Ghostly Liaisons

By

Terry Spear

Ghostly Liaisons

Copyright © 2010 by Terry Spear

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Discover more about Terry Spear at:

http://www.terryspear.com/

DEDICATION

To ghost lovers everywhere. May you only encounter the kindly ones!

Chapter 1

Emily Rundle stared at herself in the mirror, but she didn’t look like herself, not with the brunette coloring she’d used. Glad she tested out a temporary hair color, she washed it all out of her hair with peach shampoo, blew it dry, and sighed. Didn’t matter that she was always teased about her red hair. She wanted to at least feel normal when she looked in the mirror at herself, since nothing else about her was–normal.

She walked into her bedroom and considered the bed, wondering if tonight, she’d finally be able to sleep the whole night through.

She was sure she wouldn’t have long to wait before she knew the answer to her question.

***

“Beware the danger,” a feminine voice whispered close to Emily’s ear, the sweet fragrance of tea-scented roses wafting in the air.

Emily stirred in bed, her mind half awake. It was only a dream, she told herself. Or a very real nightmare.

When a hand touched her throat, leaving an icy imprint of frostbite burning the skin, Emily’s eyes popped open, her heart pumping hard.

Not again. A new home, a new beginning. Why couldn’t they leave her alone?

She lay very still, barely breathing, waiting for the unseen entity to appear, to speak again. The room was cold, but she had assumed it was because her hot-natured dad had turned the air conditioner on high again on the sweltering, August night. Her whole body chilled and she buried herself deeper under her pink satin comforter.

The skin on her throat still burned from the freezing fingers that had touched her, the first time the thing had been so bold. But it didn’t seem to want to harm her.

“Hello?” Emily whispered. “What…what do you want?”

She flipped on her lamp switch. Nothing. Then the linen curtains hanging closed rippled as if the muggy Florida breeze was blowing in from the north through an open window. The way her skin crawled with chill bumps and her breath came out in frosty puffs, Emily knew it was still in the room with her.

“I can help you.” At least she hoped she could. Her dealings with ghosts didn’t always work out the way she planned. “What do you want?”

Emily’s closet door creaked open, the hair on her arms stood on end, and she shifted her attention to the walk-in closet.

“I’ve helped…uhm, people like you before,” Emily said. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, wishing the restless spirit would leave her in peace so she could sleep just one night.

Fine. Have it your way.

Emily shut off the bedside lamp light. Across the room, her closet door closed with a clunk, and she jumped.

She couldn’t get back to sleep for an hour after that, waiting for the spirit’s return, listening for any sound it might make, judging the change in the temperature of the room. But her eyes finally shut, and she was once again drawn into the watery graveyard across the street.

The racket from cicadas and crickets filled the air with their inharmonious songs, the noise grating on her ears. Steam rose from the jungle-like swamp, while sun filtered through the tree branches and shimmered off the brown water where the green scum hadn’t yet crept. Or had something disturbed the water? Pushed the scum away with its movement? Something like an alligator sweeping its tail from side to side? Poking its nostrils and rigid green brows just above the surface, waiting…waiting for what?

Emily shivered. Why wasn’t the jungle hot? She tugged her comforter higher.

Something moved in the trees’ shade, but made no sound, just a shadow similar to the ones the foliage made, but sliding in between slim and thick tree trunks, stopping, moving, floating, fading, fading, and gone.

Emily, she thought she heard the female entity whisper, exotic, sweet as the fragrance of roses permeating the air. Emily.

From-the-gut male laughter, dark and husky, echoed through the jungle. Drunken slurred words followed.

Emily. The voice calling her name was feminine, soft and luring...the ghost who visited her bedroom, she thought.

Emily buried her head into her pillow and touched her temple. Who called her? Who? Could she help her?

A breeze shook branches, rippled the water’s surface, sent heat hurtling through the trees.

But Emily still felt chilled. She sensed the air’s thick humidity, but she couldn’t feel it.

“If the wench returnsss…” The gruff man’s slurred words faded.

“Where the hell’sss the Cap’n?” another asked.

Emily couldn’t see where the voices were coming from. There was nothing around her but swampland.

“Where’s our booty? Blasted witch!”

“Thar she is! Grab the wench!”

Emily swallowed hard. They couldn’t get her, could they? She gripped her comforter tighter as if it would shield her from the threat. Her stomach tightened into knotted rope.

A girl laughed, haughty and hearty.

The men cursed.

The sounds, the heat and humidity of the jungle died away. The scent of roses lingered.

Shattering the new silence, the alarm jangled next to Emily’s bed, giving her heart a rude jumpstart before she remembered it was the first day of school. Her new school.

In Oregon, her bedroom had been half this size with only one window. Here in Florida, she had the northwest corner of the second-story. One window faced east over the jungle-like swamps that drained into the Banana River, and the other faced north with a view of another two-story colonial. Like two massive stone-faced castles sitting at the entrance to the development, they were built to lure buyers in.

Emily’s naturally red hair flopped over her shoulders in waves of curls, as she hastily pulled on her jeans and threw a T-shirt over her head. . When she looked in the mirror to put on her makeup, she noticed the fingerlike imprint on her throat, the skin slightly bruised. Great, just great. She couldn’t wear a turtleneck when the temperature was sweltering.

Whipping a makeup brush out of a drawer, she swept the ivory powder over the discoloration, covering it the best she could. Hopefully, her mother wouldn’t notice the finger marks or she’d be even more stressed out.

After adding olive shadow to her eyelids to enhance her green eyes, Emily applied mascara to her red lashes. A dab of gloss added a luscious shine to her lips. She smacked them and smiled. She didn’t look too frazzled, considering the ghost kept hassling her at night.

She considered the way her skin looked, like a milk bath had washed all the color away. Frowning, she couldn’t help it her skin wouldn’t tan. Exposure to the sun would force brown freckles hiding beneath the surface to expand rapidly into a rash of spots. Here in sunny Florida, the kids would undoubtedly rib her mercilessly for having untanned skin.

Her stomach flip-flopped. Would the kids here form cliques like they did at her old high school? Most likely. She imagined they could be pretty mean-spirited, especially if they ever learned of her secrets. She glanced out the window facing the steamy, mosquito-laden swampland—ghostly spirits, hidden pirate’s treasure, secrets long forgotten—beckoned to her.

As soon as she could, she was exploring them and discovering what she could about the ghosts.

Emily ran down the stairs and stalked into the kitchen where her mother greeted her. The skin beneath her eyes was dark from not sleeping. “Are you certain you don’t want to ride the bus the first day to school instead of driving the old Caddy?” She handed Emily a mini blueberry muffin on a blue and white porcelain plate that matched the kitchen decorated in the same color scheme.

The tile counters sparkled in the wash of Florida sunshine spilling through the large windows. So different from the nearly always overcast climate in Oregon. Her eyes still weary from lack of sleep, Emily squinted.

“I’ll be okay, Mom.” Knowing how much her mother fretted, she tried to sound reassuring. She attempted to change the subject. “Is Dad already at work?”

“Yes, he left an hour ago.” Her mother paced, then noticing a piece of masking tape from one of the boxes dangling on the leg of her blue jeans, she yanked it off and threw it away. She pushed her fingers though her uncombed blonde hair. “Maybe you should reconsider driving. Do you remember the route? What if the Caddy breaks down again?”

“Thanks, but you showed me the way already. The car will be fine.” Emily hoped. She skirted the packing boxes cluttering the white tile floor. “Unless you want me to stay home and help you unpack some more.” Even though she wanted to get her first day over at school, she wouldn’t have minded delaying the inevitable if it relieved some of her mother’s anxiety.

It seemed since they moved, Emily had unloaded thousands of boxes already. Except for the kitchen, where she and her mother had concentrated their efforts, the house was still in turmoil. Because she didn’t like things so disorderly, Emily worked to get her bedroom in order, too. But all the walls remained bare of pictures and would probably stay that way for another week. The house wouldn’t seem like home until everything was unpacked and put in its place. It would take a lot longer to feel like home unless she made some new friends here.

Emily reached into the fridge for the milk jug.

Her mother paused from ripping open another box, finally taking a breather to answer her. “No, honey, school’s more important. We’ll get this all put away before long.” Her mother reached over and poked a curl behind Emily’s ear. “You didn’t like being a brunette?”

“No. It didn’t look like me.”

Her mother nodded. “I’m so sorry we got here right before school started. Who’d have ever thought Florida schools would start in the midsummer heat?”

“No problem. At least they’re air conditioned.” Unlike the cars her family brought from Oregon. Her dad swore he’d get her mother and him new ones as soon as he could afford to. Talk about a fast way to ruin a happy mood, stick a family in a humid, metal steam bath, and see tempers flare.

Her mother’s brow pinched together, and she focused on the Caddy again. “I just worry about that old car breaking down. The transmission’s been acting up a bit. The starter has been, too.”

“It’ll be okay, Mom. Have you got the stress stone reliever I gave you for Christmas?”

Her mother pulled the shiny, speckled stone out of her jeans pocket and began to stroke it. “Guess I’m worrying too much again.”

Emily kissed her mother’s cheek. “Just rub the stone to make the problems go away.”

Her mother’s eyes focused on Emily’s throat, and she reached out to touch it. “Emily, what’s—”

“Got to run! Don’t want to be late! See ya!” Her heart pumping, Emily dashed out of the kitchen. She hurried outside into the soupy Florida heat, hoping when she became a mom she wouldn’t be such a worrywart with her own kids. But no way was she going to concern her mother about the ghost in her bedroom. She already had way too much to agonize about.

Taking a deep breath, Emily slid into the seat of the old Cadillac. The odor of her grandfather’s pipe tobacco smelled stale, made worse by the humidity, and already the car was twenty degrees hotter than the outside air. She wished she could have a brand new car like some of the other kids she knew back home, but instead she had her grandparents’ old hand-me-down. Still, it was better than riding the bus.

She twisted the key in the ignition. Nothing but a little grinding sound. Then absolute dead silence. When the car’s engine didn’t turn over, her skin prickled with exasperation. She shoved the door open and the hinges groaned like the joints had painful arthritis. Jumping out of the car, she slammed the door shut, then dashed back into the house. Hope sprang anew her mother would take her to school.

“Mom, the car’s not running!”

Startled, her mother gave a little scream, her hand to her breast. “I’ll take care of it, dear. Hurry, run, before you miss the bus.”

Emily considered begging her to take her, but the harried expression on her mother’s face made her change her mind. And Emily’s spirit sank into a pit of quicksand. Ugh. Her first day at school, and she had to ride the dreaded yellow monster.

Bolting out of the house and down the street, she grimaced when six kids piled onto the bus. By the time she reached the monstrosity, the driver had already shut the door. Great start to the new school year and a new school.

She banged on the door, and the driver opened it. When she ran up the steps, he gave her a sour look like he’d been sucking on sour pickles all morning.

“Need to get here earlier next time,” he grumbled. He wore a several-day growth of black stubble, and his rumpled clothes looked like he had slept in them for weeks. Where had the school dredged him up? A prison work-release program?

“All right, sorry,” she said cheerfully. Treat people with kindness; the best way to change a person’s sour mood. Sometimes, it worked.

He grunted and gave her a sinister look, his black bushy brows furrowing, his colorless eyes narrowed.

Okay, sometimes, it didn’t work.

Because it was the last stop on the bus route, two kids filled every seat already, except for three near the back. Boys sat in these, one to a seat, with their legs stretched full length across the cracked and sagging vinyl, just daring her to sit on their claimed territory.

The bus lurched forward. Her heart quickened, and she grabbed a seatback to keep from falling.

She considered each of the three boys who glowered at her, challenging her. Which one would she take on this morning? She hated to break her New Year’s resolution again, though since January she already broke it at least seventy times. She really planned on limiting the use of her abilities. But then again, something always seemed to happen, making her feel totally justified. Like now.

She turned her attention to the first of the boys as the bus bumped down the road. His hair shone just as red as hers; not washed down with blonde or darkened with brown, but pure, unadulterated red. Surely, he would have sympathy for another redhead. Not.

Next, she considered the short kid with bleached blonde, spiked hair adding an inch to his height. Why did boys with stunted growth feel the need to bully?

The last guy’s black hair curled behind his ears, and his eyes looked like two pieces of coal. She swore a tinge of red glowed in them.

She glanced at the redhead again. Since he sat closer, he would do. “Could I sit here, please?”

Having to deal with kids like him at her old school, she knew politeness wouldn’t move him. But, she had to at least make the attempt.

“Sit somewhere else.” His olive-colored eyes spearing her, he curled his lip with the words, emphasizing the need to show who was boss.

All right. She tried to be nice.

She shoved his feet from the seat and sat down next to him. His eyes heated. They couldn’t have been any narrower without being shut. His freckles expanded into a rush of angry red skin. Knowing full well his revenge would follow, she tensed and readied herself.

His hand flew to her shoulder, but before he could shove her from the seat, her gaze bored into his. Immediately, he retracted his hand as if he’d been scalded by steam rising from the spout of a teakettle. Served him right.

The blond-haired bully behind him hit his shoulder. “What’s up? Got a new girlfriend?”

“Shut up, Daniel,” he growled.

“You bangin’ her, Red?” the raven-haired boy taunted.

“Shove it, Rocky.”

Emily’s stomach unclenched. Her breathing normalized, but she knew the war had only just begun.

Thirty minutes later, the bus screeched to a halt in front of the pale peach, brick high school surrounded by southern pines. Emily had envisioned Florida would be filled with palm trees, orange groves, and white sand beaches, but pine trees?

The pine aroma wafted in the hot breeze, making her homesick for Oregon. Even the whooshing sound the wind made when it stirred the branches reminded her of home. But the heat and humidity clung to her skin, a constant reminder that she was far from Oregon.

When they got off the bus, Red and his buddies stuck near her. Their shared looks of hostility and the way they crowded her warned her they’d continue to be trouble. She didn’t need to read his mind to know Red fully intended to get back at her.

Yet, something caught her attention, something from a distance that her brain didn’t have time to assimilate, but even so, poltergeist flashed across her subconscious. In the same instant, Red punched his balled fist into her shoulder, his school ring adding to the impact. A sharp pain shot through her arm.

Wrinkling her forehead in concentration, she quirked a brow and took control of his mind.

Red twirled like a ballerina in place, slowly at first, then picking up his speed despite the clunky sneakers he wore.

Students stopped to watch and muffled laughter filled the hall.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Daniel asked, but when Red continued to make a fool of himself, his friends backed away and shook their heads.

Emily turned off her charm and headed down one of the long corridors. She hated to begin school like this. If only she could have made friends easily this time.

Emily found her classroom and took a seat in the back. Whiteboards, desks, the smell of paper and cleaner…same as her old school. But the faces were different. No one said a word to her. When the teacher walked into class, he stroked a Donald Duck tie, then leaned his backside against his desk. “I’m Mr. Smith. You’ll find your names on the desks already, if you’ll go ahead and find your seat.”

Anyone who wears cartoon ties can’t be all bad. She took her seat next to an empty chair. On the other side sat...Red. How did she ever get so lucky? He eyed her with contempt. She ignored him and faced the front.

Mr. Smith ran his finger down the seating chart. “Mr. Michael Shipley isn’t here?”

She assumed he meant the kid whose vacant seat was located next to hers.

The teacher combed his fingers through sandy-colored hair. His face was bronzed from the sun, and she wondered if he served as a lifeguard over summer vacation. She definitely wouldn’t have minded if he’d rescued her.

“We’ll start by going around the room, giving your names and where you’re from originally,” Mr. Smith said.

When introductions made it halfway around the room, a six-foot tall dream of a guy walked in. His sable hair and eyes reminded Emily of semi-sweet, dark chocolate, and his skin was as golden as the teacher’s. When she caught his eye, she smiled. He quickly mirrored her expression and sat in the vacant seat beside her.

Things were definitely looking up.

“Mr. Michael Shipley, I presume,” the teacher said.

“Yes, sir. Sorry I’m late. I had to take my grandmother to the hospital.”

Hospital?

Since Emily had just lost her grandmother—the only grandparent she’d had left—she hoped for Michael’s sake his own wasn’t experiencing anything life threatening.

“Nothing serious, I hope,” Mr. Smith said, with genuine compassion.

Emily’s thoughts shifted to her own grandmother, dying in the hospital, her eyes gray, her skin sallow, her skin stretched across bones. For two months, the lung cancer had invaded her organs, her tissues, her cells, and she’d wasted away until she died. Emily couldn’t shake loose of the image until Michael spoke again.

“She fell off a boat.”

Emily closed her gaping mouth. She tried to read his mind while the teacher resumed introductions, but she couldn’t scan Michael’s thoughts. Her stomach churned, and she felt as though she was suddenly brain impaired.

“Miss Emily Rundle?”

She turned her head in the teacher’s direction, startled when she realized she’d been studying Michael all this time, totally oblivious to anyone else in the room. “Emily Rundle from Beaverton, Oregon.”

“Yankee,” Red sneered.

Michael offered her another smile. “Michael Shipley from Sacramento, California.”

He was a West Coaster, too. And good looking. She was dying to know what happened to his grandmother, though. Totally frustrated she couldn’t see his thoughts, her brows drew together.

Another girl gave her name, and Emily willed the teacher to question Michael about his grandmother.

Mr. Smith obliged. “About your grandmother, Michael, what happened exactly?”

Michael’s tanned face turned as white as the sandy beaches in Panama City, Florida. “Maybe I could tell you after class, sir.”

Then he glanced at Emily, and she felt like he knew what she had done. Her heart took a dive, and she quickly looked away. No one knew what she was capable of unless she told someone.

Was this the danger the ghost warned her of?

*  *  *

When technology class ended, two students spoke to the teacher and Michael hung back. Emily watched, hoping to overhear his explanation about his grandmother without getting caught. She could tell he really didn’t wish to speak about her. Was she near death and he was worried he’d get tearful or something if he talked about it?

She felt terrible she put him in a bind.

Without confiding in the teacher, Michael turned and headed for the doorway. The very one she blocked while she stared at him. Her face instantly flushed, she did an about-face and hurried down the hall.

Michael caught up to her. “So, you’re from Oregon.”

His deep voice sent a tremor of warmth down her spine. “Uh, yes. Beaverton, a suburb of Portland.”

“A Yankee.”

He had a sense of humor. She liked that. Hmm. Another thought occurred to her. If he talked to her, she could find out about his grandmother. “And you’re from Sacramento, California.” She stuck out her hand.

He hesitated and the thought immediately struck her she was being too forward, or just totally inappropriate. For an awkward second, he stared at her as if she had sprouted an extra head. More than anything she wished she knew what he was thinking. Maybe they didn’t shake hands in California. Averting his eyes, he cleared his throat. Before she could drop her hand to her side, he reached out and shook it.

Momentarily, his touch made her lose her train of thought. Something bothered her about him, but she couldn’t sense what. Her molecules shifted uneasily in a whirlwind of motion like a dirt devil swirled everything in its path. When their hands separated, her stomach settled. She regained her speech, but the strange sensation still lurked in her bones.

“Yeah. My parents were from Manitoba originally, but I was born in Alberta...you know, Canada. We moved to California when I was little. So, what made you move here?” Michael asked.

“My dad’s here for the space program. But...my grandparents were from Quebec.” She raised a brow. “Canada, you know. So, what are your parents doing here?”

“Same as yours.”

“Working at the space program. When did you move here?” Emily asked.

“I’ve been here all summer.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “I just arrived this past weekend. My parents didn’t realize school started so early. The schools in Oregon didn’t begin until after Labor Day. Half of our stuff is in boxes still.” Quit talking, Emily, or he’ll think you’re nervous.

His dark eyes sparkling with humor, Michael nodded. “What’s your next class?”

“Life science. Yours?”

“Same.”

Afraid she’d scare him off, she tried not to show how delighted she was. She was dying to know about his poor grandmother though. Didn’t Michael need a sympathetic ear?

“I was awfully sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

“No big deal.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. Not having any living grandparents, she couldn’t understand how he could be so uncaring about his grandmother. “I guess she wasn’t injured too badly.”

He pointed to the classroom. “This looks like the one.”

She waited for him to tell her more, but he didn’t say anything. Her mother always told her she was too curious for her own good. Still, she had every intention of finding out about his grandmother one way or another. She wasn’t really nosey, or a busybody or anything, but Emily needed closure. She hated mysteries unsolved, puzzles not finished, tasks undone, or goals not met.

Plus, her imagination was going wild. She envisioned a high-speed boat out of control and poor old gray-haired Grandma falling into the shark-infested Atlantic Ocean or tangling with a stingray in the brackish water of the Banana River. Then again, maybe she boated on one of the snake-plagued Florida lakes. Or what if she had fallen into a canal where an alligator lurked? No matter what, Emily was dying to know the whole story. And she had every intention of finding it out.

She glanced at Michael who was studying her, his whole demeanor serious. His eyes deepened into pools of dark melted chocolate, his brows furrowed slightly, but his lips remained perfectly noncommittal; no hint of a smile, but no scowl either. Yet when her gaze drifted from his mouth to his eyes, he looked at her lips.

Unnerved, she licked them and pointed to the classroom. “I guess we ought to go inside.”

Then she caught a glimpse of the bully boys standing down the hall. They stared at her like a pack of wolves waiting to get her alone, eager to pounce and rip her to shreds.

The ghost had warned her beware the danger, and she suspected they represented the danger, taunting her in the form of three demons spawned from hell.

Chapter 2

Michael recognized trouble as soon as he saw it. And Emily spelled big trouble. It was bad enough he had to cover for his grandmother’s accident, hide why he was living with her in the first place, and attempt to keep a low profile—but Emily—he could see now, would make it impossible for him.

Inexplicably, she drew him to her. But he noticed she’d already made some enemies her first day of school. He couldn’t let anyone hurt her, the protective kind of guy that he was, the damsel in distress that she was.

He glanced at her red hair, thick and curly, hanging in a ponytail down her back. Deep down, she reminded him of Susie from her sparkling green eyes to the way she smiled like a warm, summer’s day. Squelching the painful memories surfacing, he couldn’t help but feel driven to keep Emily safe. But there was something more about her that intrigued him.

He thought Emily was the one who had nudged at his thoughts, trying to read them on the sly. When the teacher asked him about his grandmother out of the blue, struck him as odd. Several students had introduced themselves before the teacher had asked about Michael’s grandmother, and it was like a bolt of lightning dropping out of the sky on a clear day hit the teacher, forcing him to pose the question. Not only that, but when Michael had looked at Emily, her cheeks flushed beautifully, and she shifted her attention so quickly from him, she looked guilty as hell.

Michael observed Red and his buddies watching her. It appeared the difficulties between Emily and them were bound to escalate, if matters weren’t handled right. Though he wasn’t able to save Susie from dying, he’d protect Emily in any way that he could.

He still couldn’t believe she was so concerned about his grandmother, and he felt badly he couldn’t share his secrets with her. That will be the day. She’d believe in ghosts as much as he believed in the Tooth Fairy. Of course, even he had doubts about his grandmother’s story.

Michael grabbed Emily’s hand and pulled her into the classroom, intent on taking his duty seriously.

*  *  *

So surprised that Michael had grabbed her hand, Emily’s mouth dropped. Was he protecting her from the menace? The notion warmed her. Her own special knight. Immediately, her thoughts shifted to the fall dance. Maybe he’d like to take her?

Then she scoffed at herself. They barely knew each other. Why would he be interested in taking her to the dance? If he learned for real how strange she was…

As soon as they entered the class, he released her hand as if he held onto a hot potato way too long. The idea of the fall dance went by the wayside.

After seating arrangements and introductions, their life science teacher jumped into a discussion of global warning. “No matter what our premise is, whether we believe global warming is a true phenomenon or not, we can attempt to decide this using the scientific method,” Mrs. Johnson said, flipping her long blonde hair back over her shoulders.

Emily’s attention focused on Michael, not that she wasn’t interested in what the teacher had to say. However, Michael watched the door as if he waited for something. Word concerning his grandmother, perhaps?

“What about you, Michael? Can you state any situation that might arise that you could solve using the scientific method?” Mrs. Johnson asked.

He was concentrating so hard on the door when the teacher proposed the question, he didn’t seem to hear her.

“Michael,” Emily whispered.

He glanced at her.

“Mrs. Johnson asked you a question.” She nodded at the teacher.

His face grew red, and his embarrassment triggered a trail of goose bumps down Emily’s arms. What was it about him that caused such a reaction? Only when she and her girlfriends had gotten into trouble together did she experience symbiotic emotions, feelings transferred from them to her. In this case, his humiliation caused a reaction of sympathy in her. But it never happened with someone she barely knew. And never with a guy.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson,” Michael apologized. “I had to take my grandmother to the hospital earlier this morning, and I was just worried about her condition.”

Emily’s eyes widened. His grandmother was worse off than she suspected. He must be hiding his grief.

“Did you wish to make a call and check on her?” the teacher asked.

“Next class break would be okay.”

Again, a strange response, which totally threw Emily. Was he worried about his grandmother or not? She glanced at the door, wondering what else could have drawn his attention, and thought she saw something dark flit past the narrow window in a flash. Her heart skipped a beat. Whatever it was moved too fast to be a student.

Mrs. Johnson repeated her question. “In your own words, explain how the scientific method would be used in a situation, any situation, as an approach to problem solving, Michael.”

Emily shuddered but attempted to force herself to quit thinking about the apparition, if that’s what it was. She reconsidered Michael’s situation. Had he even heard what the steps were? If she could, she would transfer the information to his subconscious. But that trick she couldn’t perform.

She shifted her gaze from him to the door, watching for any movement. But the brightly-illuminated hallway remained quiet. Still, when Red had punched her in the arm this morning, she swore it was the same aberration that had distracted her then as now.

Her skin prickled and she turned her focus back on the teacher, though she continued to watch the door out of the corner of her eye.

She sighed. More than anything, she wanted Michael to show how bright he was while the other students waited for him to fall on his face. Or maybe not. If he didn’t get the answer right, someone else would move to the hot seat.

Michael cleared his throat. “A student wants to harm another. That’s the problem.”

Swinging her head around, she stared at Michael, her face heating. He wouldn’t dare bring up her problem with Red in class, if he even realized she was having trouble. The guys she’d known wouldn’t have noticed.

“First, I would find out all I could about the two students. After collecting as much information as I could, I might consider previous cases of student abuse brought on by bullying behavior,” he continued.

Emily tilted her head in surprise. Was Michael a genius? She narrowed her eyes. Geniuses were weird, weren’t they? Like nerds? She had her own peculiar foibles. No way did she want to hang around a guy who had them, too. They’d quickly be branded the two weirdest kids in school.

“Next, I would form a hypothesis. If I could find out why the two students acted at odds, maybe I could serve as an intermediary and help them resolve their differences.”

Yeah, right. Emily made Red think he burned his hand when he tried to shove her from her seat on the school bus. Then, because his effort to remove her from his conquered territory didn’t work, he managed to punch her in school. In retaliation, she made him dance like a ballerina, minus the tutu. Okay, Michael, solve that problem.

Michael smiled at Emily briefly as if he could read her mind. Her whole body heated, and she felt she’d been immersed in the swamp during the hottest time of the day.

“This hypothesis of mine would form one variable, and it would be my experimental group. My control group would consist of two students with a similar beef, only I wouldn’t act as an intermediary in their case.”

Emily propped her elbow on the desk and rested her head on her hand. Her gaze centered on Michael while she considered his words. Now, that would be interesting, finding two cases where the one bullying the other was made a fool of through the use of mind control.

“Afterward, I would record the result of the experiment. Then I would check the results by conducting a similar experiment using mediation in one instance, and none in the other.”

Emily glanced around the room to see the kids listening with rapt attention. Did Michael get the answer right? That’s what she read flitting across their minds.

“Lastly, I would report my findings. Maybe even institute new school policies to ensure kids could resolve their differences in a more agreeable way.”

Mrs. Johnson smiled. “Very good, Michael. Anyone else have an example?”

No one said a word.

Michael gave Emily an all-knowing look. Had he noticed Red’s interest in bullying her after all? Nah, guys were never that observant. Yet, he had taken her hand and pulled her into class as if attempting to protect her.

Mediation. Hmph. That would be the day. People like Red, Daniel, and Rocky needed reform school, tough love…or the threat of someone yielding a very big club. Not mediation.

The light in the hallway flickered, drawing her attention. The hall was silent and empty, but she swore cold air spilled into the room underneath the door.

The first bell rang, jangling her nerves, already on edge. Everyone hurried out of class, all except for Emily and Michael.

“Anything wrong?” he asked, grabbing his book bag.

“No, nothing.” She attempted a smile, but her stomach was somersaulting. If the school had a poltergeist, it was probably benign. Nothing to worry about, yet it didn’t chase away the bad vibes she was getting.

When they exited the class, she expected Michael to call the hospital to check on his grandmother, but instead he walked her to the next room. “Can I ask you something, Emily?”

Just the way he said her name made her shudder with anticipation. “Sure.”

“Where do you live?”

Did he want to see her after school? Maybe he would ask her to the fall dance after all. One day at a time, Emily. “Sunset Development.”

He twisted his mouth.

“Is something wrong, Michael?”

“Which street?”

“Sunrise Drive.”

“At the entrance of the new development where the bulkhead for the canal ends and across the two-lane road from where the…”

“…swampland begins. Yes.”

His eyes locked onto hers, his dark brows wrinkling slightly. Something bothered him, but what?

She twisted a curl behind her ear. “You seem to know the place.”

“I live there.”

Her mind shifted, trying to decipher his words. “But, you didn’t ride the bus.”

“No, I drove my own car.”

Car? He had a car? “Oh, right, you drove your grandmother to the hospital first. I forgot.” She wasn’t normally that scatterbrained, but Michael disrupted her thoughts with just the intensity of his gaze. He was a dream-come-true, that is, if he wanted to drive her to school and back every day.

She shuffled her feet. “I planned on driving my grandparents’ old white Caddy, but it wouldn’t start this morning. So, to my horror, I had to ride the bus.” Hint, hint.

“Did you have trouble on the bus?”

“There wasn’t any problem on the bus I couldn’t handle,” she said. Now, why did she say that? Despite the fact it was true, it made her sound totally self-sufficient when she wouldn’t mind having a guy who looked out for her from time to time. Someone just like Michael. Then again, what did she know about him? Nothing, except he lived near her, came from the West Coast, had a car, and was a total hottie.

Okay, so that was enough.

“Maybe we can study together sometime?” The warning bell rang for class, and her stomach muscles tightened with anxiety. Why couldn’t she get on with her social life without school interrupting it?

“Right after school?” he asked, with such urgency she was taken aback.

She wasn’t sure she’d even have anything to study by the end of the first day of school. “Sure.”

“Good.” He sounded relieved. “Later,” he hollered, and raced down the hall.

She smiled. Fall dance, here we come.

But then frigid air engulfed her, and she whipped around, expecting to see…what? A ghost? She blinked, trying to control her heart rate. There was nothing, save a few students racing to class. But her breath suddenly turned frosty, and she knew it wasn’t the school’s air conditioning that chilled her to the marrow of her bones.

Kids bumped into her, trying to get to their next class, and she headed for hers, an uneasy dread filling her. Was a poltergeist at the school the danger that the ghost in her bedroom warned her about?

Immediately she began reevaluating the situation. If the ghost knew about the one at school, how did she know?

*  *  *

Later that afternoon, Emily saw Michael zoning in on her from across the cafeteria, like a bee flying straight to a flower. But before she could react, a chair flew a foot away from a table near her and bumped against her leg. Startled, she cried out, but no one seemed to notice over the chatter. She knew then, she had real problems.

Since Michael had shifted his attention to observe Red and his buddies in the lunch line, she was certain he hadn’t seen the chair move. She wasn’t sure whether to be glad or disappointed.

When he reached her, he motioned toward the exit. “Do you want to eat at Pat’s Burgers?”

He did know the boys were causing her grief. Her smile couldn’t stretch any bigger. This time she’d let him protect her all the way. “Love to.”

But she glanced back at the chair, now turned north. Whoever the spirit was, it seemed to be trying to tell her something. The chair hadn’t hurt, her but she recognized the lost soul was attempting to get her attention. Unfortunately, no guidebook for interpreting ghost messages was available—as far as she knew.

Michael walked her outside to his vehicle, a shiny, tomato-colored Dodge Neon, brand new.

Wishing she had a car like that, she took a deep breath of the muggy air. “I need to know where you live, exactly, so I can come over to study later.”

“The house next door to yours.”

She stopped breathing. Not because he lived next door, but how could he have known? Her skin grew flushed, and her hands turned clammy. Something about Michael both intrigued her and made him seem dangerous. His mind remained off-limits to her probes, and she wanted to find out why.

From the age of five, she was able to read minds, and by twice that age, to control them. But not everyone’s. Some were impossible. She never knew the reason, but until now, it never mattered much. Not until she met Michael. Now she could barely control the urge to pry into his thoughts hidden behind the bulk of a castle’s dark and formidable walls.

When he opened the car door for Emily, she assumed he was trying to figure out how to explain how he knew she lived next door. If she could read his mind, she’d know for sure. When he didn’t speak, she smiled, trying to break the ice wall suddenly erected between them.

“You live next door.” She paused, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t ruin their newly formed friendship. “So, if you knew that, why did you ask me where I lived?”

He climbed into the car and turned on the ignition. No squeaking doors, the engine turned over immediately and hummed to perfection, and the smell of new leather still permeated the air. She took in a deep breath and ran her fingers over the soft seats.

His gaze meeting hers, his eyes turned darker, then his lips inched up. “I assumed your house was the only one with an old white Caddy parked out front.”

She was becoming paranoid. “Oh.” Still, she wasn’t totally convinced. He hesitated way too long to answer her.

For some strange reason, though, she was drawn to him. Why?

Making friendships was difficult for her. Confiding in former friends led to disasters she attributed to jealousy because she could do something the other girls couldn’t. Therefore, early on, she learned to keep her abilities secret. Yet as she grew older, she wished she had a friend to confide in.

Emily chided herself. If Michael knew, he’d end their friendship just as fast as the girls had.

After parking at Pat’s Burgers, Michael escorted her into the blue-roofed, fast food restaurant. The place smelled like spicy burgers and fries, making her stomach growl.

“About this afternoon, do you have to check on your grandmother at the hospital first? I mean, did you want to make our study date...” The word “date” caught in Emily’s throat, and she glanced at Michael. Date? Why did she call it that? Her whole body heated in awkwardness.

His expression slid from interested to amused, while he waited for her to finish her question.

She breathed deeply. Breathe in, breathe out. “Uh, well, maybe after supper?”

“My grandmother will be home already.”

“Oh. Does she live with you and your family, then?”

“I live with her.”

“Oh.”

Where were his parents? If he had to take his grandmother to the hospital for an emergency visit, who would bring her home? She hated how her mind worked overtime on puzzles. She nodded, certain she’d get some answers soon.

They walked into the food line and ordered cheeseburgers, while Emily’s thoughts shifted to the swamp across the street from their development.

“Since you’ve been here longer than I have, Michael, I wondered if you’ve explored the swamps.” Maybe he’d go with her when she went there.

“Too dangerous.” He spoke abruptly, nearly biting off his words while his face tightened.

“I’m not afraid of the swamps.” She slipped into a booth while he sat opposite her. “Since I’ve been unpacking all weekend, I haven’t had time to explore them, but I can hardly wait.” She had more than just a craving. She had to solve the mystery of the ghosts lurking there. Especially the one who wouldn’t let her sleep nights.

She bit into her burger.

“You shouldn’t go into the swamps.” He rubbed his temple, then lifted his soda to his lips. After taking a swig, he set the cup down, then grabbed his burger. “They’re not safe.”

“Because?” She gazed at him, assessing his reaction, though she had to squash her own exasperation he was being so negative.

“Alligators, water moccasins, rattlesnakes, quicksand, you name it.”

Something about his concerned voice made her believe he worried about more than the deadly creatures he listed. But how would he know if some other evil lurked there, too?

“A ghost or two?”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Ghosts?” He gave a little laugh.

So much for his helping her to deal with the ghosts.

