, to touch him in some way, but I knew that he would just disappear.

I forced myself to take one faltering step back, "Alastor, I can't keep doing this. It's driving me crazy."

Walking away, I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks. I glanced back when I reached the door to the school, expecting to see that he had vanished, but there he was staring back at me.

I wanted to go back to him, but instead I brushed my tears away. I opened the door and went back inside the school. Ally and Billie were there waiting with their arms crossed.

"Someone's been keeping a secret," Billie declared with a smirk.

"What do you mean?" I stammered, trying to blink away the remaining tears.

Ally playfully shoved my shoulder, "Come on, out with it. Who was that guy?"

"What guy?"

Billie rolled her eyes and jerked her chin toward the door. "That guy you were just talking to outside."

The world lurched sickeningly to the left as I realized what she meant.

"You saw him?" I asked.

Ally and Billie exchanged confused glances.

"It's not like you two were hiding or anything," Ally accused, "So who is he?"

My mouth fell open in disbelief. They could see him. He had been strong enough even they could see him. How was that possible? I glanced back at the trees again, but he was gone.

"He's an old friend," I lied.

Billie raised an eyebrow, "He looked like more than just that. The two of you looked pretty serious."

Just then I spotted Jonah standing not too far away. It was obvious he heard our entire conversation. He turned and walked away.

I wanted to run after him, but my feet were frozen. I tried to take a step forward, but Alastor's secret voice echoed inside my head.

"You swore...Forsaking all others..." He threatened.

I pushed past my friends and followed Jonah down the hall to our class. He didn't even look up as I walked past him to my seat. I sat down and looked at his back, something about the tension in his squared shoulders made my palms sweat.

"Jonah?"

"I'm trying to read," Jonah said flatly. "We'll talk later."

"Are you angry?"

"What would I have to be angry about?" He asked.

I bit my lip. It was ridiculous to think he overheard the girls talking about Alastor and was jealous, but what other explanation was there?

"I'll leave you alone and let you read," I whispered.

"Thanks."

Jonah was silent throughout class, never turning even once to look at me. It seemed impossible that he was jealous, but an even darker thought began to surface. Did Alastor mean for Jonah to somehow find out about us? Is that why he chose that moment to show himself so clearly?

The thought wouldn't go away. All through class I kept asking myself over and over. At the sound of the bell, I ran to the nearest bathroom.

I bent down and checked under each of the stall doors before looking up at the ceiling. I could feel him near me. I strained my eyes to look for ever the slightest disturbance in the air.

"How did you do it?" I demanded. "Why did you do it?"

Nothing.

"If you could make yourself that real, why did you wait so long?"

Invisible hands ran up my back and mussed my hair. His seductive laugh echoed against the tiled walls.

"Is that what you're mad about?" He teased, "That I waited so long to show you?"

"Yes," I said. All of a sudden, it didn't matter why he did it, it was only important that he did become that vivid for me.

"Why is that?"

"Because," I sighed. "For just that one moment, you really seemed like you were mine."

"I am yours," he whispered. "Now and forever."

# Chapter 10

Somehow I made it through the frustrating weeks with Alastor constantly chatting away in my head. I wasn't really aware of time passing. I awoke one morning to the autumn colored leaves out my window and realized that it was the first Monday in October.

Ally began my day off by reminding me about the fall dance in just a few weeks.

"Has anyone asked you yet?" She asked as soon as I took my seat in English.

"Hardly," I said with a sarcastic laugh.

"Are you sure?" She asked with a knowing smirk, "What about your mystery man?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I snapped as Alastor laughed in the secret voice only I could hear.

Ally shrugged, "Whatever, keep him a secret, but you two looked pretty hot and heavy."

"Trust me, we're not."

"Then who is he?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I snapped.

She said nothing else and class began. I didn't have time to worry about what she must be thinking or if I was going to be shunned for my secrecy. Mrs. Temple was handing out a pop quiz on the John Steinbeck novel I had yet to open. Perfect, one more failed test to add to the collection that started when Alastor showed up.

This is all your fault, you know.

Alastor only laughed and hovered above my head. I wished that I could somehow just reach up and jab him with my pencil.

I was grateful when the bell rang and I could turn in my nearly blank test. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stepped out into the hall and let the crowd swallow me up while I jogged to catch up with Ally.

Alastor was unusually quiet as I followed Ally to the cafeteria. I sensed the tension in him as he swirled around me even though he was silent. I was keenly aware of him and his mood, but waited for him to tell me what was bothering him.

"Will you be going to the dance?" He finally whispered inside my head.

I don't know.

"I wish that I could be your escort," He confessed, brushing my neck with his ghostly hand.

There was a sad, resigned note to his voice that tugged at my heart.

I wish you could too.

Alastor became more agitated as he gathered around me, stirring the air to the point even Billie and Ally felt the breeze. I took my seat at the table, pretending I noticed nothing. They looked from side to side to try to locate where the errant breeze was stemming.

Alastor, what is wrong with you?

"I do believe that someone else is planning to ask you," He hissed as he settled around me.

Glancing around the cafeteria, my eyes settled on Jonah who had just walked in and stood there surrounded by friends. He hadn't spoken to me for weeks, not since the day Alastor appeared under the birch trees.

Him?

The rebellious draft kicked up again as Alastor expressed his frustration. People looked around again as papers blew about. A few teachers even left their table in the corner and walked over to the windows, checking to make sure that each one was shut and latched.

I hesitated, despising the wave of contrition that passed through me. Why was it bad to want the most normal things, like to go to a dance? Why did I have to be so torn?

"What will you say to him?" Alastor demanded.

I didn't answer him. I sipped my soda and half-heartedly listened to them talk about the dance. Every word they uttered wore me down a little more and made me question everything.

Was it wrong for me to want the same things as other girls? I made no vow to Alastor in this life. Why was I denying myself? Because, I reasoned with myself, deep down I knew that it was only Alastor I wanted. It would always be Alastor.

"That boy does not honor you like I do," Alastor reminded me as I left the cafeteria to go to History.

How would you know?

Alastor lowered his voice to a faint whisper inside the walls of my mind.

"It will not end well," he said.

Go away Alastor.

"Very well."

No one was in the classroom when I took my seat. I opened my textbook and told myself I was reviewing the chapter we were covering, but I was actually watching the door with anticipation.

When Jonah did enter the room, he met my eyes before I could look away and fake interest in my book. I expected him to look away and ignore me as usual, but instead he stared at me with a strange mix of frustration and amusement written on his face.

I forced myself to look away. I dropped my eyes to my books even though I was no longer interested in the words.

Just thinking about Jonah sent a rush of emotion through me. I was giddy, but at the same time hesitant, almost as if I felt guilty or something close to it.

What was I doing? He hadn't spoken to me in weeks. What made me think today would be different?

Other students arrived and Mr. Abramson called the class to order. I tried to pretend I was not studying Jonah's every move and hoped I was better at convincing everyone else than I was myself. I was ready to dart out the door as soon as the bell rang.

"Becca?" Jonah called to me before I could escape.

I looked up at him reluctantly. He was too perfect, so much so it was almost a cliché and I still didn't know how to sort out the toxic soup of emotions I felt near him.

"What is it Jonah?" I asked, keeping my voice light as possible.

"Well," Jonah said, looking down at his feet. "I guess you've heard about the dance coming up."

My heart did a strange stop-start-pound in my ears sort of thing. I tried to breathe normally, but my knees were already starting to shake.

"Billie and Ally were talking about it at lunch," I said, shocked at how normal my voice sounded. "Why?"

"Well," he faltered, clearly not as confident as I had believed. "I was wondering if you were going?"

"I don't know. Nobody has asked me."

"Oh," he said and looked back down at his feet. "I thought you might already have a date."

I bit my lip, hating the rush of shame that ran over me. I didn't want to think about Alastor, but everyone kept bringing up the man from under the tree that day.

"No," I assured him. "No one has asked me."

Jonah smiled and stood taller, running his fingers through his hair like the male model that he should have been. "Well, would you like to go with me?"

So this is what it was like to be normal? This sensation of giddy embarrassment?

"Yes," I whispered before he changed his mind or I changed mine. "I'd love to."

"Great," he said with a slight nod. "We'll work all the details out later."

Before I could say anything else, he turned and left the room. I stared after him, still trying to believe what just happened.

I walked to my Spanish class in a state of bewilderment. I took my seat and ran through the events in my mind while the teacher droned on and on about conjugating verbs.

"I'm pleased to see you in such a good mood Miss McAllister," Mrs. Martinez said in a belittling tone. "But would you please refrain from humming."

I flushed and sank down in my seat. I felt everyone's eyes on me, especially Ashley Richardson's. I felt her glaring at me from across the room like she was trying to bore a hole into the side of my head.

What was a matter with her? She seemed to be hating me more than usual.

When the bell range, I stood to leave, but Ashley blocked my way.

"So Becca," Ashley began, stressing my name. "I hear Jonah asked you to the dance."

"Yeah," I said, eying her warily.

She smirked as she tilted her head and looked down at me. "Well, he might be paying attention to you now, but don't get used to it."

"Why is that?"

Ashley lifted her hand to examine her perfect nails, complete with shiny French manicure.

"Because," she said with a toss of her head. "Right now you're the new girl, a novelty."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked, unable to deny the obvious.

She crossed her arms, "Sooner or later, novelty wears off and when it does, he'll come right back to me."

"Do you really believe that?" I snapped.

"Yes, and so do you. Guys like him belong with girls like me; it's just a fact of life."

I pushed past her, wishing I had enough guts to shove her into the wall.

"Whatever," I said as I left.

Alastor hovered near my shoulder, "I do not like that girl."

I smiled and stifled a giggle. _Neither do I._

The worse thing was that I had the sinking sensation that Ashley was right. After all, I was nothing special and he was Jonah Ericson. Normal girls like me that went to dances with the super popular guy usually got pig blood dumped on them or something, not a second date.

I guess it didn't matter. It was all settled. I was going to the dance with Jonah Ericson.

The news of this miracle seemed to spread quickly, so quickly that even as I was leaving school for the day, girls were giving me looks of envy. Overnight I went from being the strange new girl at school to Jonah's date for the dance. I could feel people looking at me and wondering who I was for such a turn of fortune.

"You're all anyone is talking about," Billie said when we met up outside school. She smiled smugly, "I've been asked about it a dozen times just while I've been standing here."

Ally motioned over to the flock of girls near the steps; Ashley was in the center of them.

"Some people are pretty twisted up over it," She said, barely able to contain her smile.

I looked over at Ashley and saw that she was glaring at me again as if she wished I would burst into flames.

"Yeah, she's already made it pretty clear what she thinks about it."

Billie giggled, "So I guess it's safe to say that she hates you now."

Ally elbowed me in the ribs, "You can almost see the smoke coming out of her ears."

"I guess she really does hate me," I said with another glance in Ashley's direction. "I can't pretend that it's a loss."

"Who cares?" Ally declared. "You're going to the dance with _Jonah Ericson_!"

We started walking. They were squealing and joking around while I was starting to get a sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. Where was Alastor? Did he already know? If he didn't, what would he do when he found out?

I was so distracted with my thoughts about Alastor I didn't notice Billie and Ally had stopped walking. I turned to say something to them and they were frozen in place three yards back.

"What? What's wrong with you two?" I asked.

"How can you be so calm?" Ally wailed.

I walked back to where her and Ally stood, both of them looking as though the world was coming to an end.

"What are you throwing such a fit over?" I asked.

"What are you going to wear?" Billie asked, spreading her arms wide as if she had my entire wardrobe in front of her.

"Um...A Dress...I guess...What else would I wear?" I asked, still not sure what the big crisis was.

"Do you have a dress?" Ally asked.

"Well, no."

"Oh my God!" Billie cried out. "We only have two weeks to find one."

"Well, call me fashion ignorant," I declared. "But I still don't see what the big deal is."

"What if we find you a dress, but it needs to be altered? What about dying the shoes?" Billie counted off on her fingers, "And then there's the accessories and deciding on your hair."

"Seriously?" I teased, "This is your major crisis?"

Ally shook her head, "You don't get it. You're going to the dance with Jonah Ericson."

I was starting to grow impatient with both of them, "I know. Remember? I was there when he asked me."

"Well," Billie explained. "You can't just show up in any old dress. Guys like Jonah go to dances with girls like Ashley with their designer dresses. They don't show up with girls in dresses grabbed off the clearance rack at the last minute."