A sweet rose fragrance wafted behind her in the chilly air conditioned restaurant. She turned her head, but no one stood or walked nearby, and her skin erupted in goose bumps. The scent was the same she’d smelled in her bedroom in the middle of the night—she was certain. Which meant, the ghost wasn’t bound to a location…but a person—and she could haunt Emily, anywhere.

Chapter 3

The air suddenly felt as chilly as when Michael would lean into a Jiffy Mart freezer to snag an ice cream bar on a hot, sticky day. At the same time, an overwhelming fragrance of roses scented the air. He glanced up from his burger, and saw Emily rubbing her arms, her head turned to look behind her.

Signaling the appearance of a premonition, pressure centered in Michael’s forehead and his chest constricted. Noisy conversation and the clattering of plastic cups against tables faded from his hearing until all he could sense was the blood rushing through his ears, the smell of roses, and the refrigerated air freezing his blood.

Flashes of images appeared in his mind’s eye—flames streaking across black metal, tires squealing, gravel flying, unbearable heat so hot the sweat poured down his cheeks, and Emily’s stricken face.

The images vanished just as quickly as they had appeared, his heart rate slowed to normal, but his stomach still spun out of control.

He knew keeping Emily safe would require all of his concentration, and yet, the way she flashed her catlike, sea green eyes at him, he feared she’d keep him under her spell. How could he hope to protect her when that flirty smile of hers distracted him so much? Even now, she seductively curled a wisp of red hair around her finger, then picked up her burger and licked ketchup off the edge of the meat. Every time he got close, her flowery scent reminded him of spring, sweet and refreshing. He groaned inwardly.

He looked out the window and tried to figure out why Emily distracted him so. No one except for redheaded Susie McKnight had that effect on him.

But Emily was a different case. She seemed drawn to peril whereas, normally, Susie would have avoided it. The visions concerning Emily were still too vague to understand. All he knew was her life would be in real jeopardy before long, just like Susie’s had been. But the question was could he save her any more than he could Suzie?

*  *  *

Emily studied Michael while he stared out the window, his expression made it appear his mind was far away. She touched his hand, drawing his gaze back to her. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

But it wasn’t. She sensed it in the strange darkness in his voice. As much as she was dying to know the truth, she couldn’t force him to tell her. What was he hiding?

Then another thought occurred to her. He said he moved here with his parents because his father worked in the space program, then said he lived with his grandmother.

What in the world was going on?

“Your grandmother won’t be too tired to have me over, will she?”

“No.”

Emily twirled her straw in her soda, hoping her next words wouldn’t make him think she was too nosey. “You said your father came here to work.”

“Yep.”

“Where does he live?”

His brows rose, and he leaned back in his seat. “You know what they say about curiosity.”

A warning? A threat? Yet, he seemed to be teasing. Trying to disarm him, she smiled, but she couldn’t help wondering what was going on. “Sorry, a bad habit of mine.”

“Shows intelligence and a genuine interest in others. Most people are too busy thinking about themselves.” He wadded up his empty wrapper. “Guess we better get back to school.”

He wasn’t going to answer her question? He paid her a compliment and dismissed her concern?

She’d never found anyone as difficult to figure out. Maybe that’s what made him so intriguing.

She grabbed her cup and wrapper and shoved them in the trash on the way out. When they reached his car, he opened the door for her. Shaking her head, she admitted she found him so attractive because he was totally cute, nothing to do with him being such a mystery.

“Since your last class is psychology, I’ll pick you up from there and take you home. If your parents agree, you can come over afterward.”

He shoved her car door closed before she could speak. How did he know her last class was psychology? If he could read her mind, did he block her attempts at reading his?

Man, if he knew what she was thinking...her whole body flooded with mortification. He’d know all her secrets.

When he climbed into the driver’s seat, he stared at her. “Is something wrong? You look like a ghost just sat in your lap.”

Totally exasperated, she took a ragged breath. “Michael, how did you know I had psychology class last? Can you do something interesting, like read minds?”

He shook his head.

But then she wondered, wouldn’t most people who were confronted with such a question have laughed if they thought the notion ridiculous? Only someone who believed would take her seriously.

“I caught a glimpse of your class schedule when you opened your notebook in science. I wondered how many more classes we shared. I have psychology, too, but a different hour.”

“Oh.” She really had to get a grip. In an instant, she nearly spilled her story. Was it that she longed for someone to share her ability with? She knew that was the problem. The older she got, the worse it was. Her parents knew, but they were only her parents. She needed to confide in someone who had her same abilities. Someone who would truly understand.

“Are you okay, Emily?”

Nodding, she fastened her seatbelt. “I just thought maybe you could read minds or something fascinating like that.”

“No, nothing like that.”

Yet, from the way he had said “that”—slightly emphasized—she wondered if he made an unconscious slip. He couldn’t read minds, but he could do something else. Or was it that he had a higher than average IQ and didn’t want others to know about it?

He started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

“But, you’re a genius.”

He smiled a little, but he kept his eyes focused on the road.

“Aren’t you?”

“I remember things better than most, if that’s what you mean.”

Her heartbeat accelerated. “You mean, you have a photographic memory?”

He sighed deeply.

He was different. She knew it. “That’s nice, Michael.” Better than nice. Even if he didn’t have her abilities, he might be more understanding.

“Not when others know about it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She was dying to tell him hers, too, but later, when he got to know her better.

“Thanks. I have to give wrong answers sometimes so people don’t think I’m too weird.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” And how. She hated when people treated her like she wore pink horns and had purple skin, once they realized she was unusual. Like the time she helped two boys come to terms with the death of their friend. Think they would have cheered her? She hoped for friendship at least, a bonding between them for setting their friend’s spirit free. Instead, they nearly ran away from her every time they saw her, or whispered rude things about her being a witch.

Michael glanced at Emily. “How would you know what it’s like to be weird?”

“I just know, all right?”

They pulled into the school parking lot, and he shut off his engine. “All right. So what happened between you and Red?”

Time to sidestep another issue. “We’re going to be late for class.” She exited the car and hurried across the parking lot.

He locked his car and dashed across the asphalt to join her. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

Great, now he was tossing the ball back in her court and she wasn’t willing to play the game. Still, he didn’t always answer her, so tit for tat, she let this one slide.

She headed for math class, and he stayed at her elbow. “Are you in my algebra class, too?”

“Geometry.”

“But you’re headed for my class.” She tilted her chin up in question.

“I’ll escort you there.”

“Thanks, Michael, but you’ll be late for…” She saw Rocky standing in the doorway of her class.

Michael added, “I’ll see you to your seat.”

He was taking his knightly role in earnest. Good. She wouldn’t have to use her charm on Rocky and cause more problems.

When she sat down in class, Michael winked at her, then hurried out of the room. Several of the students watched them, and that was fine with her. If any of the girls entertained an interest in Michael, they could forget it. He was Emily’s for the duration. At least she hoped.

But when the dark-haired bully, Rocky, entered the class and gave her a dirty look, her skin crawled with fresh concern. She knew he and his bully friends would try something sooner or later. And the situation was bound to get worse.

*  *  *

When school ended, Michael met Emily at her class just as he’d promised, and none too soon. Red and his buddies stood near the doors leading out to the school buses, but when the blond kid pointed, they turned to glower at her.

Her jaw tightening, she quashed the urge to glare at them, to show them they couldn’t intimidate her. She hoped they missed the bus.

Ever since her abilities began to develop, she learned both to control and use them. But she was dying to be like every other normal teen. Therefore, the self-imposed New Year’s Resolution to limit her use of her abilities. Except she had one major problem. She couldn’t resist the temptation.

She sighed deeply. She’d keep trying.

Michael took her books and added them to his own. “I called my grandmother and told her to expect us once you make sure it’s okay with your parents to have supper with us. My grandmother’s already planning on having you stay.”

“Thanks. I’m sure my parents won’t mind.” Knowing her mother, she’d be able to unwind more if she had the house to herself a little while longer. Plus, Emily knew her mother would be thrilled she made a friend her first day at school.

After Michael put their books in the backseat of the car, he hesitated to start the engine. “If you like, you can tell me why Red and his thugs have it in for you.”

“Why? So you can mediate our situation?”

“If it would help. The thing is, if I knew why they’re so bent on hurting you…”

Emily’s eyes grew big. “Why would you think that?”

He ran his hands over the steering wheel, then started the car’s engine. “Well, I mean, they seem to be.”

“They’re just bullies. They won’t do anything.” That they wouldn’t regret, she wanted to add.

“I don’t want you to ride the school bus any longer. And I don’t want you driving that old Caddy if it doesn’t work half of the time. You might get stranded or something.”

And? She stared at him, surprised he’d taken such an interest in her so quickly. No guy had ever done that. Yet, if he learned she could read minds, had ghostly encounters, and could “charm” people, then what?

“I’d like to drive you to school and back every day, but if I’m unable, your parents should take you.”

“If you’re unable?”

“If my grandmother needs to go to the hospital again.”

“Oh. Thanks for the offer, Michael. I’d love to ride with you.”

He let out his breath. “Then it’s all set.”

Yes!

When they arrived at her house twenty minutes later, she grabbed her books and hopped out of his car. “See you in a few minutes, Michael!”

She watched him pull out of her drive and into the one next door to assure herself he wasn’t just a dream and he truly did live there. Once he parked, she ran inside her home. Already, her parents were complaining about how hard it was to air condition the upper floor, so to cut down the expense they closed the vents upstairs during the day and the vents downstairs when they retired to bed. What a pain. It meant her bedroom would be a sauna when she got home from school.

Her skin chilled when she stalked through the air-conditioned foyer; the difference between the muggy heat outside and the cool inside was cataclysmic. She shivered.

“Mom!” she hollered, not wanting to do a room by room search to find her mother.

Her mom let out a gasp from the living room. “Emily, you’re home early.”

Emily strode into the living room across the pale blue carpet. “I rode home with the boy next door. He’s a genius and has a photographic memory.”

“That’s wonderful, honey.” Her mother yanked open another box. The whole place smelled like cardboard and masking tape. “His name?”

“Michael Shipley from Sacramento, California. He lives with his grandmother, and they invited me over for dinner. Oh, and we’re going to do study hour. And he said he’d drive me to school and back.”

Smiling, her mother shook her head. “I take it your first day of school was fine.”

“Yep.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re happy. See, didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t have worried so much about it?”

Emily’s stomach tensed. The notion she would become like her mother, the worrywart of the century, didn’t set well. Emily studied the empty boxes scattered all over the living room. Stuff from books to her father’s photography equipment rested on the light oak coffee table, end tables, and blue velvet couches. “Didn’t you go to any job interviews?”

“No.” Her mother crossed the floor and ran her hand over Emily’s back. “Your father called and said he wanted me to stay home for the next couple of days, get the place in order instead. You know him, he’s worried I’m too stressed from the move.”

“Oh, that’s good, Mom.” She was glad he put his foot down. Her mother had entirely too much work to do. If her mother was working at a job, she’d be anxious about the house being such a mess. “I’ll put all of the books away when I get home. Don’t try to do it all alone.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Emily. You have a good time with your new little friend.”

Little. Emily stifled a smile. Michael was as tall as her dad. “Does Dad like his job?” She sure hoped so since she met Michael. It would be awful if her father decided to take a new job and move again after she’d already been uprooted from a home full of years of memories. Here, she was just beginning to make new ones, and the idea she’d be torn away again gave her stomach pains.

“Yeah, honey, he’s really happy with his new boss and coworkers. We even have a party to go to in a couple of days.”

“Wow, that’s nice!” Emily hesitated to leave, wishing she could be in two places at once. She knew her mother would try to do everything and wear herself out. “Mom,” Emily said, taking her mother’s hand and shaking it, “don’t put the books away. It’s my job, okay? I like to sort things.”

Some of the tension seemed to drain from her mother’s features. “Sure thing.”

“Got to go!”

“Have fun and see you in a little bit.”

Emily dashed back out the door, then raced across the front lawn, freshly sod with thick-bladed Saint Augustine grass. The school bus rumbled past her, and she glanced at it, glad she hadn’t had to ride it home. Red glared out the window and made a fist at her. She turned to ignore him just as Michael opened the front door of his grandmother’s peach brick home. A wraparound porch and white rocking chairs welcomed guests.

Michael didn’t look in Emily’s direction, however. His expression hard, he watched the school bus.

“Michael?” she said, trying to get his attention.

He took her hand and led her inside. “My grandmother’s already hungry and fixed corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes.”

“Sounds great. I’m always starving after school.”

“Good,” an older woman said from the kitchen, her voice warm and friendly. “Michael eats a fair amount, but it’s nice to have a friend of his over.”

His grandmother walked into the marble-tiled foyer to greet her—a platinum blonde, petite, dark brown eyes, and a smile that wouldn’t quit. Barely a line wrinkled her ivory skin. No way did she appear to be anyone’s old gray-haired granny. She didn’t seem to have any injuries requiring hospitalization, either. Thank goodness. But it deepened the mystery.

“Granny, this is Emily Rundle from school, and she lives next door,” Michael said.

“Nice to meet you,” Emily said.

His grandmother’s eyes sparkled. “I’m glad Michael’s found a friend already. He’s been worried about it since he moved here.”

He looked a little chagrined, like he didn’t want his grandmother revealing the way he’d felt.

“Well, I’m new here, too, and was feeling pretty anxious. I’m lucky Michael has some of my classes.”

“That’s really great, dear. You should have seen Michael watching you and your parents arrive. His nose was glued to the window all weekend, trying to get another glimpse of you.”

Michael’s cheeks reddened, and he made a fast retreat to the kitchen.

So the old white Caddy parked in front of her house wasn’t the only reason he knew she lived next door. Or maybe he hadn’t been sure she was the same girl. Once she moved into the house, she hadn’t left it…too hot and muggy outside, and too much work to do inside. And she had been wearing a different hair color.

“He hoped you’d be his age and in at least one of his classes.” His grandmother lowered her voice. “I tried to get him to take a plate of cookies to your parents to welcome them to the neighborhood, but…” She shrugged and popped back into the kitchen. “Food’s ready.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Emily asked trailing behind his grandmother. Like Emily’s home, the front windows soaked up the sun. Except instead of blue and white decorations, Michael’s grandmother’s kitchen was done in white tile counters and appliances, with bright yellow canisters and knick-knacks decorating the walls.

“You can fix everyone a glass of iced water, if you don’t mind. I keep telling Michael he needs to drink more milk and water and fewer sodas. He needs calcium in those bones of his, not phosphorus.”

Emily wondered if his grandmother was a genius, too. While she filled the glasses with ice, she thought about his grandmother’s accident. Even though she couldn’t read Michael’s mind, surely she could read his grandmother’s.

When Emily was young, her friends could feel her reading their thoughts, a gentle tugging at their minds. But now she could do it without causing any side effects at all. Unless there was something different about his family, something that would prevent her from reading their minds.

Michael set out the silverware and napkins, and Emily was impressed. Her father was the yardman, handyman, and bill payer. He stayed clear of kitchen work.

Walking into the dining room, she expected the furniture to look like her grandparents’ had been—dark, heavy, and old. But a glass-topped, wrought iron table and chairs, covered in cheerful yellow flowers, green leaves, and blue ribbons, greeted her. Paintings of golden daffodils, irises, and daisies hung on the yellow and white striped wallpaper. She couldn’t help but like Michael’s modern grandmother.

She set the glasses on yellow and blue pansy placemats while Michael carried the platter of corned beef behind her.

When they sat down to eat, Michael’s grandmother was studying her intensely, like Emily did when she tried her mind-reading trick.

His grandmother shifted her attention to her meal suddenly, as if she’d been caught doing what she shouldn’t be. She dug into the corned beef, slicing off portions for each of them. “Well, Michael, she’s quite lovely.”

Emily’s cheeks burned.

Michael smiled at Emily and winked.

If she’d known how embarrassing this would be...

“Michael says you’re interested in exploring the swamp. Not a safe thing to do, dear.”

He told his grandmother about Emily’s interest in the swamp? What an odd thing to mention after arriving home from the first day of school. Maybe something about her; what she looked like, the classes they shared, where she was from, but about her wanting to explore the swamp?

Emily carefully mashed her boiled potato and coated it in butter, adding salt and pepper. She looked up and found Michael and his grandmother observing her. She felt like she was on display. “I thought I’d check out the ghosts and—”

“No,” Michael said.

Only her parents could tell her no and get away with it. Well, the teachers at school, too, but not a friend.

“I’ll be careful.”

His grandmother was glazing her corned beef with mustard, while Emily was dying to find out about her accident this morning. “So...” Emily paused. What was she supposed to call Michael’s grandmother? She couldn’t call her Grandma. What if she was his mother’s mother? She wouldn’t be a Shipley then.

“Just call me Granny, if you like.”

She raised her brows. It was if…nah, his grandmother couldn’t have read her mind. “Thank you. I wondered how you felt after you had to go to the hospital this morning.”

Granny whipped her head around to look at Michael so fast Emily assumed she hadn’t wanted him to say anything about it. Or, had he fabricated the whole thing? His grandmother didn’t look injured in the least.

Michael focused on his meal with a hang-dog look, as if he’d been thoroughly scolded.

Emily’s skin prickled with goose bumps again. Michael’s feelings reached out to her, and she wished to console him, but how could she? She hadn’t a clue what was going on.

His grandmother’s cheeks flushed, and her brows knitted in a tight frown. With short, jerky movements, she busied herself with slicing her meat into tiny chunks. Poking at his cabbage, Michael remained deathly quiet.

Intending to get his grandmother to think about the boating mishap—if there really was one—Emily began again. “Falling off the boat must have been awful.”

No one answered her. But both watched her with such intensity, it almost made her squirm.

She took a sip of water. “I guess the emergency rooms around here are pretty efficient. They take care of you in a matter of hours and send you home just like new.”

Emily wasn’t getting anything from his grandmother. Just like Michael, a sky-high wall blocked her entrance into his grandmother’s thoughts.

Then a door opened to Emily’s mind just a sliver. For an instant, Granny looked at a flake of mustard on Emily’s lip. Emily picked up her napkin to wipe it away, but no mustard stained the paper cloth.

Granny lifted a brow. “You didn’t tell me she had special abilities, Michael.”

Chapter 4

Michael thought Emily had some kind of special gift. But now it appeared his grandmother proved it, though he missed how she’d done it.

He studied Emily’s flushed face and realized she was mortified her secret had been discovered. Poor thing. Like her, he kept his abilities under wraps. No sense in stirring up trouble.

“I wasn’t sure,” Michael said to his grandmother. “I knew something was the matter when the teacher asked me what happened to you this morning. His question just appeared out of the blue. It was like someone prompted him to ask. Plus, I heard rumors Emily had trouble with bullies at school. I was told one of the kids acted really strange, like someone put a curse on him all of a sudden.”

Despite fighting the notion they really knew about her unusual talent, Emily poked a couple of words into the conversation. “Charm,” she corrected. “Curse sounds so witchlike.”

She glanced from Michael to his grandmother. How had she known Emily had special abilities? She couldn’t believe it. Not as careful as she always was. “Do you have unique gifts, Granny? Does Michael?”

“She can read minds, Michael.”

Emily’s heart thundered. No one spoke the concept out loud. Not even her parents. It was just one of those things, like being left-handed. Different, but not something anyone ever talked about.

The two of them infuriated her while they continued to exclude her from the conversation. But Emily couldn’t leave Michael’s home until she knew the truth. If she could confide in someone like Michael and his grandmother, wouldn’t that make her life easier?

He turned his gaze from his grandmother and stared at Emily. “Really? She can read minds?”

Granny smiled. “Yes. You picked the right girl this time.”

“Do you read minds, Granny?” Emily asked. And then it dawned on her. His grandmother must have charmed her to wipe her face.

“No, not charmed, dear. I slipped a notion into your subconscious and briefly let you read my mind.”

“You made me think I had mustard on my face?”

His grandmother nodded.

Michael took a deep breath. “Wow. I knew it. Somehow, I knew she was different. But I wasn’t exactly sure how. I was afraid to—”

“Reach out to her? Touch her? Yes, she’ll certainly stir up something more than those teen hormones of yours.”

Not completely understanding, Emily shook her head. “I sense when he’s anxious. My own skin reacts to it as if I, myself, was experiencing the worry.”

“When you’re very close to someone, that will happen.”

“But we barely know each other. Then is it because Michael has a photographic memory, and I can read minds? I mean, we’re kind of connected because we both have special abilities?”

Michael and his grandmother exchanged glances. Emily knew at once there was more to Michael than met the eye.

Emily’s cheeks heated. If he could read her mind and he lied about it... “What more can you do, Michael?”

He cleared his throat. “I have premonitions of the future.”

Emily sat back in her chair. Had he foreseen the trouble she would have with Red and his companions? Is that why he didn’t want her riding the bus? “Michael, what did you see about Red?”

He looked at his grandmother, and she nodded. Emily imagined he kept his gift secret for so long he felt he had to get her approval to speak about it. Or, maybe what he saw would upset her too much—

“I saw them coming after you when you got off the bus. They don’t normally get off at your stop because they live somewhere else in the neighborhood. That’s why you can’t ride the bus any longer.” He clenched his hands tight at the edge of the table, but when she looked at his fists, he moved them to his lap.

“If you see this, it’ll happen, right? I mean, you can’t change the future, can you?” Emily asked Michael.

He faced his grandmother, irritating Emily. Why did he have to ask his grandmother permission to speak about something that affected only Emily? Did he think he had to protect her?

She could handle herself. She scrunched her face up into a frown. “Tell me the truth, Michael. I’m not afraid of Red or Rocky or Daniel.”

“You can’t handle three of them at once,” Granny said, her voice soft and consoling. “Michael only wants to protect you.”

Folding her arms, Emily gave Michael a stern look. “Answer me. Can you change what you see in the future?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I have to try.” He squirmed in his seat, and his gaze darted back to his grandmother.

Slicing off a piece of cabbage, Emily didn’t believe him. “Thank you for the meal, Granny. You sure are a good cook.”

Michael’s face reddened. She assumed he was mad she switched topics.

What difference did it make, if he wasn’t going to answer her honestly anyway? If he didn’t want to tell her the truth, she’d do what she intended to do all along. Like explore the swamps. He didn’t want her going into the wetlands. Some danger waited for her there. But she already knew that.

Haunting her dreams, the ghostly apparition called her to join it in the swamp. Emily had every intention of helping the spirit find the solace it needed to leave the land of the living and rest in peace. She had to, if she was ever going to get a good night’s sleep. But it was more than that. She wouldn’t even consider not aiding a spirit who was reaching out to her for help.

Emily speared a slice of corned beef, then looked up to see Granny studying her. Certain Granny was reading her thoughts, Emily twisted her mouth. She assumed meeting someone with her own abilities would give her an outlet to share her concerns. But now she knew she was on her own, just like she’d always been.

“You’re wrong, dear. You’re not alone. You have us now. This is all so new to you. You’ll need time to adjust to the notion.”

Michael stabbed a slice of cabbage. “She won’t listen. No matter how much we warn her, she’s bound and determined to do what she wants.”

Emily tsked. “Your grandmother knows the reason why. Ask her sometime.” She had no intention of enlightening Michael further if he refused to share the truth with her. Maybe it was because their abilities were different. She didn’t know, and for now, she didn’t care.

Shaking her head, Granny lifted her fork. “You do care. Relationships take time to build.”

Emily took a deep breath. She’d ride with Michael to school and back, because she wanted to avoid the bus. And she didn’t like the idea of getting stranded somewhere if her Caddy conked out on her. But the swamps were another story. She had a mission…a puzzle to solve and a restless soul to aid. End of story.

Granny reached over and patted Michael’s hand. “At least she’s agreed to ride with you to school every day and back home again.”

Frowning, Emily considered Granny. “How do you block my reading of your thoughts?”

“It comes with age.”

“But Michael does it, too.”

Michael let out a breath, and all at once Emily realized he thought she’d known what he was thinking from the beginning. That made her wish more than anything she knew what he had been thinking.

Granny laughed. “No, she can’t read your mind, Michael. It’s too complicated.”

Defeated, Emily tapped her fingers on the table. “Can you tell what he’s thinking?”

Granny shook her head. “No. Well, most of the time, no.”

“Oh.” Glad she wasn’t the only one, Emily finished her meal and waited for everyone else to be done.

Granny rested her fork on the edge of her plate. “So, what are you going to work on during your study date?”

Emily’s cheeks warmed. There was that date word again. Michael must have told his grandmother Emily called it that. Study hour, that’s what she should have called it. But she really wanted it to be a genuine date.

Granny smiled. Emily’s skin prickled with embarrassment. She picked up her plate. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortable she would feel knowing someone could read her mind.

Grabbing his plate and his grandmother’s, Michael hurried into the kitchen after Emily.

“I’ll take care of the dishes, kiddos. You just go and do your studies,” Granny hollered from the dining room.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said to Emily, “that I didn’t tell you everything.”

Was he? Nah. He still hadn’t told her whether he could change the future or not, but his reluctance to say made her figure he couldn’t.

Intending to get on with the business of schoolwork, Emily took a deep breath. “I guess we both have to work on the first chapter in psychology.”

He showed her into the den where he’d already set his schoolwork on the coffee table. Like the other rooms, the den was filled with new, sunshiny furniture. Yellow, green, and blue flowery fabric covered the two couches. The overstuffed chairs wore blue brocade, making them appear comfortable and inviting, just like his grandmother.

Michael’s psychology book rested on a light oak table, opened to a page on true stories delving into parapsychology.

Sitting on the carpeted floor beside the table, Emily touched her finger to the page. “Parapsychology, meaning at the side of psychology. ESP. Extrasensory perception. Perceiving objects or events some way other than through the sensory organs...sight, sound, touch, feel, taste. Precognition...the ability to know about events before they occurred.”

Emily looked up at Michael. “Precognition. That’s what you have the ability to do.”

She read further in the book. “Psychokinesis...the ability to move objects by thinking of them moving.” She wished she could do that. “Telepathy...directly transmitted thoughts or ideas from person to person without anything being spoken or written.”

“What you and my grandmother have the ability to do,” Michael said.

She nodded. “Clairvoyance...the ability to perceive objects beyond the range of the usual five senses.” She frowned. “Some psychologists think ESP exists in the realm of magic rather than science?” She’d never heard scientists call it magic before. “Okay, look here—several experiments have been conducted by psychologists trying to prove its existence. Because results couldn’t be proven successful repeatedly, ESP remains an unproven theory. Heck, it’s because we aren’t always right.” Emily couldn’t help that her words sounded bitter. “We’re not guinea pigs. I mean, sometimes we can see things and sometimes we can’t. It’s not an exact science.”

She rose, crossed the floor, and peered out the glass panel that viewed the kitchen window into her own house. “It’s not fair that psychologists—” Movement in her kitchen caught Emily’s eye. She squinted, trying to make out the girl with long dark curls standing there.

“Emily.” The voice in Emily’s head was the same as the one haunting her at night.

Chapter 5

Emily gasped and Michael joined her at the den’s glass pane, but the dark-haired girl peering out her kitchen window vanished.

“What’s wrong, Emily?”

“Nothing. I…” She glanced back at the window. “I need to run.”

“But our homework…,” he said, motioning to the coffee table.

“Sorry, uhm, something’s come up.” She whirled around and headed for her book bag. “I’ve got…got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“You seem upset. What’s—”

“Sorry, Michael. Sorry.” Her throat clogged with tears, and she felt like such a fool. But what if the ghost girl hurt her mother? She headed for the front door and noticed Michael’s grandmother scrubbing a pan at the kitchen sink. “Thanks for the meal, Granny!”

“Anytime, dear.”

Michael followed Emily to the door, his face dark, his brows furrowed. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” That he could deal with. “Bye!” She clipped the word extra short, trying to give him a smile. But her heart was thumping so hard, she hoped he wouldn’t hear it beating.

She nearly flung the door against the wall in her haste, but Michael caught it.

Wordlessly, he watched her while she dashed across their adjoining lawns. She gave him a quick wave over her shoulder, but when she saw the entity standing across the road next to the line of trees surrounding the swamps, she hesitated.

The dark-haired spirit of the girl motioned to her. Emily hadn’t heard Michael shut his door yet, which most likely meant he was observing her. Hating the deception, she stepped onto her front patio shielded from prying eyes. As soon as she heard Michael’s door shut, she dumped her book bag, jumped off the porch, and raced across her lawn.

The spirit was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t deter Emily. It was way past time to explore the jungle and see the sights that up until now had only been in her dreams. And maybe…discover what the ghost girl needed to make her go away permanently.

As soon as Emily reached the trees of the jungle-like swamp, she felt immersed in the wild. The humidity and heat inferno seemed heavier, more oppressive. Multi-trunked saw cabbage palms nearly as wide as Emily was tall, grew out of the murky water, their trunks covered in thick hairy brown fiber. And in one, an ibis sat, its white feathers contrasting with the dark tree, its red beak and spindly red legs clashing with the light green circular palm leaves armed in jagged orange teeth. The bird glanced at her, then spread its wide wings and flew off.

Towering overhead, massive live oaks draped in gray Spanish moss looked ghostly as the limbs stretched out so far, they nearly touched the ground. She climbed over one, and stopped, searching for any sign of the ghost girl.

“Hello?” she called out.

Cicadas and crickets made such a racket, while birds whooped and tittered, calling to one another, and the lapping of the water against the higher ground could be heard only a few feet away. Everything sounded louder, clearer, closer. The odor of the jungle, of leaves sickening, festering, decaying, and disintegrating in the murky water, assailed her. Mosquitoes buzzed around her head, and she swatted at them or clamped her hands together to squash the blood suckers before they attacked. Some alighted on her arms, searching for any unprotected micrometer of skin, but flew away as soon as they tasted her insect repellent.

Turning, she intended to head closer to the water and nearly ran straight into a golden silk spider’s massive web, eggs wrapped in yellow silk, and the huge black and yellow spider herself. Emily stifled a scream and jumped away from it, her skin crawling. Not that the spider would hurt her, but, ack, the idea she could have walked face first into the intricate web full of eggs and the spider. A shudder went through her. She walked in a different direction to skirt the menace and headed for the same sound of water washing up against solid ground.

When she reached the water’s edge, a blanket of algae covered it, making it appear solid. Reeds poking out of it, hid multitudes of microscopic insects and bigger ones, maybe snakes, alligators, snapping turtles, even fish. A fishy odor permeated the air now, and sweat stained the underarms and front of her shirt, while the water licked at the tips of her sneakers.

“Hello?”

She wasn’t ready yet to walk into the water, but that’s where the ghostly figure had taken her night after night. That’s where the key to the whole mystery was, Emily was certain.

Something splashed near the knobby knees of a tall, slender cypress. And then another splash, but this time she caught sight of the fish and gave a sigh of relief.

Bolstering her courage, she reminded herself if she didn’t solve the mystery, the ghost girl would never let her sleep in peace. So Emily took a step into the primordial soup as warm as a hot bath, slightly cooler the deeper she got. Something flittered by in her peripheral vision, and she turned and nearly fell, then laughed at herself for being so fearful when the monarch butterfly landed on a leaf. But whispered words in the distance grabbed her attention next, and she jerked her head around.

“She be not the one, the she-devil,” a gravely voice said.

“Nay. Grab her, lads! She wouldst make a man forget his troubles.”

She was certain those speaking in the old world language were ghosts, but her heart raced just the same. Expecting just the ghost girl, she wasn’t prepared to deal with a whole slew of spirits.

The sound of something moving through water headed in her direction. She tried to climb back onto solid ground, and then remain where she was, willing herself to confront the ghosts, if that was what was coming toward her. But the mud had oozed into her shoes, and the glue-like silt held her in place like gigantic octopus suction cups. She tried to wriggle her shoes free without losing them, when a twig snapped behind her. Her head swiveled around, and she saw another of her worst nightmares—Red.

He fisted his hands at his sides, his face as cherry as his hair. “I saw you come in here and wondered what you were up to. Looking for toads for your witch’s potion?”

If he’d seen her come here, why had he waited so long? Afraid to come into the jungle? Not half as sure of himself when he didn’t have his gang of thugs to egg him on?

She tried to break loose of the soil so she could move to higher ground and face the punk, without success.

“Why don’t you take a little swim and prove to me you’re not a witch? I hear witches can’t swim.”

Turned the wrong way, she couldn’t face him and stop what he intended to do next. He reached out to shove her, but something crashing through the scrub brush toward them stopped Red.

“Emily?”

Ohmigod, Michael!

“Emily, where are you?” He sounded angry and worried at the same time.

Red gave her a sinister smile, then shoved her into the swamp. Immediately, she fell and landed on her knees in the brackish water, while Red took off running deeper into the twisted vines and brush, swearing as he went.

Afraid she’d leave her sneakers behind, Emily continued trying to pry her shoes loose. No way could she walk back through this inhospitable terrain without wearing something on her feet.

“Here, Michael!”

“Jeez, Emily, what in the world are you doing?” he asked, racing to reach her at the water’s edge.

“My shoes are stuck.”

He didn’t say a word, didn’t help her, and she glanced back at him to see what he was doing. He was staring at her, his arms crossed over his chest, his brows pinched together in an annoyed frown.

“Well, help me, Michael, would you? Please?” She imagined she looked a sight on her hands and knees, soaked up to her thighs and elbows in green water.

“On one condition…you don’t come in here again.”

“I won’t lie to you, Michael.”

“You said there was nothing wrong when you were at my place. But it wasn’t exactly the truth now, was it? Why did you come to the swamp if there wasn’t anything the matter?” He waded into the water and pulled her up, but she gasped when she lost her shoes.

“No, no, I’ve got to get my shoes.”

He carried her to the bank and sat her down. “Stay!” Then he walked back into the water and dug around, trying to locate her shoes. He finally found one, then the other. Tugging, he fell backward when the soil gave up its grip on the rubber soles.

Sitting waist deep in the swampy water, Michael shook his head. “Your father just arrived home.” He climbed out of the soup and handed her sneakers to her.

“Oh, no,” she said, emptying the mud from them. “He’ll ground me forever if he sees me looking like this.”

Michael squeezed the muddy water from his T-shirt. “You can come back with me, and we can wash our clothes. Then you can do your homework with me like we agreed. By the time you return home, no one will know any different.”

“Sorry, Michael,” Emily said, feeling more than sheepish. “But you wouldn’t believe me if I’d told you the truth, and you wouldn’t have come with me anyway.”

He helped her to stand, and she wrung out her shirt as best she could.

“So tell me what happened.”

“A ghost girl was at my house. I was afraid she might hurt my mother. But when I reached my house, she was across the street, waiting for me. I had to see what she wanted.” She looked up at him and saw the disbelief in his expression. Fine, she didn’t expect him to believe her anyway. “How come you knew where I was?”

He wiped her cheek with his T-shirt. “Mud splatter.”

She groaned.

“I had a premonition Red was stalking you. I didn’t know when it would happen, but when I ran over to your house, I found your book bag on the front porch. Then I saw Red heading into the swamp. I told Granny where I’d be, then took off running, hoping I wouldn’t find you here. I should have known better.”

“Oh. I thought maybe Granny read my thoughts.”

“She can’t—always. You know how it is. So did you see Red?”

Emily glanced up at Michael. He was concentrating on her so hard, she knew she couldn’t get away with not telling him the truth. “He pushed me into the swamp. Said he wanted to see if a witch could swim.”

“Jeez, Emily.”

“He wouldn’t have gotten the best of me if I hadn’t been turned around. If I could have faced him—”

“You don’t need to be tangling with the likes of him. I asked Granny if she knew anything about his family, and she said his father has been up on charges of beating his mother. So maybe Red thinks that’s the way men should treat women. I don’t want you near him.”

Emily sighed deeply and took Michael’s grimy hand. “Right, boss.”

He inclined his head and gave her a severe look. She smiled. “I said all right.”

“Yeah, but it’s the way you said it that has me bothered.”

As soon as they reached the street, Emily let loose of Michael’s hand. “You go first so in case either of my parents look out the window they won’t see us together.”

He shook his head. “You go first. I’ll follow. I’m not leaving you behind to face any more perils.”

Her hero. She nodded and ran like the wind, hoping she wouldn’t get caught. But as soon as she reached Granny’s house, she worried how she’d feel about the way Emily looked. Why would she want Emily’s muddy clothes and shoes messing up her laundry room?

But right after Emily was through thinking the thought, Granny opened the door and motioned for her to come in. “Hurry. We’ll get you all cleaned up.”

Michael bolted into the foyer right after Emily, and again shook his head at her. She was certain she hadn’t heard the last of what he thought of their swamp adventure.

Chapter 6

With emotions fluctuating between feeling joy at discovering kindred spirits, and the bond she felt with Michael, Emily returned home, almost as clean as when she’d gone over to his place, except her shoes were now tinted a pale green and brown. She grabbed up her book bag, and entered her house, then hurried into the living room to put away the books like she’d promised her mother.

Her father glanced up from a thriller he was reading, sitting in the only chair that had been cleared. His blond brows rose, and she immediately figured her mother had told him about Michael, and Dad was going to give her another be-careful-of-guys lecture. Though before now, she hadn’t needed it.

“How’s your job?” she asked, hoping to deter the inevitable. She grabbed a handful of books from the couch and crossed the floor to the wall-to-wall bookshelves. Though she was glad to see her dad, she secretly hoped he would have gone to bed, despite the fact it was only seven in the evening.

“Great. So I hear you’ve made a friend.”

The way he said the word friend made her think he was not too happy the friend was a guy and not a girl. She glanced at her father. His brows furrowed. Yeah, he was anxious. Wasn’t it enough she had a mother who was an excessive worrier? Her father was supposed to be the balance in their lives.

She heard noises in the kitchen and assumed her mother was cleaning up dinner dishes, or unpacking more.

“Yeah, I made a friend. Isn’t that great?” Emily shelved the books and returned for another armload. She planned on taking the job seriously, cataloguing them the way she preferred, alphabetically by authors’ names, just like in the library. But her nerves were on edge because of the way her father eyed her as if she had made the worst mistake in the world. Now, Emily wanted to pile the books on the shelves, neatly, in any order just to get away from her father’s inquisition, and then bury herself in her room.

Hot room, until the air conditioner could work its way through her vent and displace the stuffy heat.

“Your mother said he lives next door.”

Her father’s words sounded a shade dark, as if he feared the worst. She’d sneak out of her bedroom at night and join Michael, or vice versa. Hmm, could he climb the cabbage palm next to her northern-facing window?

“Yes, next door.” She hoped her father wouldn’t ask much more. Though she knew she needed to tell her parents Michael and his grandmother had special abilities like her. But would this cause her father to be more concerned? She was afraid so.

When her father didn’t say anything, she prayed he was reading his book again. She took a deep breath, turned to get some more books, and found him studying her. The period of questioning wasn’t over.

“He’s from California,” her father said.

“Yes, isn’t that nice? And we even have a couple of classes together.” She grabbed books and whipped around, hoping her words would appease her father. Then she thought, she didn’t have to tell them about Michael’s second sight. “Oh, and he’s a genius.” She glanced at her father, hoping her words would lessen his concern. Wouldn’t being friends with a smart guy be good?

Her father’s shoulders relaxed, and the tension in his blue eyes seemed to soften. “A genius.”

“Yeah, really super smart. He’ll make a great study partner.”

She figured that would earn Brownie points.

“You know this from having just met him?” Her father wasn’t convinced.

Maybe she could share with her father a little bit of Michael’s abilities to appease him. “He…well, he has a photographic memory,” she said cheerfully and deposited the books, sorting as she went along.

“Photographic memory.”

She hadn’t remembered her father being such a parrot. Was he tired after the move and the stress from the new job?

“Yes, isn’t that neat?”

“A photographic memory?” her mother asked, walking into the living room.

Oh, no, now the two of them would gang up on her.

“Yeah, I sure wish I had that,” Emily said, wishing she was already done. She glanced at the seventy or so books left to shelve. But she had promised.

“What about the girls at school?” her father asked.

“None of them were friendly.” She hadn’t meant to clip her words short, but it just came out that way.

Her father and mother’s expressions looked perturbed.

“But, you know how it is. It was only my first day at school. There’s plenty of time to make some girlfriends.” Not if the girls continued to treat her coolly. Besides, what did she need them for when she had Michael, who could understand her better than anyone else? “Oh, and Michael said he’d drive me to school and back every day, if that’s okay with you both.” She’d nearly forgotten to get permission.

Her father rubbed his chin. “I don’t know.” He didn’t say it like he didn’t know, but more like he did…and the answer was no.

He couldn’t say no. She hadn’t wanted to mention anything about the bullies, but if he forced her…

“Yes, I’d feel safer if you rode the school bus,” her mother agreed.

Ack! She had the perfect set-up, a really sweet guy friend, who would take her to school in his grand automobile fit for a queen. Ride the school bus with the deranged driver and bullies bent on revenge?

She took a ragged breath and leaned against the bookcase. “I really want to ride with Michael.”

Her father’s features expressed the word no without having to say it.

“Okay, I didn’t want to worry you, but I had trouble on the bus today.” She hated the way her mother’s green eyes shimmered when a flutter of anxiousness appeared in them.

“What kind of trouble?” her father said, rising from the chair. He rested his hand on her mother’s shoulder.

“No big deal, really, but, well, there were three boys on the bus, none of whom would let me sit down. After I made one of them move, I…I used my abilities to keep him from shoving me off the seat. When we reached the school, the one…” She stopped speaking when she saw how red-faced and angry her father was. He’d call the school for certain, first thing in the morning. “Well, anyway, Michael had a premonition…”

That did it. She needed to get a big roll of duct tape and secure her mouth shut for the duration of the school year.

Her parents’ eyes couldn’t have gotten any rounder, and her mother’s mouth gaped wide.

Her father had her mother sit in his chair.

“Premonition, like he can see into the future, or he just had a gut feeling?” her father asked, his voice stern.

Emily cleared her suddenly gravel throat. “Like has second sight, visions of the future.”

“And he’s seen…?” he asked.

Emily shifted uneasily. “He’s not sure. All he knows is the bullies get off at my stop. He can’t see anything else, but he wants to take me to school and keep me safe.”

Suddenly, her parents’ alarmed composure changed. Her mother glanced up at her father. He returned the look as if some secret communiqué was being passed between them. And she knew they didn’t have any such abilities. At least not like Michael and Emily had.

“All right,” her father said.

She wanted to sigh with relief, but she held her breath, waiting for him to finish setting up the rules.

He rubbed his forehead, as if trying to wipe away the tension. “If he can see some danger...”

She interrupted, knowing she shouldn’t, but she thought if knowing Michael had premonitions changed their view of him, what if they knew about his grandmother? Surely, they would be thrilled Emily would have someone to confide in who had the same abilities. “And his grandmother—the one he lives with—she can read minds like me.”

Her father moved books off the couch and sat down hard.

*  *  *

After explaining to her parents about Granny’s abilities and how happy Emily felt meeting Michael and his grandmother, her parents finally relaxed. They even seemed relieved Michael wanted to serve as her protector. Though now, she was ready to go to bed and have it out with her nightly ghostly visitor.

Emotionally and physically drained, Emily retired early.

If she could sleep the night through without the ghost visiting her dreams, everything would be perfect. On the other hand, Emily was so keyed up she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to fall asleep. She couldn’t help but think about her new found friendship with Michael also. Peeking out the window, she considered the palm tree. Nope, it was too far away from the window for Michael to climb. And it had no branches. Just a single trunk. Not that he’d ever rendezvous with her like that. And not that she wanted him to, but it was just a fun notion.

She considered her room for a minute before shutting off the light. While other girls were trying to be cool, she still clung to her pink ruffled bedspread and heart-shaped pillows from when she was a little girl. Though Victorian touches gave it a more grownup feel. Rose tapestry pillows pictured young men and ladies seated in arbors in their Victorian finery. An overstuffed wide-winged chair was covered in rose chintz. Even her desk chair sported a tapestry seat, picturing a rose garden surrounding a fishpond. And antique pictures of women wearing nineteenth century finery, their hair coiled on top of their heads, hung on her walls, compliments of her grandmother from when she was a young girl. There was something about being different that made Emily hang onto something that was the same.

Emily crawled into bed, worn out from the day’s experiences. Hugging a spare pillow tight against her body, she wished it were Michael. She closed her eyes, trying to visualize his warm lips kissing hers.

For an hour, she attempted to clear her mind of the day’s events, slipping into the realm of unconsciousness. But when the clock chimed quarter past midnight, cold fingers touched Emily’s cheek, leaving an icy imprint on her skin.

She bolted upright. “Who’s there?”

A whisper of light floated near her window, standing wide open. Emily stared at the sight, jaw agape, speechless. Was it the ghost who sneaked into her dreams the first three evenings?

“Who are you?” Emily asked. “How can I help you?”

The light flickered, then vanished.

Emily dashed for the window. There was no sign of anything outside. She quickly closed the window and locked the sash. Yanking the white curtains closed, she wondered how anything like a ghost could have unlocked the sash.

She shuddered at the idea. The air, hot and sultry, quickly changed her air-conditioned room into a sauna. Would she ever get used to the muggy heat here? Never. She climbed back into bed and pulled the covers tight underneath her chin.

For another hour, Emily watched the drapes, expecting the ghostly apparition to open her window and pull the linen cloth aside.

But then, explorations of the swamp drifted in and out of Emily’s consciousness.

A snake slithered in the water. Another coiled around a tree branch, basking in the sun.

What if the snake fell off the tree and landed on her head? She glanced down at the other, its body winding back and forth in the water, parting the scum.

A sparkle, shiny metal, golden, shimmered in the sunlight, grabbing her attention, pulling her toward it. Gold bullion and coins rested in a weathered wooden chest, the leather straps nearly disintegrated in the harsh conditions.

Water lapping at the edge of a reed-covered bank, comforting in its rhythmic susurration, putting her back into deep sleep when she concentrated on the sound.

Suddenly, darkness fell.

She squirmed under her cover, afraid of the deathly quiet dark.

The sights and sounds returned. The odor of fishy swamp water hanging in the air, thick with heat and alive with buzzing mosquitoes, waking her into semi-awareness. Mango trees vigilant, like old soldiers protecting the land, shuddered in the slight breeze. Shadows stretching into the moon-streaked darkness, and the ghost girl, very nearly Emily’s age, floating over the whole dream landscape, captured Emily’s attention.

Jarring her awake, Emily’s alarm clock rang. If she didn’t get a good night’s sleep soon, she’d be one of the living dead herself.

She sighed deeply. Another day at school, only this time she had a ride. No fighting for a seat on the bus, no trying to start up a finicky old car...she had it made.

Struggling to get out of the covers tangled into a twisted cocoon around her legs, she imagined she must have fought unseen demons all night long. When she extricated herself from the comforter, she tumbled to the floor.

At least this morning she woke when the alarm first sounded. She rose and stared at the wide-winged chair where she laid her clothes for school every day. In the place of the green shirt she selected was another blue one. Written across the front was, “I will not talk to boys.” The message repeated four more times, like a schoolgirl’s handwriting scrawled on the chalkboard in an attempt to learn an important message. By the fifth and sixth lines, the words faded as if the wearer forgot to maintain the vigilance against speaking to boys.

Emily touched the words. Was the ghost choosing her clothes for her? If so, was it another warning of sorts? Was she not to speak with Michael? Or, was it the bullies she needed to avoid? She wrinkled her brow and pulled off her nightgown.

After dressing, she joined her mother in the kitchen. The floor was finally visible, no more packing boxes. Her mom greeted her much more cheerfully, not half so harried. “Good morning, Emily. Glad to see you down here earlier. Not such a rush to eat breakfast this time.”

No, there didn’t need to be, but she was dying to see Michael. Did he have any more premonitions of her? If so, why would he have them of her? Why not of something or someone else? She had to find out.

Emily choked down an English muffin and glass of orange juice, then glanced up and found her mother watching her.

“Your father and I talked last night.”

Emily held her breath. They couldn’t have changed their minds about Michael.

Her mother sighed deeply. “We think things couldn’t have worked out any better.”

Emily breathed again, relieved to the nth degree. “I totally agree. Got to run, Mom, but I’ll help you later, and we can hang the pictures in the living room, if you like.”

“Sure. That way I won’t get them so crooked this time. Oh, and I’ll be job hunting this afternoon.”

Emily grabbed her book bag and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Good luck, Mom. I know they’ll love you. Later!”

Dashing outside and across the lawns, she caught sight of the school bus approaching. The driver barreled down the road, full speed ahead. No way would he consider stopping for her. She wanted to stick out her tongue. That would show him. After all, her knight would convey her to school on his shining red steed. She didn’t need some old grouchy bus driver driving an old rickety, noisy school bus with three demon seed bullies waiting to pounce on her.

Before she knocked on Michael’s door, he pulled it open. A red shirt fitted over his broad shoulders, complementing his dark hair. He wore blue jeans like her, but sneakers instead of sandals. His cheeks dimpled in greeting. Totally cute.

“Did you have a premonition I was on my way?” she asked.

“I knew you were coming, so I was watching out the window for you.”

She’d never known anyone as attentive as Michael. It made her day.

Grabbing her hand, he led her toward the car. She glanced back at the house; she hadn’t even told Granny goodbye.

As if reading Emily’s mind, Michael said, “She’s not awake yet. She stays up late into the night, but sleeps in, in the morning.”

“Oh.” She hesitated when he opened his car door for her. “Except for yesterday morning…when she cleaned the boat deck?”

The edges of Michael’s ears turned a little red. Had she caught him in another fabrication? First about his father not working at the Cape, now this?

His eyes weren’t focused on hers, however. They stared at her shirt and its message. His mouth curved up a hint.

“I will not talk to boys,” Michael mouthed and winked at her. “Somehow, I don’t believe it.” After closing her door, he climbed into the driver’s seat. Looking back at her shirt, he shook his head. “Good advice for the other guys, though.”

Did he want her exclusively? She was all his, as far as she was concerned. No other guy interested her in the least.

Still, Emily wondered about his comment concerning his grandmother and her sleep patterns. “Uhm, you said your grandmother rises late, but yesterday she was cleaning her boat early in the morning.”

“Yeah, sometimes she can’t sleep because she misses Granddad. They’d been married close to forty-seven years. Anyway, Granny decided to clean the boat deck because it makes her feel close to him. I think she fell off the sailboat half asleep.”

“Or a ghost gave her a little push.” Emily didn’t know why she said it. But the words slipped out before she could stop them. She wasn’t sure if Michael was just concentrating on his driving, or avoiding the topic, but he didn’t comment. He must think she was some kind of nut.

Halfway to school, Michael finally spoke. “You read her mind.”

Her heart pounding, she stared at him, his eyes still focused on the road. She read whose mind? The ghost’s? Granny’s?

Then the realization crashed down on her. Granny had been pushed off the deck by a ghost? No wonder Michael was worried for her and reluctant to speak about it. But how in the world had Emily known? Granny wouldn’t let her see into her thoughts.

Was it the ghost girl who told her? Emily couldn’t remember. It must have been a flicker of memory in her fog-filled mind that slipped onto her tongue. Yet, she couldn’t sense anything of the ghost who might have done the deed.

Was the ghost girl Emily’s guardian angel? Or, as Michael suggested, a demonic spirit bent on her destruction?

“So, when did you think a ghost pushed Granny off the deck, Emily?”

“Just now.”

He pulled into the school’s parking lot. “But you haven’t seen my grandmother since last night. I thought you had to be in sight of the person before you could read their mind.”

“The ghost girl told me.”

He stared at her, and she wasn’t certain he believed her.

“Oh,” he finally said.

“Listen, Michael, she keeps me awake for a good part of the night and has every evening since I moved into the house. I can’t recall what she says, but I remembered wandering through the swamps through her eyes last night. At least, I think that’s what happened. Anyway, I didn’t read your grandmother’s mind, but the notion just slipped onto my tongue, as if the ghost girl put it there.”

“My grandmother said he pushed her.”

“A ghost?” Emily’s skin chilled.

“She thought so. But I don’t. The mist covered the deck that morning. Tired from lack of sleep, she imagined she saw a ghost. I figured maybe you read her mind and saw what she thought happened.”

“No.” Emily grabbed her book bag. “She hides her thoughts from me, but freely reads mine.”

“I, well, I’m not really a big believer in ghosts, Emily.”

Her heart sank, but she was glad he was honest with her. “So, you don’t think what I see is real?”

“No, I don’t mean that. Just that, it’s hard to believe in something I can’t see. But I trust you have some connection with the spirit world.” He took a heavy breath. “I feel I’m not a real help to you because of it.”

“I really appreciate all your help.”

“I thought we could do some research at the library today. We need to find out who she was,” he said.

Her stomach untwisted. Even if he didn’t believe one-hundred percent, he was willing to go along with it. “And the one who pushed your grandmother?”

“I’m not convinced anything did. The decks were wet. And Granny added soapy water. She’s not as spry as she used to be. She could easily have slipped without any help from wicked spirits.”

But Emily wasn’t convinced. “You saw nothing in your premonition about what happened?”

“Only that she fell. Not where, when, or how.” He closed and locked the car door, then took her book bag from her. “Ready to wow them with our brilliance?”

“Yours maybe. Remember, I can only read minds. I don’t have a photographic memory like you. Everything I do in school has to be learned through hard work and lots of study.”

“Yeah, I could tell you were the studious kind.”

She rolled her eyes as they walked toward technology class. “What does that mean? I’m boring? Just because I do my schoolwork…”

“Boring?” He laughed out loud. “You’re the most interesting girl I’ve ever met.”

She smiled. He sure knew how to say the right words sometimes. Now, if he could see ghosts, he’d be perfect.

They caught sight of Red walking to the class. Emily whispered to Michael, “You do know some form of martial arts…you know, to protect me if I need you to?”

He whispered back, his heated breath tickling her ear and sending a trickle of warmth through her, “I’m a genius, remember. I use my mind to deal with difficult situations, not brute strength.”

I’m doomed. “Ah, but martial arts are used to disable your opponents with brilliantly placed maneuvers, not brute strength.”

“I’ll protect you.”

In the hallway today, no problem. But what about the premonition Michael had in which she had to face the bullies on her own? Like his notion of coming up with a plan to help the ghost girl find peace, she had to decide how she could handle the three bullies at one time alone. Michael and the ghost girl had warned her. She was certain the time was coming soon. What would cause Michael to leave her alone to face them? Another attack on his grandmother?

She wasn’t sure Michael believed a ghost hadn’t done it, either. There were two ghosts she had to deal with—maybe more. Had the developers built on sacred ground? Or worse? On a pirate’s claimed territory?

The pirate’s treasure. Was it the key?

“Michael,” she whispered when they took their seats in class, “after researching the ghosts, we have to find out who the pirates were that made their home where our development is.”

“Pirates? I don’t think...” He closed his mouth when the teacher walked into the room.

Emily noticed Red attempting to listen in on her conversation with Michael. Maybe Red descended from some scurrilous pirate knave. Ha!

Then another thought occurred to her. Up until now, she had avoided reading his mind, but she had to know. What did he and his buddies plan to do to her? She faced him, readying herself mentally to probe his innermost thoughts, but the teacher thwarted her.

“Emily Rundle, the principal wants to see you.”

Chapter 7

“The principal?” Emily said to Mr. Smith. Second day of school, first class, and she was already being called in to see the principal? “Why?” Her heart thundered and her hands grew clammy.

“No reason given. You need to go, now, Miss Rundle,” her teacher said, smoothing down a Snoopy tie.

“Should I take my books?” She figured she was being sent home, or something worse. Her parents would kill her.

Mr. Smith shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll take just a few minutes.”

She started breathing again, though her skin felt as hot and wet as when she’d showered earlier. Glancing at Michael, she imagined his worried face mirrored hers.

She was sure he wanted to accompany her. She wanted him to also. Never before had she felt the need to have someone offer moral support. Was it the bond she had with him due to their shared abilities? Hoping she could snap out of this sudden need for Michael’s constant companionship, she definitely didn’t want to become a clinging vine.

She left the class, sure everyone was dying to know what she’d done to warrant a trip to the principal’s office. The hallway felt chillier than normal, and her skin freckled with goose bumps. No matter how many deep breaths she took, she couldn’t calm her nervousness.

When she arrived at the principal’s office, a petite woman she assumed was the secretary directed Emily in. A tall blonde woman stood up from her desk and asked the other lady to shut the door.

It had to be really bad if it was going to be a closed-door session, didn’t it?

A shudder wracked Emily’s body.

“Emily, I’m Mrs. Garnet, the principal of Merritt Island High School.” She motioned to a chair, then retook her seat. Her blue eyes looked stern, and she tilted her chin down as if she were getting ready to scold a small child. “I got a call from your father this morning.”

Emily collapsed in the leather chair. She didn’t say a word, hoping her father hadn’t been too irate with the principal.

Mrs. Garnet rolled a gold pen between her fingers, but her eyes remained fixed on Emily’s. “We pride ourselves in not having student troubles.”

And Emily had already caused trouble.

Leaning back in her chair, Mrs. Garnet considered her as if she were psychoanalyzing her, to see if she was the root of the problem. After all, if they didn’t have student confrontations before this, Emily had to be the cause. However, she didn’t believe for one second Red and his buddies hadn’t triggered difficulties before.

“Your father said that Marrion Carver, who goes by the nickname, Red, shoved you in school.”

Marrion? With a name like that, no wonder he was a mean bully. “Yes.”

“Can you tell me in your own words what happened?”

A few of them at least. “He wouldn’t let me sit on the bus. I moved his feet off the seat, and it made him mad. When we got off the bus at school, he punched me in the shoulder.”

The principal eyed her as if she didn’t believe her. Emily’s blood sizzled. She might have left out some of the more interesting details, but she told the basic truth.

“Were there any witnesses?”

“His friends, but I’m sure they’d deny it. Others watched, but I’m new to school so I don’t know anyone yet.”

“Did he leave any mark?” the principal asked, one brow cocked in question.

Emily figured he had. She bruised easily enough. Just running into the edge of the coffee table the day they had moved into their new home had left a black and blue line across her shins. But she never bothered to check to see if Red left one.

With some trepidation, she lifted her shirtsleeve. She glanced at the shoulder. No mark. Her face grew hot.

The principal tilted her head to the side, chin still down, acting as if Emily had lied, and she caught her in the fabrication.

“Sorry,” Emily said, realizing because of her nervousness she pulled up the wrong shirtsleeve. When she lifted the right one, a nice fist-sized bruise, the perfect imprint, colored her skin black and purple.

The principal’s eyes widened. “I see. Well, I’ll have a word with Marrion. And please, if he bothers you anymore, let one of the teachers or me know. We’d like to circumvent this sort of thing before it escalates.”

Escalates. With Red and his thugs, that’s the only way this was heading. As soon as the principal lectured Red, payback would be hell.

*  *  *

Michael was dying to know why Emily got called into the principal’s office. When she reentered the classroom, the teacher quit speaking. Emily glanced at Michael, but didn’t reveal anything to him, no shake of her head, a frown, a smile, nothing. He couldn’t imagine the trouble. And he couldn’t understand her hiding her feelings from him.

But as soon as she took her seat between Red and him, she turned her attention to the bully. Focused, she had a one-track mind, and Michael assumed she was trying to read Red’s thoughts like she attempted to before she got called to the principal’s office.

What was her purpose? To see what he intended to do to her? Red probably wouldn’t plan it out. Just tackle her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Michael had no intention of letting the coward and his buddies get to Emily. Still, it bothered him that she was trying to read Red’s mind, afraid it would tick him off even more, and she would be in a worse situation.

Michael dropped his book, but it didn’t break Emily’s concentration, it only got the teacher’s attention. Michael mumbled an apology. Then he cleared his throat. Emily still ignored him.

Think, man, think. He had to come up with a distraction. Michael sat back, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

He attempted to see any visions, but the only one that appeared in his mind’s eye was the one where she got off the bus and the bullies followed her. What he couldn’t understand, though, was why there were only two. Was the other beyond his sight? No matter how hard he concentrated, only two appeared. Red and one other. What bothered Michael also was he couldn’t see any visions concerning the ghosts. The problem was he couldn’t see ghostly apparitions like she could, and he felt impotent to protect her against a menace he couldn’t perceive.

He couldn’t think of a thing to distract her without disrupting class. He scowled at her when she continued to concentrate on Red. But then he had an idea.

*  *  *

At first, Emily sensed Red’s anger. Anger at being humiliated by a girl who forced him to share his seat. More anger when he made a fool of himself in front of half the school. And he hadn’t been able to teach her how he wouldn’t be intimidated by a girl...any girl.

Yet, as hard as his green eyes glared at her, she knew he feared her. He wondered if she had made him dance in the hallway like a ballerina. If so, she had powers beyond his comprehension.

That’s what he thought.

He also had felt more powerful after he pushed her into the swamp. Maybe she didn’t have special abilities after all.

But she had to know what he and his buddies intended to do to her. When they had a chance to gang up on her, she was certain they would. When would it happen? That’s what she sought with her mind probes.

She ignored Michael’s attempts to distract her. Despite usually loving the way he showed concern, this time his actions antagonized her. If he couldn’t see what would happen to her using his abilities, why couldn’t she utilize her own to help her out?

Then something else happened.

Like the time her focus had been diverted in the hallway just before Red punched her in the arm, something caught her attention when it passed by the open door of the classroom.

Michael touched her arm gently, attempting to stop her probe. Neither the teacher’s monologue, nor Michael distracted her like whatever passed by the door.

As if a million insects scurried over her body, her skin crawled. Was it something sinister? Or her savior?

Emily rubbed her temple. The first time it distracted her, Red hit her. This time...had it attempted to stop her from learning Red’s plan?

She turned back to Red to finish the mind probe. Then it happened. It passed by the door again, and she jerked her head toward the hallway. “Excuse me, Mr. Smith, but I feel sick to my stomach and need to see the nurse.”

“All right,” the startled teacher swiftly agreed.

She grabbed her book bag, glanced at Michael, and hurried for the door.

He couldn’t help her this time. And she wasn’t sure he’d believe her anyway if she told him what just happened. Actually, she wasn’t even sure of what was happening.

*  *  *

Michael had hoped his touching her would break her concentration with Red. But something else had done so, and he immediately sensed peril. He watched Emily slip out of the room, unprotected. But would the teacher think he wanted to have a secret rendezvous with Emily if he all of a sudden said he had to see the nurse, too?

His stomach muscles clenched in worry. What if she saw what Red intended to do to her, and he made her ill? What if he was going to hurt her, and Michael couldn’t prevent it?

He stared at the hall, wishing she’d walk back through the door and retake her seat next to him, safe and sound. His skin chilled. He worried she was neither safe nor sound. Danger lurked nearby. A deadly, icy threat he couldn’t comprehend.

Then a woman came into the room, handed Mr. Smith a note, and left. He read it, then looked up at Red. “Mr. Carver, Mrs. Garnet, our principal, wants you to go to her office.”

Instantly, Michael made the connection. Somehow, word had gotten to the principal that Red bullied Emily. Or, at least Michael assumed that’s what happened. Especially since Emily was called in first, probably to explain Red’s misbehavior. Had she told her parents, and they called the principal? He hated second-guessing the situation. Why hadn’t she told him on the way to school this morning what had happened?

Red slammed his pen on his desk and stalked toward the door.

“You might want to take your books because class is nearly over,” Mr. Smith said.

Storming to his desk, Red grabbed his books, dropped one, yanked it off the floor, and stalked back out of the room.

Michael’s thoughts shifted to Emily. What if Red ran into her in the hallway? Michael ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. How could he leave the class without too much of a fuss? He had to ensure Emily was okay. But he could get them both into trouble if he didn’t handle the matter right.

He concentrated on trying to dredge up a vision, blocking out the teacher’s lecture, censoring out every image in the classroom until his mind was like a blank slate, ready for a glimpse of a movie screen image—a flash forward in time with no beginning or end.

*  *  *

When Emily entered the hall, freezing air touched her skin, and she shivered. Her heart beat out of bounds, and she worried whatever the thing was that lurked nearby epitomized evil. But what about the girl ghost? She left an icy imprint on Emily’s skin, too. Maybe this thing wasn’t evil either. Or, perhaps both were.

The hallway appeared empty. Where had it gone? She hurried down the corridor, rubber-soled sandals slapping the floor rapidly as she made her way to the bend. Breath held taut in anticipation, Emily poked her head around the corner.

Nothing. Nothing, except the cold. The frigid air could have harbored icicles if water dripped off the ceiling. Her breath blew out in frosty bursts while she attempted to calm her nerves.

A sub-zero touch to her shoulder made her cry out in fright. Emily whipped around to find no one there. No ghostly apparition. Just an empty hall.

But something tugged at her mind. Then she realized the problem. She needed to use her mind, not her vision. Whatever it was used her thoughts to call to her. It wanted her to follow it. Just like before.

Had it wished to distract her before when Red hit her? She wasn’t certain anymore. Maybe it only wished her to follow it, but the timing hadn’t worked out.

Suddenly indecisive, Emily’s feet froze to the waxed linoleum floor. Was it the cold numbing her brain? Lack of sleep? Or simply fear?

“Emily.” She heard her name softly spoken in her head. “Emily, come.”

Her mind grew dark with concentration. The fluorescent lights no longer disturbed her vision. The hall warmed slightly. Sleep was all she needed. Sleep, and then she could chase the ominous spirit. Then she could find out what it wanted of her. After she rested.

“Emily!” Michael’s voice jarred her from the Arctic sleep that cloaked her. “Emily!”

Books dropped beside her head, making the floor vibrate. A distant bell rang. Footsteps ran toward her, sounding like a stampede of wild horses set free in the wilderness.

“Your hands are freezing. Someone get the nurse!”

Michael. Emily smiled. He was always so considerate.

“Emily.” Michael’s voice bordered panic.

She sighed deeply. Michael. With him in her dreams, the spirits had no chance to ruin her night.

To her surprise, her body lifted off the floor, then floated down, down, down the hall.

“In here,” a woman said. “What happened?”

“She said she felt sick in technology class and wanted to see you, but she never made it.”

An awful odor shook Emily from her sleep, and she bolted upright on the cot. Her head spun out of control, threatening to propel her into darkness again.

“Just lie quietly. I’m Mrs. Raven, the school nurse. You fainted in the hall. Is there anything you want to tell me about your condition?”

Condition? What was the woman ranting about? Emily turned her attention to the silent figure standing slightly behind the nurse. He studied her with concern. “Michael?”

“Yes, I’m here.” He moved closer and took her hand. “You’re still chilled.”

The nurse took Emily’s temperature twice. “Did you drink something icy?”

Emily attempted to focus her thoughts on what had happened. Michael rubbed her hand, warming the blood in her fingers. “Is it time to go home?”

He chuckled. “For you, maybe. We’ve only made it through our first class.”

She glanced at her watch. The time had frozen in place. “What time is it?”

“Past time for life science.”

“Oh, help me up.”

“Are you sure…?”

The nurse frowned. “I’ll call your parents.”

“My mother is interviewing for jobs.” There wasn’t any way Emily wanted the school nurse to send her mother into a panic in the event she was still home. “I’m sure you won’t be able to get in touch with her. She doesn’t carry a cell phone. Dad works in the stands at the Cape about this hour. There’d be no reaching him. I’ll be okay.”

She drew her legs over the edge of the cot using caution, when her head began to swim. Michael would keep her safe. At all costs, she had to stay with him the rest of the day.

Standing, she gripped his hand tightly. “I’m okay.” In reality, she wanted to rest her head on a down-filled pillow and sleep until the next morning.

“Are you sure…?” Michael asked.

Emily cast him a look, which told him he’d better choose his next words carefully.

“If you feel badly again, be sure to return and I’ll send you home,” the nurse said.

To what? An empty shell of a house where the ghost girl would interrupt her sleep? She couldn’t handle that right now.

“Thanks.” Her teeth threatened to chatter, and she clenched them shut.

Michael grabbed their book bags and slipped his other arm around her waist. When they made it into the hall, she leaned against him, still unsteady on her feet.

“Emily, you’re not all right at all,” Michael scolded, but despite his annoyance, he gripped her tightly, squeezing her against him. “You should be home in bed. You can barely stand. Your skin’s clammy, and you’re shivering.”

In spite of his scolding, she loved how he demonstrated his concern. “No, Michael. I can’t sleep when I’m at home. The ghost girl wakes me every time I fall asleep.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “What happened in the hall?”

“I’m not sure. I think it’s a spirit.”

“Here?” His brows knitted together. “In the school?”

She nodded, wishing she could give him better news.

“Jeez, Emily, what is it with you and ghosts?”

She didn’t speak for a moment, just stared at the floor, then sighed. She might as well tell him everything. He was bound to find out sooner or later. Looking up at him, she said, “I can speak with them. I have since I was little.” Ever since she’d died. But she didn’t want to tell him that part of the equation.

He shook his head. “What else can you do?”

“I’m pretty good at baking chocolate chip cookies.”

Groaning, he kissed the top of her head. When they approached class, he switched topics. “What happened in technology? I know you were trying to read Red’s mind.”

“Nothing. I mean, I didn’t find out what he and his buddies intended to do to me.”

“Why did you suddenly leave the room, then? I thought you saw what Red was thinking, and it made you sick to your stomach. Then I had a premonition you hadn’t made it to the nurse’s station. The teacher let me leave class before the bell rang to check on you.”

“I’ll tell you after life science, Michael. We’re already late for class.”

He hesitated to walk her into the room. “You promise?”

Her lips still quivering from the cold, she attempted a smile. “You bet. We’re in this together.”

She realized then, she really couldn’t do it alone, and she was glad Michael would help her. Only she hated to drag him into it. Had he ever had a premonition give him grief? She glanced up at Michael. That was another thing she’d have to question him about, as soon as she warmed up, and they were alone.

*  *  *

Michael and Emily walked into life science class, her lips still blue and her skin pale as fresh fallen snow. He planned to take her outside to have lunch as soon as class ended.

The teacher asked Emily, “What is the difference between RNA and DNA?”

Poor Emily’s mind seemed muddled and confused.

Michael explained, “Emily had to see the nurse last period because she was sick.”

“Maybe she needs to be sent home. She doesn’t look well.”

Emily slid Michael an annoyed look. He wheedled his way out of the mess. “No one’s home, Mrs. Johnson, to watch over her.”

The teacher relented. “All right, but if you feel worse, I want you to see the nurse, Emily.”

Thankfully, Mrs. Johnson left Emily alone the rest of the class, though she considered her from time to time, her brow creased in concern.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch hour, Michael called in a pizza order. After they picked it up, he drove to the park. He figured Emily would finally warm up, sitting in the soupy August Florida sun, but he hoped his deodorant would hold out while his car heater ran full blast.

Not once had he had a vision of Emily’s going into the hall and what she faced, either. He’d never been so frustrated in his abilities his whole life until now. How could he protect her when he couldn’t see what would happen to her next?

Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he was bound and determined to force the future images to appear.

*  *  *

Emily glanced at Michael as a trickle of sweat dribbled down his cheek. He was certain to rethink his relationship with her. She reached out to turn the heater off, but he stayed her hand.

“Leave it. You need to warm up.”

She held her fingers up to the vents, chasing away the cold. “You’re going to have heat exhaustion.”

He shut off the vents closest to him, then leaned back into the seat. “If anyone ever told me I’d have my heater on high in the hottest month in Florida, I’d have told them they were crazy.”

He pulled under the shade of an oak and parked. Michael grabbed the pizza and opened Emily’s door.

As soon as the muggy heat hit her, she began to feel warm. “I never thought I’d like spending my lunch hour sitting in this weather.”

“Well, sitting in air-conditioned classes all day hasn’t helped. If you had gym class earlier…”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I would have warmed right up.”

They sat down on a stone bench where they had a full view of the pond under a big maple tree that helped to shade them. Ducks floated nearer the bank, and Emily tugged off a piece of crust, then tossed it to them.