I began to understand I had a bigger responsibility to Jonah than merely showing up as his date. There were expectations to uphold that I knew nothing about. The entire thing was becoming overwhelming quickly.

"So what am I supposed to do about it?" I asked, already defeated.

Billie and Ally looked at me, shrugging their shoulders.

I could feel the tears behind my eyes, wanting to come up and embarrass me. "You're not helping."

Ally sighed and straightened her shoulders. "You're right. Let's drop off your books, get some money from your dad, and we'll go shopping. I've got my mom's car tonight so we can even go down to Clarksville."

Giving me a nervous smile, Billie agreed. "Sure. If we get started right away, I'm sure we can pull it off."

I tried to be as confident as they were pretending to be. I wanted to believe them, but it would take a miracle. I wanted to believe I could look the part of small town royalty if only I had the right dress.

They followed me home where I let us in using my old fashioned black key. I felt the disturbance of Alastor in the air even before I turned the knob. The door creaked as I stepped inside with them close behind me. The light on the entry table flickered off and on, catching their attention.

I laughed and rolled my eyes, trying not to let them see the panic that was tightening my throat. "We've got an electrician coming next week to fix that. Grab yourselves a soda. I'll be right back down."

As they headed toward the kitchen, I bounded up the stairs two at a time. I could hear the house groaning and something similar to the sound of cards shuffling coming from above. By the time I reached my bedroom door, I could feel Alastor's cold breath on my neck.

I opened the door to a hurricane of papers and clothes being swept through the room. It would have been terrifying if I hadn't known the jealousy behind it. I stepped inside and slammed the door, bringing an end to the chaos as all of my possessions fell and fluttered to the floor.

"What?" I hissed into the air as I looked about.

There was a rush of air as Alastor came in to touch my face and hair without materializing, "What is it that you think you are doing Becca?"

"You know full well what I'm doing," I said as I glared up at the ceiling. "You're the one that said Jonah was going to ask me to the dance."

"I did not tell you to accept the invitation."

I ignored him, going to my dresser and getting my money out of the top drawer. I tried to shrug him off as he collected around me, but how do you push away someone that isn't there?

"Becca," His sweet voice called to me. "Why are you shunning me?"

I griped the edge of the furniture, grinding my teeth and squinting my eyes shut to keep the tears from escaping.

"Alastor let me go," I pleaded.

A chill spread through the room as he gathered energy. It sounded like the roar of the ocean inside a sea shell.

"How can you waste time thinking about that boy when it is I that loves you?" He demanded, "Do you not realize that it is I that has cheated eternal sleep to be near you now?"

I kept my eyes closed, knowing that he was taking form in back of me. I felt his smooth hand touch my face and my knees felt weak.

"Becca," he whispered. "Open your eyes and look at me."

I hesitated, not sure if I could stand to see his face. Despite my better judgment, I turned to him and opened my eyes.

He stood before me, looking solid and real. The light in his blue eyes was just as intense, but somewhat less luminous in this form. His skin was youthful, but rugged beyond his years. My eyes followed the lines of his strong jaw down to his neck and then to his open collar. I fought the urge to bury my face in his chest and inhale the scent of his skin.

Alastor stepped even closer to me. I could feel the icy chill radiating from him.

"Becca," he pleaded. "He is just a boy. I am your husband. Why are you doing this to me?"

I knew I was faltering. His words were pulling me in, making me want to bend to his will. I had to do something before it was too late.

I took one shaking step backward and away from his hand. As I did, the image of him wavered and began to fade.

"Because," I said. "He's real."

The very air surrounding me shook to where dusty fragments of plaster from the ceiling fell away. The flickering mist that was Alastor broke apart and came toward me as if pushed by a great wind. I covered my face with my hands as he rushed toward me. Papers blew past me and things flew off the wall as I struggled to make it to the door.

When I reached the door, I rushed out into the hall and slammed the door behind me. The noise and commotion stopped immediately.

Ally and Billie were rushing up the stairs, their eyes wide and panicked.

"Are you okay?" Ally panted. "We heard you banging around up here."

I smoothed my hair and tried to smile. "Sure. I just got tangled up in a cord and tripped."

They both eyed me suspiciously, probably trying to decide whether or not to believe me.

"So," I said with as much enthusiasm as possible. "What are we waiting for?"

# Chapter 11

Ally drove like a maniac, leaving clouds of autumn leaves swirling in her wake. She drove so fast we beat the rush hour traffic down to Clarksville.

The girls were laughing and joking as they sang along to the radio. I had been so consumed by Alastor that I had neglected my friends. It was nice to just be out with my friends.

Clarksville was slightly more urban than Corydon with numerous strip malls and one actual mall. The whole town had a dirty industrial feel, making me doubt the perfect dress was hiding within its one shopping mall.

"Ready?" Ally asked as she parked the car.

"So Becca, what's the story with that guy a couple weeks ago?" Billie asked as we walked through the doors to the mall.

"What guy?" I asked innocently, not wanting to even think about Alastor for fear of making him appear.

We were walking down the mall corridor with me in the middle as the pointed to the few stores with dresses in the windows. Billie and Ally looked over at each other and smirked.

"You know exactly what guy," Billie snapped.

"Yeah," Ally agreed as she elbowed my ribs teasingly. "Is he an old boyfriend or what?"

"Not exactly," I evaded.

Billie smelled a scandal and her eyes lit up, "Why isn't he taking you to the dance?"

I bit my lip and looked away, feeling guilty, "He's just not taking me."

Ally's curiosity was now piqued, "So what does he think about Jonah taking you to the dance?"

I could still see all of my belongings flying about my bedroom in a tornado-like fury.

Shaking my head to clear the image, I shrugged. "I didn't ask."

"You're so lucky," Billie said with a sigh.

"Why is that?"

"You've got two guys wanting your attention," she said with a smile. "I can't even get one to notice me."

Ally danced around us, "So, are we going to shop or talk about guys all night?"

"Why not?" I sighed.

What followed was five hours of retail torture. Billie and Ally dragged me into every store that even looked like a possible candidate for having the perfect dress. They held me hostage in dressing rooms and punished me by making me try on dress after dress.

Each time they left me alone to go get another style or size, Alastor would appear in the reflection of the dressing room mirror. The first time I saw him there I shrieked and backed into the corner.

He glared at me from the mirror, "You are breaking every vow you ever made."

I lowered my voice to a whisper, "Alastor please...Go away."

"What's wrong?" Billie cried from the other side.

"I'm fine. It was just a spider," I lied and glared at his reflection in the mirror. As if he sensed my anger, he faded away only to appear again and again at every opportunity.

Despite Alastor's games, Billie and Ally helped me choose a beautiful dress of a strange teal shade with a black mesh overlay and scattered rhinestones over the short skirt. Luckily, it fit perfect so there was no need for alterations. Before the night was over, I had a new dress, glittery black heels I would never wear again, and a few pieces of ridiculous costume jewelry.

The two of them looked quite pleased with themselves as I handed most of my savings over to the sales lady. I was relieved they were preoccupied with their success. They were too excited to notice Alastor's reflection in the glass case by the register or shimmering in the windows as we left the mall.

I was grateful when they suggested going to a movie before we called it a night. I hated to admit it, but I was having fun and in the darkness of a theatre, Alastor wouldn't be able to torment me with his constant appearances.

It was nearing midnight when Billie and Ally dropped me off at home. I waved to them as I walked up the stone walkway, cringing as their tires squealed when they pulled away.

Dad must have left the porch light on for me before he went up to bed. I stood in its yellow glow and fumbled with my bags as I searched my pockets for my key.

"Do you hate me now?" Alastor's voice echoed in the darkness.

I didn't look up, afraid I'd see him materialized somewhere near me.

"I don't hate you," I confessed.

He was close to me. I could see his shadow on the concrete, achingly familiar. He moved closer so that our two shadows became one.

"Would you walk with me?" He asked.

"Where to?"

"It's not far," he pleaded.

I shifted the bags in my hands, "What am I supposed to do with these?"

His shadow motioned toward the house, "Put them inside."

"I can't," I sighed. "I don't know where my key is."

There was a deep chuckle and the shadow at my feet disappeared. Before I could even look around, I heard the lock turning, and the front door opened wide.

Alastor stepped out into the moonlight, solid enough I could hear the sound of his clothing moving against his skin. He smiled a crooked grin and cocked one eyebrow.

"You were saying?" He teased.

"Thank you," I whispered as I placed my purchases inside the door, careful not to touch him as I moved past.

"Being dead does have its advantages."

I looked up at him, taken back that he would make light of his own death. Alastor only bowed and swept his hand wide.

"Shall we?" He asked.

I didn't hesitate this time. I stepped off the porch and back onto the stone walk with him at my side.

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"Follow me, my love." He purred.

Hearing his voice in that exact moment, I knew I would follow him anywhere.

I walked beside him, acutely aware of how solid he was at that moment, knowing that anyone would be able to see him if they looked out their windows. He was beautiful in a way that made my heart ache.

"Alastor, can I ask you something?"

He looked up into the night sky, the shadows from the streetlight playing across his face, "Of course."

"How are you doing it? How are you this real? Why are you suddenly able to touch me? Why was everyone able to see you that day at school?"

He smiled, "I don't know, perhaps it was a one-time thing."

"Seriously?"

"I have a theory," he said. "I feel stronger when we're together, especially when you're thinking about me as a man and not as a ghost, but it makes me very tired to be this real for you."

"So will you ever be able to stay like this?"

"No," He sighed and looked out into the darkness again. "I told you, it's just an illusion. It's not real."

We walked in silence. Our strides matched one another. It was easy and natural, like a forgotten memory that wouldn't go away.

Alastor was perfectly at ease, completely comfortable in the darkness. He walked only inches away from me, if I turned my hand just a little we would touch

It was strange to be so close to him when he was this strong. I couldn't help but to steal a look at him as we walked along. He looked straight ahead, glancing at me only occasionally, I suppose to make certain I was still with him. He had the sleeves of his shirt cuffed up to his elbows, and his forearms were surprisingly muscular in a lean sort of way. There was something about those naked arms made me blush and look away.

When I looked up at him again, he met my gaze. He was looking down at me, watching me closely for some reason. Whatever it was brought a sad melancholy to his eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Where are we going?" I demanded.

He smiled down at me, making my heart flutter. "It's just ahead."

We turned and stepped up to a set of iron gates. I looked up and read the arching letters.

CEDAR HILL CEMETARY

"What are we doing here?" I demanded.

He didn't answer. He walked through the gates in silence, not even looking back to see if I was following. The darkness of the night seemed to just swallow him up as he moved away from me.

I stood for a moment in the pale glow of the solitary streetlight, unsure if I should follow or not. In the distance I heard a dog barking in a backyard nearby, but other than that the night was unsettlingly quiet.

Not wanting to walk home alone, I followed him up into the cemetery, allowing myself to be consumed by the dark.

"Alastor?" I called to him, "Where are you?"

"Over here," he answered to my right.

I turned toward his voice and I could just make out his ebony silhouette against the black sky. I stumbled over to him, eager to stand near his solid form and suffer the sweet torment of being so close to him.

"So why are we here?" I asked, feeling the slight chill in the air for the first time. I crossed my arms over my chest.

Alastor pointed to the headstone in front of us, "This is where my body lies."

I didn't want to look where he pointed, but my eyes were drawn to the headstone. I had seen it once before, but now the sight of it stirred something deeper inside of me. It wasn't the grave of a faceless person anymore; it was the final resting place of the being standing next to me.

"You did that to me," Alastor said flatly without accusation. "Even that was less painful than this."

I looked up at him confused. He met my gaze with soft dejected eyes.

"Is that why you're back?" I asked, "Be honest. Have you come back to get your revenge?"

Alastor chuckled and gave me a gentle smile, "It's always a battle with you. It's been that way from the first day that I saw you."

He moved so he could lean back against the headstone, "You hated me at first or maybe you just thought I was a pest. I guess it wasn't so different than it is now.

A vision of Alastor flashed behind my eyes. I could see him long ago, alive and whole. He was dramatically bowing to me, the sun giving his hair a slight copper glint, and I could remember that other me thinking that he was a fool.

Alastor nodded as if he could hear my thought and memories.

"Then one day I said something, I don't remember what, but it made you smile and I knew then and there that I wanted to spend the rest of my life making you smile."