Quacking filled the air, and the ducks pounced on the pizza. Feathers floated in the breeze like a sudden winter snowfall. And for the moment, she felt like a normal teen, no ghostly troubles or bullies intent on pulverizing her.

Michael threw a piece of crust in the water. The ducks dashed back into the pond and tackled the food. “Okay, so tell me what happened, really. I know every time you tried to talk about it there were too many people around listening in on our conversation.”

“There’s something at the school. Some kind of spirit, I think. It wanted me to follow it.”

Michael took a deep breath of exasperation. “Emily…”

“I have to find out what it wants! I can’t ignore these spirits.”

He stared at the pizza box. “All right. It’s the same with Granny. She can’t ignore them either.”

Emily couldn’t believe it. Why didn’t Granny tell her about it? Maybe they could work out the puzzle together. “Then she’s having problems with more than one, too?”

“She didn’t have a problem before. Not until you moved in.”

Emily’s heart sank to think his grandmother was having difficulty because of her. “Great. Now it’s all my fault.”

He ran his hand over her shoulder as if to soothe her feelings. “Not your fault, Emily. But I think you’re the key, somehow. We’re not certain how to unlock the secrets, though.”

Emily shuddered. “The spirit wanted to show me something, I was certain, only I got so cold. I couldn’t think anymore.”

Michael took a deep breath. “You fainted. How did it act toward you?”

“Coaxing. It wanted me to follow. At first, I kept trying to see it with my eyes. Then I realized it touched my thoughts, and I had to let it lead the way. But before this happened, it touched my shoulder. It still burns.” She pulled her sleeve up to expose skin. Fingerlike projections marked her in red.

“Frostbite.”

“Weird.”

Michael touched the skin around the marks. “You can’t go chasing after it anymore by yourself.”

She lifted a piece of cheese and pepperoni pizza to her lips. The heat felt good at her fingertips. “I decided the same thing when I couldn’t figure out what to do. I needed you there. Together, we’ll find out what it wants.” She took a bite of her pizza.

“Do you think it’ll allow it? Maybe it’ll only show up if you’re alone.” He grabbed another slice and began eating it.

“I’ve thought of that, Michael. But I can’t do it alone. Not if the same thing happens to me. The spirit will have to understand.”

“All right, then after our last class today, we’ll—”

He cut his words short when Red and his bully friends rode into the parking lot in a black car streaked with fluorescent stripes of orange, yellow, and red flames. Gravel scattered gravel when they spun the wheels.

Totally thawed, Emily turned her attention to the menace. She wrinkled her forehead in thought, and quirked a brow ready to deal with them, as Michael hurried to yank her from the bench.

Chapter 8

Breaking her concentration, Michael pulled Emily toward his car as the bullies tore into the park in their flame-painted vehicle. “Get into the car, Emily.”

“But Michael—”

Once she pulled her sandaled feet inside, he slammed the door, cutting off her protest. She huffed at him in annoyance and returned her attention to the driver of the black vehicle.

Controlling the driver’s mind, she forced him to drive the car in circles near the edge of the pond, well out of the way of Michael and Emily’s escape route.

Michael raced around his car and hopped into the driver’s seat. His action interrupted her concentration again, and she temporarily released the driver’s mind. The car jerked to a stop, wetting its tires at the pond’s perimeter. The boys grabbed for the car doors, and Emily made the driver automatically lock the doors. Yanking futilely at the car doors, the boys cursed the driver.

Michael reversed and headed out of the parking area. The three bullies finally piled out of the car and gave chase on foot, fists waving in the air.

Emily folded her arms. “I would have handled the matter.”

“How?”

She pursed her lips. “Somehow.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“Control the driver’s mind.”

“Those idiots would have jumped out of the car eventually, as slow as it was going. Then they would have come for us.”

“For a few minutes, they were too busy screaming obscenities at the driver, trying to get him to stop. Then I willed him to lock the doors. It took them a few seconds to realize what he’d done before they unlocked their own doors manually. But he relocked them again.”

Michael’s jaw tightened. “From now on we’ve got to be more careful.”

“One good scare is what they need.”

“Yeah, but they’re the ones doing the scaring.”

Emily shoved a loose curl behind her ear. “They don’t scare me.”

“That’s what worries me.” He patted her leg. “You’ll try to take them all on your own. Are you warmed up now?”

“Sure. Turn on the air conditioner.”

“You got it.” He turned the air on high. Sweat trickled down his cheeks.

She dabbed it with a tissue. “Sorry you had to sit in a sauna to help thaw me out.”

His mouth edged up. “I should have just tried kissing you.”

Hmm, now that would have been an idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? Emily nodded. “Next time I’ll take you up on it.”

“Hopefully, there won’t be a next time.” He glanced at her.

She raised her brows.

He lifted his chin. “I mean, as far as you needing to be thawed. The kissing part…that’s another story.”

*  *  *

Michael fidgeted in his last class, hardly able to wait through the boring lecture so he could be with Emily again. Between the icy spirit and the threat of four bullies now, he feared for her safety even more. She wasn’t what he called reckless exactly, but more…undaunted…by the troubles she faced. And that’s what scared him. One of these times, he feared the odds would be against her.

Though he intended to help even them. No more venturing off to fight demons alone.

Michael took another ragged breath and glanced at his watch. One more minute had passed.

“Do you need to be somewhere, Michael?” the teacher asked.

Michael’s faced heated. Yeah, he did, watching over one beautiful redhead with sparkling green, inquisitive eyes who was bound to get them into lots more hot water.

When school ended, Michael waited faithfully by the door to Emily’s psychology class. She gave him a sunshiny Florida smile. “Time for after-school research?”

“You bet. Time to find some answers.” Though he seriously doubted they could talk the ghosts into leaving Emily alone even if they found out who they were and why they were here. “Had any more visitations from Casper the Cold?”

“No, nary a chill. It must be haunting someone else at the moment.”

Was it? Or was it waiting for a chance to get to her when she was alone again? “And Red and his gang?”

She glanced over her shoulder as their shoes padded along the linoleum floor. “Not a sign of them. But I’m sure they’re plotting something sinister.”

“No doubt.” Michael opened the door to the library. “We’ll go to the main library after this because I imagine we won’t find much here. But since the ghost keeps trying to get you to follow it, I thought it might want you to see something in here.”

“Right. If it’s a pirate’s ghost, it probably can’t even read.”

“I’m supposed to be the genius.”

“Ah, but I have loads of common sense.”

Michael cocked a dark brow as they entered the library and headed for the computers. “You’re saying I don’t?”

“I’d say you have quite a few...good qualities, Michael. I haven’t known you long enough to know if you have a lot of common sense, though.” Emily loved his sense of humor, and seeing him waiting for her outside her class, well, she couldn’t have been any luckier than to meet Michael her first day of school.

“I guess it means we’ll have to see an awful lot of each other so you can decide whether I have common sense or not.” He winked at her, then brought up the library list menu on the computer.

She was all for that. Sitting next to him, she poked a finger at the screen. “Look for pirates.”

“I thought we wanted to find out about the girl first.”

“Pirates.” She glanced at him. “I think the pirate’s treasure is the key.”

“Pirate’s treasure?”

“Yeah, the wooden chest filled with gold coins and bullion bars…buried somewhere in the swamp.”

“You saw this?”

“Yep. The ghost girl draws me there. I’m sure it’s important.”

He typed in pirates, Florida. A list appeared. “Hmm, there are a couple of books here on the subject.”

Emily hopped up from the chair to retrieve them from the shelves. She pulled one out and read through the first couple of pages. Michael typed in ghost stories, Florida, and Emily returned to the chair beside him.

Reading out loud, she said, “As late as 1823, the U.S. government commissioned Commodore David Porter to stop the pirates: Black Caesar, Blackbeard, also known as Edward Teach, and Jean Lafitte. Earlier, pirates like Sir John Hawkins and Sir Francis Drake also raided the state. In fact, twenty famous pirates plagued the coast of Florida.”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, what about this? ‘September 10, 1622, a Spanish convoy of twenty-eight ships left Havana headed for home, loaded to the gunwales with treasure from South and Central America. Eight of the ships sank during a hurricane.’” She snapped the book closed. “What if pirates brought some of the treasure up here? The books say pirates lived all along the coast. In fact, they were some of Florida’s first beachcombers.”

“Cute.”

“Yeah. There wasn’t any treasure on the land, just from the Spanish galleons laden with it because they sailed up the Gulf Stream through the straits that parallel Florida’s Keys. That’s too far south of us, but maybe they hauled their booty up here to hide it.”

“Could be.” Michael wrote down a list of books on ghostly sightings, then walked over to the rows of shelves.

Emily followed him. “Lots of books?”

“Three, but the main library will have more. These include ghosts sighted in Florida, but I’ll have to skim through them to see if any appeared in our area. Otherwise, we’ll have to check deaths in the newspapers and other ghost books from the main library.”

“Okay. I’ll check the Internet in the meantime.”

Emily logged onto the Internet on one of the computers. She typed in ghosts, Florida and came up with a long list of ghostly sightings.

One that instantly grabbed her interest was a haunted warehouse in Miami that housed Florida souvenirs. For two months, investigators, including police officers, an insurance investigator, a parapsychologist, a reporter, the owner, and a number of employees, observed objects moving or crashing to the floor, boxes sliding on shelves, or flying from one shelf to another in nearly two-hundred and fifty well-documented cases. But what caught Emily’s eye was one of the young male employees was thought to have been moving the objects, unbeknownst to him, through psychic-kinetic abilities.

“Hey, look at this, Michael.”

Michael joined her and scanned the article. He shook his head. “Ghosts, Emily. We’re searching for ghosts.”

“Shoot, Michael. Didn’t we just read about psychologists trying to determine a scientific basis for our abilities? I mean, look at this. They tested the man over and over and it showed he moved the objects. Then he finally refused to be tested anymore.” She looked up. “Why should he be treated like a guinea pig? He did it, and they have to keep making him do it over and over again to prove that he could.”

“Ghosts, Emily. We’re trying to find out who the ghosts are.”

Maybe she could become an activist for people with special abilities, or a parapsychologist, although she might be somewhat biased. She read through three more articles while Michael sat beside her and skimmed through books on ghosts.

“Oh...oh...oh, Michael. Look. Asheley’s Restaurant in Rockledge. That’s not very far from us. Some say a woman must have died during the Roaring Twenties and frequents the restaurant and the area outside of it, but they don’t know anything about her; where she was from, how she died, why she’s ‘stuck’ there. Others mention a young man died on the railroad tracks behind the restaurant or Highway US 1 out front. They’ve found cold spots in various places. Customers and employees have seen apparitions, or objects moving by unseen forces. Many have heard strange sounds. Several of the incidents occurred in the restrooms or the kitchen, though there have been sightings all over the restaurant. One guy picked up the woman in the parking lot wearing the twenties-style dress. When he drove down River Road in Cocoa, she disappeared.”

Emily looked up at Michael. “What do you think, Michael? Maybe Granny, you, and I could check out the place?”

Michael ran his hand over her back. “You sure are cute, you know? Okay, it probably won’t have anything to do with the business we’re checking into, but I’m certain Granny will be game. Though I hoped my first dinner date with you could have been a little less crowded...ghosts, grannies...”

Emily’s whole outlook perked up. He wanted to take her out on a date...a real date. Fall dance, here they come.

She turned back to the computer monitor. “Well, I don’t see anything else here. You want to go to the main library now?”

“Sure, let me put these books back. There’s nothing in here to help us. Most of the sightings are in old St. Augustine.” He walked back to the bookshelves and disappeared.

“That won’t do.” Emily shut down the computer, stood, and turned. She took a deep breath. “Michael,” she whispered, her skin crawling with goose bumps.

“Yeah?” he called from between two rows of books.

“We’ve got company.”

Chapter 9

The cold seeped into her bones, and Emily shivered involuntarily. Michael ditched the library books and ran to her side. “I don’t see anything, Emily.”

Rubbing her arms, she tried to warm them. “Do you feel the cold?” Most ghosts left cold spots. She was used to that. But this one created bitter—even deadly—conditions, like climbing Mt. Everest in shorts and a T-shirt.

“Yes, I feel it,” Michael said, his voice troubled.

Even their breaths were like wisps of frosty vapor on a cold winter’s day. “It’s beckoning me to follow it.”

She was torn between helping it and running the opposite way. Would it harm her again?

The greater fear won out—knowing if she couldn’t help it find peace—it would continue to harass her, and she wouldn’t be able to learn anything at school.

“Where does it want you to go?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure.” She slipped her fingers between Michael’s, not just because she wanted the comfort she felt when holding his hand, but she needed his help. Trying to make her words sound confident, she failed miserably when the words softly slipped out. “Let’s go see.”

When they entered the hall, Emily said, “I’m going to need you to keep me on my feet. I’ve got to close my eyes and let my mind tell me which way it wants us to go.”

“Lead on.” Michael gripped her fingers tighter. Her hero, all the way.

She closed her eyes and walked at a slower pace, down one hall, then to another. The cold preceded her the whole way. Then Michael’s hand tugged at hers to stop. Her heart lurched, and she opened her eyes.

Painted in bold letters across the door the sign read: Boys’ Locker Room.

Emily raised her brows and cleared her throat. “It wants us to follow it in there.”

He shook his head. “You can’t go in there.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to sense where it is, Michael.”

He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “The things I do for you. All right. Let me see if the coast is clear.”

He ducked into the boys’ locker room while Emily tapped her foot, annoyed at the delay. What if Michael took too long? What if the spirit gave up on showing her the way today?

Then she wondered...what if naked boys filled the room to capacity? Her lips twitched when she thought of sneaking a peek.

Before Michael reappeared, she sensed the spirit nearby. Had it been misleading them until it got her alone? Her racing breath fogged in the air, and she trembled.

The entity moved away.

Torn between following it, or sticking with Michael, Emily tried to examine her options swiftly. If she followed it and she fainted again, she’d need Michael’s help. But if the spirit wouldn’t allow her to pursue it with Michael in tow, then she’d have to go it alone.

Still, she wanted Michael with her. After all, she promised they’d do this together.

She pushed open the door to the boys’ locker room and whispered loudly, “Michael.”

The smell of dirty sneakers and soured socks wafted to her nostrils. The air was heavy and humid, and the sound of showers ran in the background. She feared Michael couldn’t hear her voice.

Cautiously, Emily stepped into the room. A metal labyrinth of wall lockers blocked her view of the showers.

“Michael,” she whispered again.

Her heart beat way too fast and the sound of her blood rushing pell-mell filled her ears. Where in the world was Michael?

She peeked around the corner and caught sight of Rocky inadvertently mooning her when he pulled the towel off his dripping wet body. Whirling around, she ran dead ahead into Red’s chest.

A muffled cry escaped her lips as she squelched the urge to scream out loud. Red grinned evilly.

He grabbed her arms to keep her from running. “Tsk, tsk, look at what we have here.”

She glanced down at his towel, still secured at the waist. “You’re losing your towel.”

As soon as she said it, he grabbed for his towel. She shoved him aside and sprinted for the door. She knew then she’d have to find the spirit without Michael’s assistance.

Slamming the door behind her with a loud metal clunk, Emily leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Her clothes, damp from the sauna-like shower room, crinkled with frost with the spirit’s return.

“Show me the way,” she whispered.

Attempting to follow the spirit proved difficult as it seemed to walk through walls, disappearing from time to time. Then, as if realizing its mistake, it would come back for her.

After several false starts, it brought her to the cafeteria. What could have happened in the cafeteria, of all places?

The chairs rested on top of the tables, waiting patiently for the cleaning crew to mop the floor. Everything was quiet except for the roar of her heart in her ears. Emily’s throat grew dry with fear, and she suddenly wished Michael stood next to her.

Cold air swirled around her, and her breath appeared in icy puffs of smoke.

A misty form appeared like a white shadow of a figure, too hazy to determine whether it was a girl or boy. The spirit moved to one of the tables and hovered. Emily approached cautiously. She was certain it was trying to show her something…some connection it had with the lunchroom.

Suddenly, a chair crashed to the floor, her heart skipped a beat and, she jumped back just in time to avoid being hit. The noise reverberated through the large room. She was certain the chair was the same one that had bumped her before.

“Emily!”

She screamed.

Michael dashed across the cafeteria. He’d nearly given her a heart attack. She took a couple of deep breaths to settle her jumpy stomach.

Michael grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

Before he could scold her, she started in on him. “What in the world happened to you? I didn’t see you anywhere in the boys’ locker…” She quit speaking when his brows rose in surprise. “Well, I mean, the spirit tried to separate us, and I waited, but it wanted me to follow. I didn’t want to go alone.”

He shook his head and folded his arms. “Together, remember? We’re to do this together.”

“What happened to you?”

“Coach Jacobs caught me and tried to convince me to join the swim team.”

Emily glanced down at Michael’s trousers. She wondered what he would have looked like wrapped in only a towel.

“I sure wish I could read your mind, Emily.”

Her face grew hot and her gaze instantly shifted to his face. “What did you say?”

“I wish I could read your—”

“No, to the coach about the swim team.”

He wiggled his brows. “Would you cheer me on?”

“You bet. Are you a good swimmer?”

“Yep. I even served as lifeguard this summer at the public pool.”

“A lifeguard?” Wow, Michael could rescue her any time. “So, how many cute girls faked drowning over the summer to catch your attention?”

His eyes sparkled with a devilish glint. “None. I hate to ask, but did you catch sight of anyone in the locker room, well, rather more importantly, did anyone catch sight of you?”

“No one of consequence.” And she didn’t believe teenaged girls hadn’t tried to get his attention at the pool either.

He shook his head. “Red and his thugs were in there...trying out for the swim team, of all things.”

“Maybe they need to focus some of their terrorist energy into something good.”

“They’d probably try to drown the other team members. I wanted to warn you they were headed for the showers and would soon be leaving the locker room. But the coach caught me and said he wanted to talk.” He frowned. “I never in a million years would have thought you’d enter the boys’ locker room…”

“You were supposed to be my protection.”

“Who saw you in the locker room, Emily?”

Glancing down at the chair resting on its back on the floor, she said, “The ghost did this.”

“Emily? Who saw you?”

She could see he wasn’t going to let her slip by without telling him. “Maybe Rocky saw me. I...he...his backside was turned to me. But when Red spoke to me…”

“Jeez, Emily.”

Shrugging, she righted the chair. “He wore a towel.”

“That’s not what I was worried about.” He groaned and lifted the chair on top of the table.

“It worried me.” She attempted to change the subject again. “The ghost knocked the chair from the table. This is where it wanted me to come.”

“What did Red say to you?”

Inwardly, Emily was amused. “Nothing important. I just told him his towel was slipping, and when he let go of me to grab it—”

“Jeez, Emily. He had hold of you? I can’t leave you alone two seconds without you getting into more trouble.” He grimaced in annoyance. “What about Rocky?”

“He wasn’t exactly dressed, though I imagine he was working pretty hard on it when I ran into Red.”

“Hell, Emily.”

“The ghost, Michael.” She pointed to the chair. “It brought me here and knocked the chair down.”

“So, what does it mean?”

Finally, she got him off the subject of the naked bullies. “I’m not certain. Sometimes I can sense something from an object that’s connected to a spirit.” She reached down and ran her hand over the chair, cold to the touch, then turning warmer. Her lips parted in surprise. Uneasily, she sensed a boy’s body had warmed the chair while he sat during a lunch hour some time before.

Her chest tightened, her breath shortened.

Pain. She felt excruciating sharp pain streaking through her stomach. Leaning over, she wanted to throw up. Her mind blurring, her legs shaking, an overwhelming feeling of sorrow filled her soul when she tried to sort out the spirit’s frustration.

Keeping her from collapsing, Michael grasped her arm. “Emily, what’s the matter? Emily?”

The overriding pain began to fade, along with her vision, her own thoughts, the hum of the fluorescent fixtures overhead.

“Emily,” echoed in her head. “Poisoned,” the voice whispered, angry, vengeful, male. “Find them.”

“Who? Who are you?”

“They killed me. They murdered me because I was different—like you. Find them. Set me free.”

Chapter 10

By the time she seemed aware of her surroundings, Emily was sitting quietly on the chair that she’d said the ghost had knocked off the table in the lunchroom. Michael remained crouched before her, his hands holding hers, the room growing warmer. Even though he’d tried to “rescue” her from the entity at first, he realized she had to do this her way, like his grandmother and he had to when they used their abilities. Still, he wanted to yank her out of this deadly business and take her from here at once.

“It’s…it’s a he and he was poisoned in the cafeteria. He said he wanted me to free him,” Emily whispered, tears in her eyes.

Michael suspected the situation could only get worse. But if someone had murdered a student at school, they probably would find a news report at the main library. How to solve the murder was another story. What if the perpetrators were still at the school? What if they suspected Emily’s meddling and tried to silence her, too?

“Did he say who did it?”

She shook her head. “His thoughts were so scrambled, I barely was able to focus on much more than his saying he was poisoned, and he wanted me to find them. I imagine he means for me to expose who did it so they can face prison time. But he also said he was like me. I think he had special abilities like us.”

The first thing Michael thought of was going to the police, but they had no evidence of anything. Who the perpetrators were, how they did it, when…nothing. Not even an actual death unless they could find proof. Without something more to go on, they couldn’t do anything. Yet, he wanted to hand the whole matter over to the police and let them investigate it.

“Special abilities?” Michael asked Emily, leading her outside to his car.

“I think maybe he could read minds.”

Michael didn’t like the spirit targeting Emily, putting her life at risk. “Is that why he sought your help?”

“Most likely. He must feel I’d sympathize with him more. Or else he knew I’d done this before.”

Wondering how much more he didn’t know about his new girlfriend, Michael drove Emily to the main library. How often did she put ghosts’ spirits to rest? Did this mean he’d have to become her protector while she was Miss Emily Ghostbuster? “You didn’t tell me you’d done this before. Do you think he knows?”

“I’ve always had a connection with the spirit world, Michael.”

She hesitated, wrung her hands and looked out the window, as if there was something more she needed to tell him, but then couldn’t.

“I can’t really explain it, except to say, they like to talk to me. Sometimes they need help in crossing over. Other times they want to stay where they are. But in this case, it’s different. I fear this spirit wants revenge.”

Michael’s skin crawled. He got the same feeling from the entity, the cold, the way it led Emily away from him and got her alone. He didn’t think it only wanted to find solace. Certain it wanted to use Emily to find its killers and bring them to him, Michael was torn. If Emily was to continue to attend school, they had to find a way to get rid of the ghost. But he didn’t want to put her life in danger to do it.

On the drive to the main library, Emily’s feelings still were running amuck while she considered how someone had murdered a teenage boy at the school. How could her life have gotten so complicated? Never before had she had to deal with something this sinister. Teen suicides, ghosts bent on revenge, but only for minor offenses, none where someone had murdered another person. Was it more recent, or long ago? How long had the school been here?

Emily had fully intended to start her new school just like anyone else. But now, she definitely had to ditch her New Year’s resolution. Finding the boy’s killers was her new goal. No one should be able to get away with something so horrible.

Michael pulled into the library parking lot and glanced at Emily. “Tell me how you helped a ghost find peace.”

She cleared her throat. “Well, the most recent case wasn’t anything really. Not like this.” She hadn’t ever planned on telling anyone about the other experience. Not even her parents knew about that.

He nodded.

She sighed, figuring there could be no secrets between Michael and her, not if they had to face lethal spirits together as a team. Except for her death experience. Kids back home who learned of it called her the zombie kid. She just never talked about it to anyone.

“A kid drowned in the high school’s indoor swimming pool. He’d been horsing around with some others. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not like what happened here.”

“But?”

She ran her hands down her denim-covered thighs, trying to wipe away her nervousness. “He felt such remorse for the others getting into trouble over it—three of the boys were suspended from school—he haunted the pool for weeks. I loved swimming there, but the pool was closed down, supposedly for repairs. In reality, the spirit of the dead boy scared everyone away.

“After classes one day, I stole the key to the indoor pool room. I thought maybe I could communicate with him and try to help him leave there in peace.”

The muscles in Michael’s neck tightened. She wished he’d relax, and then maybe she’d feel more comfortable telling the story.

“Yes?” he prompted when she hesitated.

“Well, I hadn’t known him, which in a way helped. I think if I did, I would’ve been pretty emotional. Anyway, I slipped into the pool area and turned on the lights. I sensed his presence at once. Instead of trying to frighten me off, he seemed to realize I wanted to help.

“He appeared in ghost form at the edge of the pool where he had struck his head and died. I stayed with him and talked for over an hour. I told him about the memorial and how much his parents and sister and brother missed him. He wanted me to speak to his friends…the ones he rough-housed with, ultimately causing his death. I had to tell his friends he didn’t hold a grudge against them.”

Up until now, Michael quietly listened, though his eyes darkened, and he seemed pretty intense. “Did they feel he had?”

“Each of the three sought psychological counseling after the incident. It didn’t help that the school had suspended them. They felt they really had caused their friend’s death. Anyway, I took his message to them. At first, they didn’t believe me, until I told them about a party the three were at and some of the things they’d done—movies they’d watched, games they’d played. Still skeptical, they wanted to speak to him through me, egging me on to prove it. I agreed, but I couldn’t let the school administration know. They would’ve sent me to see a psychiatrist.”

Michael shook his head.

What did he think about what she’d done? She couldn’t tell; his face was masked in darkness.

“We sneaked into the pool late one night, and I held a séance. Craig, the boy who’d died, spoke to me. He joked with his friends about things they’d done the previous year. I told them what he said. They knew then it was him because only he could have known all those things. He released his friends from their suffering and bid them farewell forever.”

Michael parked at the main library and turned to Emily, his brow wrinkled with concern. “And?”

“His spirit never haunted the pool again. Eventually the school administration opened the pool and erected a memorial plaque in the boy’s honor. After his friends’ suspension ended, they joined the swim team to become the high school’s best swimmers. And they kept my secret.”

“You told them you could read minds?”

Emily frowned. “Heaven’s no. They only knew I could speak with the dead.”

“But this is different, Emily. In this case the dead boy was murdered.” Michael’s voice conveyed unease.

“Yes, Michael, but I have to help him find solace.” And she would, if she could.

“But whoever did this could still be out there.”

“Most likely.” Which made it imperative she find the killer. What if he did it again because he got away with it the first time? Or what if this hadn’t even been the first?

“What if he’s still at our school?”

That possibility gave her a fresh chill. “Possibly, but maybe not. We don’t know when he was killed. He’s just a shadowy form. I can’t see the clothes he wears. It might have been twenty years ago, for all we know.”

“You can’t get involved.”

She let out a sigh, exasperated she wasn’t able to convince Michael she had no choice. “I am involved. Once a spirit asks for my help, I have to assist them.” She reached for Michael’s hand and squeezed. “But I want you to help me.”

“Granny never told me how difficult being your boyfriend was going to be.”

Hope renewed he would stand by her side, Emily smiled. “Then you’ll help?”

He handed her the class ring from his high school in California. “If you’ll wear my ring.”

Her heart picked up its pace, and Emily turned the gold ring over to read the inscription. Michael Shipley. “Is it magical?” she teased. She could use a protective talisman about now.

“Only if you wear it.” He slipped it onto her finger, making her giddy with delight, and she normally wasn’t the type.

He was asking her to go steady with him? Michael leaned over to kiss her lips. Emily closed her eyes, tilted her chin up, and readied her mind to feel his mouth against hers. Her whole body lifted to a higher plane as his lips warmed hers. His hands fingered her hair while she touched his waist, not sure what else to do with her hands.

When he leaned away from her, she smiled. “I should be jealous, Michael.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, to think you’ve plied so many other girls with your kisses.”

“Why do you think that?” Michael released the copper clip from her hair and ran his fingers through the curls drifting over her shoulder.

“You kiss with such...” She paused trying to think of the perfect word. “…finesse.”

He laughed. “I’m glad you think so. I took classes in it...French classes.”

Tickled by his humor, she shook her head.

“You do realize going steady with me has rules.”

“Oh?” She crossed her arms. This ought to be good. Didn’t he realize she had a mind of her own?

“Yeah.” He tugged at her arm. “Come on. Let’s check out ghosts at the main library.”

Walking up the granite steps, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“You still haven’t told me the rules yet, Michael.”

“No more molesting naked boys in the locker room.”

She stifled a laugh when they entered the library, the only noise that of books being shelved, or pages being flipped by the numerous patrons, and an occasional cough. The smell of freshly oiled floors and dusty books assaulted her.

“I hadn’t intended to do that trick again anytime soon,” Emily whispered. “What else?”

“I like the sentiment on that shirt you’re wearing.” He pointed at the words. “I will not talk to boys. Of course, that goes for only the other guys.”

“That one will be hard to accomplish. That’s why the message fades off into oblivion. Anything else?” Emily asked.

“You don’t try to solve these mysteries on your own.”

When she took a deep breath, he tilted his head down and pulled her close. “I’m serious. We’re in this together.”

“I think the murdered boy only wanted me to get involved. That’s why he led us to the boys’ locker room. He must have assumed you wouldn’t let me go in there.”

“He didn’t know you very well.”

She cleared her throat and a flush of heat traveled across her skin. “Once you disappeared, he showed me the way to the lunchroom.”

“We do this together, Emily.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to include Michael in her investigation. She only worried the ghost wouldn’t allow it. “But if he doesn’t want you to—”

“Together, Emily. If he doesn’t like that I’m your steady guy, he can find someone else to expose his murderers.”

“All right, Michael. Agreed.” She took his hand and led him to the computers for patrons. “Now, for my conditions.”

He chuckled while he checked for library books on pirates.

“You have to promise not to kiss any other girls.”

“Only Granny.”

She poked his shoulder with an accusing finger. “You know what I mean.”

His mouth was cemented in a permanent smile. “I promise.”

“And you can’t talk to other girls.”

He laughed, then pointed to the screen. “Okay, several books on pirates.”

She released his hand and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to check out the obituaries for last year.”

He hopped up from his chair to join her.

“What, Michael? Don’t you trust me?” She teased in part, but another part of her was annoyed he might think she intended to go it alone. Though she had to remind herself he took his knighthood pretty seriously.

“I’ll help you. Two heads are better than one. And remember, with my photographic memory we don’t have to take notes.”

They headed down the stairs to the periodical’s section located in the basement.

“Which means you’ll remember every detail, and I won’t. Then, if I need to know something, I’ll have to ask you.” She tilted her head to the side.

“Yep, just what I had in mind.”

Groaning, she shook her head. Not even her parents supervised her this much. “Did you know you’re a tad controlling?”

“Yeah, but with someone as slippery as you, it’s going to be a real challenge to keep you under control.”

“Slippery? Hmpf, sounds like I’m an eel.”

“Mermaid is more what I was thinking.”

She could live with that.

They pulled out a drawer of microfiche for the previous year’s newspapers and began the tedious search for daily obituaries.

For two hours, they looked through the fiche, only stopping long enough for each to call home to inform Emily’s parents and Michael’s grandmother where they were. When they resumed their search, Michael asked Emily, “Do you want to pick up something at the Burger Stop?”

“Won’t your grandmother miss you eating with her?” She imagined Michael’s grandmother enjoyed sharing meals with Michael, after having been widowed and alone for the last couple of years. Hating to think Granny would have to eat alone…

“She couldn’t wait and fixed herself a grilled cheese sandwich. She’s always hungry right after I get home from school and said for us to grab a bite while we’re out.”

“The Burger Stop it is, then.”

Emily ran her finger along the fiche reader, noticing Michael hadn’t changed to another fiche like he normally did. “Did you find it, Michael?” she asked, her enthusiasm sparked.

“Yeah.” He pushed in a coin and printed off the page. Fresh ink scented the air. “I’ve made a copy for you, so you won’t think I’m so controlling.”

“You’re pretty sweet, Michael, you know?”

She jumped up to get the copy from the machine, but a glint of a red shirt and black denims caught her eye. She turned to see a familiar and unwelcome sight saunter down the stairs into the library’s basement.

Dread colored her perception. She steeled her back, wore an imperious face, and made her stand.

Red, and his two thug companions, Daniel and Rocky, eyed them as if pure evil filled their thoughts.

Chapter 11

Despite fortifying her feelings, Emily’s blood chilled when Red and his companions headed in their direction. She knew they couldn’t do anything to Michael or her in the library, because there were several older patrons checking out the genealogy records or magazines and newspapers, except maybe to attempt to terrorize them. Still, she didn’t want them to know what she and Michael were researching. For that matter, she didn’t want anyone knowing what they were up to.

She grabbed the copy of the obituary and shoved it into her purse. “Red and his buddies are here, Michael,” she whispered.

He refiled the fiche. “We’re done here anyway.” As if he could read her mind, he hurried to hide what they researched. He draped his arm over her shoulder. “Let’s go upstairs and find some fun reading material.”

“Ghost stories?”

“Yep. And a pirate’s tale or two.”

Red drew close, then shoved into Michael’s shoulder.

Emily glared at Red, wrinkled her forehead, and quirked a brow. Red tripped over his feet and fell on his face. A slew of curses streamed from his mouth.

Michael pulled Emily toward the stairs. “You shouldn’t antagonize them, Emily.”

She glanced back at Red and his friends. All heads turned in her direction as Red hurriedly got to his feet. “Listen, Michael, it doesn’t make any difference. They’re bullies and no matter how nice you are to someone like them, they’re going to be nasty back. The only thing that will stop them is a bigger bully who beats the tar out of them. That’s all it would take to make them quit.”

“I don’t think I fit that job very well.”

She smiled. “No, you’re a sweet-hearted diplomat. Not lion-hearted in the least bit.”

He grabbed his chest as they approached the bookshelves. “You’ve wounded me deeply, fair maiden.”

“I like that you’re not an aggressive, overbearing lout.”

“Just a bit controlling.”

“Only in a protective sort of way. Let’s find some ghost stories.”

After searching for sometime, they found four books on Florida pirates and three on ghosts in the region. With books in hand, they walked to the checkout counter. Then she formulated a plan. While Michael handed his card to the clerk, Emily filled out a library card request form.

If Red and the others continued to stalk Michael and her, what if she led them to the lunchroom? Maybe she could transfer the dead boy’s feelings of frustration over to Red. Hmm, she’d never done anything like that before. Could she do it?

It was worth a try. Maybe the dead boy would frighten Red so he’d leave her alone. Could the spirit be her bully hero? The clerk handed her a new card.

“What are you thinking?” Michael asked, looping his arm through Emily’s. “I could tell by the way you were smiling in an evil way you contemplated something.”

“What I’d eat at the Burger Stop.”

“A burger.”

He walked her out to the car. The black car painted in flames sat next to his vehicle, and Emily shuddered. Red watched them from the entrance of the library, his face hard.

Michael opened Emily’s car door.

She gave Red an irritated look, but didn’t like the fact his gang now had an additional member. “I wonder who the kid is who’s driving those creeps everywhere.”

“Another bully, no doubt.”

“Or someone they’re bullying.” Which meant maybe they needed to rescue him, too.

“I’ll try to find out. So, what were you thinking about in the library?”

Afraid he’d object to her plan, she hated to mention it. “Michael, you’d think you could read my mind by the way you question me.”

“If I could read your mind, I wouldn’t have to ask you the question.”

Smart aleck.

“I had the notion I could get Red to follow me into the lunchroom after school tomorrow and transfer the ghost’s frustrations to Red’s subconscious. Maybe scare him, and he’ll leave us alone.”

“No.”

“See if I ever tell you my brilliant plans again.” Emily leaned back against the soft car seat and breathed in the fine aroma of new leather.

“Have you ever transferred a spirit’s thoughts to the living?”

“No.”

“Then what makes you think you can do it now?”

She shrugged. “I thought it was worth a try.”

“You know the old saying, fighting fire with fire.”

“You’re right. I need to douse him with water. Just like the wicked witch of the West, or was it the East, you know, Wizard of Oz?”

“Right.”

When they parked at the Burger Stop, Michael paused before he left the car. “I wonder if they’ll follow us here.”

“Maybe. I think they’re attempting to intimidate us.”

When they entered the restaurant, he stood taller. “Do you think I’m not lion-hearted enough?”

She wrapped her arm around his waist. “You’re perfect, Michael. Just the way I like my guys.”

“Guys?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. What makes you think I didn’t have lots of boyfriends back home?”

“You’d never been kissed.”

An elderly couple smiled at her, and Emily’s cheeks warmed. Enough of that topic for the moment.

He kissed her cheek. “Your blush tells me the truth.”

Hadn’t he embarrassed her enough for one day?

After they got their cheeseburgers, they took seats by one of the glass windows. As soon as they scooted into the booth, Red and his gang drove into the parking lot.

Totally exasperated, Emily shook her head. “They don’t know when to quit.” She wasn’t going to sit back and let them annoy Michael and her anymore though.

She concentrated on Daniel. While the other boys tried to look really tough walking into the restaurant, their chests puffed full of air, strutting like a bunch of roosters, she made Daniel stay behind. Then she had him pull out his knife and let the air out of the black car’s tires. One, two, three, four. He repocketed his knife and joined his gang, never aware he’d even done the deed.

Michael concentrated on the gang inside, unaware of what Emily had been up to. “Do you have any homework tonight?”

“Not me. What about you?”

They finished their burgers, then walked out to his Neon. She glanced at the black car, the tires flat. Shifting her attention to Michael, she hoped he wouldn’t notice the thugs’ vehicle. She really didn’t want to explain how the tires got that way.

“No. I imagine they’ll pile it on for the weekend.”

That notion didn’t thrill her. “We can each take some of the library books, read them tonight, and share what we learned tomorrow. Or, we can swap them out with each other just in case we missed anything. On second thought, with your photographic memory you probably wouldn’t overlook anything.”

“About the obituary, Emily...”

She climbed into the car. “Yeah, I haven’t looked at it yet. While you drive, I’ll read.”

After fastening her seatbelt, she pulled out the obituary. Dreading the details, she unfolded the paper.

Michael remained silent as he drove. Emily took a ragged breath and read the announcement.

ARMANDO GOMEZ, seventeen, of 32 Landover Rd, Merritt Island, died March 3. Funeral 4 p.m., Thursday, March 6 at S.M. Sloan and Sons Funeral Home with Reverend D.K. Finch officiating. Interment will be in Sweethaven Cemetery.

Disappointed at the lack of details, Emily folded the paper back up. “I don’t understand. The news was dated last year. But how and where did he die? What makes you think he’s the one? We still don’t know a whole lot.”

“When Red arrived, I found a newspaper article concerning Armando’s death, but didn’t have time to print it out.”

“Oh, Michael,” Emily moaned, exasperated that the only important piece of evidence was back at the library.

“I memorized it.”

She’d never get used to that fact he could do that. “Shoot, why didn’t you say so?” If he wasn’t driving, she would slug him for keeping her in suspense.

“Armando Gomez died in our high school cafeteria after ingesting poison. Investigators questioned the students and staff, but no one could discover who poisoned his food. If anyone held a real grudge against him, nobody was talking. Apparently, he kept to himself, though some of the kids thought he acted weird sometimes…angry, sullen. Police had no suspects and no leads at the time the article was written.”

Emily ran her hands over her lap trying to warm fingers that had suddenly grown cold. “Then it has to be someone at our school.”

“Someone who attended last year. They may no longer go to our school.”

“Whoever it was did it because Armando could read minds, I bet.” She hated how mean kids could be when someone was different.

“Yeah. You said yourself whoever killed him did it because they knew about his abilities.”

“That’s what he said.” But had he lied? Was there another reason someone murdered him?

Michael pulled up to a red light and turned to Emily. “It would have helped if he could have told us who murdered him.”

“His mind drifts between extreme hatred and frustration. If he could kill the kids who cut his life short, he would. Either he doesn’t know who did it for sure, or he was unable to focus on who they were when he tried to show me where it happened. In any event, I haven’t a clue. Not yet. But maybe tomorrow—”

“You’re not going to try to slip his thoughts into Red’s subconscious.”

She sighed heavily. “I probably can’t do it anyway. But I want to learn more from the ghost. Maybe now that we know what killed him and who he was, we can get him to focus on who did it. Oh, and shoot, Michael, we didn’t look for anything on the girl ghost.”

“I don’t see how we could find out about her unless we have a little more to go on. A name? When? Where she died?”

“In the swamps, I think.”

“What if nobody knew she died there? There wouldn’t be any news about it. You think she’s our age, but she might not be. It might have happened several years ago.”

Emily took an unsettled breath. “You’re right, of course. But you know, Michael? I think she warned me about Armando, that he was the danger at school and not the bullies. In which case, she must have known him, most likely went to our school, was probably his age, and may have been killed by the same person.”

“Are you sure you don’t have some genius tendencies?”

She rolled her eyes. “What if the ghost girl knew who the killer was, told Armando, and the murderer silenced him, then her? Or maybe she knew who killed Armando, and the killer terminated her. Or…”

Michael pulled into Emily’s drive. “Your Caddy’s gone.” His voice sounded a trifle surprised.

At first, she figured her mother had called a tow truck to haul it off to a shop for repairs. But before she could respond, Michael turned to look at the wetlands across the street. His face turned grim, a little gray, and he reached out to take her hand. A sickening feeling flooded her, that he knew something horrible, and she was sure she didn’t want to hear the revelation.

“It’s...it’s dead in the swamp,” he warned.

She peered at the wetlands, but didn’t see any sign of her car. Had Michael envisioned it—had a premonition, seen anything more, like how it got there?

She blinked tears back, suppressing the upset. Then anger filled her with such rage she wanted to kill them, every last one of the demon seeds, and she grabbed the car door to jerk it open.

Chapter 12

Michael’s stomach soured when he envisioned Emily’s Caddy destroyed somewhere in the swamp. He could see the battered vehicle had been beaten without mercy. When the vision faded, he saw Emily’s face had turned as pale as when the spirit had iced her. Tears filled her eyes and her nose reddened, and she was on the brink of crying. Wishing he hadn’t been the bearer of bad tidings, he held her hand tightly. She was ready to bolt from the car, and he couldn’t let her. Not until he was sure she wouldn’t do anything foolish.

If he could, he’d have made everything right for her. Her Caddy would be sitting in the driveway, decrepit thing though it was. But it was her car, just the same. Her property, and no one had the right to mess with it.

He patted her hand, but she seemed a million miles away. He was sure her thoughts bordered on vengeance, and he was certain he knew just whom she would target. Though he didn’t have any doubts Red and his bully friends trashed her car. What made them the monsters they were? It appeared Emily was right. Mediation wouldn’t work with these guys.

What made his spine tingle with fresh worry was the thought they’d go after Emily next. Destroying her car wouldn’t be enough.

“Come on, Emily,” he coaxed, trying to snap her out of it, and to his guarded relief, she let go of the door handle and seemed to be resigned to the fact her car was gone.

But was it just a ploy?

*  *  *

Emily silently fumed. Red and his thugs had dumped her Caddy in the swamp. She just knew it. “You saw it in a vision?” she asked Michael, who held her hand in a death grip, and she released the door handle with her other.

“Yeah. I don’t know how they did it. They must have gotten it started and drove it in as far as they could. It’s pretty badly beaten up. They sheared off several saplings before they hit an old, well-rooted mango tree.”

She gritted her teeth, trying to stop the tears. The car didn’t run half the time, but it didn’t matter. It was her grandparents’, the only thing she had to remember them by. And now the demon seeds had destroyed it.

“Do you see that they truly totaled it, Michael?” She choked on the words, not wanting to hate anyone as much as she did them, but she couldn’t help it. Most of all, her mind didn’t want to accept that Michael could envision her car wrecked in the swamps, though in her heart she believed him.

He leaned over and kissed her wet cheek. “We’ll report it to the police.”

The police would never catch the devils that did it. She would make them pay.

“Emily?” He wiped away her tears, then pulled her close. “We’ll make them see justice.”

Behind bars, that’s where they belonged. All three of them, and the driver of the flaming car, too, if he had anything to do with destroying her grandparents’ car.

“Emily.” He tugged on her hand, but she barely noticed.

Emily sobbed aloud, partly upset with the way she acted toward her grandparents’ gift to her, but mostly because she was fried about Red’s undoubted duplicity in the senseless act. She couldn’t make any promises to Michael. No matter what, she would stop Red before he did something truly evil, more so than he had already done.

“I’m okay, Michael.” She said the words, but her heart didn’t feel the sentiment. Twisting his ring around her finger gave her some comfort, but she couldn’t look him in the eye.

He lifted her chin. “Come on, Emily. I’ll talk to your parents.”

“They’re at a party. They won’t be home until much later this evening.”

Michael tilted his head back and didn’t say anything for a moment. “All right, then you’re coming home with me.” He backed out of the drive and pulled into his grandmother’s. “I don’t want you to be home alone. We can call the police from my house.”

“But you haven’t okayed it with your grandmother.”

He waved at the window where his grandmother peeked through the blinds. “She’s expecting you. And I imagine she’ll have a nice lemon meringue pie made for dessert. She usually makes them on Tuesdays.” He patted his firm stomach. “She tells me all the time how she has to keep me satisfied.”

Emily sniffled. “Okay.” But she didn’t feel okay. She wanted to look for her car, and she wanted revenge.

Michael grabbed their book bags and walked with Emily to the door. His grandmother opened it before Emily touched the knob.

To Emily’s surprise, Granny wrapped her arms around Emily and gave her a warm embrace. “I’ve called the police, dear. They’ll be here in a little while.” She gave her another squeeze, brought her into the den, and made her sit on the sofa. “You never need an invitation from me. My home is Michael’s, too, and you’re always welcome.”

“Did you see what happened to the car?”

Michael sat beside Emily on the loveseat while his grandmother reclined in what appeared to be her favorite chair.

“No, I’m sorry. I must have taken a nap. Later, I chanced to look out the window and the car was gone. I thought maybe one of your parents had taken it out.” Before Emily could speak, his grandmother shook her head. “But then I read your mind, dear, and realized at once what had happened. So I called the police.” Granny glanced at Michael. “The two of you have been busy.”

“Yes, well, Emily’s run into some problems with the spirit of—”

“Armando, yes.” Granny rubbed her forehead. “And you’ve had some problems with this Red character and his friends.”

“Thugs.” Wishing she could stop the tears, Emily dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“Yes, well, I ought to send Roberts after them.”

Emily’s concern instantly shifted from her car to Granny’s troubles. “Roberts?”

“The pirate who pushed me off my boat.”

“The ghost?” Emily asked, her voice incredulous. Had Granny had more dealings with him? Why hadn’t she told Emily before this? Her mind swirled with confusion. “A pirate?” The treasure.

“Claims my sailboat is his.”

“How do you know? I mean, he told you?” Emily blinked with surprise. Things were getting weirder. The spirits plagued poor Granny now. And here she was all alone without Michael to protect her.

Granny smiled and immediately Michael perked up. “What’s Emily thinking?”

Emily slapped his knee. “Quit asking your grandmother about all my secrets.”

Granny’s face grew darker. “He called me a wench…told me to stay away from the ship. ‘No wench ever sailed the seas with me before, nor would any now.’ That’s what he said.”

“That does it.” Michael stood. “We sell the sailboat.”

“I won’t sell the boat because some blasted pirate is a male chauvinist pig.”

Emily laughed. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t expect Granny to call anyone a chauvinist pig.

Michael frowned at her, then said to his grandmother, “If he pushed you before, he’ll do it again.”

Now, it seemed Michael believed in ghosts. Emily crushed the tissue in her fist. How difficult would it be to deal with a pesky pirate ghost?

Granny folded her arms obstinately. “I won’t be pushed around by some rum-guzzling, murderous pirate.” She turned her attention to Emily. “Yes, I’d love to go to the haunted restaurant, if my grandson won’t mind his old granny joining you on your date.”

Michael changed the subject back to the boat. “We don’t use the sailboat. The longer it sits and weathers in the canal, the harder it’ll be to sell it. We should—”

“I’m not selling it.”

Michael let out his breath and sounded mega exasperated. “Why not? You haven’t given me one good reason why—”

“Emily knows. Ask her.”

Emily swallowed hard, thoughts shifting from her own grandparents’ car to Granny’s deceased husband’s boat. “The boat meant something special to your grandfather. Keeping it makes Granny feel she’s still got a part of him with her. It’s like the Caddy was for me.”

The doorbell rang and Emily cried out.

“The police,” Michael said, patting Emily’s leg, his expression turning sympathetic. He headed for the door.

“You don’t have to sell the sailboat, Granny, if you don’t want. Maybe we can make the ghost disappear instead.”

“Like you plan to do with Armando’s spirit?”

“I want to help him find comfort.” She did, really. She hated to think someone had been murdered and couldn’t find peace. “He’s angry and—”

“And deadly.” Granny’s words were filled with dread.

“He wouldn’t hurt me.” Emily touched her skin where he’d given her frostbite. At least she didn’t think he would, or could, but the cold still lurked in her bones.

Granny shook her head. “He would do anything in his power to get back at the kids who murdered him. If it means using you to do so, he will. He’s an ice cold entity with only hatred in his soul.”

“Yes,” Emily whispered, realizing as much as she wanted to think otherwise Granny was probably right.

“He warned you once how powerful he could be. I doubt he’ll give you another warning.”

“But I only want to help him.”

“Yes, but he only cares about revenge. He feels nothing for anyone.”

“Granny, can you help put ghosts to rest?”

“Some, but not well. You seem to have a gift to deal with them. More than not, I seem to annoy them. At least, the pirate Roberts really dislikes me.”

Before Emily could offer her help, Michael returned with two uniformed officers. But the grim look on his face made her think he had overheard their conversation. Or had something else occurred?

“The police officers want to speak to you both about the car. I’ve told them everything I know.” His eyes remained focused on Emily’s, as if trying to read her intentions.

“About Red and his buddies?” Emily blurted.

“Yeah. And about them stalking us.”

Emily sighed deeply. Without evidence, the officers couldn’t pin the crime on the bullies, but at least the boys’ actions would now be recorded in the police records.

“Michael tells us you had some problems with these boys the first day of school,” the tallest officer said, pulling out a writing pad, his black bushy brows furrowed, his matching mustache hiding his upper lip.

“Yes. The one called Red wouldn’t let me sit on one of the seats on the school bus. I pushed his feet off the seat. When we got to the school, he hit me in the shoulder with his fist.”

“And?” the officer asked, jotting down notes.

“It didn’t seem to satisfy him. He’s wanted revenge ever since.”

The officer nodded. “Most likely if the kid and his buddies are troublemakers, there’ll be more reports.” He flipped his book closed. “We’ll check for the car at first light.”

Michael saw them to the door while Granny slipped into the kitchen, promising to bring back of slice of pie for them, but Emily wasn’t hungry. Instead, she waited for Michael’s return, anticipating it with dread. She knew he would give her an ultimatum.

When he returned to the room, he towered over her and rested his hands on his hips. “You won’t help Armando’s spirit any longer. It’s too dangerous.”

Emily whispered, “You don’t understand. A part of him is inside of me now. I have to help him…or die trying...”

Chapter 13

Michael knew from the first moment he saw the redhead she was trouble, even though she’d been a brunette when he first saw her, which had confused him later.

From the beginning he wanted to be the one to keep Emily out of it. But from the sketchy premonitions he had of the danger she faced, he never envisioned she’d have such a dangerous mission to undertake.

Michael folded his arms and pursed his lips. “How long have you known, Emily?”

“I...I didn’t know until your Granny told me. I mean, she made me realize...I mean, I didn’t know...”

He looked over at his grandmother, who walked into the room with plates of creamy pie.

“She didn’t know what she was getting into, Michael. The two of you will have to take me into school tomorrow for show-and-tell.” His grandmother winked, and he raised his brows. “She can’t handle him alone. But two of us may be able to help him if we work together to focus good against evil.”

No way. He wasn’t letting Emily get close to that icy devil again. And he didn’t want his grandmother to come to any harm either. “No, Granny, she can’t—”

His grandmother pointed at the pie. “Eat. She can’t return to school if she doesn’t try to save his soul. So what would you have her parents do? Move? There’s not another high school in the area. She can’t avoid him. He’s touched her soul. His icy grip made her pass out, but more importantly, he took hold of her when she was most vulnerable. She couldn’t fight his presence, and he’ll use her to get to the ones who murdered him, even if it kills her.” She gave Emily a stern look. “There’s something more you’re not telling us, isn’t there, dear?”

Emily frowned, but looked genuinely puzzled, as if she hadn’t a clue. And then her lips parted slightly.

Michael sank into the couch next to Emily. He took her hand and held on tight. “What, Emily?”

“I…I died once.”

In disbelief, he stared at her. “When, how, what happened?”

She took a deep breath and pursed her lips. “When I was six. I drowned in a neighbor’s pool. So I was told. I don’t remember drowning. Thankfully, I never had a fear of the water afterward, but I saw them. For the first time. Some seemed curious. Some wanted me to go with them, held out their arms, or a hand to me, but others distanced themselves, as if I wasn’t exactly one of them. As if I didn’t belong.”

“Jeez, Emily. How long were…were you dead?” Michael asked, rubbing her chilled fingers.

“Long enough. I heard them pronounce me dead, my mother crying, my dad comforting her, tears in his eyes. I didn’t understand why they were so upset. And I saw the light. It was ghostly, warm, welcoming. But then I felt the pull back to my body, felt the cold, the clamminess, and then nothing again. Before the hospital even released me, I began seeing people drifting in and out of the room. My mother didn’t see them. They looked real to me and when I watched them come and go and asked my mother who they were, she grew scared, thinking I had suffered brain damage. But they were just spirits who had died in the hospital and hadn’t found a way home. They were curious about me. Sometimes I feel an eerie presence, but nothing more, like cold spots and then it vanishes. Other times it’s like the spirit wants help, and I’ll see just a hazy vision of them, other times, as if he or she were standing in front of me for real.”

Frowning, Michael turned to his grandmother. “What can I do to help?”

“First, you have to quit thinking about Emily so much.”

Didn’t his grandmother have a less improbable suggestion? He squeezed Emily’s hand. “You can read my mind now, Granny?”

“No, Michael. But you usually tell me all of the premonitions you’re having...several times a day. Since you met Emily, you haven’t been having them, have you?”

His grandmother was right. His premonitions had nearly died away, except when he tried to force them. “Just about her going into the swamp, and the other about her getting off the school bus alone. Well, and about her being hurt by the entity and the car being wrecked in the swamp.”

“But nothing at night or in between.”

“No.”

Granny looked at his class ring on Emily’s finger. “You’ll protect Emily, too, but you need to focus on your premonitions. Anything that can aid us.”

Michael hmpfed under his breath. “I can’t see what the two of you can. And besides, Emily says I don’t have the heart of a lion.”

His grandmother gave him a small smile. “No, and you don’t need one, either. Armando is bright. He’s been waiting for a student like Emily to come along. Someone who’s sensitive and desirous of helping others. He must have known she helped spirits find peace before. He probably realizes she wishes to aid the ghost that haunts her dreams now, and using this knowledge he attempted to secure her help. But he also understands she’s linked with you.” She paused to study Emily. “He appears to be afraid of the bond you and Emily share because it makes you stronger than him. He tested you by separating the two of you earlier today. If you stay together, he can’t break the connection.”

“But why do you need to be there, too?” he asked, not sure his grandmother could handle the strain.

“She’ll have to use her mind to find out who poisoned him, but he doesn’t want her just to expose them. He wants them dead, and Emily can force them to kill themselves. He’s seen her control Red before. And he has every intention of making her do his work for him because he can’t eliminate them in his spirit form.” Granny cut into her pie. “But if I’m there to help, Emily and I can probably coerce him to give up the names of his murderers. Once we know who they are, and we make it known to the authorities, maybe we can help release his spirit from our world. I doubt he can fight both of us at once.”

It was all fine and good that his grandmother thought they had everything well in hand, but he wasn’t sure Granny was right. “But what will I do?”

“You’ll do what you have to do. No matter what happens, you’ll protect Emily. The bond can’t be broken.”

“Can she stay with us tonight? She says she can’t sleep because the ghost girl haunts her dreams.”

Granny shook her head and turned her attention to Emily. “She warns you, doesn’t she, Emily? She told you about the trouble you’d have in school.”

Emily touched her temple and narrowed her eyes while she stared at the floor. “At first, I thought she tried to warn me about the boys on the bus. But now I think it might have been Armando. If it was, then did whoever kill him, also murder her?”

His grandmother took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Ask her about him. I assume she knows him all too well.”

*  *  *

Later that night, Emily lay in her bed waiting for the ghostly girl to visit, while the lamp cast a soft light in the room. First, she wanted to ask about the pirate, hoping the girl could give her some clues about him. Emily had to help poor Granny deal with him before he harmed her again.

When the ghost girl appeared, Emily was ready. The window opened slowly. The hot, muggy air blew into the room in a steady breeze. The spirit wavered beside the white curtains, a shadow of a girl, nothing more.

Emily sat up straighter in bed. “What do you know about the treasure in the swamps?”

The girl seemed to look straight through Emily, silent as death.

Emily feared either the ghostly girl didn’t know about the pirate ghosts, or wasn’t interested. “Was it from Spanish galleons? The ones that sank during the hurricane off the coast of...”

The girl’s face contorted, but she didn’t speak.

But Emily suspected she had to know something. “Who are you?”

“Roberta Menendez.” The name echoed in Emily’s head, and she felt a mixture of hope and sadness that the girl’s life had been cut so short.

“Roberta, I’ve seen the gold. You’ve shown it to me.”

A hint of a smile touched the ghost’s lips.

Something wasn’t right.

“Roberta, are you the one the pirates curse, the wench they grumble about?”

Again, the ghost seemed amused.

“Why?”

“The treasure’s gone.”

Trying to recollect the images in her dreams, Emily rubbed her temple. “I’ve seen it. You’ve led me to it. It’s sitting on a lump of land somewhere in the swamp.”

“Gone.”

Unable to keep from frowning, Emily tried to make sense of Roberta’s words. The treasure was there. She saw gold bullions and coins galore, and even now could visualize it in her mind.

“I make you see it.”

Because she was a ghost? No, ghosts couldn’t…how could she do that? “It’s not there?” Emily couldn’t believe the treasure that seemed so real didn’t exist.

“Stolen.”

“So, it was there at one time?”

Roberta didn’t respond, just watched her, waiting.

“But it wasn’t a hurricane that...”

A flash of anger crossed Roberta’s face.

Not a hurricane. But what? Emily stared at her comforter, considering the scenario, then looked up at Roberta. “They’re pirates. They stole the gold from a Spanish galleon?”

The ghost’s face remained impassive. Emily assumed she guessed right. But why would Roberta be so angered about the pirates stealing from a Spanish galleon, unless...

“Did you descend from the early Spaniards?”

She bowed her head slightly. “My ancestor was captain of the ship that Captain Roberts attacked. He killed the whole crew. Captain Menendez’s ship’s log was eventually recovered and returned to the family. They caught and hanged some of the pirate’s crew. Captain Roberts and a few of his men made it this far.” A wispy brow rose and Roberta’s lips curved upward. “During a storm, he was separated from his men. A fever took their miserable lives.”

“You make them see the treasure?”

“And make it vanish.”

No wonder Roberta had angered them.

“Do they think you’re a witch?”

Looking pleased with herself, Roberta nodded.

“What would happen if I help you to find eternal peace? The ghosts would vanish, too, wouldn’t they?”

Shaking her head, Roberta said, “They can’t leave without their Captain. Leaderless, lost, they’re like a bunch of ragged sheep.”

“Is he the one who’s in Granny’s backyard?”

“Clinging to the sailboat, his latest conquest. Forever, they’ll rot here. Forever.”

Emily realized then Roberta had her own revenge issues to deal with. If Emily could… She erased the thought from her mind, not wanting Roberta to read it.

Switching to the problem with the school menace, Emily asked, “How do you know Armando?”

“Armando.”

“Yes, Armando. How do you know him?”

Only the fluttering of the curtains whipping against the window frame made a sound. Otherwise, quiet pervaded the room.

“He’ll take my life when he uses me to kill those who murdered him,” Emily said, hoping to solicit Roberta’s help.

Still, there was no response.

“What do you know about him?”

“Armando.” Roberta spoke his name in soft anguish.

“You loved him?” Chill bumps ran down Emily’s arms.

Roberta nodded, sausage curls of semi-transparent black hair rolling over her shoulders. She seemed less transparent, wearing a blue T-shirt, blue jeans, and sandals, looking like a typical teen.

“They killed him. Do you also want those who murdered him to die for what they did?”

“For me.”

“What?” Emily wasn’t sure if her mind played tricks on her, or if she heard the spirit correctly.

Taking a steadying breath, Emily took another tack. “Roberta, Armando was killed because of you?”

Emily could have sworn tears appeared in the ghost’s dark brown eyes. She tried to sort out Roberta’s responses. They killed Armando because of her, for her. What did it mean? Had Armando loved her, and they didn’t want him to? Was it someone in her family, someone who still went to the school, someone who killed her for seeing Armando? An old boyfriend of hers and his gang who killed them both?

“Armando.”

“Who killed you, Roberta?”

Silence. Would Emily be unsuccessful getting the ghost girl to give up her secrets, too? Why wouldn’t she tell her? Who was she protecting?

“Armando.”

Emily’s body peppered with perspiration. Her heart rate increased. “Armando killed you?” She whispered the words in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Why, Roberta, why?” Emily’s voice trembled and her body shook. Her first thought when she sensed Armando’s spirit was that he was evil. But then she had doubts. Now what was she to do? If he had killed Roberta, and the others took his life in revenge…

She rubbed her temple in frustration. Roberta was who she needed to save. She’d assumed it from the beginning, but she’d hoped she could save Armando also. “I want to help you. Of all of these people, you’re the only one who deserves better. Can you tell me why Armando killed you?”

She floated over to the bed and touched Emily’s forehead, leaving an icy imprint.

“He could read minds?”

She nodded as if in slow motion.

“Could you read minds, too?”

Again, she nodded.

Emily felt chilled to the bone. That’s why Roberta could transfer the image of the gold chest to the pirates’ minds. She had the same abilities as Emily had. “You knew Armando planned on doing something. The ones who came for him knew he had the ability. What had he planned on doing?”

“He loved me.”

“Yes.” But how could he have, if he had been such a monster to have killed her? The fine hairs on Emily’s arms stood.

“His parents didn’t want him to see me.”

“But why did he kill you? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I could see what he had in mind to do. I tried to stop him.” She bowed her head as if the deed had just been done, and it was too horrible to witness.

“You got in his way,” Emily said, her voice hushed, realizing now there was even more of a reason for Armando to use her—to somehow reach his beloved Roberta.

“He loved me.”

“Filled with rage, he killed his parents, and he killed you, too, accidentally.”

“I couldn’t have lived with him after what he’d done. He didn’t mean to kill me. Not me. But I couldn’t have lived with what he’d done.”

Emily sat in her bed, totally confused. “How can I help you?”

The ghost floated to the window.

The swamps. Armando must have left her body in the swamps. Emily had to find Roberta’s body and have her properly buried.

Emily jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and stuck her feet into a pair of running shoes. Grabbing up her portable phone, she dialed Michael’s phone number.

To her surprise, Granny answered.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Emily said, fully intending to tell her it was a wrong number. What would his grandmother think of her calling at such a late hour?

“I’ll send Michael right over, dear. He’s getting dressed. Nope, he just ran out the front door. Be careful, the two of you.”

How could they…Granny read her mind. And Emily’s hero was on his way to join her. As soon as she set the phone down, a knock resounded on the front door, and she hurried outside to find Michael standing on her front porch. A slight shadow of dark brown stubble outlined his face, and his hair stood on end in places.

She smiled. “You look pretty good despite just having fallen out of bed.”

He shook his head. “The things I do for you.”

A muffled chuckle escaped her lips, and she took his hand as he turned on a flashlight. “How did you know?”

“Granny told me to shut off my feelings for you. But I couldn’t. Instead, I concentrated on them harder. That’s when I saw the ghost girl speaking to you. I had a devil of a time forcing myself to listen to the whole bizarre conversation without racing over here to make sure you didn’t run off into the swamps without me.”

“You could hear my conversation and actually see her?”

“Yeah, it was really weird.” He reached up and touched Emily’s unbound hair.

“I’ll say. Besides, I told you I wasn’t doing anything without you.”

“Well, I can never be sure. If you hadn’t gotten a hold of me…” He shrugged.

They dashed across the street, then slowed their pace when the solid earth gave way to wet, swampy ground. Sloshing through the wetlands, they soaked their sneakers in the warm water.

Emily tried to ignore her rising panic...the slithering of rattlesnakes and water moccasins swimming around them in winding paths, and the alligators lurking nearby, their tails’ swishing back and forth as they swam...somewhere in the dark.

Michael leaned over and whispered, his breath tickling her ear, “Where is she?”

“Turn your light toward the ground, Michael.”

Emily concentrated for several seconds on a speck of light in the gloom ahead, then pointed in front of them. “Dead ahead.”

Chapter 14

Michael knew Emily would be a handful, but he never expected to be slogging through swamps in the middle of the night chasing down ghosts. As soon as he heard the girl spirit “speaking” to Emily, his heart raced as if he were running for the Gold.

He still couldn’t figure out how he managed to hear them, though he suspected it had something to do with the special bonding Emily and he shared.

Vigilant, he kept a lookout for anything dangerous in the swamp. Being in the noisy muck in the pitch black night—except for the flashlight that pricked a meager stream of wavering light into the dark—was enough to turn his blood to ice.

Every splash in the water that wasn’t made by their own sloshing signaled danger. Michael gripped Emily’s hand tighter, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly lose her in a sinkhole, or quicksand. Normally not a fearful person, the notion that fangs from a water moccasin might dig into their legs, or the teeth of an alligator might take a bone-crushing bite, then yank them under the water, spinning into a death roll to remove chunks of edible meat, sent a shiver down his back.

Yet, Emily showed no fear while she searched for signs of the ghost. Was it because her intentions were so goodhearted, she couldn’t leave the spirit to suffer any longer? Or was she simply driven to seek her out? He still wasn’t certain the ghost girl didn’t want to harm Emily. How could they fight her if she did try something? Michael snorted under his breath, hoping Emily knew what she was doing and that they’d make their way out of the swamp safely.

It smelled like rotten eggs, muck, decaying matter, all rolled up into a heated mass, rotting earlier in the sun. Only now in the dark, the heat was still stifling, the water bathtub warm, the cicadas, toads, and crickets singing in their noisy way while a hot breeze rustled through pine branches and palmetto fronds.

Before this, Michael thought his visions were unsettling.

“Are we almost there, Emily?” he whispered as if he might awaken the dead, or alert a hungry alligator that feeding time in the swamps was about to begin.

Emily knew she had to go further into the wetlands to find where the ghost girl’s remains had been left. What she didn’t expect was the sight of her Caddy sitting deep in the muck, beaten to death by the demon seeds.

It drew her like a whale beached on the shore, unable to survive, calling out to be saved.

“Emily,” Michael whispered while she pulled him toward the white metal scrap heap. “The ghost girl. We’ll tell the police your car’s here in the morning. But we’ve got to find Roberta’s remains.”

Emily ignored Michael’s voice of reason as she closed in on the car. She touched the rear bumper and stifled a sob. As much as it didn’t work half of the time, as much as she didn’t like the smell of smoke that permeated the worn leather seats, the car was hers. Had been hers.

No one had the right to destroy it so cruelly. She couldn’t help the hate surging through her veins.

“Emily,” Michael said, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.

He broke the spell and she looked up at him, his face shadowed in darkness, his eyes nearly black they were so dark with concern.

She wiped a fresh set of tears from her cheeks. “I’m all right,” she said, although she was far from all right. Her grandparents’ car had been trashed. They stood in a dangerous swamp in the middle of the night. And somewhere nearby lay the remains of a girl murdered by her own boyfriend.

Emily focused on the visions she had. Roberta had brought her here so many times in the past few nights. The pirate’s treasure remained the key. Where was it? The gold bullion and coins in the wooden chest? Roberta made her see it for a reason. Why? Because that’s where her remains were? Close to where the treasure was before it was found and removed?

Twisting her head, Emily considered the placement of the trees and knew this was where she walked those restless nights through Roberta’s eyes. Here in the swampy terrain...and at the end of the walk, she always stood next to the pirate’s chest.

Emily turned toward where the light had been; Roberta was no longer there. Then something moved in the water to the right of her car.

The light reappeared.

Emily slogged through the scum-covered water. “Here, Michael. Somewhere here.” She stopped and pointed.

“Let me look, Emily. You hold the flashlight.”

He reached into the reed-filled muck and sifted through the slimy silt. “Nothing.”

Emily’s heart grew heavy. Maybe returning at dawn would be a better idea.

Moving slightly to the right, Michael stirred through the mud again. Shaking his head, he moved a few inches from the last spot he checked. “I don’t know. I’m not certain we’ll be able to find anything in the dark like this.”

“She died in the dark.” Emily envisioned Armando carrying Roberta into the swamp. But why?

Why would he hide her here? He didn’t try to hide his parents in the swamp, she didn’t think.

“He left them in their home,” Roberta said.

“So why move you here?” Emily asked her. “Roberta,” she whispered, attempting to reach her again when she didn’t respond through mental telepathy, “why did he bring you here?”

Silence.

Michael looked up at Emily waiting to hear the reason, his jaw tense, neck muscles tightened.

“We came here...to the swamps...to be together in secret. We came here to be alone.”

Emily touched Michael’s shoulder. “They met here in secret.”

“Right here?” His voice was incredulous, tinged with annoyance. “In the middle of the swamp?” He let out a breath of air. “Jeez, I would have found a more appealing place to take my girl.”

“Thank heavens for that, Michael. Though for now, I guess we’re following in their footsteps.”

“Not for the same reason.” He continued to feel through the scum, then his breath caught in his throat.

“Michael?” Emily leaned down and peered into the black waters rippling in the night breeze. “Did you find something?”

“Bones and...” He pulled up a small golden cross. “Ask her if it’s hers.”

“Roberta,” Emily asked, her voice and hand shaking when she held up the chain, “is this yours?”

“Yes, Armando gave it to me.”

“Yes, she says it is.”

“The bones must be hers, too. We’ll count the distance from the car and tell the police. I don’t want to disturb them for now.”

“But we’ve got to put them to rest.” Emily felt teary-eyed again.

“We will, Emily.” Michael stepped out the distance from the tail end of the Caddy. “But the police have to do some investigating first.”

She gripped the necklace tightly in her fist. “Roberta, we’ll make sure your remains are buried properly. Do you want your necklace to go to your parents?”

“Armando.”

For a second Emily’s thoughts blurred with confusion. Didn’t Roberta know he died?

No, of course not. He killed her, and then died at someone else’s hands.

Should she tell Roberta? Or let her believe he still lived? But Roberta could read Emily’s mind and…

Emily swallowed hard. Roberta had to know. She knew and had warned Emily about him.

“We should go home now, Emily,” Michael said.

Gripping Roberta’s necklace in her clenched fist, she prayed she wouldn’t lose it before they made it back to the house. “She wants me to give her necklace back to Armando.”

“Then we’ll do that. Come on, Emily, let’s go before something happens to us.”

Emily hesitated. She didn’t want to leave Roberta alone in the swamps. But when she looked at the figure glowing softly in the moonlight, she could see it already fading.

“Thank you, kind soul, for saving me. Tell Armando I forgive him and will love him forever.”

Had Roberta’s spirit finally let go of this place? This world?

“I will, Roberta. I will.” Emily’s skin prickled, and her eyes misted. To think the two had loved each other so much...like Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed lovers for all eternity. She stifled a sniffle.

When the light vanished completely, Emily took a deep breath, determined to release Armando’s soul tonight as well. “We have to break into the school.”

“What?”

“We can’t wait to see Armando. I have to stop him before he can use me, Michael. I’m afraid to wait until after school. What if something else happens? What if we’re unable to get into the cafeteria later? What if he tries to have me use my abilities to make the murderer kill himself?”

Michael wrapped his arm around Emily’s shoulders and walked out of the swamps, trudging slowly through the silt, the muck hampering their progress. “We’ll ask Granny. If she agrees, we’ll all go.”