I looked up at him in the darkness and tried to remember back to that me from another time. I could picture myself walking down the sidewalk and seeing Alastor up ahead. I remembered thinking I should ignore him, but there was a little skip in my heartbeat at the sight of him.

In my memories, Alastor stood near the edge of the street. I lifted my chin as I walked by, ignoring his greeting.

"Good morning, ma'am." He had said as he watched me approach.

Just as I was about to pass, while trying to perform one of his ridiculous bows, he stumbled and fell backwards into a water trough.

I giggled in the darkness at the memory of it.

"It wasn't anything that you said," I whispered. "You fell into a horse trough."

Alastor smiled and looked down at his feet, "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that part."

We were quiet for a moment and then another cold breeze came to remind me that it was getting cooler and I was standing in a cemetery at night.

"Alastor, why are you back?" I demanded, "And why did you bring me here?"

"When we got married, I thought that we'd be happy forever." He said with a sigh, "Then I went off with the army and everything changed."

Alastor turned and looked down at his own grave, "I was supposed to shoot and kill men that were not really much more than boys. You could hear them crying and calling for their mothers as they lay dying. Even when I came home, and the war was over, I could still hear them crying."

I never knew that ghosts could feel pain, but as I watched his luminous blue eyes filled with tears. I felt the frustrated helplessness and wondered if this was how I felt back then.

Alastor turned his watery gaze on me, "Then came the whiskey and the women."

"I don't want to hear about that." I snapped, feeling the familiar burn of jealously, "It doesn't matter now."

"Yes it does!" He said with wild eyes, "I am here because of you, don't you understand that?"

My heart fell to the pit of my stomach, "Of course I understand it. I killed you and now you're back to get even with me."

Alastor was next to me in a flash. It hit me then that I may very well die then and there.

"You don't see," he said. "I am here because of you. I was a horrible husband, going into the beds of other women and being a shameful drunk, and I drove you to what you did."

I looked up at him, trying to understand it all. He didn't blame me for his death? How was that even possible?

Alastor took another step towards me, almost as if he were about to take me into his arms, but then changed his mind.

"I saw you when they arrested you," he confessed. "I tried to go to you and tell you that I forgave you and that I was so sorry for everything that happened, but I only seemed to frighten you. I think I frightened you so badly that you took your own life and it broke my heart that you were then damned."

"Damned?"

"I knew you were damned because I never saw you after that," he said. "I waited here for so long, but you never came until that day I heard you call to me and I knew that you had returned."

"The séance..." I whispered with realization.

Alastor nodded and smiled, "And that's when I knew."

"When you knew what?"

He came around to stand behind me. I could feel the cold energy radiating off of him.

"That's when I knew that we belonged together. War, adultery, and murder have been unable to tear us apart."

I felt a tingling sensation on my head as he stroked my hair.

"No matter what," he whispered. "You belong to me."

Before I could say anything, there was a blast of frigid air and he was gone. I turned in a circle, searching the darkness, but I was alone.

I sighed and began my walk home, knowing he was watching me from somewhere and also wondering how this could ever end happily.

# Chapter 12

The days leading up to the dance were miserably long. Alastor took every opportunity to remind me that his feelings for me were so much stronger than anything Jonah could ever feel.

It was exhausting to argue with him, so I avoided him as much as possible. It was more difficult than I expected to avoid a ghost, but he didn't seem as strong when I was over at Billie or Ally's house, so I spent most of the days before the dance bouncing between their houses. With all the preparations, it was easy to find an excuse not to be at home.

Alastor was restless in my absence. Dad called the electrician out to the house twice in one week due to the lights flickering or dimming suddenly. I knew it was Alastor, but I didn't even try to reason with him, I just let him continue with his games.

All of his antics would have drawn more attention, but Dad was still preoccupied with the house. He spent most of his time at antique stores and auctions, trying to find the perfect balance of contemporary and period pieces.

"I'm trying to bring back a little of the history," Dad explained as he skimmed the pages of his newest antiques guide at breakfast. "But at the same time, I don't want it to look like an old haunted house."

I tried to keep from laughing and spitting my cereal across the table, "No. We wouldn't want that."

The night of the dance, I got ready under Alastor's watchful gaze. He said nothing, but his brilliant blue eyes followed me as I moved about the room. It was as if he was trying to make me feel guilty for wanting the most normal things in a girl's life.

"Either say something or go away," I finally snapped as I finished my makeup.

Silence.

"I'm not doing anything wrong," I added.

Again, more silence.

I heard a car door slam and went to the window. Down below, Jonah looked stunning in his tuxedo as he came up the walk. Stunning and real.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to summon up enough courage for this. I was really doing this. There was no turning back.

As I turned from the window, Alastor appeared directly in my path. "Don't go."

The note of panic in his voice made me pause and look up into his face. His coppery hair was falling slightly over his eyes; it made him look younger and very human.

I wanted to push his hair back and have him take me in his arms, but I knew I couldn't. How was it possible to be so close to someone, but still so alone?

"What do you want from me?" I demanded.

Alastor moved closer to me, closer than a living person could ever get.

"I don't want you to go," he whispered.

I said nothing. I closed my eyes and tried to capture the feeling of him against me from my memory.

"Alastor..." I pleaded.

"I cannot bear the thought of another man looking down at this beautiful face or kissing these lips."

My eyes were still closed, but I felt a tingling sensation over my lips. It was his phantom touch that set my skin on fire and made me doubt my choices.

Alastor's voice was close to my ear, "I hate the thought of another man taking you in his arms to dance with you."

I opened my eyes and looked up into his mist-like face. I spoke his name and watched him grow stronger. "Alastor, I—"

The chime of the doorbell interrupted me. I could hear Jonah downstairs greeting my dad. For a fleeting moment I wished that he would just go away.

I looked back at Alastor, wanting to cry. I wished I could freeze time for us for just a moment.

"Kiss me," I begged him. "Really kiss me just once."

Alastor's face contorted in pain, his voice raspy and crackling. "I can't."

The reality of the situation hit me. He was an apparition. He wasn't real and never would be.

"Then let me go," I whispered as I stepped around him. "Give me this one night."

I didn't look back at him as I left the bedroom and went downstairs to where Jonah was waiting for me.

Jonah opened the car door and was gentleman enough to avert his eyes as I got in. It was difficult to be modest in such a short skirt while getting in and out of a vehicle, and if he did see anything, he was too polite to mention it.

Once he had me inside, he got in on the driver's side and headed us down Capitol Avenue. Jonah mentioned earlier in the week that he was taking me somewhere special for dinner tonight, and as we headed toward downtown, I began wondering what he had in mind.

"So where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even and light despite my nerves.

"I thought we'd go to one of my favorite restaurants." He said with a friendly smile that nearly stopped my heart. Did he have to be so good looking?

Jonah turned at the town square and then immediately into a parking place. We were at Magdalena's Restaurant and for a fleeting moment I went back to the day when I saw Alastor's reflection in the window. I shook my head to clear it and smiled at Jonah when he came around to open my door.

I didn't want to think about Alastor. I wanted to think about Jonah and this perfect evening. Without meaning to, I had just made myself very nervous. Why was this so difficult? Why was it all so confusing?

Magdalena's was slightly crowded—it was just at the start of the dinner rush. The middle aged hostess smiled at Jonah as soon as we entered.

"Well look at the two of you," she said with a wide smile. "Don't you look nice?"

I still wasn't used to the familiar way that people in Corydon spoke to each other whether they knew each other or not. She could be a close friend of Jonah's family or a complete stranger. There was no way to tell and it always made me uncomfortable. I blushed and looked away.

"I called ahead about a table for two." Jonah said, making me even more giddy at the idea of a table just for us.

She led us to a small table in the center of the room. The other diners looked over at us with amused smiles, making me feel very conspicuous. Did they all have to stare at us?

"Your server will be right with you." She said with another overly friendly smile and walked away.

When the server arrived I skimmed the menu and picked the wild raspberry chicken salad and a soda. Jonah placed his own order and then smiled across the table at me.

"You're not one of those salad girls are you?" He asked.

I looked up at him confused, "I don't know what you mean."

Jonah flashed his perfect white teeth, "You know what I mean, those girls that don't want guys to know that they ever eat, so when they go out all they order is a salad."

I giggled, "Not hardly. I just love raspberries. It's sort of my version of chocolate."

A vision flashed in my mind of Alastor and I picking berries at the edge of the rose garden. We were laughing and smiling as we fed the ripe berries to each other. I could taste the sticky sweetness on his lips when we kissed.

I shuddered and pushed the memory from my mind.

"You okay?" Jonah asked.

"Just a little chill. I'm fine."

I was grateful that Jonah didn't ask for any further explanation.

"So you would rather have a basket of raspberries than a box of chocolates? He asked with a charming grin.

"Afraid so."

He smiled wider and I even though I saw him wink.

"Good to know," he laughed.

I didn't want to read too much into what he said so I just blushed and looked down at the tabletop.

"You look very beautiful tonight," he said with a confident grin.

"Thanks."

There was an awkward silence then, making me very aware of the sound of my own breathing. Was it always that loud? I shifted in my chair, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I was relieved when our food came.

Jonah noticed my fidgeting and seemed amused. "You aren't nervous, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes," He said with teasing eyes. "But it's okay, I'm nervous too."

I looked at this vision of high school perfection sitting across from me and shook my head, "What do you have to be nervous about?"

"Well," he said. "I'm a little shocked that you agreed to be my date."

"Why?"

Jonah took a sip of his cola and then placed his long hands flat on the table very near mine.

"I heard that someone else might be taking you to the dance," he said.

"Oh." I whispered, taking a bite of my salad. I tried to think about what to say next, but the taste of the raspberries took me back to the salty taste of Alastor's fingers as he pushed a ripe berry between my lips.

I shook my head again, "Is that why you wouldn't speak to me for a while?"

"Yes," He admitted with another grin. "I kind of thought you were stringing me along."

Was he actually jealous? It didn't seem possible.

"I wouldn't string you along." I defended, still in shock.

Jonah leaned toward me, "So who's this guy everyone was talking about? Is he an old boyfriend?"

Memories flashed behind my eyes of mine and Alastor's wedding, him kissing my naked skin in the rose garden, his face when I shot him, and lastly, Alastor in my room earlier begging me not to leave.

I shifted my eyes away, still tasting the raspberries on my lips from long ago. "It's complicated."

# Chapter 13

The homecoming dance was in the gym. It seemed odd to me all these people in their formal attire, were circulating in a room that reeks of gym socks.

I looked around the room, spotting Billie and Ally with their forgettable dates, and waved to them. They eyed me carefully, probably checking to make sure I was wearing the costume jewelry they had selected, once they had seen it on my neck and ears, they waved in return.

It was then I felt the heat of someone's eyes on me. I turned to my left and there was Ashley glaring at me. She was less than a few feet away, predictably stunning in a rich red dress that clung to her curves. It was obvious that she was anything but self-conscious in short skirts and high heels.

She elbowed two of her cheerleader friends and lifted her chin in my direction.

"Looks like Jonah is slumming it tonight," She said smugly.

I told myself to ignore her, I was the one with Jonah and that was what mattered, but I felt myself shrinking as if her words had the power to make me part of the background.

It was the most perfect night of my entire life and Ashley was dumping her hate all over it. I felt my cheeks grow hot and hot tears began to burn behind my eyes.

Jonah seemed oblivious to all of it. He smiled down at me like a catalog model. It only reminded me how glaring his perfection was next to my ordinariness.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked.

Too twisted up inside to speak, I could only nod and let him lead me out to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the gym. Under the sparkling glow of a silver disco ball, he took me in his arms.

It was a sweet moment, dancing together under the paper streamers and balloons. I could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt and jacket as we danced, reminding me that this was real. This was now.

"What are you thinking?" Jonah asked, leaning his head down so our foreheads touched. I could smell the scent of mints on his breath and the woodsy scent of his aftershave on his jaw.

I inhaled the reality of him, "Nothing. I'm just savoring the moment."

I expected him to laugh, but he didn't. He pulled me closer, seeming to ignore how I stepped all over his feet. He brought his cheek next to mine, caressing my skin with the youthful shadow of a beard.

"I like the sound of that," he whispered.

He tilted his head then, kissing me softly with boyish clumsiness. His arm tightened around me as his lips lingered for a moment before he pulled away.

I fought the guilt that was trying to steal over me, but I shook it off. I felt myself turning a deep red, humiliated by my lack of experience. I was sure that was the worst kiss and that Jonah had ever had and he was going to realize he was wasting his time with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ashley watching us with narrowed eyes. She would have known how to kiss him the right way.

If Jonah was disappointed, he hid it well, holding me in his arms until the song ended and then leading me off to the side of the room. I followed him without question, painfully aware all of a sudden of how large my feet were and that my palm was sweating inside of his.

"Thirsty?" Jonah asked with that charming smile that always made my heart stop and start in a crazy way.

"Sure," I answered with a nervous giggle and then cursed myself for being a complete goof.

As if he could tell what I was thinking his smile widened, "Punch okay?"

His self-confidence made me feel even more awkward, "That's fine."

I watched Jonah walk away, calling and waving to his friends as he went over to the refreshment table. I fanned my face with my hands, trying to make the redness disappear.

Ally, with Billie in tow, bounced up beside me. "I can't believe he kissed you! Was it great? Is he like the best kisser ever?"

"I don't have much to compare him to," I replied, hoping to downplay the whole thing before the whole school overheard. I couldn't dare tell them that a century ago; I was kissed in a way that made my knees go weak and were a far cry from being boyish and clumsy. "But it was nice."

Billie nudged my shoulder, "What was nice was the look on Ashley's face. She was dying."

I stole a glance over at Ashley. She stood in a circle of her minions. Despite her obvious and complete beauty, she was a picture of misery as she shot daggers in my direction. It seemed even her upper lip twitched like a dog snarling. I had to look away from her fury.

"She looks like she's about ready to explode," I whispered.

I wasn't admitting, even to myself, that I enjoyed seeing her like that. It wasn't every day someone like me got the upper hand on someone like Ashley. There was probably a law about it somewhere in the natural order of things that went against this even happening. It was the rarity of such an occurrence that made it all the more significant.

Just then Jonah appeared with two paper cups of bright red punch. He smiled with ease, "Hello ladies."

"Hi Jonah," Ally and Billie replied in unison. They each gave a quick wave and walked away full of giggles.

I pretended not to notice and took the cup Jonah offered. I couldn't look up at him and I didn't know what it was I was really supposed to do. Was I standing too close to him? Too far away? Should I take his hand, or should I just let my hand hang at my side so he could hold it if he wanted to?

I took a sip of punch, more out of the need to do something than actual thirst, and felt the burn of alcohol in my throat. I struggled to swallow, coughing until my eyes watered.

Jonah stroked my back gently, "I'm sorry. I should have warned you that a couple of guys from the football team always puts a little something extra in the punch."

"It's okay," I gasped, humiliated beyond belief. "I think I'll just step out in the hall and get some water."

I walked off before he could follow me, dying of embarrassment and certain that I had proved what a little kid I was. He was just so perfect, and I was so—Not perfect.

I drank long gulps from the water fountain. It extinguished the burning in my throat, but it did nothing to silence the voice in my head that was telling me I was doing everything wrong. What was wrong with me? Was I really this socially incompetent?

How hard could it be? This is what I was supposed to want, right? Jonah was good looking, popular, and charming in his small town hero sort of way. What more could I ask for?

Alastor's voice reverberated inside my head, "He's not me..."

I jumped at the sound of his secret voice. I looked around even though I knew that he wouldn't be standing there, his tantrum earlier would have left him too weak.

"Go away," I whispered aloud. "Don't ruin this for me. Let me have this night."

I waited, straining to hear if Alastor would answer, but there was nothing. I turned to go back to the dance, knowing I should want to return to Jonah, but part of me wished Alastor would answer.

Ashley stepped from around the corner, blocking my way. She crossed her arms and glared down at me.

"Talking to yourself Becca?" She asked sarcastically, emphasizing my name.

"What do you want Ashley?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, "I just wanted to give you some advice."

"What?"

"Don't get too comfortable with Jonah," Ashley smirked, almost purring as she stepped closer. "He'll get tired of you. You're not his type. He'll come back to his own kind soon enough."

I hated it that she was giving a voice to my own insecurities, "Whatever Ashley."

She reached out and grabbed my arm as I tried to get past her, "Just remember, your day is coming."

I pulled away just as one of the chaperones stepped into the hall. I took my escape while I could, knowing she couldn't say or do anything else at the moment, and headed back toward the gym.

I had no idea how long I had been standing in the hallway drinking water, talking to invisible spirits, and arguing with disgruntled cheerleaders, but when I got back inside the gym the music seemed louder and the flashing lights brighter.

At first I didn't see Jonah. The crowd kept shifting back and forth, blocking my view. I finally spotted him off to the side, away from the bulk of the people. Ashley found him before I did and had him backed against the bleachers. I was just about to run away and find a nice dark place to cry when Jonah stepped away from her with a look of disgust.

"Why don't you back off Ashley?" He slurred as he staggered over to me. He swayed a little from side to side as he smiled down at me. "I was just about ready to send a search party out for you."

"Sorry," I said as I reached up to stop him from falling right into me. "Are you okay?"

He staggered a little to the right, "Yeah that Ashley just gets under my skin. She doesn't know when to shut up and go away."

I took his paper cup from him and tossed it into the trash. I was a bit taken back to see that it was a large metal drum lined with a large black trash bag. Things in Corydon never failed to surprise me.

"That's not what I was talking about," I replied, wiping my hands on the front of my dress before I could stop myself. "How many of those have you drank?"

Jonah blushed, looking vulnerable for the first time tonight. "I am so sorry."

I didn't know what to say. I helped steady him on his feet. "Are you going to be alright?"

Jonah shook his head, this time leaning dangerously to the left. He tried to smile with his famous charm, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really," He said with a stupid grin. He pulled himself up straighter, "Why don't I go splash some water on my face? Will you wait for me?"

"Sure."

I watched him lurch off, trying to compose himself as he walked past the group of teachers by the door. Even intoxicated, he was amazing to watch. Jonah drew the admiring glances of every female he passed. He was just so stereotypically high school perfect.

I had to laugh; he and I were like a bad movie. The predictable one where the new girl, unpopular, falls for the school jock and then the jock takes her to the dance. So that was it, tonight was my happy ending. I didn't want to think any further than that.

Happy endings never lasted. I could vaguely remember a grand celebration where I danced with Alastor so long ago. That was a very happy moment, but not long after that we were both dead.

"May I have this dance?"

I turned to see a much recovered Jonah holding his hand out to me. Without a word, I placed my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor. His strong arms pulled me close, holding me against his body.

"My beautiful Becca," He said in a moist whisper against my forehead.

I waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. When I stole a glance up at him he had his eyes closed while his lips still rested against my hair. I felt that there was something that I should say or do, but I didn't know what it could be. I shifted slightly away from him.

"Don't," Jonah begged.

Without opening his eyes, he lowered his lips to mine. He brushed his mouth over mine with such gentleness that I wouldn't have been sure that he even kissed me if it wasn't for the tingling running through my body.

Neither of us moved, his lips hovered over mine. He pulled me even closer, this time his lips lingered, making my knees go weak. There was a sensual passion this time. There was no trace of boyish clumsiness.

I knew then and pulled away, terrified and not sure how he did it.

"Alastor!" I gasped.

I looked up into Jonah's face, searching his eyes for an answer, but behind his face, deep in the soul of those eyes was Alastor.

"How?" Was all I could ask.

Pulling me close again, he looked down at me through another man's eyes. Images of old movies with tearful endings came to mind as he pulled me to him.

"Please don't scream," he said against my hair.

"How did you do it?" I demanded, nearing hysteria.

"Does it matter?" He asked as we waltzed about the floor, so much more graceful than before. "You asked for a kiss and I gave it to you."

I tried to fend off panic. I knew this was impossible. I was shaking so badly that my teeth began to chatter. "Alastor...I can't..."

"Please," Alastor begged. "Please, you asked me to give you this one night. I'm asking you to give me this one moment."

My heart fell with his request and the tears came to my eyes. I trembled in his arms. How could I refuse him?

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Close your eyes," He whispered over my eyelids.

I did as he asked, "Now what?"

"Just be," He said and lowered his face so our cheeks touched. "Just be."

With my eyes closed, I forgot all about Jonah. I was dancing safe and secure in Alastor's arms with my body remembering his touch even my mind sometimes couldn't. As long as I didn't open my eyes, it was Alastor that was holding me close. This is where I belonged.

"Kiss me again." I requested in a whisper, longing for the sensation of him touching me, of crossing that breach between life and death.

He took my face into his hands. I kept my eyes shut tight as I reached up and covered his hands with mine. The earth shifted beneath me as I remembered standing just like this the day that we were married over a century ago.

Alastor's lips met mine, soft at first and then harder. He was real. He was alive.

I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted his lips on my throat. I wanted him. It was a feeling that only the most primal part of me seemed to understand.

I kissed him again and again. I kept my eyes shut tight and was afraid to let go. I couldn't breathe, part of me was still terrified and another part wanted to sob uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered, trying to hold on tighter. "I'm so sorry for everything."

He kissed me again and I knew that there would never be another. There was only Alastor. It was only Alastor that I loved. It was only Alastor to whom I belonged. It was Alastor to whom I was lost.

# Chapter 14

The dim orange glow of the autumn sun woke me, but I didn't open my eyes. I wasn't sure of the time. It could have been late morning or early afternoon. I didn't know and I didn't care.

Keeping my eyes shut, I stretched, feeling my beautiful dress crushing around me. My feet still ached from my walk home after I turned a nearly unconscious Jonah over to his friends.

I wasn't ready to get up yet, not when I was resting my head on Alastor's chest and I could feel his arms around me. I wasn't going to take a chance that this was a dream that would disappear when my eyes opened.

I didn't know how Alastor could be so solid and so real, but it felt so natural and right to be stretched across his chest.

Alastor didn't speak. His fingers twirled strands of my hair and traced the lines of my back as if he had to keep touching me. I didn't mind. I was savoring the sensation of his near human touch.

I opened my eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight. Without lifting my head, I twisted so I could see the shadowy skin of his throat and the strong line of his jaw. A vision flashed in my mind of other mornings just like this.

Sitting up, I looked down at him, still real and whole. His blue eyes followed my every move, but in this reality they were less luminous, but still just as mesmerizing.

"How?" I asked the only question on my mind.

He smiled up at me, "A stolen moment."

"But how?"

He reached up and touched my face, so much like he did that first time. His eyes were growing shiny and watery.

"I have no idea why this is possible," he choked. "But I thank God for it."

Reaching a tentative finger out, I touched the back of his hand. It was cold and the air around it swirled.

"Can you stay like this?" I asked.

His eyes darkened, "No."

I grasped at straws of hope, "What about what you did with Jonah?"

"A parlor trick, nothing more," He confessed, looking miserable. "I can only do it for a short while. It helped that the boy cannot handle his drink."

Even as we spoke, he began to shimmer like a million dust particles in the sun. Knowing he would soon fade away, I reached out to him.

"Don't move," I ordered.

He became still, watching me as my fingers touched his smooth forehead, brushing back his soft bronze hair. I caressed his beard shadowed cheek and then I ran a trembling finger over his sensual lips. Before I could move closer to kiss him, there was a blast of icy air and he was gone.

"I love you," I whispered into the cold gust, hoping that wherever he was, Alastor could hear me.

Alone in my room, I got out of my ruined dress and went into the bathroom for a hot shower. My entire body was tense with desire, craving Alastor, but unfulfilled yet again. I stood under the water and waited for my muscles to relax.

The bottoms of my feet were stained black from where I walked home carrying my shoes. The water in the floor of the shower turned a light grey as a scrubbed at my heels. I washed away every trace of the previous night, including my make-up.

Once I got out of the shower and dried off, I put on a pair of faded jeans and an old sweat shirt. I crept out into the hall and down the stairs, still not sure if it was morning or afternoon.

The first floor was dim; the only light was from the living room where there was a low murmur from the television as Dad watched another game or some sort. I walked past, not bothering to peak in. I knew Dad would be stretched out on the couch in his usual weekend position, remote in hand and mumbling about the score.

The clock in the kitchen showed three when I switched on the light and the room burst into brightness. I squinted against the intense light and microwaved a mug of water for my instant cocoa. I needed an extra jolt of caffeine and was too sleepy still to go through the hassle of making coffee.