Emily kissed his mud-speckled cheek. “Oooh, your stubble prickles.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I should have shaved before we came out here tonight.”

“Well, if you’re going to take me on an after-midnight stroll...” Sighing deeply, she slipped her arm around his waist. “My poor old car.”

“Yeah. If it was Red and his buddies…”

“Do you still think you can use mediation to get them to cease and desist?”

“Only in addition to using a spiked club.”

“Hmm, sounds like my sweet-hearted diplomat is developing the heart of a lion.”

“Barbarian, more like it,” he said, and ran his hand over his unshaven face.

Comforted by his solid presence, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “My true knight.”

He shook his head. “If I were your knight, I would have gone charging into the swamp on my own and left my lady safely in her castle.”

She chuckled. She wasn’t about to be left home in any castle while Michael slew her dragons for her.

Feeling much more relaxed, the notion was finally sinking in that Roberta was at rest. Emily looked forward to a good night’s sleep, the first she’d have since moving here…as long as she could get her mind off Armando. But, at least Roberta couldn’t dream-shift Emily into the swamps anymore.

At two in the morning, not a soul was on the road that ran between the swamp lands and their homes were dark, except for the security lights casting a pale glow on the front porches. Their sneakers squished muddy water from the canvas sides when they darted across the road.

Michael kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk to my grandmother first. If she says no, we’ll go to bed and plan meeting in the cafeteria after school. If she says she’s game, you and I need to get changed into some dry things and meet back at my house.”

Emily stiffened. She didn’t want to wait. They had Roberta’s cross, and she was sure if she returned it to Armando and gave him Roberta’s message, she could release him from the spirit world and be at peace. “All right,” she conceded reluctantly.

But as soon as she reached her home, her father greeted her at the door with a stern shake of his head. His eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a scowl, he glanced at Michael. “I trust you have a good reason for taking my daughter out in the swamps tonight.” He paused, considering her wet, muddy clothes. “Go in and get cleaned up. I’ll talk to you in a few minutes.” His stern voice brooked no argument, and she knew she was in trouble now.

“Michael went with me to keep me safe.” Which sounded pretty lame once the words were out of her mouth. Why in the world would a boy take her into a dangerous swamp in the middle of the night to make sure she remained safe?

“I’ll talk to the young man. Get on upstairs and clean up.”

She looked back at Michael, worried her father would tell him he couldn’t see her anymore. What would they do then? Together they had to put Armando to rest. It was the only way.

And tonight. She had to set Armando free. Tonight.

Chapter 15

Michael knew Emily’s father wanted the best for her and realized the situation looked pretty bad. What guy sneaked a girl out of her house in the middle of the night to walk with her in the swamps?

Someone totally crazy, that was for sure. What would Michael have thought if the roles were reversed, and he was the dad? He’d have been pissed.

“Sir, I’m Michael—”

“I know exactly who you are. You’re the boy my daughter has the crush on.”

Michael raised his brows. Though he was well pleased she felt that way about him, he wondered what Emily had said to her parents.

“Up until now, I’ve thought you were the best thing that ever happened to her because you seemed level-headed, well-grounded. She hasn’t had many friends over the years because of her special abilities.” He ran his hands through his short blond hair. His electric blue eyes were full of distress. “But after this stunt…”

“Did she tell you about the ghosts?” Michael felt as if he was climbing out onto a very thin limb. He could fall hundreds of feet to his death, his body breaking into a thousand pieces like a glass shattered on a tile floor.

Had she told her parents anything about the ghosts over the years? If they didn’t have her abilities, did they understand how important this was to her? He wondered if she’d even told them about releasing the spirit at her old high school. If she had, it might be easier to explain their situation now.

No, Michael realized with a sinking feeling; she said she sneaked into the place. She most likely hadn’t told her family.

Mr. Rundle’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard, and his eyes darkened.

Was that a yes? Had she told them about the ghosts? Or not.

“Ghosts?” her father said, but in a strangled manner.

Michael had one chance to prove to Emily’s father she meant the entire world to him, and he had no intention of harming her. If Mr. Rundle said they couldn’t see one another, Emily would be in grave danger.

“A ghost named Roberta has been plaguing Emily every night in her sleep,” Michael said in a rush. “Didn’t she tell you about it?”

Mr. Rundle nodded, but didn’t comment. He hadn’t let Michael out of the noose yet.

Michael scrounged in his brain, trying to come up with a good explanation to convince a nonbeliever.

“Roberta called to her to put her at peace.”

Emily’s father just listened.

Michael knew he stood before the firing squad. One wrong word, and he’d be shot down. The right word and maybe, just maybe, he would be allowed to help Emily through her nightmare.

Michael had every intention of helping Emily, whether her father agreed or not. No way would he allow her to go it alone.

“We found Roberta’s bones.”

Mr. Rundle’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. Should he tell her father about Armando? Should he tell him about everything?

Michael didn’t think her father could handle that. No, he would just tell him why they’d been running around in the swamp. That’s all her father really needed to know.

“How...?” Mr. Rundle began, then clamped his mouth shut.

“Roberta’s been coming to Emily every night, begging for her to find her remains. Tonight, Roberta led Emily to them.”

Michael paused, wondering how much Emily had told her parents about him. It was the only way to explain how he knew he had to help her, though he usually didn’t tell anyone about his abilities. “I guess she might have told you I have premonitions of the future.”

Mr. Rundle nodded. “And you’re a genius.”

His girl was proud of him. Michael felt a flush of elation. He cleared his throat. “Uhm, yes, well, I have a photographic memory, but—”

“A genius.”

Who was he to argue with Emily’s dad?

“Well, what happened was I focused on Emily’s thoughts and saw the ghost appear before her. Roberta pleaded with her to come to the swamp and find her. I wasn’t even sure whether the ghost wanted to harm her or not. And I didn’t know if the ghost drove Emily to seek her out tonight, or if Emily did it of her own free will.” Michael took a breath, hoping Mr. Rundle could see their dilemma and realize they had no choice.

Her father nodded.

“So, I dressed and hurried over here, afraid she’d go out without anyone to protect her.”

Mr. Rundle’s eyes narrowed. “You could have let me know.”

“I guess I hadn’t considered waking anyone else.”

“You thought I wouldn’t believe you. You figured I’d say no.” Her father paused to let the accusations imprint permanently on Michael’s brain. “And you would have been right.” He rubbed his blond stubble. “And then?”

Her father wasn’t stringing him up yet. Michael took a deep breath. “We found the Caddy.”

A flicker of anger flashed across her father’s features.

“And we found Roberta’s bones nearby.”

Mr. Rundle’s shoulders slumped. “What happened?”

“I measured off the distance from the Caddy to the bones and—”

“No, did the ghost tell you who killed her?”

Now, this was the tricky part. Telling him about Armando without giving away the fact they still had to take care of him. “Armando Gomez was Roberta’s boyfriend. His parents didn’t want him seeing her. In a rage, he attempted to kill them and when Roberta tried to stop him, he accidentally killed her. He left his murdered parents in their home and took Roberta’s body into the swamps because they used to meet there in secret.”

“I have to report this to the police.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the ghost?”

“She’s gone. Once we found her bones...” Michael hesitated. “Well, she faded away after that, thanking Emily for helping her to find peace.”

“This Armando…”

Michael shook his head. Now what? If he said Armando was alive, her father would be furious to learn from the police someone had killed the boy. If Michael said Armando had been murdered like Roberta, would Emily’s father suspect Emily and Michael still had unfinished business?

Michael took too long to speak.

Mr. Rundle crossed his arms. “I may not have these special abilities you and Emily have, but I can tell by your behavior there’s more you’re not telling me. If you want to continue to see Emily, you’ll have to be perfectly honest with me.”

Did he? Could he understand how serious this matter was?

Michael stood taller. “Armando’s dead.”

Mr. Rundle’s brows rose. “Dead?” He took a ragged breath. “Don’t tell me. He’s terrorizing Emily, too.”

“Well, truthfully, sir, I didn’t want to tell you. But, yes.”

“In the swamps?”

“No, sir. At school.”

Mr. Rundle sat down hard on the porch step. “She’s always had dealings with ghosts.”

“Since she was in her teens.” Michael sat down next to Mr. Rundle. He had the impression she had kept her family in the dark about it.

“Earlier than that, but she pretended to us she didn’t because her mother was worried her mind had been affected. Do you know why?”

“Emily said she had died in a swimming pool.”

Mr. Rundle looked toward the swamp. “We thought we’d lost our only daughter. But when she came back to us, she was different. More focused, more serious than a child of six should have been. She didn’t want people to think she was crazy, so for years she hid what she’d seen from everyone. From us even. Only more recently she’s told us a little about what she’s seen. I think she just couldn’t hold it in any longer.” He grimaced. “She should have felt safe telling us all these years. You’ll watch out for her?”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We found Roberta’s gold cross. We’ll give it to Armando and the message from Roberta. It should release him.” At least Michael prayed it would. What did he know about ghosts? Emily was the expert in the field.

“No more wandering in the swamps?”

Michael shook his head. “Not if I can help it. Truthfully, I prefer taking Emily to nicer places.”

Her father finally half smiled and rose from the step. “Keep us informed. Even though it’s difficult for us to comprehend these abilities of hers, we want her to be safe. And I’m counting on you to keep her that way.”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was her father letting him off the hook for slogging through the swamp with Emily, he had given the green light for Michael to take care of her. He couldn’t have felt any higher.

In wet muddy trousers, he said goodnight. He hurried home, confident—well, mostly confident—they’d get rid of Armando’s spirit for good the next day at school.

*  *   *

After eavesdropping on her father and Michael, assuring herself her father wasn’t going to kill her first real boyfriend, Emily showered and dressed for bed.

Shortly thereafter, someone knocked softly on her door. “Emily?” her father asked.

She pulled her robe on over her nightgown and opened the door, her stomach tightening. “Yes, Dad?”

“Michael told me everything that’s been going on with you and the ghosts. Why haven’t you told me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you and Mom.”

His lips thinned. “Your mom is one thing. I’d rather you didn’t mention any of this to her. But I want you to keep me informed.”

“Yes, Dad.” Relieved he didn’t say she couldn’t try to help the spirits, her stomach untwisted a notch. But what about Michael? Would her father set up some new rules concerning her friendship with him?

Her father drummed his fingers on the doorframe, his eyes cast down. Then his gaze caught hers. “I know you’ve had this ability to deal with ghosts for years. But maybe this is a little beyond your capabilities.”

“Granny’s going to help me.”

“But tonight—”

“Roberta, the spirit I helped, was sweet. I didn’t need Granny’s aid.”

Her father took a ragged breath. “I’m proud of what you do, Emily. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Loving her father for being so understanding and not flighty like her mother, Emily nodded. “I’ll be careful. Both Michael and Granny are going to help me.”

“If you think you need more assistance, we could try to hire one of those self-professed ghost busters that claim they can do what you do.”

That would be the day. Rubbing her eyes, Emily yawned. If her father didn’t finish his lecture soon, she’d fall asleep standing up.

He rested his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk some more about this tomorrow.”

“Love you, Dad. Night.” She hoped by tomorrow night the whole ghost scenario would be resolved. At least where Armando was concerned. The pirate Roberts was another story.

Her father gave her a hug. “Sweet dreams.”

Sweet dreams. She wished. Then she had the notion she could sleep ghost-free now that Roberta was gone.

Her father barely had shut the door by the time she collapsed in bed. Tonight—she thought with great relief—she’d sleep without interruption. Except for the worry about Armando. She still felt they should take care of him before school the next day. But she was certain she couldn’t slip out without her dad catching her. Then where would they be? She yawned again, her mind already drifting, her thoughts turning into fog.

Closing her eyes, Emily rested her head on her pillow, and before she could rehash the day and night’s happenings, she fell into a deep slumber.

Until she heard the most awful, gravelly-voiced man singing some off-key song. She couldn’t make out the words, but she realized at once she wasn’t in the swamps.

Canal water lapped at the concrete bulkhead and against the sides of a fiberglass sailboat. The same old bugs added to the noisy chorus. An occasional frog ribetted. Then dark, hearty laughter pierced the thick, hot, humid air.

She only heard one man’s voice and finally made out some of his words: “…lustily, lustily, lustily we go…leeward wind…Spaniard’s gold…fired a shot across her bow…ten fathoms deep…be with the wench, me lads…”

Porch lights illuminated a manicured backyard. The moon sent a ribbon of silver stretching across the dark water and the white boat, its sails bound in cloth, protecting them from the elements.

Grumbling and muttered curses filled the air.

Emily couldn’t see who made all the noise. Roberts? The pirate captain who killed Roberta’s ancestor, Captain Menendez?

“Who be there skulking around in the dark? Show yourself!” the male voice ordered.

Could he see her? Or was he talking to someone else?

“Speak up, wench.”

A chill touched her. Even though she had visited with tons of ghosts over the years, meeting each and every one of them had been an entirely new experience, and she never knew what to expect. Some were sweet like Roberta. Others…evil to the core.

“I like my lasses saucy and a bit salty like the sea, not cowering like some landlubber bent on—”

“I’m Emily. Emily Rundle. And you are?” She still couldn’t see him, and not seeing him bothered her more than the prospect of coming face to face with him.

“Emily? A sweet name for a sweet vision. You be not the Spanish witch who haunts me. Your hair is fiery like the red sky at night, not black as the raven’s wing of the she-devil herself.”

“Roberta Menendez?”

“Aye. Speak not her name in my presence.” Silence stretched between them. Then he added, “Are you in league with the witch?”

“I sent her away.” She hoped he’d be pleased and more cooperative. Could a scurrilous pirate be accommodating?

“You be the one she spoke of.”

“She talked about me?” Emily couldn’t help the surprise in her voice.

“Aye, that she did. She said you be the one to haunt me next.”

And here she’d saved Roberta. Emily growled inwardly. “She was mistaken. I want to help you.”

“Bah. You be English, not Spanish? You have the fair-skinned English look about you.”

And Scottish, Irish, German, and just about every nationality but Spanish.

Before she could speak, he said, “Kiss me, lass, before me lips grow moldy.”

Now that was a delightful thought.

“You want me gold?”

“I want you to leave Granny alone, Captain Roberts.”

“Granny? Who be that?” He didn’t correct her when she said his name, so she assumed it was him.

“The elderly lady you pushed off the boat.”

A significant pause followed.

“Come, give me a kiss, lass.”

She had no intention of kissing a ghost, especially a murderous pirate, but even if she wanted to she couldn’t see him.

“Cut her loose, sails to the wind, we’ll be returning in the morn, girls, don’t ya cry,” Roberts sang.

Emily walked toward the boat. “I know where your treasure is.” Still, she couldn’t see any sign of the ghost.

“Me treasure? The daughter of the Spaniards said the same. But she wouldn’t tell me where it be.”

“In the swamps. Your men—”

“Scurrilous knaves. Rummies, the lot o’ them. Run off with me gold, they did.”

“You were separated from them during a storm.”

Silence.

“Aye,” he finally admitted.

“They’re waiting for you with the treasure.”

He ignored her and began singing again. “What care we how stormy the seas? How big the Spaniard’s guns?” Captain Roberts abruptly ended his song. “My father was an English lord, did you know?”

A pirate’s lie?

“I was a wee lad aboard his ship when they killed him and the rest of the crew. Figured they’d use me for ransom, they did. Captain Harroway grew to like me, raised me as his own. Don’t remember much about my time before that.”

“What about your mother?”

“Died before I took to the High Seas.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never had a redheaded wench before. Come, give me a kiss, lass. No landlubber can give you better.”

She stirred in bed. Michael could give her better. Then a new thought disturbed her. How did Michael feel about his parents shipping him off to live with his grandmother? He must have felt awful. She would. And she felt terrible for not talking to him about it, the only person his age he had to commiserate with. As soon as she was able she’d try to bring it up, gently, so as not to upset him. Surely, he would want to discuss it with her.

“Don’t be shy, lass.” Roberts grew quiet. “She was a young beauty, Meg, me true love. Wept when I left at the last. Green eyes like yours, sparkled like diamonds, lips a ruby red, and plump, like yours, but hair as golden as the summer sun.” His voice was filled with regret. “I promised her I’d return and give up me ways. For her, I would have done it. One last sail, one last time, and with the booty I would’ve settled down. A lady she was, daughter of one of the wealthiest merchants in London. You, lass, remind me of her. The same milk-white skin, the same stubborn chin.”

Emily wanted to get rid of the pirate for Granny’s sake. But now, she couldn’t help feel just a little sorry for the murdering thief, realizing he dealt with the life given him the best way he could. Now, she wanted to help him leave this place, to give him the peace he deserved. Maybe he could find his way back to his Meg.

“I…” Her thoughts seem to fade into the dark, until that blasted alarm rang, shattering her nerves.

The first thought Emily had was concerning Roberta, her necklace, and sending Armando away. She shivered and jumped out of bed, determined they’d be successful today.

Chapter 16

Emily had heard her father’s car drive off earlier this morning and she was kind of glad because she was afraid he might give her another lecture about swamps, ghosts, and Michael. But she assumed her mother would greet her with her usual cheerful smile before Emily went to school. Instead, she found a note pasted on the fridge in her mother’s neat handwriting.

Emily, I have a second interview at McKinley and Sons law office first thing this morning, honey!!! It looks like I might get that secretarial position!! See you after school.

Hugs and kisses.

Love, Mom.

Delighted everything was working out for her mother and that she didn’t seem to know about Emily’s late night trip to the swamp with Michael, she snatched an English muffin from its package and heated it in the microwave. But she again wondered about Michael’s parents and why he wasn’t living with them or why he never mentioned them except to tell her a falsehood. Maybe she could talk to Granny first and feel the situation out. Maybe his grandmother could mention to Michael he could share his feelings with Emily.

After gulping down a glass of milk, Emily dashed outside earlier than usual, thankful her father had been agreeable to Michael still seeing her. But after she slammed the door shut and started across the driveway Red, Rocky, and Daniel sauntered out from behind a row of evergreen hedges, greeting her with grim faces.

Her heart took a dive, and she yanked her book bag over her shoulders to free her hands.

Red fisted his hands on his hips, and his green eyes narrowed into dangerous daggers. His freckles expanded, and his cheeks looked feverish they were so red. “You sicced the police on us.”

Ohmigod, time for retribution. She glanced at Michael’s house, hoping he might be watching out his window for her, or that his grandmother might have sensed she was in trouble. But Emily had left the house earlier than usual so Michael wouldn’t be expecting her yet. Granny usually slept in late, according to Michael, so she’d get no help there. But their kitchen light shone brightly through the window, giving Emily a small bit of hope.

She steeled her back, but she didn’t think she could take on all three of the boys at once. Thankfully, the kid driving the flame-painted car wasn’t here. “You shouldn’t stalk people and trash their cars. When you do the crime—”

“We didn’t trash your car,” Daniel snarled. His spiked blonde hair looked like a porcupine zapped by a bolt of lightning, and his pants puddled around his sneakers, which might trip him up. The boy took a menacing step in her direction, both fists raised, his blue eyes glowering. “You take that back and tell the police you lied.”

She took a step back, not wanting to show she was scared, but her late night expedition into the swamps, and then the conversation with Captain Roberts even later, left her a little foggy-headed.

Daniel shoved her shoulder. Hard.

That was it! Her mind switched gears into overdrive. Self-preservation and the anger that instantly replaced the fear, sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. She yanked her book bag around and slugged Daniel in the shoulder with it as hard as she could.

Not the best thing she could have done. He cursed her and fell sideways, bumping into Red, who shoved him back.

His black hair blowing in the humid breeze, Rocky came in to punch her. She quickly forced Red to stick his foot out and tripped him. Rocky swore and took a nosedive into a raised mound of dirt.

Like sailors boiling out of a sinking ship, the fire ants poured out of their home and attacked the menace, which had slammed into their mound face first.

Screaming and dancing, Rocky brushed away the vicious insects clinging to his face. Red welts appeared on his tanned skin like angry zits.

Before either Red or Daniel could react, Michael ran out of his house, a baseball bat in his hand. His grandmother chased after him with a cell phone to her ear. “Yes, yes, the boys are trying to hurt Emily.” His grandmother, wearing a flowery housecoat, bright blue slippers, and pink hair curlers, glared at the boys, and said, “I’m talking to the police.”

Immediately, all three scattered.

Michael grabbed Emily’s book bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Next time, I pick you up from your house.”

She glanced at the bat in his other hand. “You play baseball?”

“Not any longer. I did when I was a kid, but Granny always kept it for me, just in case I decided I wanted to play again.”

“Good thing.”

“They’ve run off,” his grandmother said into the phone. “Thank you. Michael’s taking her to school now.” She said goodbye and turned off the phone.

Michael tossed Emily’s bag into his car. “We’ll see you after school, Granny.”

“Thanks, Granny,” Emily said.

“You take good care of her. If the poltergeist gives you any trouble school, come get me.” Granny hurried back into the house.

“We’ll break in tonight,” Emily said, as if she did that sort of thing on a regular basis.

Michael shook his head. “And here your Mom and Dad wanted me to watch out for you.”

“You will be watching out for me.”

“I don’t think they had this kind of thing in mind. Breaking into schools, trudging through swamps in the middle of the night. Good thing my parents don’t live here.”

The opening she needed, but Michael’s grandmother waved goodbye from the kitchen window as they climbed into his car, distracting her. Then Michael began to talk before she had a chance to question him about his parents.

“I couldn’t believe Red and his thugs targeted you before school. I was so sure it would be after school, and for whatever reason, they were riding the bus,” Michael said, his voice filled with regret.

She wanted to ask about his parents, except he seemed a little shook up about the incident with the bullies. “You didn’t have any premonitions of this?”

“No, or I would have picked you up beforehand. I’d just gone in the kitchen to finish eating my scrambled eggs when I heard Rocky yell. What did you do to him?”

“Gave him a fire ant facial.” She chuckled when Michael raised a brow at her. “So, I heard what Dad said to you last night.”

He glanced at her, then backed out of the drive. “You eavesdropped?”

“Yeah, I wanted to protect you in case Dad got really mad.”

“He had every right to be. If our roles had been reversed, I’d have been furious if some guy had taken my daughter into the swamps in the dead of night.” He took a deep breath. “Did he chew you out?”

“Nah. He understood. He told me to keep you around so that you can make sure I’m safe. As if I wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t keep me close when you were running around the boys’ locker room.”

Emily laughed. He would never let her live that down.

The boy in the flame car roared on past them and slammed to a stop at Emily’s house. “Looks like Red and his friends’ ride is here. But they’ve all scattered.”

“Doesn’t look like they’re coming. Nope, the kid with the car is heading back out of the district.” Michael glanced at Emily’s blue shirt decorated in glitter surrounding the picture of a medieval castle. “What happened to that other shirt with the great sentiment on it? ‘I will not talk to boys’?”

She grinned and shook her head. “I can’t wear that shirt all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s my favorite. Maybe we can get one made that says ‘I will not talk to ghosts’.”

“And like with the other, the words would fade into oblivion, just like a ghost does.”

His expression turned contemplative. “About tonight…”

Emily combed her fingers through her hair. “I sure wish we could have done the deed last night. I feel awfully weird about going to school today.”

“I have a feeling Red and his thugs won’t be around. They know the police will want to talk to them at school, and I bet anything they’ll stay clear of the place.”

“So all we have to worry about is Armando.” Emily pulled Roberta’s gold cross from her jeans pocket and studied the necklace glistening in the morning sunlight. “Maybe we can send him away during school and won’t have to come back tonight.” That would be the perfect solution. No breaking and entering. No slipping away from her parents in the middle of the night without a word. But she wasn’t sure she could handle Armando without Granny’s help.

“If he tries to lure you away from a class I’m not in, don’t you go chasing after him.”

“Nope, wouldn’t try that. Not after realizing how dangerous he can be.”

Michael reached over and patted Emily’s leg. “If Granny is right, we need her to help us.”

“She’s probably right.”

“She wanted to come with us this morning, but I had to convince her it wouldn’t work out.” He looked at Emily when they came to a red light. “But I mean it, Emily. You have that determined look in those catlike green eyes that says if you have the chance, you’d take it.”

“What if the chance does present itself? I mean, what if it’s just Armando and me—”

“And me.”

“Well, yes, but what if the person who murdered him isn’t around? If I could send Armando away, we wouldn’t have to break into the school or anything. Wouldn’t that be better?”

At the green light, Michael accelerated. “Yeah, if it would work out that way. But I still believe we need Granny’s help.”

She sighed heavily and stared out the window.

Michael took a deep breath, the same worry plaguing him since he’d met her. Could he keep her safe when he couldn’t take care of Susie? He couldn’t control the anxiety that strangled him concerning Emily. He sensed if she thought she could give Armando peace, and free herself from his influence by herself, she would—even if Michael wasn’t there to protect her. Though he didn’t think he’d be of much use except maybe breaking the spell and hurrying her out of doors. The ghost didn’t seem to follow her except at school.

Michael even contemplated going to the classes they didn’t have together just to make sure he could keep her safe. But would the teachers allow him to sit in on her classes?

For the first couple they were together, so he wouldn’t sweat it. After that, he’d play it by ear. He parked at the school and realized they were early.

“Michael, there’s something else.”

He sensed weariness and a different kind of anxiety in Emily’s voice. Now what? “Yeah?”

“Well, two things really. Uhm, the first is I had a little talk with the pirate who pushed Granny off the boat. At least, I think he’s the one. He wouldn’t admit it when I asked.”

Michael couldn’t help the tension tightening every muscle in his body. Not only did it bother him a ghost could have hurt his grandmother, but the notion Emily was facing him alone…

“Together, Emily.”

She took an exasperated breath. “I saw him in my dreams. Well, rather, spoke to him. I never did see him, and I didn’t go to him, willingly. It just happened.”

“And?”

“Roberta told him I was coming to haunt him next.”

Michael groaned. “And you helped her out?” He shook his head.

“It’s okay. The pirate liked me. We have to help him get back to his treasure, or at least the treasure he remembers. I think once he’s with his men, the whole lot of them will be able to leave our world.”

“You think.”

“It’s not an exact science. Far from it. Sometimes, like with anything else in life, a person has to take chances, experiment a little. Anyway, I was thinking, what if we sailed your boat through the canal and out to the river while he’s aboard? Then maybe we could get close enough to the treasure, and he’d join his men. His crew can’t leave our world until they have their captain back. I think.”

“His men? You’ve seen them, too?”

“Heard them. A rowdy bunch, drunk. They’re hanging around where they think the treasure is.”

“I thought you said you saw it in your dreams.”

“Roberta put it there.”

“What?”

“She put the thought in my mind. She was terrorizing the pirates with mind games, showing them their treasure, then making the image disappear.”

He snorted. “I thought she was a good ghost.”

“Vengeful with respect to the pirates. She was of Spanish descent. Captain Roberts killed her ancestor and looted his ship. I think all in all she was a good person, but…”

“I think Granny should sell the boat.”

“I’m not sure that will solve the problem. What if he hangs around her backyard? What if he’s really angry with her if he doesn’t have ‘his’ boat any longer? And there’s something else.”

Wondering what other ghosts harassed her, he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Go ahead and tell me.”

“Well, Captain Roberts told me how his father was killed, his mother died young, and he lost the lady he loved. And…”

Michael couldn’t believe it. Emily should be a ghost psychologist when she grew up.

“…then he mentioned how he could kiss me better than you…”

He shot a glance at her. “Kiss you? He couldn’t, could he?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

“How does he know about me?”

“Uhm, well, he doesn’t really know about you, but when he mentioned landlubbers kissing me, you were the one that came to mind. Because he had lost his family and became the ward of the pirate captain, I suddenly had the notion you might be terribly upset that, well, that you had to live with your grandmother and not your parents. And we’d never talked about it. But if you ever want to…”

“Oh.” He swallowed hard, not really wanting to mention anything about them, but since Emily had brought it up, might as well get it out in the open. “Granny is my dad’s mother. He was always ashamed she could read minds and control them. Anyway, then it turned out I had abilities, too, different, but…well, I wasn’t nice and normal like my mother and father.” He sighed heavily. “I didn’t have a really great home life is what I guess I’m trying to say. My parents weren’t understanding like yours are. Living with my grandmother is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Well, and meeting you.”

Emily quickly wiped away a tear.

“Emily?”

“I’m…I’m fine. It’s just…” She sniffled. “You’re so sweet.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you think so, but, I can be a bear, too. If that pirate thinks he can kiss my girl and get away with it…”

She chuckled. “You’ll take care of him, eh?”

Yeah. But for now he had to ensure he kept Emily safe at school. Taking care of the pirate ghost was his next priority.

*  *  *

As soon as they took their seats in technology, Michael knew the day was going to drag on forever.

Emily kept glancing at the doorway as if she expected any minute she’d catch sight of Armando. Michael sat at the edge of his chair, ready to catch her wrist if she bolted for the door. She glanced over at him and raised a brow. A devilish gleam lurked in her darkened green eyes.

Trying to reduce the tension in his muscles, he stretched his shoulders back. He might not be able to read her thoughts, but he didn’t need to in order to know what was on her mind.

The hour passed painfully slow. But at least he had life science next with Emily and could watch out for her there also. The hour following that class worried him though.

In the next hour, nothing happened, although Emily fingered Roberta’s cross nearly the whole time. Was that the key? Armando wouldn’t come for her because she had something that would keep her safe? Something he recognized that belonged to the girl he had loved?

Or was there some other reason Armando was leaving Emily alone?

After class, Michael hesitated to leave her at English literature. As they suspected, Red never showed up for class, and they saw no sign of either of the other boys. At least she’d be safe for the time being. But he couldn’t help worry about leaving her to face Armando alone in her next class.

“Are you still feeling cold?” Michael asked, rubbing Emily’s arms while they stood outside her classroom.

She nodded. “Yeah. I know he’s here and close by. I feel it in my blood. Like my temperature has dropped several degrees.”

Michael held his hand to her forehead.

“Your hand feels hot against my skin.” Her teeth chattered. Not a good sign.

“You’re not feverish, but your skin is cold.”

Her breath began to show in the air as if she’d taken up smoking. Michael grabbed her hand and hurried her to the exit door.

“Michael, my class. The bell will ring any…” She quit speaking when it rang.

“He’s after you, Emily. Your lips are turning blue.” Michael pulled her outside into the balmy heat, not about to let her turn into a frozen popsicle again.

“And we’re skipping class.”

“Yeah, well, your dad told me to keep you safe.” He glanced at his watch. “A little early for lunch, but we can go someplace and get a late breakfast.”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving school without permission.”

“Only for an hour. I won’t have Armando putting you into an icy coma like he tried to do last time. It’s lunch hour after this, then we have class together. If he tries to chill you again, I’m taking you home with me.”

He hurried her to his car and the sultry heat began to thaw her out. Her lips turned rosy once more.

“I’ve never skipped classes before,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Your parents and my grandmother will make sure we have an absentee slip. If we can safely go to classes the rest of the afternoon, we’ll do it. But I’m staying with you the rest of the day.”

“Our teachers are going to think we’re really weird.”

“Doesn’t matter. All that’s important is we get rid of Armando before he hurts you again.”

Michael drove to the Lone Star Café and parked. Out front, a wagon wheel sat in a landscape of cactus and gravel. Because of the early hour, they had no trouble getting a booth.

“Is school out today?” the waitress asked when she showed them to their seats.

Michael was trying to come up with a good excuse when a vision appeared in his mind’s eye. The black car, customized with shooting flames, prowled the area for them. Whatever difficulty the bullies caused for Emily and him next was bad enough to warrant his calling the police.

Chapter 17

Emily’s cheeks flushed when the waitress asked if school was out.

“We homeschool,” Michael improvised, trying to get a better visual on the bullies. What would they do that would cause him to call the police?

“Oh, how wonderful,” the waitress said. “My brother homeschools his two kids. And my neighbor does, too.” The dark-haired woman shoved a pencil into her order pad. “Be right back.”

“We homeschool?” Emily asked, brows arched.

Michael shrugged. “Thought you’d be less embarrassed if I said that, than we’re skipping school.” He ran his hand over hers. She didn’t feel as cold to him, and he took a relieved breath. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much, thanks. I didn’t realize how fast Armando affected me.”

“I wonder if it’s like someone who has heat exhaustion or hypothermia, and then is more susceptible afterward.” Michael flipped through his menu to the breakfast pages. “Although, I believe he wanted to control you. Make you lose your ability to think by chilling you maybe even more quickly than he did before.”

“Good thing you were with me.” She sat back in her seat, and her face grew serious. “Michael, have you ever had a premonition of something bad, but you couldn’t stop it?”

Too inquisitive for her own good…that was Emily. He averted his eyes, studying the menu. A dark shadow settled in his soul, the memory of Susie’s death hitting him like a reoccurring nightmare all at once.

“Michael,” Emily said softly, and folded her menu.

She looked troubled. He set his menu aside and was relieved when the waitress interrupted them to take their orders.

When the waitress left, Emily cleared her throat. “I have to tell you something…something I’ve never told anyone else, not even my parents.”

Whatever she had to tell had to hurt, and his admiration for her doubled. No matter what she faced, she always seemed to have the strength to deal with it head on. Even if she couldn’t manage, she made the attempt. But once she was done exposing her deep, dark secrets, his turn was next. Could he be as strong as she was?

Now, however, her eyes focused on the paper napkin she mauled between her fingers. She finally looked up at him, as if ready to bare her soul. “I’ve never told anyone,” she reiterated, as if to show how terrible the deed was and how hard it was for her to reveal it, “but I couldn’t save someone.” She looked back down at the napkin she destroyed in her nervousness, then shifted her gaze back to him. “Twice.”

He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain all over again. Had Granny told her he failed to save Susie, too? Or did Emily guess? His mind sifted through the things he spoke of to her when they first met. He told her how he’d had difficulties dealing with his abilities. It must have been bugging her. Curious like a cat. A puzzle solver. She might not be a genius, but when it came to solving riddles, she came close.

“I read a fifteen-year-old boy’s mind once,” she began, and the way she spoke, he could sense the pain. “He was tormented with the knowledge his mother, whom he dearly loved, was dying of cancer. His father was an abusive alcoholic and abandoned them some years earlier. Jimmy had no other family to take him in. He was two years older than me, but had been held back in school. He didn’t or couldn’t concentrate on schoolwork, got into fights, then finally slipped into a world of his own.” She took an exasperated breath.

Michael wanted to help her get over the anguish she must feel, but didn’t know what to say.

The waitress returned with glasses of water. “Food will be right up.” She scurried away.

Emily looked back at the table, at the shredded pieces of napkin, then shoved them into a pile. He handed his napkin to her, and she offered a wan smile.

But then her features turned dark again. “He felt he had nothing to live for. I…I read his mind, hoping I could understand him better, hoping I could help him to cope. In the end, I couldn’t. He took an overdose of his mother’s pain medicine, and…” Emily wiped away the tears running down her cheeks. “Three months later, his mother passed away.”

“Emily, you never told your parents? Surely they could have helped—”

“I didn’t want them to know I read his mind.” She smoothed out his napkin against the dark wood tabletop. “You can’t know how awful it is to see where a person is headed and not be able to save him.”

“I know, Emily.” His words were filled with regret, and he was certain she already assumed he did know how it felt. “You probably suspect that’s the main reason I live with my grandmother.”

She nodded. “You don’t have to tell me about it. I just wanted you to know I’ve been there. And if you ever felt the need to talk, I’m a good listener.”

Trusting her implicitly, he nodded. “A girl I was dating died when she failed to yield to a train. I saw it happen. There wasn’t any way I could stop it.”

“And you blamed yourself like I blamed myself. Just because we have these abilities, doesn’t mean we’re perfect. We have limits.”

“If Susie hadn’t been on the phone when she was driving the car, first day out with her brand new driver’s license…” Michael could still envision the train crashing into her blue Ford Taurus, dragging it down the tracks several hundred yards, the metal grinding, sparks flying, the brakes screeching, finally grating to a halt. Dead.