Once I had my cocoa, I went out onto the back patio. Sitting on one of the concrete steps, I kept the sun to my back and looked out over the yard.

The manicured lawn was turning brown and all of the potted flowers were dry and brittle. Across the yard, the rose garden was colorless with only a few fallen petals scattered about the ground.

Seeing the rose garden made me think of Alastor and the salty taste of his lips. I closed my eyes, picturing him in my bed that morning. I blushed as my thoughts took off in an embarrassing direction.

"Finally up?"

I jumped and turned to see Dad coming out the kitchen door with a soda in hand. He groaned as he sat down beside me.

"So how did last night go?" he asked.

"Fine, I guess."

Dad took a sip of his soda, "Jonah seems like a nice boy."

A little wave of guilt passed over me as I remembered how disoriented Jonah was when we parted ways the night before.

"Yeah, he's a pretty good guy, I guess."

Dad cleared his throat and shifted on the step, "Do you think you'll go out with him again?"

I didn't know how to answer that, especially with the memory of Alastor so fresh in my mind. I just shrugged and kept my eyes forward.

Dad cleared his throat again and turned the soda can in his hands, "I know stuff like this must make you miss your mom. You okay?"

"I miss her, but it's okay."

He nodded and looked down at the browning grass at our feet, "Well, I want you to know that you can talk to me if you need to."

I wasn't sure where he was going with all of this or what I was supposed to say to him. I just nodded and hoped that he would have to go in for another soda soon or that halftime would be over and he'd go back in to watch the rest of the game.

"I just want you to know that you can come to me," He stammered. "You know, if you find that things are getting serious in a physical way."

I turned a deep scarlet. It was as if Dad could read my mind, only it wasn't Jonah I was thinking about that way.

Dad must have sensed that he embarrassed me because he patted me on the back and went back inside before we could humiliate each other more. I poured out my now cold coco and wrapped my arms around my knees, smiling at the idea of my Dad being worried about a physical relationship.

I looked out across the yard and sighed. I was lonely without Alastor and wondered where he went to gather his strength and when he would return. Alastor seemed to grow stronger the more intense my feelings became, but where did that leave us?

Everything I was told and had read about ghosts had been so very wrong. There was no instruction manual for this, I was in unchartered territory.

I knew now ghosts could materialize and be almost real for brief periods. The question was if that could be enough. Could I be satisfied with only stolen moments?

It was getting dark before I went back inside. Billie and Ally both called, but I shook my head and motioned to Dad to lie and tell them I wasn't home.

"Everything okay?" Dad asked, obviously curious why I was avoiding my friends.

"Everything is fine," I answered. "I'm just not in the mood to talk to them right now."

"Did something happen at the dance?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"I was there," I snapped. "Nothing happened."

Dad left me alone then and I pretended to watch television and not to feel awful for taking out my frustration on my dad. I was missing Alastor terribly, looking around often to see if I could spot some little disturbance that could be him. I closed my eyes and recalled the feeling of his skin beneath my fingers.

I was deep in thought, but when the phone rang again, I got to it before Dad. I could hear the sound of Dad's footsteps just out in the hall as he hovered near the door. Was he just waiting to see if the call was him or had my foul mood made him curious?

"Hello?"

"Hey," Jonah greeted on the other end of the line.

"What do you want Jonah?" I didn't mean to be rude, but the sound of his voice made me want to crawl under a rock.

Jonah's voice shook, "I understand if you're mad at me. I'm just calling to apologize for last night."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," I said, watching Dad's shadow move closer to the doorway as he eavesdropped.

"Sure I do," Jonah said. "I don't know what happened one minute I was fine, and the next I'm passed out cold. I am so sorry that I ruined your night."

"You didn't."

"Well, I feel awful about it."

"Don't," I snapped. I was relieved to see Dad's shadow move away back towards the kitchen. "You shouldn't feel bad about it."

"Okay," Jonah said. "Then let me make it up by taking you out next Saturday."

I paused, unable to believe he would even consider it. I hated myself for wishing I could do just that and that Alastor could do his parlor trick again.

"Seriously?" I finally asked.

"Sure, why not?"

My eyes went to the doorway where a shadowy figure was taking shape. As Alastor became visible, his eyes met mine and my heart began to pound inside the walls of my chest. I felt an almost irritable urge to go to him.

A slight smile came across Alastor's sensual lips as he sensed my desire. I bit at my lower lip wanting to feel and taste those lips on mine.

"Jonah, can we talk about this at school tomorrow?"

"Sure, I guess," Jonah mumbled.

"Fine. I'll talk to you then." I said and hung up before he could say anything else.

Alastor backed away from me, moving toward the stairs. I followed him like a sleepwalker up the staircase to my room. It was our own little world where I could close the door on everything else.

I leaned back against the locked door, panting, "I didn't expect you to be able to come back so soon."

"I'll always come back for you," he said. He stood next to the window, the moonlight making him seem more solid than he really was.

My eyes focused on his lips again, then to the open collar of his shirt, and then lower—I blushed as my desires took hold of my mind.

"What is it that you are thinking?" Alastor asked in his most appealing voice, as if he needed to try to charm me to get me to spill my secrets.

"Don't you know?" I asked. "You're supposed to be able to read my mind and know what I'm thinking."

"It is clouded tonight by too many thoughts."

I stepped away from the door and walked over to my bed, sitting on the edge and watching him. I was so close to him then, near enough that if I inhaled deep enough I could smell a faint trace of his own personal scent, a mix of honeysuckle, grass, and leather.

"My Dad was asking me about Jonah this morning," I said.

"It's understandable." Alastor said with a shrug of his shoulders, obviously not wanting to discuss Jonah.

"He wanted to know how serious Jonah and I were," I explained the best I could. "If we were moving toward a physical relationship."

His entire being stiffened and then dissolved in a blast of cold air. I knew he was hovering near me, but he refrained from touching me.

"Alastor," I whispered, closing my eyes and trying to draw him in with my will alone. "Alastor, can we ever be together as a man and a woman?"

I felt him shift closer, embracing me from every direction.

"No, my love," he whispered inside my head. "I can never know you like that again."

A tear escaped my eye and traveled down my cheek until invisible fingers wiped it away. The unseen hand caressed my face with an icy touch, moving down my neck, and resting on my shoulder.

I could feel him gathering around me. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to it.

"I love you, Becca."

I looked up into the darkness, but saw nothing. I could feel him stroking my back, my hair, and brushing my lips with a feathery light kiss.

"Alastor, this is so unfair."

"No one ever said life was fair." He whispered, kissing my eyelids, and my ears, and then my neck.

"What about death? Is it fair?"

"No."

He lifted me then, pulling me up into his immense embrace. I floated there, suspended as Alastor swirled around me. There was nothing to cling to as he rained his phantom kisses on my face and neck.

I cried against his nothingness as he held me. I felt trapped, caught in the wrong time and cheated by fate.

# Chapter 15

I didn't want to go to school the next day. When the alarm went off, I rolled over and covered my head with the pillow. It was too tempting to stay in bed and wait for Alastor to return.

At the moment, my room was silent and I was alone. Alastor disappeared just before dawn; the strain of being seen and heard finally exhausted him. I didn't like being alone and resented the void his absence left.

Even without Alastor there, I wasn't ready to go back to reality. Somehow Alastor and I found a way to blur the line between life and death, and I wasn't ready yet to leave the margin.

When at last I could put it off no longer, I threw the covers back and forced myself to get out of the bed. All around me was the delicious smell of his skin, clinging to my body even after my shower.

There was no time to eat breakfast. I could only give Dad a quick wave and dash out the door.

Even with my late start, I made it to the edge of the school property long before the first bell. Just as I was walking up the sidewalk, I spotted Alastor near a clump of cedar trees at the edge of the woods surrounding the school.

There was that unexpected jolt when I saw him waiting for me. I forgot everything else and went to him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, hearing the excited note in my own voice.

Alastor shimmered slightly as if he was struggling to maintain his form.

"You were missing me," He said simply as if that explained everything.

"I didn't think you'd be able to come back so soon," I said. "I thought you'd be too weak."

"Why would you think that?"

I smiled, remembering the sensation of floating in the air with him swirling around me, holding me suspended.

"Because of last night," I whispered.

His blue eyes glowed as they met mine, "You underestimate me."

I felt that miserable ache in my chest. I wanted to touch him, to feel his lips on mine, but knew it was impossible.

I dared to take a step closer to him, "It's impossible not to underestimate you, you never cease to amaze me."

Alastor stepped back, deeper in the shadows as a group of students walked by.

"I missed you as well," he whispered. "I'm selfish enough to want you all to myself. For the next few hours, I have to share you with these people and I don't like it. I like it much better when it's just us."

I blushed, remembering the feeling of waking up in his arms.

"Me too," I confessed, stepping closer to him again.

The sound of the bell echoed in the morning air. I hated the sound of it. It was calling me back to reality.

Alastor's face darkened, but he still managed to smile down at me. "Go on. I'll be waiting for you."

Instead of disappearing, he moved deeper into the shadows and just as I was about to lose sight of him in the trees, he faded away.

"I'm never far away, my love," he whispered in the secret voice only I could hear.

I sighed, acutely aware of the nothingness left after his departure. I could call him back, but that would only weaken him. I'd rather he come back later strong, maybe even almost solid, when I was alone and could be near him.

I turned to go back to school and there, on the sidewalk, was Ashley Richardson. From the look on her face, there was no doubt, she saw the entire thing.

There was no time to react, Billie and Ally spotted me. They were at my side before I reached the sidewalk.

"Where were you yesterday?" Ally demanded.

Billie jumped right in, "Tell us you were with Jonah."

Helpless, I watched over their shoulders as Ashley disappeared inside the school.

"No," I sighed. "I didn't see Jonah yesterday."

Billie's eyebrows drew together in a sharp V, "Really? I thought for sure he'd come see you."

"Why would you think that?" I asked, matching their pace toward the school.

Ally turned so she was facing me, gracefully walking backwards. "You two were just so perfect at the dance."

"Seriously?" I asked, just realizing that other people may have seen the peculiar exchange at the dance between me and Alastor as Jonah.

"Yeah," Billie chimed. "It was like you two couldn't get enough of each other on the dance floor."

"It was pretty hot," Ally agreed. "I kept waiting for the teacher to say something, but it's like even they were impressed."

"That's just crazy," I said and left them to go to my first class.

Apparently, Billie and Ally weren't crazy. Throughout class, people were smiling over at me. I heard whispers about how it was all "so romantic" and how lucky I was for catching Jonah's eye.

The thing that they were in awe of wasn't really the chemistry between me and Jonah, but the beauty of the stolen moment Alastor and I shared. Could others sense the sweet agony that closeness caused us?

"I don't know what it was," Ally said, picking up the conversation on the way to lunch. "But you two were more romantic than anything I've seen in any movie."

I rolled my eyes, smiling secretly. I took a seat at our usual table in the cafeteria. Normally the three of us were pretty inconspicuous in the crowded cafeteria, but today it seemed everyone was looking our way. I put my head down, resting my forehead on the edge of the table.

"This is getting ridiculous," I complained.

"It just got worse," Billie whispered, leaning down. "Here comes Jonah."

My stomach lurched and began to roll. I didn't want to see Jonah, I'd be too embarrassed. I could feel the beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead and my hands started to shake.

I smelled his cologne before I saw his shoes walk up to the table. I was too ashamed to raise my head and look at him.

"Becca, are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes," I whispered, wondering what he thought about all this extra attention.

His left foot began to tap, making me wonder if he was nervous or angry since I could only see his shoes.

"Can I talk to you out in the hall?" He demanded.

Something in the tone of his voice caught my attention. He was angry. I was stunned. He couldn't blame me for the way everyone was reacting.

I raised my head and faced him defiantly. I stood up quickly, causing my chair to skid across the floor.

"Sure," I said and followed him out into the hall.

We walked only a few feet from the cafeteria door. A few students were in the hall and watched us in curiosity.

Jonah leaned back against the lockers, looking like some sort of blond high school god.

"Becca, we need to talk."

Those words never lead to anything good.

"About what?" I said, crossing my arms, trying not to think about how it felt to kiss him when Alastor took over his body.

He glanced at the observers that were trying to look like they weren't hanging on our every word.

"What's up?" He demanded. "Do you like me or not?"

I didn't expect that.

"What?" I asked confused.

My bewilderment only seemed to provoke him more.

"Don't play games with me Becca," Jonah snapped.

I spread my hands wide, "Jonah, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I don't like being strung along," he explained, glancing again at our small audience. "Are you into me or that other guy?"

I began to shake all over and my mouth went dry.

"What other guy?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"That guy you were talking to this morning," Jonah hissed. If he was trying to control his temper, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "I don't like being used."

"How am I using you?"

Jonah glared at me, "You're using me to make him jealous."

I didn't know what to say. I never meant to hurt him; somehow he just got caught in the middle.

"Trust me," I managed to choke out. "It's not what you think."

Jonah slammed his hand into the lockers.

"I don't care what it is," he barked and stormed off down the hall.

The small audience gasped, whispering and turning to see what I was going to do.

I was just about to run after him when someone stepped up behind me in a cloud of suffocating perfume. Whirling around, I faced Ashley.

"I told you this would happen," Ashley said with a superior smirk.

I looked at her, so perfect and condescending, and knew that she was the one to tell Jonah about me and Alastor that morning. I felt bad enough about what happened to Jonah without her complicating things further.

There she stood, looking down at me and enjoying my misery. At that moment, I hated her.

Before I knew what was happening, both my hands flew out and shoved her. I was surprised myself and hoped she would be too worried about her manicure to retaliate.

After staggering backwards a few steps, Ashley threw her books down and glared at me.

"You bitch!" Ashley cried, "You're going to pay for that."

She came at me then, shoving me back into the lockers and knocking the air out of me. I felt the back of my head hit one of the doors in a loud metal crash.

I winced and slapped at Ashley, just then realizing that she towered over me by at least four inches. I lowered my head and rushed at her, tackling her and sending us both sliding across the floor.

She pulled at my hair, but I was able to backhand her one more time before she somehow managed to get on top of me. Before I could defend myself, she drew back her fist and—

Bang!

Ashley froze as all of the locker doors flew open one after another. Before she could recover from that shock, Principal McGuiness pulled her off of me. He demanded to know what was going on.

She squirmed in his grasp while I struggled to my feet. Even with a teacher holding her back, Ashley tried to reach for me.

The fluorescent lights overhead exploded then and rained shard of glass down on us.

"You girls get to class." Principal McGuiness ordered, looking down at the remains of the bulb, "I don't have time to deal with you. This school is falling apart around us."

Ashley picked up her books and walked off in the direction of the Science labs, trying to smooth her tangled hair. I glanced at the small crowd and saw the panicked confusion on their faces. I couldn't take it. I slipped out the nearest exit.

On trembling legs, I ran from the school and out into the pouring rain. I ran and ran, not caring where I was going. I was off school grounds and back on Capitol Avenue before I realized it.

Finally I stumbled to a halt. I was cold and soaked to the bone. I couldn't go home yet. Dad would be there and he would be furious I wasn't at school.

Standing on the stone steps of the old capitol, I looked around. There was a part of me that expected someone to come out and order me back to school, but no one did.

Across the browning lawn, stood the white gazebo at the heart of the town square empty and forgotten. During the summer, small concerts were performed there, but in the autumn rain it looked dreary and forlorn. I stepped up into it and going to a far corner, crouched down to wait until I could go home.

Alastor appeared, kneeling beside me in a shadowy form, almost immediately.

"Are you alright, my love?" Alastor asked, "Are you hurt?"

I turned away from the vision of him. I couldn't be with him right then, not with the memory of Jonah's angry face so fresh.

"Leave me alone, Alastor," I commanded.

He moved closer to me, the cold air that always surrounded him, making me even colder.

"Are you angry with me?" He asked.

"Do you have to ask?"

Alastor spread his arms wide, "What have I done to displease you?"

I looked over at him, amazed he could even ask.

"Go away and leave me alone," I ordered as I shivered and wrapped my arms around my knees.

Alastor's image wavered in the foggy light, "Becca, I—"

"I said go away!"

He said nothing else. He exploded into a powerful gust of cold air and was gone.

I curled up and pressed myself against the rails. The rain blew leaves into stick to the white boards and the tops of my shoes. I was lonely and miserable without Alastor, but I couldn't be near him at the moment.

What were we doing? Without meaning to, I dragged Jonah into this mess and then Ashley had come along and made things even more complicated.

The rain slacked off to a soaking mist by the time I started seeing other people my age walking on the sidewalks. I stood and brushed the wet leaves off my damp clothes. Guessing that it was safe to go home, I stepped out of the gazebo and headed down Capitol Avenue.

As I walked up the stone walkway, I could see Dad through the first floor windows. The glow of the lamps silhouetted him as he paced back and forth, talking on the telephone.

I broke out in a cold sweat, what if someone from the school called him? He would be furious at me for skipping classes and getting into a fight. It would be bad enough to face his wrath, but if he was to mention how disappointed my mother would be, I would lose it. I knew I couldn't take that today.

I stepped inside and let the wooden and glass door bang behind me. The foyer was grey in the light of the misty afternoon. I could hear Dad talking on the telephone near the piano in the other room.

"How soon can you get me on the schedule?" He asked whoever he was talking to, "My gutters are full of leaves; I need it done as soon as possible."

Stepping around the corner, I waved to him and planned to go straight up to my room, but he motioned for me to stay. I tried to look innocent as I leaned against the casement and tried to think of plausible excuses for my behavior.

"Well call me back as soon as possible," Dad said and hung up the phone with a smile. "So how was your day?"

"Fine," I said, not wanting to give anything away until I was sure what he knew.

He turned his back to me and went over to the piano where the open phone book lay.

"That's good," He said, flipping through the pages.

I couldn't be sure, but he seemed perfectly ordinary. It didn't seem like the school called him.

"Well, I'm going to go upstairs," I said, testing him further. "I need to get out of these wet things."

Dad glanced out the window surprised, "Is it still raining?"

"Yeah, it's still raining."

He was already distracted and dialing another telephone number.

I breathed a sigh of relief and escaped up the stairs. Safe in my room, I took a shower and did what homework I could since most of my books were still at school in my locker. The ones I did have were damp, so I laid them out on the floor near the radiator to dry while I worked.

My room was too quiet and empty without Alastor chattering in my head, but I didn't call him back to me. I listened to a few CDs and watched a couple of forgettable television shows, none of it very fun without Alastor's distractions. I was grateful when Dad called me down for dinner.

As usual, he was full of his plans for the house. He talked on and on about the iron fence that used to surround the property and if he should replace it.

"I was thinking about going to look at a few samples in Indy tomorrow," he said. "Would you like to play hooky tomorrow and come with me?"

Under normal circumstances I would have jumped at the opportunity, but after today there was no way that I could.

"I better not. There's a lot going on at school tomorrow."

"Sure," Dad said, looking like a disappointed little boy. "I understand."

I escaped up to my room as soon as Dad began clearing the dishes, claiming I had more homework to do. I felt bad leaving him with the mess, but I just couldn't stand it any longer. The silence inside my head was starting to wear on my nerves.

Upstairs in my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned back against it.

"Alastor?" I called out into the emptiness. "Are you there?"

I felt the air stir above me.

"Yes," Alastor said in his secret voice, but more overly polite and formal than the tone he usually used with me.

"I'm sorry that I sent you away," I whispered.

"No you're not."

"Yes, I am," I argued. "I was just angry."

"With me?"

"Yes," I confessed. "But mostly with Ashley."

Alastor said nothing, but I could feel him swirling closer to me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into the nothingness. "Can you ever forgive me?"

I could feel him very near me, gathering energy, almost touching me, but not quite.

His velvety voice teased my ears, "I have forgiven you for killing me, how could I not overlook a little tantrum?"

I smiled, feeling him brush up against my face.

"I love you," I whispered.

"Always, my love."

# Chapter 16

I kept Alastor near me as I walked to school the next day. I had my fill of being without him the day before. He never made himself solid, but I knew he was there.

As we walked to school, I kept thinking of Jonah and running different scenarios through my head. I didn't know what I was going to say or do, but I couldn't just leave things as they were.

Alastor moved closer, hovering somewhere over my left shoulder.

"Why don't you leave the boy alone and let him lick his wounds in peace?" He suggested.

I hated discussing Jonah with him, even more so when he was right about things. Nodding, I resigned myself to doing nothing and giving Jonah some time to sort it out.

I expected to find myself the center of attention after the whole mess with Jonah and the fight with Ashley, but as I walked up to the school, no one even noticed.

Thunder rolled in the distance and a few random raindrops began to fall, but little groups ignored the weather and gathered on the sidewalk and lawn.

I passed a few of Ashley's cheerleading minions and even they were disregarding the rain and whispering among themselves. Normally, the slightest change in the weather would send them screaming inside for their hairspray. Whatever it was that had everyone talking, it must be something big.

Spotting Billie and Ally near the entrance, I went over to them.

"What's going on?" I asked, shivering as Alastor moved closer and chilled the air around me.

"Haven't you heard?" Ally asked in an excited whisper, "Everyone is talking about it."

"I just got here." I said, zipping my jacket up.

"It's Ashley," Billie said wide eyed.

I rolled my eyes, "What about her?"

Billie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "I don't know where to even begin."

"What?" I demanded, getting colder by the minute.

Billie opened her mouth to speak, but Ally was quicker.

"Ashley fell down the stairs after cheerleading practice and nearly died!" She blurted out.

I stared at her, open mouthed, struggling to form words.

"What?" I asked, still not sure I heard her correctly.

Ally danced around me as if this was the juiciest gossip she had ever told another person, "Yeah, she fell down the stairs and now she's in the hospital talking all this nonsense about hearing voices and stuff."

"It sounds like she really lost it," Billie added in agreement. "Are you oaky? You look a little funny."

I nodded, but was struggling to breathe. I kept telling myself that it couldn't be what I thought it was but then there was a sudden emptiness around me and then I knew...Alastor.

It was impossible to go through the day pretending things were normal. I listened to the gossip, trying to catch every detail, but the story was the same each time. Ashley heard imaginary voices and it frightened her so bad that she fell down the stairs.

My stomach rolled every time I heard the story. I just sipped a soda at lunch, too sick to care that Jonah didn't even look my way. I just laid my head down and prayed for the day to end, deep down I knew that all of this was somehow my fault.

Alastor avoided me while I was at school. It wasn't until I was walking home in the rain that I felt his invisible presence.

"Becca?" He whispered.

"I don't want to see you right now."

"Becca, please."

"You're ruining my life," I hissed. "Just go away."

I went home to an empty house and straight up to my room. Even though Dad wasn't home, I still preferred the privacy of my room. I shut the door and turned to see Alastor standing before me.

I jumped at the sight of him and turned away. I couldn't face the sadness on his face.

He was very vivid. I could hear the soft thud of his footsteps as he came up behind me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and I could see the fine hairs scattered on the back of his hand.

"My love," he whispered from behind me. "Am I forgiven?"

The sound of his voice filled me with longing and frustration. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against his phantom chest, "I can never stay mad at you."

I sensed the energy of the room shift and I knew if I opened my eyes I would see only empty space and the illusion would be gone.

"Alastor?"

"I'm here."

A tingling sensation ran over my head and hair. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to break the illusion. He was here and he was holding me, and that was enough.

"I am so sorry for the things that I said," I whispered.

The tingling moved to my ear, "I know."

I opened my eyes to the empty space surrounding me, "Then let me see you."

"Of course."

I watched as particles of what always seemed to be light and dust come together to create him again. Flickering, very much like a candle, he became visible.

I looked at his beautiful face, feeling a lifetime of history between us. I could sense the part of me that believed he would be the father of my children. I knew when that other me died, his name was the last word I whispered.

"I have always loved you," I said.

"I know you have."

Turning away from him, I took a deep breath. "You know that this cannot go on. We cannot keep hurting people."

His hands were on my shoulders, turning me to face him. They were so real, so strong.

"Do not do this," He whispered in an anguished hiss.

"I have to."

The furniture of the room began to shake, books and papers flying about as Alastor seemed to swell. The room grew colder and bits of plaster even fell from the ceiling, outside the rain pounded against the windows.

I could feel his wrath and backed away from him, "Look what we did to Jonah."

"The boy does not deserve you." He said, actually pacing the floor and vibrating it with each step.

I took another step back as thunder rattled the house, "And what about Ashley? You almost killed her."

He turned those icy blue eyes on me as the chaos in my room increased. He loomed larger and larger, "Becca, I did not harm her. That was an accident."