“She had died, the police said, because she’d been concentrating on her phone conversation with a girlfriend, instead of watching the train tracks ahead. The warning lights were flashing, witnesses said, but the crossing had no gates.” He sat back against his booth.

“The next day I learned Susie’s conversation had been about what a wonderful guy I was. I…well, I couldn’t deal with it. The rest of the school year, I was barely able to concentrate. Finally, my parents couldn’t stomach my moping at home any longer and packed me off to live with my grandmother. My parents couldn’t stand how devastated I was. They thought a change of scenery might help. A new school. New friends.” He took a sip of water to relieve his suddenly very dry throat. “I didn’t believe it would, until I met you. I knew someone was really trying to shake me up then.”

She looked at him, her eyes questioning.

“Since I met you, I’ve barely had time for self-pity.”

“I’m…I’m sorry about your girlfriend. I know how hard that must have been.”

He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, though he was glad to share his hurt with Emily. Knowing someone else suffered from the same grief helped. He thought about what she said, that there were two incidents in her life. Not sure whether to let it go, or ask her…

The waitress brought their meals. After making sure they didn’t need anything else, she said, “Enjoy,” and hurried off.

“The other was a restless spirit,” Emily said, before Michael could ask. She closed her eyes as if envisioning the scene. “I tried to learn what would appease him, a man in his thirties who haunted the woods near my home in Oregon. He was dressed like a pioneer, probably one of the early settlers in the Oregon Territory.” She looked up at Michael. “Angered that he had died from the fever, leaving his young, beautiful wife behind, he remained on the land. In those days, men outnumbered women in droves. Soon, a man married his wife, infuriating Elijah. He wanted me to destroy every one of her descendants.” Emily lifted her grilled cheese sandwich. “Of course, I couldn’t do that. I felt horrible that I couldn’t help him find peace though.

“First, I couldn’t save a living person, then I failed to help a lost soul. I felt my abilities were nothing more than a horrible curse.”

“That’s how I felt.” Michael sliced off a piece of steak.

“You know we can’t feel that way. It’ll eat us up inside.”

Suddenly, he wondered if there was more to her wanting to know about his past. “Are you trying to tell me—”

“I’m trying to say we can only do our best. As long as we do that… Well, we’ve got to give it our all. Less than that isn’t good enough. More…probably impossible. We can only do so much and then…”

“…it’s out of our hands.” Michael scooped up some of his eggs.

“Yes.”

Just like their current dilemma. Was she concerned she might not survive, and he’d blame himself again? He would, just like if something happened to him, he was certain she’d feel responsible.

“Don’t you agree?” Her brow wrinkled with concern.

“To an extent. But if I were to lose you…”

She reached out, took his hand, and kissed it. “I don’t plan on getting lost.”

The premonition that the kid with the black car was cruising by the restaurant hit him with a vengeance. Michael stiffened his back and concentrated on the movie reel playing in his head. His stomach muscles tightened into knots.

“What’s wrong, Michael?”

“Shhh,” he said softly, trying to keep the car under surveillance in his mind. “Jeez. What luck.”

“What?”

“The black car painted with flames just pulled into the parking lot.”

“Great.”

“They won’t try anything here.” At least, he hoped they wouldn’t.

Then Michael envisioned the boy, named Daniel, pull out a knife. The ten-inch blade shimmered in the sun. The four boys walked toward Michael’s car.

Clenching his teeth, he watched the vision, dying to stop them, but not wanting Emily to get involved. If he rushed out of the restaurant to confront the bullies, he knew there was no way in hell she would stay safely inside. Plus, approaching a knife-wielding teen wasn’t a safe bet either.

“What’s the matter?” Emily asked again.

He ignored her while he concentrated on the vision. Daniel leaned over and sliced Michael’s tires, one after another.

Michael pulled out his cell phone. Though he hadn’t seen them in the conventional way, if the police found Daniel with the knife it would verify Michael’s claim that he saw Daniel do it.

The four boys sauntered into the restaurant and pointed to an empty booth behind Emily.

“Great, they’re headed this way,” Michael said under his breath. He searched through his pockets for the policeman’s business card.

“After they’re seated, we could ask to be moved.” Emily’s eyes widened when he pulled out the card. “You’re going to call the police? But we’re skipping school.”

Michael took a deep breath. That wouldn’t look good.

Red and Rocky banged into the booth, which backed Emily’s when they took their seats. Daniel and the other boy sat opposite and gave Michael their most satanically disparaging looks.

“Look who we found skipping school,” Red said.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t think the likes of them woulda skipped,” Daniel agreed.

Emily pursed her lips.

Sensing her anger, Michael asked, “Are you all right?”

She nodded, but he could tell by the way she clenched her teeth, she was on the verge of unleashing her powers.

Just one more bump into her seat…

“Emily?” He didn’t want to cause any more trouble if they could help it. Best to call the police and—

“Call the police,” Emily said, loudly enough for the bullies to hear.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked for her ears only. Had she read something in their minds?

“Daniel slashed your car’s tires. All four.”

The boys chuckled.

Michael dialed the policeman’s number. “Yeah, I know. I saw him do it.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open.

“Can’t prove anything,” Red snarled over the back of the burgundy vinyl seat.

“I saw him do it,” Emily said, looking Red squarely in the eye. “And I saw you give the order.”

Michael knew she couldn’t have seen them do it. She must have read their minds and knew just what had happened. Still, Michael and Emily would tell the police they’d observed them through the restaurant window.

The waitress returned, interrupting them. “What would you boys like to eat?” She glanced back at Michael and Emily and smiled. “Don’t tell me. You’re all homeschoolers, too.”

The guys snickered. “Yeah, just like them,” Rocky said, jabbing his thumb over the back of the seat.

She took their orders and left.

Michael cleared his throat when the officer answered the phone at the police station. “This is Michael Shipley, and I want to report that four teens just vandalized my car in the parking lot of the Lone Star Café.”

The officer said, “Don’t tell me. The same ones who stole Emily Rundle’s car?”

“Yes, sir. They’re sitting here ordering food.”

“I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Thank you, officer.” Michael hoped the bullies wouldn’t run off, but even so, he and Emily would stick to their story. He closed the phone and said to Emily, “They’ll be here shortly.”

“Can’t prove nothing,” Daniel said. “It’s your word against the four of us. Even your boyfriend didn’t see nothing.”

Emily whispered, “Did the officer say anything about us skipping school?”

“Nope.”

Emily took a deep breath. “Good.”

Michael carved up his steak, keeping an eye on Red and his gang.

Emily ate her sandwich but seemed distracted, too, while Red and Rocky constantly bumped her seatback or leaned their arms over it.

When the waitress served the boys’ food, however, a devilish glint appeared in Emily’s eyes.

Michael knew she was about to retaliate against the menace, and he was powerless to stop her.

Before anyone knew what was happening, Rocky poured his hot potato soup in Red’s lap. Red screamed in surprise and pain. Daniel threw his Coke in Red’s face.

Emily finished the last bite of her sandwich and grabbed the check. “I’ll get it this time.”

Michael dropped his fork and strode to catch up to her. Curses filled the air behind them while the demons fought with each other.

“Jeez, Emily, remind me never to get on your bad side,” Michael said, walking with her to the cashier’s booth. He snatched the bill from her. “And I asked you out, so I’m paying.”

“Those clowns will never learn.”

Two police officers entered the restaurant, and Emily recognized them at once as the ones who had been to Granny’s house.

“Michael? Emily?” the tallest one said.

Emily cringed. Though she was sure the demon seeds would be in trouble for slashing Michael’s tires, how could she and Michael explain skipping school?

Michael pointed inside the restaurant. “The four of them are in there having a food fight.”

“The one called Daniel has a knife in his right front pant’s pocket,” Emily added. “But the redhead gave the order.”

“And you saw it?” The policeman motioned to his partner to see to the boys.

“Yes.” In a way she had. She read both Daniel and Red’s thoughts and knew just how they committed the crime.

“Yeah, me, too,” Michael said, and wrapped his arm around Emily’s shoulder.

A fellow patron approached the police officer. “Sir, I called you about those boys who cut the tires of a red car sitting in the parking lot.”

Relief washed over Emily. There were real eyewitnesses.

“Yes, sir. You and three others confirmed the vandalism. Thanks for calling it in.” The police officer turned to Michael. “Do you need a tow service?”

“My insurance company will handle it. Thanks, officer,” Michael said.

The officer wrinkled his brow. “Is the high school out today?”

Michael fabricated, “Some of the students have special projects to work on during a period or two of classes. Emily and I were doing a sociology study based on social behaviors of patrons in a restaurant. Our report is due next week.”

“Oh. Wish I had projects like that when I was in high school.” He winked at Emily. “If you need anything, or have any more trouble, let me know.”

The policeman walked into the dining area, and Michael pulled his cell phone out.

“My genius,” Emily said, wrapping her arm around his waist and giving him a squeeze.

“Quick thinking comes in handy sometimes.”

But then a fresh worry plagued her. Once they returned to school, would the icy entity try to control her again?

*  *  *

An hour and a half later, they returned to school, and Michael’s car wore a new set of tires. Thankfully, the hall didn’t seem too cold, although Emily had been dreading going to class. But when Michael walked her inside, she didn’t want to be left alone.

“I don’t think Red and his gang will quit, do you?” Emily asked.

“You would think they’d leave us alone, as much trouble as they’re bound to get into over this. And as hard as you are on them.” He glanced at the teacher entering the class.

The other students still milled around their desks.

Emily took her seat. “Heck, Michael, they’ll probably just get their hands slapped, if that.”

The teacher looked over at Michael. She was going to ask what he was doing in her class. That was until Emily had a brilliant thought and changed her mind.

Mrs. Cattina opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. Finally, she said, “Yes, do take a seat next to Emily, Michael.”

Michael quickly glanced at Emily.

“Billy, you can move to the vacant seat over there.” The teacher pointed across the room.

In a hushed voice, Emily said, “I can be a genius at times, too.”

Michael sat down next to her, surprise still evident on his face. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’ve been worried about you being unsupervised all day.”

“Unsupervised?” She humpfed under her breath.

Nothing happened during class, while she and Michael spent most of the hour watching the door.

For her last class, Emily used her mind control ability again to persuade her teacher to allow Michael to stay with her, bumping another boy out of his seat.

In this class, too, Emily and Michael spent an inordinate amount of time observing the door. Once, she was certain she heard a voice beckoning her. She closed her eyes and listened, but didn’t hear anything more. Thinking she’d seen a shadow pass the door twice, she strained to see it again.

“Anything?” Michael asked when the last class bell rang, signaling the end of school.

“I thought I saw him.” Swallowing nervously, she didn’t want to go back into the hall. She wanted to end this, but being iced earlier today made her reluctant to face him again so soon.

When they exited the classroom, she heard her name called in a desperate way. She jerked her head around. The boy’s voice had come from the cafeteria.

“Emily, help me,” he pleaded again.

Michael grabbed her hand. “What is it?”

“He’s calling me.” Her low voice was filled with anxiety.

“We need to have Granny’s help. I’m afraid you wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him on your own.”

“Emily.”

There was no icy touch. Nothing malevolent this time. Just a plea for help.

Michael tightened his grip on her hand. “Emily.”

She looked up at him. His warm brown eyes were full of worry.

When he leaned down and kissed her lips, her heart raced with life and joy. Michael was good for her. She glanced back at the cafeteria.

Armando was pure evil.

She hurried Michael out of school. “You’re right. We have to bring Granny back here to help.”

“You figured that all out from a kiss?”

She stopped abruptly. “Hmm, maybe I need some more persuasion.”

“All I can give you.”

“Tonight, Michael,” she said with resolve. “We have to get rid of him tonight. I can’t afford to skip any more classes. My parents will have a fit when they find out.”

“I kind of liked having all my classes with you.”

“Tell you what. It’s just the first week of classes. Tomorrow, with my help, we’ll change yours to mine.” So much for keeping her New Year’s resolution. Well, there was always next year.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I knew you’d be trouble the first time I saw you.”

“Yeah?” She gripped his hand tighter as the electricity from his touch heated her whole body. “Just wait until tonight to see how much trouble I can be. You never know, you might want your school ring back.”

He laughed. “Nah. You’re the most interesting girl I’ve ever known. How many girls wouldn’t mind slogging through the swamp on a moon-filled night with her guy?”

“Well, one other that I know, and we’re going to take care of her evil half in just a few hours from now.”

Chapter 18

Emily and Michael finished eating catfish for dinner with Granny, though none of them spoke about anything, each of them preparing mentally for the fight ahead.

When they grabbed the plates to clear the table, Granny said, “Change into something nice and dark, and we’ll go to the high school. I’ll wash the dishes later. We have more important business to take care of for now.” She gave Emily a knowing look, like: this is it—we’ll do fine.

But Emily wasn’t so sure.

Her stomach fluttering with nervousness, she appreciated that Michael escorted her back to her house. Thankfully, her parents were visiting friends and wouldn’t be home until later that night, so they were all set. And to her parents’ relief, Michael and his grandmother promised to watch over Emily until then. Though she was certain they wouldn’t have liked what they were about to do. Otherwise, her parents had intended to drag her to their new friends’ house. Four adults, no kids, no fun. Besides, Emily had an evil spirit to eliminate tonight. No more games.

When Michael returned to his house to swap clothes, she ran upstairs to her bedroom and changed into rubber-soled sandals, a fresh pair of black jeans and a matching T-shirt. Then she bolted outside.

Glass shattered. The lamplight casting an eerie glow over her front porch suddenly disappeared, and darkness blanketed her. Her heart skipped a couple of beats, but before she could dash for the safety of her house, footsteps ran toward her. She already had her key out, but she hadn’t time to unlock the door when something hard struck her in the back of the head. Sharp pain radiated through her skull and a black void sucked her in.

Seconds later, she thought, muffled words penetrated her semi-conscious state and the roar of a vehicle filled her ears. Where had she heard that sound before? At the park. The black car with the flames. Her head throbbed, but when she tried to rub it, she discovered her wrists were bound and her mouth covered with tape. The air smelled foul with cigarette smoke and the odor of ripe dirty sneakers.

Where were they taking her? The swamp? To suffer the fate of her poor Caddy?

“What about the guy she’s been seeing, Daniel?” one of the boys asked.

Her heart beat rapidly. Daniel…he was one of Red’s gang...the short blond guy. But who was the other guy? The driver?

“She’s the one who’s causing the problems, Kevin. Once she’s gone, that’ll be the end of it.”

Kevin. Had to be the car’s driver. Why wasn’t Daniel in jail for slashing Michael’s tires? Probably had rich parents who bailed him out. Or maybe slashing someone’s tires and running around with a concealed knife didn’t count for much.

Kevin tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “I don’t know why we have to take her to the school cafeteria. Why not the swamps? What if we get caught?”

“I told you. How many more times do I have to tell you? That’s what he told me to do. Bring her to the cafeteria. Then he’ll leave us alone,” Daniel said.

The cafeteria? Armando? Her heart sped up and her head pounded. If Armando was having them bring her there, Daniel and Kevin had to be his killers, right? She groaned inwardly, infuriated she’d allowed herself to be taken hostage.

“I can’t believe you talk to a dead ghost.”

“Ghost or dead person. Not a dead ghost. And I don’t talk to him. He haunts my dreams. He said he’d leave me alone when I brought her to him.”

She tried to focus on Kevin and make him turn the car around, but her head pained her so badly she couldn’t concentrate.

“At this hour? Why not earlier? Why not some other time?” Kevin asked, his voice laced with anxiety. He sounded like he really didn’t want to do this. Was he being bullied by the others like she originally thought? A bully wannabe, but really didn’t have the heart for it?

She was surprised Red wasn’t here also. Unless he and Rocky were meeting them at the school. But she didn’t think they had any transportation.

“This is the hour. I told you. It had to be at this time.”

“Because that’s when he killed Roberta last year,” Kevin muttered.

“Yeah.”

“I still don’t understand why you killed Armando.”

Daniel did it. Emily’s mouth grew cotton dry, and her eyes pricked with unshed tears. Kevin knew Daniel murdered Armando. He wasn’t such an innocent after all.

“Just shut up and drive.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

“Shut up, Kevin.”

So Kevin knew about the whole sordid mess, even the real reason for the killing. Did Rocky and Red know also? Or only these two? Was Roberta even aware of who murdered Armando?

Emily didn’t think so. If Roberta had known, wouldn’t she have warned her?

Trying to concentrate on Kevin again, her mind couldn’t focus. They had hit her hard, and the pain still radiated through her head. Would Michael realize what had happened?

She tried to project her thoughts to him. If they had a special bond as Granny said, could she reach him from a great distance? Gritting her teeth, she attempted to touch his thoughts.

Her head shattered into a million pieces, her stomach churned, and her world grew dark again.

*  *  *

As soon as Michael changed, he dashed over to Emily’s house. He was glad she had waited for him even though he had forgotten to warn her to stay here until he came for her. When he neared the porch, the darkness unsettled him. The patio light should have been on. Like his Granny’s, they automatically turned on as soon as the sun faded.

He slowed his approach, listening for sounds of an ambush. Nothing, but the breeze tossing palm tree fronds back and forth with a swishing sound and cicadas chirping in a mass chorus. He reached her porch, wishing he had the baseball bat with him in case he was attacked.

Maybe the bulb had burned out.

But as soon as his sneakers crunched on glass, he felt his heart rate accelerate. Either someone was lying in wait for Emily, or they’d already grabbed her. Damn his premonitions. He hadn’t seen anything that led up to this.

He rang the door and pounded. No answer. He yanked his cell phone off his belt and called her number. The phone rang and rang, five times, until her father’s voice came on. “You have reached the Rundle residence. We are busy right now and can’t come to the phone. If you want to leave a message, state your number, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”

A sickening feeling wormed its way into the pit of Michael’s stomach. Emily was gone.

*  *  *

When Emily woke, she lay on her side on a linoleum floor in total blackness, and her back brushed against a wall. Her wrists were still bound in front of her and when she moved them, she could tell it was some kind of heavy-duty rope. She squirmed to get loose, the blood rushing in her ears, her heart thundering in panic.

Attempting to calm her fear, she concentrated on her surroundings. The floor smelled like it had been waxed with lemons, and she could hear footsteps squeaking against the linoleum, moving slowly, far away. Then something crashed.

One of the guys swore.

Where had they said they were taking her?

She tried to concentrate on the last words they’d spoken. The school cafeteria.

The room was stuffy, the air conditioner having been shut off for the night. As long as it stayed warm, she knew Armando wasn’t nearby. The thought comforted her briefly. But she assumed it wouldn’t be long before he arrived.

“I don’t understand what we’re supposed to be doing,” Kevin said, his voice annoyed and a bit scared. He didn’t seem to be the kind of kid that did stuff like this usually.

She figured he wanted to be admired by these clowns and since he had a car, he’d been accepted into their group. Then again, he knew Daniel had murdered Armando. Why hadn’t he said anything? Unless he had been involved and wasn’t the innocent like she thought.

Daniel snarled, “I told you what we had to do. Just look for the blasted light switch.”

Something else crashed, sounding like the other, a chair falling from a table? One of the boys let loose another curse.

Armando had to be the one doing it, but he was on the other side of the room so the cold hadn’t reached her yet. The kids were coming unglued.

“You were supposed to bring a flashlight that worked,” Daniel growled.

“It was working. Can’t help it that after we broke into the school the crummy batteries went out. Why the hell are the chairs falling off the tables?”

“Some idiot didn’t put them up right. How do I know?”

Emily twisted her hands, trying to free them. Her wrists burned when the rope bit into her skin. Panicked, she hadn’t even thought of making one of the boys release her. She concentrated on Kevin, since he seemed the most likely candidate for persuasion. He’d been susceptible when he was driving the car next to the duck pond.

“Kevin, untie my hands,” she fed into his subconscious.

“Hey, where are you going?” Daniel asked.

“To untie Emily’s hands.”

She closed her eyes, frustrated he would tell Daniel.

“Are you nuts? Find the light switch!”

“But—”

“Now!”

Footsteps continued to move toward her, and she feared it was Daniel, and he would hit her so hard she’d be unconscious again. But Daniel swore under his breath, “Where the hell are you going? I told you to find a light switch.”

A scuffle followed. A slap sounded.

“Hey, damn it, Daniel, what’d you hit me for?”

“She’s using her mind control. At least that’s what Red says she does. As soon as we get the lights turned on, I’ll knock her out again. It’s the only way she can’t get to us.”

The thought flashed across Emily’s mind that Armando wouldn’t like that. He needed her conscious.

She couldn’t be certain, but it seemed the room had cooled a few degrees. Not really cold, but not so warm now. She shivered with dread. If Granny and Michael didn’t find her soon, she was doomed.

“Here it is,” Daniel said, his voice pleased.

Instantly, a third of the cafeteria lighted.

Emily squinted her eyes to keep the brightness out. The light sent sharp pains through her skull. The cold increased. Slowly at first, as if the air conditioner was finally beginning to work, shoving out the warm, stuffy air, then growing. She sensed Armando drawing near.

“You idiots.” Like Roberta’s voice, Armando’s echoed through her head, but his thoughts rippled through her brain, fading in and out like the tide. The anger so volatile it was like a volcano building, ready to explode. But she figured they were clueless as to what was going on.

“She’s useless to me if she’s unconscious.”

Kevin stared at Emily and rubbed his arms. “I think someone’s in the building. They just turned the air conditioner on. Don’t you feel it?”

Daniel slapped the dead flashlight in the palm of his hand, glaring at Emily. “All right, let’s go check it out. Don’t want the police to arrive all of a sudden while we’re taking care of business.”

The two boys tore out of the cafeteria, and Emily relaxed her tense muscles. While they searched the school for intruders, it bought her precious moments. Time for Michael to reach her…maybe. If she could let him know where she was.

Emily closed her eyes. What did Armando want with her? She couldn’t remember what Granny said, but she assumed the worse. He would use her to force the boys to kill each other. But Armando couldn’t push her to make the boys do anything until they were in the same room with her, could he? Yet, could Armando even coerce her to do something she didn’t want? If she had the same abilities as he, surely she could fight his influence.

But he was pure evil, driven to succeed. She lifted her chin, just as determined to win. If she could only get her hands free and give Armando Roberta’s necklace…

“Armando,” she began, intending to give him Roberta’s message. “Roberta…”

He projected ice cold rage into her thoughts. Her mind froze and blackness descended again.

*  *  *

“Emily,” Michael said, jumping into his car, then grinding his teeth while Granny climbed into the passenger’s seat. Hurry, he wanted to scream at her, but he knew she wasn’t that agile. And he needed her help once they found Emily. At least he’d finally had a damned premonition, too late, just like with Susie. But they weren’t too late, he reminded himself. She could still be all right if they could find her in time.

“I have the police on the line, Michael,” Granny said, holding her hand over the mouthpiece. “Who did you say the boys were?”

“Daniel was one, the blond-haired boy who cut up my tires earlier today. The other was the driver of the black car. The police questioned him at the Lonestar Café today. He had brown, spiked hair, and brown eyes, I think. Hurry with the call, Granny. You need to see if you can reach Emily and find out where they’ve taken her.”

His grandmother spoke into the phone while Michael pulled out of the driveway, then headed in the direction the boys had gone.

“No, no, I don’t know where they took her. But they have a black car with flames painted on the side. And …” Granny covered the phone. “…are you getting any visions?”

“Yes, yes, she’s tied up. But…I can’t see where they have her.” And he couldn’t see if she was alive. She lay still as death, curled up in a fetal position surrounded by bright lights.

“Try harder, Michael. We have to tell the police where they are.”

“Her eyes are closed. I think she’s unconscious. Wait, I think I see…” He yanked the car over to the shoulder and jammed on his brakes.

“What do you see, Michael? What?”

His skin prickled with the strangest sensation. “I think she’s trying to reach me.”

*  *  *

Emily barely was conscious and attempted to push Armando’s chilling thoughts of how he stabbed his parents from her mind. The anger, the frustration, the regret.

This time, she tried to contact Michael, but could barely focus on the stubble on his chin. One dark hair, then another.

“Michael,” she entreated, “I’m at the school cafeteria. School. Michael. Help me.”

She had no way of knowing whether she could reach him or not because their abilities were different and because they were so far from each other, but if they had a special bond, a connection, she had to try.

“Michael, the cafeteria.”

Armando must have moved away from her because the air warmed. Was he afraid she’d be too cold, her thoughts too jumbled that she couldn’t force the boys to do his bidding when the time came? He was right about that.

Footsteps ran toward the cafeteria. She prayed it was Michael and Granny; she feared it was Daniel and Kevin, returning from their search through the school and finding no one.

“I keep telling you, the air conditioner isn’t on,” Daniel grouched. “It’s got to be him…Armando. There’s no one here but us. Quit acting like some damn sissy.”

“You mean the dead guy’s spirit?”

Emily opened her eyes. Daniel narrowed his when he saw her conscious, then stalked toward her.

“What are you going to do?” Kevin asked, panic lacing his words.

“Knock her out before she tells you to untie her again.”

Before he made it halfway across the cafeteria, a chair toppled from the table and fell in his path. He jumped back and gasped, his blue eyes narrowing.

Kevin looked mortified. Emily willed him again. “Kevin, untie me. I need to speak with Armando’s spirit. I can stop him. Please,” she pleaded, emphasizing the please. “Untie me.”

Kevin glanced at Daniel.

Running his hands through his hair, Daniel’s sinister gaze focused on Emily. Then he skirted around the chair.

Kevin was coming to her aid, if he could do it without Daniel stopping him. But first, she had to prevent Daniel from knocking her out. Though Armando seemed to be trying to do something about it.

Daniel hadn’t made but three or four quick strides in her direction when another chair crashed in front of him. The noise of metal and plastic hitting the floor reverberated across the room. Visibly shaken, Daniel glanced nervously about the cafeteria. Kevin looked like he wet his pants.

“Untie me, Kevin. I can protect you if you help me.” Thank God, Armando focused on keeping Daniel from getting to her, forgetting about her for the moment. But darned if he wasn’t frightening Kevin into inaction, too.

As soon as Daniel moved around the chair, cautiously this time, another smashed to the floor, this one nearly striking him.

The two hesitated, and they trembled.

Gathering his nerve, Daniel took a step forward. A chair rose and hovered in front of him, as if daring him to make another move.

Daniel screamed, “We brought her here like you told us to! What more do you want? Kill her and make the nightmares stop.”

Kill her?

“What’s he saying to you?” Kevin asked, his voice quaking.

“He doesn’t speak to me, you idiot. He haunts me at school, chilling me whenever he can. At night, he gives me nightmares. He tells me what to do in the dreams, but not when I’m awake. I can’t understand what he’s mad about now.” He turned his ice blue eyes on Emily. “But maybe she does. She’s got some kind of abilities. That’s what he wants.”

“To use on you!” she told Daniel and Kevin both.

Daniel’s Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Take off the tape. Maybe she can tell us what he wants.”

The hovering chair dropped in place. But as soon as Kevin approached Emily, another flew across the room, then wavered between her and the bully as if Armando used it as a shield.

“I don’t like this, Daniel, one bit. Something’s not right. He’s not killing her, and he’s not letting me get near her.”

“He doesn’t want to end my life,” Emily told Kevin. “He wants me to kill Daniel and anyone who came with him tonight.”

Kevin laughed, the sound strangled with fear.

“What’s so funny?” Daniel snarled, but didn’t move one step from where he stood.

“She told me that Armando wants her to kill us.”

“Right. A girl? Tied up? Right.”

“I can control your mind, can’t I?” Emily asked Kevin. “Armando can’t. But I can make you kill each other.”

Kevin glanced nervously back at Daniel.

“What? Remove the tape. What are you waiting for?” Daniel asked, waving his hands at her.

“She says Armando wants her to control our minds and make us kill each other.”

His mouth turned down, Daniel pulled out his knife and motioned to Kevin. “You’re not killing me.”

Kevin’s face turned green, and he took a step back.

Armando hadn’t made Emily push them into this scene, had he? Had she played into his hands after all? Beaten at the game by an evil entity? She closed her eyes, furious for failing. But then again, Daniel was the one he wanted killed. Daniel was Armando’s murderer.

The sound of footsteps running in the direction of the cafeteria made them all turn to look. Michael and his grandmother rushed into the room, and her heart lifted. “Emily!” he shouted.

His grandmother motioned to her. “Get her, Michael. I’ll try to stop Armando. The boys have injured her, and her mind’s not clear.”

Emily felt so nauseous, she wanted to throw up, and her head pained her.

“But what about you, Granny?” Michael asked, his voice filled with anxiety.

“Get her, Michael.”

Michael ran to Emily, but Daniel blocked his path, waving the knife. Granny stayed near the doorway, but Emily couldn’t tell what she was doing.

Emily squirmed to sit upright, wanting to protect Michael and Granny. But how? Her mind muddled, she knew Granny was right.

Closing her eyes, she focused on Armando, like she should have done from the beginning if she’d had all her senses functioning properly. “Roberta still loves you, Armando. We found her and have put her spirit to rest. I promised I’d return the gold chain you gave her to you. Let someone free my hands, and I’ll give it to you.”

The chair shielding her from Kevin dropped, and instantly he backed toward one of the cafeteria doors. The four doors slammed shut, one after another.

“What does it mean, Daniel? What’s happening?” Kevin squeaked.

“He means to kill you, both of you,” Michael said, maneuvering in Emily’s direction.

Daniel still waved his knife at Michael, taunting him to come closer.

“Emily never did anything to him but find the girl he loved and help her to rest in peace. Why would he want to hurt Emily? She has a message for Armando and a gift to give him from Roberta. It’s the two of you he wants dead. He can’t eliminate you, not in the form he’s in now. But to carry out his revenge, he plans to use Emily to do away with you.”

Daniel snorted. “Yeah, she’s no match for this.” He twisted the blade in the air and stabbed twice in Michael’s direction.

He dodged the long, sharp knife. “You know she doesn’t need to use her physical strength to kill you.”

Tears blurred her eyes, and her heart pounded so hard she knew it would bruise her ribs. “Roberta loves you, Armando. She gave me her necklace and wanted me to give it to you.”

“What does Michael mean, Daniel?” Kevin’s voice shook with fear.

An apparition appeared, hazy, wavering near the table where he’d died.

“He’s bluffing.” Daniel looked in the direction of Armando’s ghostly figure. “Armando.” He gawked at the spirit, then puffed up his chest and furrowed his brows. “Kill her, and do away with the rest of them.”

As if Daniel could order Armando around! But the ghost didn’t respond in a threatening manner like she expected him to. Gloating? Waiting for Emily to make the two boys eliminate one another?

“If he wanted to kill her, he’d have already done it. He wants you dead for poisoning him.” Michael nodded at Kevin. “And he wants to destroy him for being your accomplice.”

“He’s lying,” Daniel growled. “Armando, slaughter her!”

Icy tendrils stretched out to Emily, poking into her mind. The ribbons of cold intertwined with the electrical impulses feeding her brain. “Make Daniel kill Kevin with the knife,” Armando ordered Emily, his words bitter and hostile.

Struggling against his strength, Emily fought his presence in her mind. Her head swooned with lightheadedness, the only thing grounding her—the insistent pain. Then a warm shield moved inside her mind, bracing against the frigid tentacles wrapping around her thoughts. Granny?

With the help of the shield and not having to fight Armando’s commands, Emily tried to reach him again. “Roberta loves you!” she silently pleaded with him. “She loves you!”

Emily’s head pounded like an invading enemy slamming battering rams against the castle gate. The enemy without would break through soon.

“Concentrate, Emily, concentrate. Keep him out,” Granny cheered her on.

“She loves you, Armando!” Emily implored.

Cracks splintered her resolve. Hurricane-force, frosty waves crashed against the sea wall. Soon they’d wash the barrier away and everything with it.

“Make Daniel shove the blade into his own heart! Do it, Emily!” Armando commanded, anger boiling to the surface.

Emily struggled to free her hands. The cross. She had to give him Roberta’s gold necklace.

When Daniel turned his head to look at the ghost, Michael dove for him, tackling him to the floor. But the maniac still had the knife.

Kevin ran to Emily. With a jerk, he ripped the tape from her mouth.

Emily blurted between stinging lips, “Armando will kill you through me. Michael’s right. Free my hands.”

He hesitated and Emily closed her eyes. She couldn’t let her concentration slip away from Granny. Only the two of them could keep Armando from using either of them alone as a vessel to commit murder.

When Kevin’s fingers touched the ropes that bound her, hope seeped into her bones. “Hurry, Kevin.”

Michael still struggled to get the knife away from Daniel. They slammed into tables, sending more chairs crashing to the floor. “The police are coming!” Michael shouted suddenly.

Kevin grabbed Emily’s wrist, but with her free hand she pulled Roberta’s necklace over her head and tossed it toward Armando.

“She wanted you to have it. She loves you still and doesn’t hold a grudge. She loves you.”

The anguish screaming through Emily’s head shattered any reasonable thought, crumbling what little wall was left to shelter her mind from Armando’s evil.

Shadowy, black robed, hooded figures grabbed him, and he struggled violently. In the next instant, Armando and the figures vanished.

Granny cried out, “Emily!”

Emily floated above the cafeteria, watching the strange scene unfold below her, unable to rejoin Michael or Granny. Her own body lay unmoving on the floor, her head cradled in Granny’s lap while Granny called to her, imploring her to wake.

She felt no pain, just extremely lightheaded, serene, at peace. All at once, she felt like she had so long ago, years and years ago, saw her body floating face down in a blue pool of water, her red hair floating about her.

But then police rushed into the cafeteria, armed, and shouting, “Drop the weapon! Hands in the air! Get on the ground! On the ground!”

Emily left the earlier world and returned to this one, the high school cafeteria, the fight between Michael and Daniel. Michael.

Kevin and Michael immediately dove for the floor while Daniel still stood in an offensive stance, knife readied.

“Not Michael,” Granny shouted, pointing to her grandson. “He’s not one of the bad kids.”

“Drop the weapon!” several of the officers yelled at Daniel while two others hurried to cuff Michael and Kevin.

Emily shook her head. “Not Michael!” But the words wouldn’t come.

“He’s my grandson! He called in the kidnapping! Release Michael at once,” Granny hollered, her voice echoing through the cafeteria.

“Drop the weapon!” an officer again yelled and moved in closer to Daniel while another tried to get closer with a stun gun.

Another leaned over Emily’s body and held her wrist, then began calling in orders on his phone. Was her pulse normal? She couldn’t feel a thing.

Daniel waved his knife, threatening the approaching police, but seemed unsure as to what to do next. Then one stunned him from the back. Daniel cried out and collapsed to the floor.

The officers quickly tackled him and cuffed his wrists behind him.

Paramedics rushed into the room to aid Emily’s lifeless form.

She felt fine. A little fuzzy headed…well, really, really lightheaded, like her head was filled with helium. But no pain, just an overwhelming sense of release.

An officer removed Michael’s cuffs, and he tried to get to Emily, but the paramedics wouldn’t let him.

“Emily,” Granny coaxed. “Emily, come back to us.”

Emily fought to reach out to Granny, to show her she was all right. Then as if a giant magnet drew her to it, she was drawn back into her body. Her lightweight, carefree being became solid again, aching, heavy, and terribly tired, cradled in Granny’s warm embrace.

“Emily!” Granny said, then about squeezed the life out of her again. “You’re back!”

Michael’s expression appeared pained. She thought she lifted her hand to his. He hovered over her for a second. But only for that brief moment in time.

Then the brilliant cafeteria lights faded, faded, faded, and winked out.

Chapter 19

When Emily opened her eyes, she found herself tucked into her pink bed, gripping her spare pillow. The midday sunlight washed her room in golden rays. Had she only dreamed about Armando and the other boys?

Her phone rang, jarring her nerves, but before she could answer it the line went dead. She tumbled out of bed and hurried to dress in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Mom!” she hollered as she raced into the kitchen. “Why didn’t anyone wake me? I missed school!”

“Whoa, Emily. After what happened last night, you ought to be out of school for the rest of the week. We hadn’t realized what a dangerous neighborhood this was.”

“What?”