"How is this going to work?" I demanded, "Do you think I'm going to go through life with a ghost? I'd always have to be so careful of what I was thinking so no one else would get hurt. What sort of life is that?"

Alastor was at my side again, "Becca listen to me, before, with us, I was still just a boy. I didn't know how to be a man. I was a soldier, the hero coming home, but it wasn't enough. I had to die to know where I made my mistakes. Please, my Becca, listen to me."

"I can't do this!" I cried and covered my face with my hands, "I can't be your Becca. I can't be Becca Sinclair. I can't be some woman that died a century ago. I've got my own life to live."

His hands were on me, pulling me to his chest. "Your life is my life."

I shook my head, "No. It's not."

"You belong to me!" Alastor roared.

Backing away from him, my leg brushed my night table. I looked down, there; in silver frames were the pictures from the library. I picked up the one of Alastor alone and stared down at the handsome face. I almost wavered then, but knew that it would be my damnation if I did.

"I belong to no man!" I screamed and hurled the pictured across the room. The frame crashed against the wall and the glass shattered to the floor.

He stood there, looking down at the broken fragments. "Please, Becca."

I wanted to go to him. I wanted to kiss him and swear that I would love him forever. I wanted to tell him that I was wrong, but I knew that it would be a lie.

"Alastor," I choked out. "There are some mistakes that are made to last."

I wasn't prepared for what came next. The storm raged outside, but Alastor brought the torment inside my room to a halt. Things stopped spinning in the air and dropped immediately to the floor. He turned to me with his blue eyes blazing.

"Never say that," He ordered and floated upward. He was no longer solid, but smoky and rushing straight toward me.

There was no time to run. I backed against the window, staring into eyes that were burning with rage. A cold realization crept over me.

Death. It always seemed such a strange and far off event that I never thought about what it would be like to actually die. That was something for the distant future, but as I heard the window shatter behind me, I knew my time had come.

What was it that I was dying for? The sins of the past? The wrongs of the present? Did it even matter?

I looked up at him one last time, staring into his sad and familiar eyes. I took one last breath and prepared to die.

Alastor was almost to me, snarling and terrifying. Just as he reached me his face became horrified and his arms went out to me. There was another loud crash, glass breaking, and pain ran through me. Something was pulling me and there was the sickening copper smell of blood.

I could feel myself falling and the stocking around my neck tightening, but that couldn't be right. I was alone in the house, but the rooms were empty and echoed my footsteps. What was happening? Where was I? Who was I?

"Becca? Becca?" Alastor's voice reached me through the heavy darkness.

I thought I was saying his name. After all, his name was the last thing I said before, why not again?

He was very close, speaking low and soft. "I want you to listen to me my Becca and believe this if you believe nothing else, I want you to know and always remember that you have been loved. You have been loved in this world and the next. Please, never forget that."

Far below I heard the front door open and slam shut. The sound reverberated up the wall and across the floor where I lay, so much like the feeling of the cannons during the battle.

"Becca! Becca! Where are you?" Dad called, I could hear him racing about below. Moments later I heard his feet on the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Alastor's hands were on my face, I tried to open my eyes, but couldn't. I felt the chill of him leaning over me, moving closer and closer. His lips closed down on mine and he was solid and real. I felt his tongue touch mine, his hands at my throat, and then he pulled away.

"Remember," he whispered. "You have been loved."

Then there was nothing.

# Chapter 17

It was the brightness that woke me. Even behind my eyes I could see the bright, white light. It intruded into the darkness, pulling me up to where I didn't want to be.

I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar room; a medicine smell invaded my nostrils. I knew it was a hospital even before I saw the clear tubes in my arms.

Random memories came to me. I could see my room. I could hear the storm. I saw things as that other me as I tied the stocking around my neck and jumped. I could see...Alastor.

I closed my eyes again, trying to sense the air around me. Was he near me?

"Alastor?"

Nothing.

"Are you there?"

Nothing.

I opened my eyes again and focused on the room. I wasn't sure what it was I was looking for, but I was hoping to see something that would tell me Alastor was there.

It was just a plain white room with some sort of ugly grey tile on the floor. The blinds were open, casting bars of sunlight over me and revealing windows that looked out over a rooftop of vents and air conditioners. By the windows, unshaved and stretched out in the recliner, my Dad was sleeping deeply.

"Dad?" I called to him. His eyes snapped open and he jumped to his feet. He was at my side, covering my hand with his huge, hot fingers.

"You're awake!" He whispered and kissed my forehead.

"What happened?" I asked, remembering very little and most of it was in the wrong time.

"The storm. Lightening hit the tree out front and one of the branches came through your window."

I remembered the storm. I remembered seeing flashes of lightening across Alastor's face. I remember him coming towards me and then everything got muddled.

Shifting in the bed, pain shot through my right shoulder and my head began to pound. What had happened to me?

I raised my left hand and felt the hard brace and sling covering my arm. My fingers went to my forehead and felt the bandages; there was a dull ache there.

"What is all of this?" I asked.

Dad held my hand, "You have a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. Your forehead had to be stitched up, but it could have been so much worse."

I heard the note of panic in his voice. I patted his hand, "I'll be good as new in no time."

He looked at me with misty eyes, "I just came so close to losing you too."

There was still one detail that I was confused about.

"How did you get to me so fast?" I asked. "You were supposed to be on your way to Indianapolis."

"I was," Dad admitted. "I was on my way there and then I just had this overwhelming feeling that I needed to come home."

I tried to remember how long I lay on the floor, but all that came to mind was the sound of Alastor's voice and the feeling of his lips on mine. It hurt to think of Alastor, a gnawing ache that settled somewhere deep in me.

"I don't know what it was," Dad said, going on with his story. "I just knew that I had to get back home to you. Isn't that the strangest thing?"

"Yeah," I agreed, trying to breathe past the iron ball in my chest. "That's pretty strange."

Dad noticed my pained expression, "Do you need me to call the nurse? Are you in pain?"

"I'm fine," I lied.

"You sure? I'll have them bring you something for the pain if you need it."

"No, I'm okay," I said. "How long have I been here?"

Dad sat on the edge of the bed, his stomach growling loudly. "Just two days."

"Really?" I was shocked. "It doesn't seem like two days."

"The pain medicine makes you sleep a lot." Dad explained.

"So, I've slept all this time." If that was true, why was I so exhausted?

Dad smoothed my hair back; there was a twinge of pain as his fingers grazed the bandage.

"As much as you could," he said with a smile. "You must be pretty miserable because you haven't slept well since the accident. You toss and turn; I've even heard you talk in your sleep a few times."

"What did I say?"

Dad shrugged, "Just nonsense mostly. I never could really make any of it out."

He may not have been able to make it out, but I knew. I could feel the tears building up behind my eyes. The ache in my chest was getting stronger and I didn't want to cry in front of him. Somewhere inside of me, deep down, I could feel a scream trying to bubble up to the surface.

Alastor. I wanted Alastor.

"Why don't you go down and get something to eat?" I asked, wanting to be alone. "I'm getting sleepy anyway."

"You sure?"

I could only nod. If I opened my mouth to speak, I knew the only thing that would come out would be Alastor's name over and over.

Dad was easily fooled, "Okay. I'll be back in a little while. Do you need anything?"

I shook my head and let him kiss my forehead. I gave him a weak smile and watched him walk out the door.

Once I was sure he was gone, I lay back and closed my eyes.

"Alastor?" I whispered.

Nothing.

"Alastor?" I called slightly louder.

Only silence.

I closed my eyes and listened. I listened with that deeper, primal part of myself that could sense everything. I strained to feel a disturbance in the air or to hear the vibration of his non-breathing presence.

Nothing.

The room was empty. Really empty. There was only me, poor miserable me, in that room.

"Alastor," I hissed out into the nothingness. "Show yourself."

Nothing.

"I know you're there," I lied.

There was a knock at my door. I mumbled a quick prayer as I heard it open.

Let it be him...Let it be him...

It was only a nurse in bright purple scrubs with syringe in hand.

"Hello there," She said with a warm smile. "Starting to feel a little uncomfortable?"

I said nothing, but felt a single tear fall down my cheek.

"No need to be so brave," She said sympathetically as she injected the syringe's clear contents into my I.V. "When you need medicine, hit the call button."

I nodded, feeling the numbness already starting to spread.

"That will make you feel better," She said, patted my hand, and left me.

I opened my eyes when I heard the door shut. I was still in the hospital room. I was still alone.

The darkness was reaching up for me. I didn't fight it. I wanted it to come and take me away.

As I sank deeper, I saw my long ago face in the gilded mirror that used to hang in the hall. Alastor was standing behind me smiling, his blue eyes so beautiful it made my heart hurt.

I went deeper into the darkness still and I was back in my room. I was ordering Alastor away. He was rushing towards me, swelling and filling the room. Then it all went away.

Alastor's voice crossed into the darkness, "You have been loved in this world and the next. Please, never forget that."

Somewhere, inside the walls of my brain, I was screaming. I made a mistake. I wanted Alastor back, but I knew that he was gone.

Just before the darkness completely overtook me, I turned over onto my side.

"Alastor...."

# Chapter 18

Life returned to normal after that. Painfully normal. I returned to school and tried to act normal. I told myself if I could convince other people, maybe eventually I could convince myself.

Normal. I was learning to hate the word normal and everything it represented.

At first, whenever I was alone, I would wander the empty rooms of the house. I kept thinking maybe, just maybe, I would see or feel something that would give be hope.

"Alastor?" I called out to the vacant space of the study, "Are you here?"

There was never an answer. How I hated that silence.

I tried to capture the feeling of him, some small trace of him left behind. I knelt in the floor of the study, touching the pale spot in the wood where his blood was spilled.

It felt so intimate touching those faded boards. I wanted to rip them all up and hold them in my arms. It was a crazy thought, but I was desperate to feel close to him.

The garden where the memory of Alastor had been so real for me was now brown and barren. I walked it every day, lingering by the roses. A few withered blooms still clung to the dried stems, but the magical beauty was gone.

It was just a house and yard now. There was nothing special about it. Just like everything else, it went back to normal.

I hated normal.

Dad stared at me over the dinner table every night. Worry always lined his face. He didn't seem to know what to say to me since he didn't know what it was that had me so upset.

"Are you okay?" Dad asked when I asked to be excused from the table without eating.

"I'm fine," I lied, trying to smile.

Dad narrowed his eyes and shook his head, "Well something is going on."

"Not really."

He cleared his throat and folded his hands under his chin, "Did you and Jonah make up yet?"

"What? No!" I snapped, not wanting to even think about Jonah. It seemed so unfaithful to Alastor.

Wiping his mouth with his linen napkin, Dad leaned back in his chair. "Well whatever it is, do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I answered simply.

He studied me for a moment, and then tossed his napkin beside his plate. "Then you're excused."

I fled his concerned look. I ran back up to my room where I didn't have to pretend. I could be as sad as I wanted. It was a relief to not have to act like I wasn't devastated.

Across the room, propped up against the lamp on my night table, Alastor watched me from the confines of his sepia photograph in a shining new frame. Picking it up, I stretched out on my bed. I studied the image, trying to convince myself it had all been real.

The faded photo didn't do his brilliant blue eyes justice. They were merely a pale blur frozen in time. I wished I could reach into that picture, through the portals of time, and pull him back into my world.

The absence of him was everywhere. If it wasn't for that photograph, it would have been like he never existed. There would be times that I would begin to doubt that it all happened, and then I would look at that photograph and know that it was all true.

Each night, after the pretense of dinner and after I struggled through whatever homework I remembered to bring home, I lay in bed and stared at that photograph until I fell asleep.

Wherever he was, could he feel how much I missed him?

There seemed to be no end to my grief. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but there were times I would swear mine were growing deeper with each passing day.

My only relief was sleep. Only then was I able to let go of the pain. Deep asleep and dreaming, I could be with Alastor again.

The doctor that discharged me from the hospital added the diagnosis of post-traumatic stress from the accident and prescribed some mild sleeping pills to help me rest. I couldn't wait to get to sleep each night. I felt like I was rushing through my day just to get back home, back to bed, and back to my dreams.

In my dreams, it was prom night again. Jonah had just excused himself and I was standing there waiting for his return. Across the room came Alastor, not as Jonah this time, but as himself.

He took me in his arms and led me out to the dance floor. All of the other students disappeared and it was just us, flesh and blood in the center of the room.

I kept trying to speak, to tell him how miserable I was and that I was sorry, but Alastor kept putting his fingers to my lips.

"Let me have this one moment," He would whisper.

I never dreamed of anything else. It was always of that one moment dancing in the dark with him.

Even in my dream, I knew that it wouldn't last. I held him tightly, pressing my face to his chest. I inhaled the sweet smell of his flesh and touched the rough stubble of his cheek.

Just give me this one moment...

I wanted so bad to hold onto it, but I felt myself losing my grasp on sleep. I was floating away from that magical memory and back to the here and now.

No...Not yet...

I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I was trying to will myself back to sleep. I knew once I awoke I would be alone again and Alastor would just be a memory.

No...Not yet...

Despite my best efforts, I always woke up. I looked around at my room, always just the same.

I sat up and switched on the lamp. On a good night, I could stare at the picture of Alastor until I grew sleepy again. On a bad night, I would still be staring at his photograph when the sun came up.

I wondered if I could ever be whole again. Over one hundred years ago, we promised to love each other until death do us part. Now we both had broken that vow and loved each other long after that.

It confused me to think about that long ago Becca and myself. We were the same person, but separated through time. That other Becca loved Alastor, but killed him just the same. And what was I doing to him?

Was my longing for him keeping him from crossing over? Was my love preventing him from finding peace? Was I trapping his very soul?

I hated to think those things were true, but perhaps it was time to let him go...

I wasn't sure that I could really say goodbye.

I walked down Capitol Avenue, keeping my head down. I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to try to answer them if they asked where I was going.

My knees were shaking. I knew that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just that I needed to say goodbye. I needed to be close to him again.

I crossed through the gates of Cedar Hill Cemetery. It looked so different in the late autumn sun. The fallen leaves circles my feet in breeze as I walked toward Alastor's headstone.

I stopped at a fresh grave, silently asking for forgiveness as I plucked a single rose from the clusters of arrangements. Somewhere there was a family crying for this person, but I didn't think about them. I just couldn't go to Alastor's grave empty handed.

The sun was starting to sink behind the trees and the air held a leaf scented chill when I stepped up to the stone and ran my fingers over Alastor's name. I knelt on the grass, not caring that the ground was damp. I closed my eyes, remembering his face and the sound of his velvety voice.

I placed the rose on the ground and a chill ran through me. I wasn't sure anymore if any of it was real. Was it love that brought me here or was it fantasy?

It was so hard to hold onto my memories of Alastor in the reality of day to day life. The only time I felt him close was when I was dreaming and he could hold me in his warm and dark embrace. Part of me never wanted to wake up, I wanted to stay asleep forever so that nothing would ever change, but I knew that wasn't possible.

My heart trembled in my chest at the idea that I would never see Alastor again; it beat against my ribs painfully. Until the day that I die, I knew that my heart would ache for him with every beat.

I had to admit it. It was over. The only thing left for me to do was to set his spirit free.

Forcing myself to stand, I brushed the leaves and dirt from my jeans. One last time I reached out and touched the mossy stone.

"Goodbye Alastor," I whispered, turned, and left the cemetery. Even as the tears fell down my cheeks, I told myself it was better this way.

# Chapter 19

Time moved on and I was barely aware of it. I could see my life going on all around me, but I didn't feel like a part of it.

Christmas came and went with its twinkling lights. Dad and I stayed up late Christmas Eve watching the flames in the fireplace while we ate popcorn balls and listened to strange silence of the falling snow. I saw Billie and Ally a few times over the winter break and then it was back to school.

I didn't really pay attention to the rest of winter and before long spring made the earth green again. It seemed like all the flowers and trees were blooming and all I did was blink and it was graduation night.

I stood with the other graduates in the cafeteria, all of us shouting and screaming with excitement. The teachers were trying to get us all in order and lined up.

"Come on people!" Mrs. Temple complained and clapped her hands for our attention, "This is not that difficult."

Somehow she managed to form the line, pulling at this one and shoving the next. She walked down the line and straightened our caps and smoothed our robes, nodding to herself as the music started.

I craned my neck toward Billie and Ally, smiling and waving just before we all marched single file into the gymnasium. They were both ridiculously animated in waving back and then we were all marching.

Did it really happen as fast as it seemed? We all went in, took our seats, and then we were going toward the stage. It went by in a blur.

I heard my name being called and I stepped forward. Principal McGuiness was handing me my diploma and shaking my trembling hand. It was a little pathetic to hear Dad's solitary clapping when the other graduates had an entire cheering section, but even that didn't dampen my spirits.

"Congratulations, Ms. McAllister," He said formally.

"Thanks."

I expected something more. It was all over.

There were cheers, applause, and a cloud of hats in the air. Everyone was hugging and crying. Families poured down from the bleachers, claiming their graduate.

Ally danced up to me, all smiles and giggles. "Can you believe it's really over?"

"Not really."

Her mom was pulling at her arm. Ally nodded and backed away, still smiling. "Call me later and we'll all get together and do something."

"Okay," I called to her.

A few seconds later I spotted Billie with her mother and grandparents. She smiled and waved, but seemed unable to get away. I motioned for her to call me later.

Dad picked his way through the crowd and caught me up in a hug and swung me in a circle, "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks," I said, staggering and dizzy.

"You okay?" Dad asked, reaching out to balance me.

I smiled, "Sure. It's just so crowded and hot."

"Maybe you should step outside," Dad suggested. "I'll go get the truck and you meet me out front, okay?"

I nodded, fanning myself with my cap. I wove through the crowd, smiling and waving as people called out to me. It was a relief to walk out the exit and stand in the early evening.

The sun had just set and the sky was just starting to turn purple. I took a deep breath and sighed, still smiling to myself. I unzipped my robe and held it open so that the late spring breeze could reach the thin summer dress I wore underneath.

A few people were already leaving, their families pulling them away for traditional celebrations before they escaped for less formal escapades.

"Congratulations," A voice said behind me.

I jumped and spun around. Jonah stood there smiling with his robe folded over his arm.

"Thanks," I said, blushing. It was still odd to have him speaking to me. Those first weeks after the storm were strained, now our conversations consisted of bland politeness.

"Going home already?" He asked.

"Yeah, my Dad went to go get the truck," I said, not sure where to look. His eyes were too beautiful, his face to handsome, so I settled for staring at the polished toes of his shoes.

"You're lucky," He said with a sigh. "My Mom is in there talking to a few of the ladies she graduated with and even though they run into each other all the time, I have a feeling I'll be stuck here a while."

"I'm sorry," I said and dared to glance up at his face. Why was this so difficult?

"Nothing for you to be sorry about, I'm used to it," he said with a polite smile.

"Oh, well that makes it easier I guess."

"Have you decided on a college yet?" He asked.

"Not yet."

"Are you thinking about going away for school or going to a college close to home?"

"Close to home," I replied, my heart aching at the idea of leaving the house where I could keep my memories close.

Jonah cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets, his robe wrinkled and forgotten in the bend of his arm. "So, what are your plans later?"

"I'm not sure," I said, looking down at my own feet. "I'm supposed to call Ally so that we can all get together and do something."

"Hopefully it won't be anything up at the quarry."

I looked up then, I couldn't help it. His eyes met mine before I looked away. I could still picture that night when he pulled me from the water and saved my life.

"Yeah, I doubt she'd suggest that," I said.

He shifted back and forth on his feet, "I would hope not. I don't know if I could do that again."

"So, what are you going to do?" I asked trying to change the subject.

He took a step toward me, "I don't know yet. I was hoping to run into you somehow, but you're not giving me much to go on."

I looked up again, not sure if he was serious. He was smiling and seemed relaxed and sincere enough. I couldn't help but to smile back.

Far off I could hear Dad honking the truck horn. I could just make out the beam of his headlights in front of the building. I turned back to Jonah, still unsure. I didn't really know what to say.

"I have to go," I said, wishing Dad had better timing.

"I understand," he said and took another step forward. "I just wanted to say congratulations."

"Thanks again," I said and took a few steps away and then turned back to him. "I hope I do see you around later. We can all get together and celebrate it being over."

Before I knew what was happening, he placed my arms around his neck and embraced me. It was just a hug, but there was something intimate about it or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.

I spotted it then, just over Jonah's shoulder, a pair of luminous blue eyes staring out at me from the shadows. I saw those eyes and I knew it was all far from over.

### Did you enjoy Spiritus? Want More?

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# About the Author

Dana Michelle Burnett spent most of her life writing short stories and sharing them with family and friends. Over the years, her work was published in numerous commercial and literary magazines including Just Labs, Mindprints: A Literary Journal, Foliate Oak, and many more. Her short story John Lennon and the Chicken Holocaust was include in The Best of Foliate Oak 2006.

Dana Michelle's Spiritus Series introduced the idea of a ghostly romance and became a Kindle bestselling series. She's an avid reader of anything dark and romantic. Dana Michelle lives in Southern Indiana with her dancing diva daughter and an assortment of pets.

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### Haunted (Spiritus Series Book Two)

Alastor came at me then, forcing me back against the wall. He was so solid that I could feel his weight against me. I could feel his frozen breath on my face....He ran his hand up my arm, over my shoulder, and rested at the base of my throat. His blue eyes glittered dangerously.

Becca has accepted the horrors of her past life, and emerged with her ghostly love Alastor at her side. But her happiness is short lived when she realizes that balancing her past and present won't be easy...

Becca has already decided that it's Alastor that she loves, but now, as their uncommon relationship limits Becca's future, Alastor must decide if he's willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for Becca's happiness....And will Becca's sanity survive?

Available Now at All Major E-book Retailers

# Sneak Peek at Haunted (Spiritus Series Book Two)

It was late afternoon when Jonah and I took a cab further inland to Pitot House. In the early evening light, the old colonial house cast long shadows over the tourists and locals passing on their way toward the bayou.

"This is amazing!" Jonah exclaimed as soon as he got out of the taxi. He took my hand and pulled me along, following the crowd, "Can you believe this?"

I clutched his hand as we moved along toward Magnolia Bridge. Still yards away, I could hear the drums as well as feel them vibrating somewhere deep inside the middle of my body. As the bridge came into view, the beat of the drums took over the air and shook the ground beneath my feet.

The crowd kept moving closer and closer to the old wood and metal bridge. As I stepped up on the first creaking wooden plank, I saw eerie drawings of symbols and words in glowing white chalk scratched on its surface.

The air was thick with humidity and noise, too loud to even breathe. It all began to spin, the drums, the wooden planks covered in glowing drawings, and the sickening sweet smell of so many bodies pushed together.

I felt myself staggering, everything going hazy and then coming back to quickly, like a record played at the wrong speed. Before I could recover, I was spinning and the drums became loud booms that shook the ground and far off there was a baby crying.

It wasn't safe here. I had to get away. I was overcome with the idea that there were people coming to hurt me. They were going to find me. They were going to get me. We needed to hide...We needed to get away.

"Jonah," I pleaded, "I've got to get out of here."

He didn't hear me. I was clutching at his arm, but he was lost in the sea of bodies. At last, I clasped his hand and jerked him around to face me.

"Now!" I demanded. "I want to go now!"

Jonah was reluctant to leave, but the expression on my face must've convinced him because he guided me through the crowd without complaint.

As we stepped off the bridge, a beautiful woman with deep olive skin moved into our path. She seemed to glow in her long white dress and white head wrap. There was something pulsating on her shoulders. It took a moment for my eyes to focus enough to see that it was a large snake that slithered about her neck.

"I see that which you want most," she declared, pulling the snake's head up to hers so that it's forked tongue could flicker across her lips.

I stepped around her, cringing away from the serpent.

The woman laughed, showing a wide mouth of bright white teeth, "He can come back, you know."

The air left my lungs and I stopped short. I couldn't have heard her right. I dropped Jonah's hand and turned around slowly.

"What did you say?" I asked.

She stepped over to me, swaying her hips so that her dress swung like a bell.

"I can bring him back," She whispered as she came within inches of my face. "I know that is the thing that you want most."

There was a surge of air swirling around me and over my head. The woman's eyes focused on it with a knowing smile.

"He will be angry," She said and took a card out of the waistband of her dress. "Come and see me when you can."

I clutched the card in my hand as Jonah led me away. I looked back and watched the woman disappear in the darkening crowd.