“Kevin and Daniel were arrested for killing Armando and kidnapping you. The police found Roberta’s body and your car in the swamp just where Michael said the two of you found them.” Her mother tilted her chin down at her. “You know, when things like this happen to you, your father and I would like to be kept informed. Just because your boyfriend and his grandmother have special abilities like you, we don’t want to be left in the dark.”

“Yes, Mom.” However, if she had a similar situation happen, there was no way she wanted to worry her mother, if she could help it.

“Michael’s waiting to hear how you’re doing. He stayed home from school today, too.”

Suddenly, panic set in. He wouldn’t be home from school also, unless something bad happened. “Is he all right?” She couldn’t contain her anxiety and wanted to bolt from the house to see him.

“He’ll be fine. But he’s called seven times already.”

“Can I see him?”

“Are you feeling all right?

“Yes, I’m just fine.”

“Are you done with the ghosts, Emily?”

“There’s a pirate one who’s bothering Granny.”

Her mother frowned and pulled out her worry stone. “Oh.”

“And there are a couple of bullies who ride the bus.”

“But you don’t ride the bus anymore.”

“No.” Emily hadn’t meant to mention that, but if Michael was right, she hadn’t dealt with the last of Red and his gang yet. “And we wanted to check out a ghost that frequents a restaurant.”

“Only nice ghosts.”

Emily hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “I’ll tell them that’s the only kind I’m allowed to play with.”

“I sent over a fruit basket for Michael.”

“Fruit basket?” Emily’s heart shifted into high gear. “He was hurt?”

“Only slightly, Emily. Just be gentle with him.”

“I will.” She ran to the front door and dashed outside. The school bus rolled along the road, returning from school, and she turned to look at the occupants. Red and Rocky hung out the window, their deadly glare a warning.

Red mouthed, “You’re dead.”

She curbed the urge to do something totally childish, like stick her tongue out at them. Then she decided what the heck and did it anyway.

She ran up Michael’s sidewalk, but before she touched the knob the door opened. “Granny, is Michael all right?”

His grandmother gave her a warm embrace. “I’m so glad you’re fine, dear.”

“And you?”

“Tip-top shape, dear. But that blasted pirate Roberts fellow has got to go.”

Gritting her teeth, Emily frowned. “Have you had more troubles?”

“Turned on my sprinklers while I was trying to dry my bath rugs on the clothesline. Well water will leave rust stains on fabric. He ruined all my rugs.”

Emily kissed her cheek, feeling like she had adopted Michael’s grandmother. “We’ll work on him next, Granny.”

They walked toward Michael’s bedroom. Was he a slob, or a neat nick?

“He’s neat, but things are kind of a mess because of hastily changing last night.”

Emily stopped her. “He’s not too mad at me for leaving without him, is he?”

Michael hollered, “You better believe it!”

Emily and his grandmother laughed. “I can see his hearing isn’t affected, Granny.”

“I’ll leave the two of you alone.” His grandmother gave her another squeeze and padded back down the hallway.

Peeking into the room, Emily hugged the doorframe. Michael rested in bed, a dark green comforter tucked under his chin. “Are you okay, Michael?”

“I could use a shave and a shower.” One dark brow lifted, devilish like.

“Can’t help you there.”

“You could give me a sponge bath.” His mouth twitched in a smile.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that.”

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, well, if you’re not willing to do that, I could use a hug.”

“I don’t usually hug guys in bed. It might hurt my reputation.”

“You can make an exception with me. After all, I suffered wounds during battle just to rescue my girl.”

Instantly worried, Emily edged over to the bed. “Daniel cut you?”

“Not so badly I couldn’t use a good hug.”

Her gaze shifted to his comforter. “Where?”

“He nicked my arm in a couple of places. I thought if you were feeling up to it, we could go to Asheley’s for dinner Friday.” He eyed her slow movement toward his bed as if he were readying to pounce. “You sure are taking your time to get here.”

“I suppose if the situation was reversed and I lay in my bed, you’d have tackled me already.”

“Absolutely not. Code of honor. A girl can tackle a wounded guy and get away with it, but never the reverse. Just isn’t done.”

“But you’re hurt, Michael.”

“If I could use mind control like you’re able to do, I’d make you come over here at a sprint.”

She pressed her legs against the full-sized bed. When she leaned down to touch his cheek, he instantly pulled his comforter down to his waist, freeing his hands, and wrapped his arms around her.

“Michael,” she squealed in surprise, stiffly leaning against his bare chest.

His temple wrinkled in pain, and he groaned. “Emily, honey, my arm hurts. Quit struggling and give me an embrace like your lion-hearted warrior deserves.”

She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. His heart beat steadily. “The heart of a lion,” she murmured.

“Hmm, you smell like roses.” He kissed the top of her head and ran his hand over her arm.

“What happened exactly? I only remember bits and pieces. I walked outside of my home after I changed, and then someone hit me in the head.”

“Yeah, I was still getting into dark clothes and neither Granny nor I knew what had happened. When I found the glass light fixture broken on your front porch, I wasn’t sure if they were waiting for you, or already had gotten to you. I’d hoped you would have stayed put until I got there.”

“I would have had I had a crystal ball.”

He shook his head. “You were supposed to wait for me. Anyway, then I had a premonition and saw they’d taken you in Kevin’s car and later, you were tied up in a brightly lit place. I was afraid Red and his whole gang grabbed you.”

“I guess Red and Rocky didn’t have anything to do with Armando’s murder. Armando tricked the others into believing he wanted to kill me and if they brought me to him, he’d quit haunting Daniel.” She touched Michael’s chest with her fingertips, loving the feel of his warm skin against hers. “How did you know about the policemen’s arrival?”

“We called them once I got your telepathic message saying where you were. I figured if we had to deal with Red and his gang we might need some more muscle.”

“You…you read my mind?”

“Something like that. I’m not sure, except you mentioned the school cafeteria and that was enough.”

“I thought you were having a premonition about the police.”

“No, I figured they’d be there pretty quickly and maybe Daniel would give it up. Otherwise, I was busy trying to keep Daniel from sticking me with his knife.”

Emily lifted her head and touched Michael’s bandaged arm.

“You can kiss it and make the hurt go away.”

She kissed his arm gently. “I tossed Roberta’s necklace at Armando, but I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Armando’s spirit was released. Granny said his cry of agony nearly made her pass out. She guessed he affected you worse because he’d already touched your soul.” Michael’s chest swelled beneath Emily when he drew in a deep breath. “The police crashed through the doors and threatened to arrest the whole lot of us, except for Granny and you. Granny held your head in her lap when they charged into the room. I hadn’t quite wrested the knife out of Daniel’s hands so they weren’t sure which of us the bad guy was. Granny quickly told them what happened.”

“Not about Armando.”

“Kind of. The version went something like this. Daniel had poisoned Armando then thought the dead boy’s spirit haunted him. If he sacrificed you to the imagined ghost, he believed he’d be set free from the haunting. Kevin went along with every word, trying to ensure Daniel took all of the blame. But both were arrested.”

“And we’re not in trouble for breaking into the school?”

“Daniel and Kevin broke in. They took you hostage. Granny and I ‘saw’ them do it, so we pursued you to rescue you.”

“Oh.” Reaching up, she touched Michael’s stubble. “I still had it in mind we were going to break in. I guess their clobbering me still has me confused as to what happened.”

He kissed her fingers, his eyes darkening at the same time. “They took you to the hospital to run tests, and your parents arrived soon after and returned you home.”

“My mother scolded me for not keeping them informed.”

“Yeah, your dad chewed me out. He said if I intended to go steady with you, I had to keep a tighter rein on you.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“He did. I swear it. So about Asheley’s…”

“Yeah, Friday night sounds super. You know, Michael, we’ve got to take care of another problem, too.”

“What’s that?”

“The pirate Roberts.”

“We need to sell the sailboat.” He ran his hand over her back while she intertwined her fingers with his free hand. When she didn’t respond, he tightened his hold on her hand and released. “Emily, we need to sell the boat.”

“We need to get rid of the pirate’s ghost.”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “I knew the first time I laid eyes on you, you were going to be trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You held your hand out to me, and I knew if I accepted it, my life would change forever.”

She took a deep breath. “For good or for worse.”

He patted her shoulder. “For richer or poorer.”

“The pirate’s treasure!” Emily jumped up from the bed. “The pirate captain wants his treasure! It was somewhere near where Roberta’s bones lay in rest.” She tugged at Michael’s good arm. “Come on, Michael. We’ve got to get rid of him so he won’t upset Granny anymore.”

“But you said Roberta made it up—that it’s been stolen already.” He groaned. “I’ll get some clothes on. But I don’t think this is what your father had in mind when he said I needed to take good care of you.”

“Yes, but maybe it really is there, buried in the muck. We have to see if we can find it.” She backed toward the door. “I’ll meet you in the swamps.”

Turning, she ran into Granny and gasped.

“I’ll keep her here, Michael, until you have a chance to get dressed.”

“I already told my mother we had to take care of this ghost who was bothering you, Granny.”

“I could just sell the sailboat, dear.”

“Yes, you could. And the choice would be yours to make freely, not coerced by a rotten old pirate. Besides, what if selling the sailboat didn’t work? What if he remained behind, even angrier than before, vowing to get revenge any time you walked into the backyard?”

“You’re right, of course.” They entered the kitchen. “Just be careful, Emily. The swamp holds many dangers.”

“Yes, snakes and alligators.”

“And ghosts.” Granny poured her a glass of orange juice.

“Thanks for helping me with Armando.”

“We work well together.”

“Did you ever deal with ghosts much when you were growing up?”

The older woman shook her head. “No, you seem to have a special way with them. I can see them, but try to avoid them.”

“What was it like when you were growing up? I mean, with being able to read minds? Did you have trouble keeping friends?”

“You bet. But the worst was when I had my son. I had the sweetest husband you could imagine. He was always proud of me. But my son, George, Michael’s father, hated that I had special abilities. When he married Jean, he poisoned her against me. For years, I barely got to see Michael. And then, well, I guess Michael told you about what happened to his girlfriend.”

Emily nodded.

“His parents wanted me to take care of him. I couldn’t have been happier. And I think he’s been pretty happy.”

Emily knew he was. “What about your parents? Were they accepting of your abilities?”

Granny took a seat at her breakfast table, a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. “Sometimes it came in rather handy.”

“You didn’t use your powers to…”

“Sometimes. I hated washing pots and pans. And dishes. I had an older brother who got away with doing very little. So when my mother wasn’t around, I convinced my brother to clean up the kitchen.”

And here Emily thought Granny was a totally sweet lady.

Granny’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

Michael snorted when he walked into the kitchen, dressed in gray running sweats and sneakers. “The doctor told me to get plenty of bed-rest today, but look what my steady has me doing instead. Chasing after ghosts in the swamps.”

“Pirate’s treasure. Come on, hero of mine.” Emily grabbed his hand. “Let’s get rid of the male chauvinist ghost.”

Chapter 20

In the filtered shade of the trees, the dappled sunlight highlighted the swamps, making them appear even more deadly. Before, what they couldn’t see, couldn’t hurt them, but now every bubble that surfaced, every movement ever so slight made Emily realize some kind of creature created each of them. Snapping turtles poked their heads out of the water, whose sharp beaks could remove a toe with a twist. Venomous snakes slithered through the reeds, and leathery skinned alligators hid just beneath the sea-green scummy water, waiting for the unsuspecting.

Emily held Michael’s hand tightly. “It seems scarier in the daylight.”

“Not to me. Are you sure the treasure’s here?”

They walked for some distance, trudging through the muck, the fish odor assaulting them. The police had had her Caddy pulled from the swamp, and she imagined Roberta’s bones were rescued, too. Now the place was just like in her nightmares, left to its natural state, a primitive jungle-like swamp.

“Near here, yes.” She could see it just like in Roberta’s vision, past several mango trees clustered together like a pirate’s gathering, rallying over their hoard of gold. And then a raised level of earth, like an island, jutted into the swamp. Though Roberta’s bones had been in the water, Emily remembered Roberta standing on a raised mound of earth…next to the treasure.

Michael helped Emily onto the dry ground.

“Here was where it was, Michael. Right here.” She pointed at the spot, but except for a thick tangle of vines and reeds swaying at the edge of the bank, there was nothing.

She closed her eyes and listened for any sound of the other pirates. She shook her head and opened her eyes. Michael watched her, his gaze full of concern while his jaw remained rigid and his dark brows knit together.

“I think I have to project the image in the pirates’ mind, like Roberta did. We have to bring Roberts here where his pirate mates are.” She glanced around the woods.

“You see them?”

“No. Maybe because there’s no sign of the treasure. I don’t know. But, hopefully, when they’re all here, they’ll vanish forever.”

“But how will we be able to convince the pirate to move from our boat to where the treasure is?”

“He’ll want his treasure mostly, and his crew back also. Let’s go have a talk with him.”

Michael took hold of Emily’s hand. “And I thought Armando and Roberta were strange for taking strolls through the swamp together.”

*  *  *

Michael and Emily had no luck meeting with Roberts’s ghost for the days that followed. On Friday at school, Michael got an urgent message that he had to take his grandmother to the hospital. “Get your mother to take you home!” he whispered to her, then hurried out the door of technology class. That afternoon, he called Emily back. “Granny’s being admitted for a bout of pneumonia. I won’t make it back in time to take you home from school. We’ll have to postpone our trip to Asheley’s Restaurant for our date this evening. I’ve got to go, but make sure your mother picks you up from school. Don’t ride the bus!”

“Sure, Michael. I will.” But her mother had already taken sick leave to be with Emily the day after she collapsed in the school cafeteria. New at the job, her mother couldn’t afford to leave work early again this soon.

Emily gathered her books after the last class. Michael’s premonition would come true. She’d face Red and Rocky after they got off the school bus. But at least Daniel and Kevin were out of the picture, still in jail pending murder charges. She could handle just two of them on her own.

When she headed for the bus, Red and Rocky watched her. The sharks readied to strike. She knew just what she had to do.

She climbed onto the bus. The heat of Red’s body shadowed her as he and Rocky followed. She hoped to find a seat filled with one occupant, but either the seats were empty or two sat together. She slipped into a seat and Red pushed her, making her scoot next to the window.

Rocky sat behind them and chuckled darkly.

Red looked over at her and sneered, his teeth yellowed from smoking. The smell clung to his clothes as if someone forgot to open the flue to the chimney, and he’d been standing in the way when the smoke poured into the house. She never noticed the odor on him before, not when she sat next to him on the bus, or when she ran into him in the boys’ locker room.

The smell made her nauseous.

She looked out the window. The ride would be the longest she ever had to take.

“We’ll get you back for Daniel’s sake.”

“And Kevin’s,” Rocky growled as he leaned over the back of their seat. He yanked one of Emily’s curls. “Because of you we have to ride this stinkin’ bus.”

“Get a job. Buy your own car.”

“Guess you’ll have to do the same.”

Tears stung Emily’s eyes, but she refused to shed them and turned to stare out the window again.

Concentrating hard, she calmed her upset stomach, faced Red and attempted to read his thoughts, focusing her gaze on his green eyes. “You nearly got bitten when you trashed my car. But the snake would have died as soon as he sank his fangs into your leg as bad as your blood is.”

Rocky laughed.

Red snarled and his freckles melded into blotches of angry red skin. “Shut up, Rocky. She’s doing it again. Using her witch’s powers. So, where did you really transfer from anyway? Some witch’s school?”

“Charm school. Made top honors.”

The girl sitting in front of Emily twisted her head slightly to look at her. The girl’s curls drifted over her shoulders in waves of black licorice, and her eyes sparkled with mischief, the color of black diamonds, almost translucent in appearance. Her burgundy colored lips turned up as she nodded at Emily. “I believe I may have gone to the same charm school as you.” She turned around and leaned over the back of her seat. Reaching out her hand to Emily she said, “Rebecca. Rebecca Menendez.”

“Roberta’s sister?” Emily’s head swam with the notion.

Rebecca shook her head.

Emily frowned. “A cousin?”

Rebecca nodded just once and raised both her dark brows to punctuate the notion while her smile remained constant. “You’re the new girl in school. I’ve heard you can be a pretty loyal friend. My cousin, and mutual friend of yours, told me before she went away. I was too scared to look for her in the swamp. Thank you for aiding her.” She slipped a piece of paper into Emily’s hand. “Here’s my number. Call me sometime.”

Not only was Rebecca Roberta’s cousin, but she could read minds, too. Emily smiled, then opened the paper. Numbers appeared, then faded away. They weren’t there. Not really. Rebecca had just given them to her via her mind. But then the paper disappeared also, and Emily’s skin prickled.

The bus driver pulled to a stop where Emily would normally get off, but Red wouldn’t budge. Before she could make him move, he fell off the seat. She looked at Rebecca who grinned at her. Emily had a new friend. Things were really looking up at school.

“I’ll call you.”

“Soon.”

Emily climbed over Red and headed for the door.

“You were supposed to keep her on the bus.”

Running down the steps, she didn’t hear any more of Rocky’s words. They’d follow her, she knew. She just had to make some distance between them and…

Their heavy footsteps tromped down the metal steps after her. When the bus drove off, she stopped, turned, and made her stand. They’d catch up with her anyway with their much longer stride. This way she could concentrate on one of the kids before they hurt her.

Red’s fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists, and she knew she’d have a black eye if she didn’t do it to him first.

Narrowing her eyes, she studied Rocky, frowned, then cocked a brow. Immediately, he grabbed Red’s arm and yanked him to a stop. Before Red could say a word in retort, Rocky socked him right in the eye.

Despite how infuriated Red must have been with his friend, he turned and headed for Emily instead. Her plan wasn’t working. She tried again. This time Rocky tripped Red and kicked him in the ribs as soon as he was down.

That did it.

Red jumped to his feet and with lightning, boxing-match action, he punched Rocky in the nose. Emily beat a hasty retreat home. She didn’t need to use mind control any longer. They wouldn’t quit until they’d beaten each other sufficiently. Use some of that pent up frustration on each other for a change.

Before she reached her house, something caught her eye at the gate to Michael’s house. His car was gone, and she imagined he must have still been at the hospital. Was it the pirate ghost, then?

She headed for the gate.

Chapter 21

Emily ducked into the backyard and saw him with his back mostly turned to her…standing only a couple of inches taller than herself. The dreaded pirate Roberts. A man of negligible stature, but he wore a sinister expression that made up for it.

An ebony felt, three-cornered hat topped his head, while curly, matted black hair hung down his shoulders, some of it decorated with colorful wooden beads, or braided with strips of leather. A long burgundy coat hung from his broad shoulders and reached to his knees. Buttoned beneath this, a gaudy yellow waistcoat of silk brocade and a linen shirt drew close to his tanned skin. A brace of pistols, a steel cutlass, and a throwing dagger rode at his waist, making Emily realize how dangerous he must have been. Below these, breeches of butternut brown disappeared into knee-high leather boots.

He raised his arms in the air, cursing the world for his misfortune, then turned when he realized he had an audience. Looking down at Emily from his perch on the sailboat’s deck above, he folded his arms and narrowed bushy black brows crusted with salt. Eyes as black as a moonless night stared back at her, intrigued, and a smile tugged at his colorless lips. His tanned and weathered face was so deeply lined it appeared to be etched. But further examination revealed a scar below one eye and another stretched across his chin…the result of some kind of swordplay, no doubt. “Now, who be you?”

Before Emily could speak, he grinned and she shuddered to see the blank holes where teeth were missing and others were mottled yellow and black like a picket fence in ill repair.

“C’mere, me beauty. Me thinks you be the old sea wench. Now I sees that you be not. Emily, the redheaded wench. Avast, me beauty. Come aboard.” He stomped his ragged boot. “Smartly, me lass. Times a’wastin.”

She crossed her arms. “I know where your treasure is, Roberts.”

“Captain Roberts to you, me lass.” He squinted his beady eyes into bullets of iron. “Whar be me booty?”

“Not far from here, but you’ll have to follow me.”

“I’ll not leave me ship. Besides, we’ve run aground. When the tide’s in, and I have a new crew, we’ll get me booty. C’mere and join me.” He waggled his brows. “I’ll even share a bit o’ me grog with you, me lass.”

Emily tilted her chin up. “You hurt Granny. Don’t hurt her again or you’ll never get your treasure back.”

Roberts pulled the sword from its scabbard, the metal glistening in the sunlight, and shook it at her. “No wench speaks t’ me in such a manner. Hang you from the yardarm like the last bilge rat who dared speak mutiny, I will.”

“I warn you—”

“Warn me? Captain Roberts?” He laughed, and his boisterous, dark voice brought a chill to the humid breeze.

“Your crew waits for you.”

He grumbled something under his breath. Was he angry, thinking his shipmates had his treasure?

“Meg waits for you. A lot of people depend on you.”

“Meg,” he said softly.

She opened her mouth to speak, to encourage him to leave Granny’s backyard, but the squeak of the gate made her turn instead.

“Michael.”

He hurried across the backyard to join her. “Emily, I tried calling your house and there wasn’t any answer. I called your mom’s office, and she hadn’t left work. Tell me you didn’t ride the school bus.”

Emily glanced over at the sailboat to find Roberts had vanished. “I made a new friend.”

“Oh?” Michael took her hand and led her inside the house. “You need to call your mother. She’s frantic.”

Emily called her mother’s work, and once she put her mind at ease, she watched Michael pull a package of chicken from the fridge. “What are you doing?”

“Cooking chicken wings and fried potatoes.”

“Hmm, you’re a cook, too.” She smiled. “How is Granny?”

“She’s doing fine. They wanted to keep her overnight, then she’ll be coming home tomorrow if she’s doing all right. Who’s your new friend?” He pulled out a couple of potatoes from the crisper in the fridge.

“Rebecca Menendez.”

Michael stopped peeling the potato. “Rebecca Menendez?”

“Yes, she’s a cousin to Roberta. She can read minds, too.”

“Oh?” He finished peeling the potato, then worked on another. “What happened on the bus? Or I should say, after you got off the bus?”

“Rocky and Red got into a fist fight. They may not be speaking to each other for a while.”

Michael shook his head and glanced out the window. “What were you doing in my backyard?”

Emily looked out the window; the sailboat rocked gently in the stiff breeze. “I spoke to Roberts. Told him not to hurt Granny anymore, and we’d show him where his treasure was when the time was right.”

Michael set down his paring knife and took hold of Emily’s hands. “Together, Emily. We have to do this together. He hurt Granny already. I don’t want him to hurt you, too.”

“He likes me.”

“Great.” Michael sliced up the potatoes into dollars and tossed them in a pan coated with corn oil. “Now I have to fight a pirate to keep my girl.”

Emily wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist and leaned her cheek against his back. “Michael, you’re my hero.”

“Hmpf. So, what did he say?”

“He wanted me to share his grog with him.”

“And other things.”

Michael sounded bitter and Emily was amused he could be jealous of a pirate ghost.

“He can’t have me. But he said he wouldn’t leave the boat. Can you sail it?”

“Yeah, but we can’t get close to where the treasure is without running aground.”

“How about the dinghy?”

“We could try it.”

“All right. It’s a deal. We can do it right after we eat. It’ll still be light out. It’s only four now.”

“Okay. You’re the expert ghost appeaser. We’ll try it your way.” He turned around to face her and pulled her close. With her head resting against his chest, he asked, “Since my grandmother’s tucked away in bed at the hospital tonight, do you want to have a slumber party with me this evening? Keep me company? Make sure I don’t get scared of things that go bump in the night?”

She laughed. “I believe Roberts wanted me to spend the night with him, too.” She tugged at Michael’s button. “But if you must know, I’m not that kind of a wench.”

Michael leaned down to kiss her lips. “Hmm, just my kind.”

*  *  *

After they ate, Michael and Emily motored his grandfather’s boat down the canal to the Banana River. When they had access to a steady wind, he unfurled the sails. Emily worried when Captain Robert didn’t appear, but she was certain as soon as they found the treasure he’d make his presence known. Maybe he didn’t like it that she had her own guy to keep her company. Or maybe he only felt he could bully a woman, and Michael was too much of a man for him.

Michael pulled off his shirt and showed off the sinewy muscles. He flexed them for her. “What do you think?”

Perfectly huggable, that’s what she thought. “Just right.”

“Landlubber,” Roberts growled.

Emily jumped up in fright to see Roberts standing so close to her. “Michael’s taking you to your treasure,” she said quickly, to avoid any trouble.

“I can see he’s a way with the ship.”

“He’s a good sailor.”

“Aye.”

Michael cast a wary glance in Robert’s direction, then looked back at Emily. “Come over here, Emily.”

“Can you see him, Michael?”

He didn’t answer her, just glared in the direction Emily had faced.

“He thinks he owns me lass, does he?”

“You need him to sail the ship, Captain Roberts.” She edged over to Michael.

“Aye, that I do. Sail on, then, lad.”

She could sense there’d be trouble as soon as Roberts got his treasure. Michael seemed to realize the problem also. But could he suddenly see the ghost?

Roberts ran his grimy fingers over his brace of pistols. “Wenches aren’t allowed on my ship.”

“That’s why you hurt Granny?” Emily stood slightly behind Michael.

“She was swabbing me deck. Me crew does that. None had permission to bring a wench aboard. Bad luck they be.”

Michael stiffened his back as if prepared to fight Roberts if he had to, to keep Emily safe. Again, she wondered if he could see the ghost.

Roberts scratched his head. “Course, me beauty be welcome, says I.”

Emily took a deep breath. She hoped when Roberts found his treasure, he’d forget her.

Michael attempted to project his thoughts to her, to her surprise. She looked over at him, but he kept his sights on Roberts.

“Emily, when we reach the swampland with the dinghy, we’ll pretend we can’t get close to it. He’ll have to get out and wade or float or whatever he does through the swamp. When he does, we’ll return to the sailboat.”

If he could read her mind when she was in the cafeteria… Had their special connection grown? Just like the symbiotic reaction she had when he felt strongly about something, had they developed more of an attachment?

“Michael, what if the pirate insists you join him to get the treasure? What if he makes you get out alone while Roberts stays with me?”

He glanced at her, his face revealing a mixture of surprise and anxiety. The notion he could read her mind would take him sometime to get used to, she figured.

“Well?”

“Won’t happen.”

She wasn’t so sure.

When they reached the area where the treasure chest rested, Michael tossed the anchor into the river, then readied the dinghy. He leaned over to Emily and whispered, “I want you to stay here.”

“Together, Michael. We do this together.”

“Me lass goes with me.” Roberts pointed his sword at the dinghy. “Climb aboard, me maties.”

“Can you hear and see him, Michael?” she asked, hushed.

“No,” he said under his breath, “but I don’t want him to know.”

“He wants us both to go in the dinghy.”

Michael’s face reddened, and he furrowed his brow, then started to object. “I want you to stay behind.”

Roberts cut the air with his sword.

Could he hurt Michael with a ghostly weapon? She didn’t think so, but what if he pushed him from the boat? What if…she didn’t want to consider any other “what ifs.”

“Michael, I’m going with you.”

His jaw twitched with tension, but he climbed into the small boat first and reached up to assist Emily. When she took her seat, Michael began to row.

“Strappin’ lad,” Roberts said, nodding his head. “You’ll do.”

For several minutes, Michael rowed while Roberts watched for signs of his treasure. When Emily saw the raised spot of earth where the treasure had once been, she projected the chest’s image into the pirate’s thoughts. Immediately he spied it and pointed in its direction.

“His treasure is there,” Emily whispered to Michael.

As if on cue, Michael shook his head. “Can’t get the boat any closer. Too shallow, Captain.”

“Aye.” Roberts jumped overboard and headed toward his treasure, shimmering in the rays of sunlight filtering through the foliage. Though he waded waist-deep through the water, none of it stirred with his movement.

“Go, Michael,” Emily urged, wondering why he hesitated.

“He’s gone?” Michael immediately heaved ho, pushing the oars into the swamp water, making as fast an exodus as he could.

A ghostly shot fired into the air, but not at them. Other pirates suddenly appeared—dressed in more ragged clothes, unkempt hair dangling about their shoulders, dirty faces and mottled teeth gleaming—firing their pistols to salute the return of their captain.

“Sorry, I forgot you couldn’t see him.”

“No, I was taking your cue. I was afraid if he thought I couldn’t see him, he’d have the upper hand.”

Only when the dingy was a good distance away from the pirates did Roberts seem to notice he lost Emily to the landlubber, Michael.

“Come back with me lass, you bilge rat!”

“What’s happening?” Michael asked, his voice strained while he worked the oars. “Are they following us?”

“The captain’s calling you names and wants you to return me immediately.”

“Being your steady has been quite a challenge, Emily.”

“We return home, me maties!” the captain shouted. “To Meg and the other lasses.” He scowled at Michael.

Relieved the pirate ghosts stayed with their illusionary chest, Emily patted Michael’s leg. “I’m glad you planned this so well.”

“I had a premonition it would work. It’s like the California Gold Rush. When men had the gold fever, nothing else mattered. Not women, food, or anything. Just gold. I hoped when he caught sight of his treasure, he’d forget about you long enough for us to get away. I assumed he wouldn’t want to stray far from his gold.”

Emily studied Michael’s bronzed muscles, impressed with his physique and again thought about his summer job…a lifeguard. Hmm-hm, and he was all hers. Realizing she’d forgotten about the treasure chest, she glanced back at the pirates. Afraid they’d chase after Michael and her, thinking she was a witch like Roberta who made their treasure vanish, she found their ghostly images fading. The yelling and curses dulled and finally disappeared. The knot in her stomach dissolved. “I think that did it, Michael. I think they’re gone for good.”

Michael breathed a heavy sigh. “Great. Hope this is the last for a good long while.”

Shortly thereafter, he pulled the dinghy next to the sailboat. “We’ll have to reschedule our date at Asheley’s for when Granny’s feeling better, but maybe you’ve had enough ghost visitations for a while.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

*  *  *

Two weeks later, Emily, Michael, and Granny sat in a booth at Asheley’s. The busy restaurant was filled with chatter and the clinking of silverware against plates. The aroma of spicy beef and chicken scented the air-conditioned air.

Emily glanced around the room, hoping to see the Roaring-Twenties spirit, but ghosts didn’t always make their appearances just to appease an audience so she halfway expected neither the man nor the woman’s ghosts to appear. But tonight they had reason to celebrate.

Granny felt great again, Red and Rocky left Emily alone, and neither Granny nor Emily had any more ghostly visitations.

Reaching across the table, Granny patted Emily’s hand. “Emily, dear, I need to go to the ladies’ room. Would you like to come with me?”

“The ladies’ room.”

“Yes, dear. Sometimes the ghost woman appears in the mirrors.”

“Sure, Granny.”

Emily walked into the restroom with her where the fragrance of violets scented the air, and the Victorian wallpaper added to the old world ambiance. Inside, a young redheaded woman smiled at them while washing her hands. “Looking for the ghosts?”

“Have you seen any sign of them?” Emily asked, hopeful.

“Nope, but you know, some patrons have said they felt as though they were being choked in the hallway, just outside these restrooms. Dishes have been smashed and cooking utensils thrown. Whoever the spirits are, they’re considered malevolent. Still, lots of people come here because the food’s great, and the idea they might catch a glimpse of the spirit world is too tempting not to check out.”

A chill swept over Emily’s arms, and she rubbed them. Had someone choked the woman to death in the restaurant? If Emily had known the spirits were nasty-tempered…

She took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. Tonight, she had no intention of trying to appease evil spirits, and she wished now they hadn’t come here.

Granny patted her shoulder, reassuring her. “Let’s have a nice meal.”

Not seeing anything strange, they returned to the dining room.

For a second, Emily paused with Granny, startled. A young woman sat beside Michael dressed in a Flapper dress, the fringe dangling down her legs. She smiled sweetly at Michael whose ears tinged with red as soon as he caught sight of Emily and his grandmother.

Emily stormed across the floor, any anxiety she had about the spirit instantly turning into anger. “Listen,” she said to the woman. “Take a hike. He’s all mine.”

The ghost scowled at her and an icy chill raced down Emily’s spine. Then the apparition vanished.

“You saw her?” Emily asked Michael, knitting her brow.

“Yeah, you don’t think you were a little harsh on her, do you?” Michael stood and let Emily slide into the booth.

“You haven’t seen harsh, Michael, when a girl tries to steal my guy.”

“Happened often?”

“No, just this once. But the word will get around soon enough. You’re mine for keeps.”

“Now you know how I felt about Roberts and you.”

She kissed Michael’s cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me. He needed way too much dental work. Did you see how many teeth he was missing? And how badly the remaining ones looked?”

“I couldn’t see him, remember?”

“She’s a keeper, Michael. I told you so the first time I saw her,” Granny said, lifting a cup of coffee.

He wrapped his arm around Emily’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right about that, Granny. For better or worse.”

“For richer or poorer.” Emily tapped her spoon on the table. “You don’t think we might find a little of the pirate’s treasure still buried in the swamp? What if some of the gold coins slipped into the muck? I could buy a new car—”

“No!” both Michael and Granny shouted.

“Okay, then somehow Rocky and Red are going to have to pay.” Emily loved solving puzzles. Somehow, she’d master this one, too. “Hey, did you hear that the high school is planning on holding spring break in St. Augustine next year? The ghost capital of Florida?”

She swore Michael and Granny both groaned, but a scream from the direction of the restrooms distracted her. She lifted her glass to Michael and Granny. “To solving mysteries.”

“To keeping you safe,” Michael said and winked.

“To friendship,” Granny added.

“To friendship.” Emily had to remember to thank her parents for moving here, again. For the first time ever, she belonged.

###

About the Author

Award-winning author of urban fantasy and medieval historical romantic suspense, Heart of the Wolf named in Publishers Weekly's BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR, NOR Reader Choice for BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE.

She currently has written ten books of the werewolf series based on real wolves, six out now with more to come, a new jaguar shifter series, vampire romances, Highland medieval romances, and a western time-travel ghostly romance.

Terry Spear also writes true stories for adult and young adult audiences. She’s a retired lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army Reserves and has an MBA from Monmouth University and a Bachelors in Business and Distinguished Military Graduate of West Texas A & M. She also creates award-winning teddy bears, Wilde & Woolly Bears, to include personalized bears designed to commemorate authors’ books. When she’s not writing or making bears, she’s teaching online writing courses.

Be sure to sign up for her newsletter where she gives a free serialized read once a week.

http://www.terryspear.com/

Excerpt from the fantasy young adult novel where magic rules the day, coming soon:

The Courtly Masquerade

by

Terry Spear

Chapter 1

I, Arabella, Duchess of Foxmoor Castle currently, sat at my cousin’s bedside, still unable to fathom the princess’s words. “Princess Lynet, the physician has said you are too ill to travel to Crondor to meet Prince Renault. This I understand. But why am I to go in your place instead and pretend to be you?”

Lynet’s clear brown eyes and her peach-toned skin didn’t reveal any signs of sickness. And yet, if the king’s physician said my cousin was ill, she was ill.

Lynet coiled an auburn curl of hair around her finger. “We look nearly identical, dear cousin.”

The ‘dear cousin expression’ only was used when the spoiled rotten princess wanted something of me. Last year when we had turned sixteen, Lynet talked me into taking her place at the ball to dance with a forty-year-old Borasian prince that Lynet couldn’t stomach.

I soon found out why as the prince ate tons of garlic and onions, danced on my feet, and was a total bore. I’d had a devil of a time trying not breathe in his horrifically, horrible odorous breath. Not only that, but he was of the opinion, baths make one ill.

After the dance, I feared I’d have to burn my best ball gown, when his body odor permeated the velvet fabric.

Now what did dear Lynet have in mind exactly? “Neither of us have met Prince Renault. What courtly gossip have you received that forces you to ask for my help in this matter?”

Lynet closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “So unwell, so unwell. I cannot speak of it.” She raised her hand to her forehead.

I squelched the irritation running in my blood and poured water into a brass goblet. “Would you like something to drink to ease your suffering?”

Lynet opened her eyes, smugly smiled, and shook her head. “You can only ease my suffering if you would take my place, dear cousin.”

Two dear cousins in one conversation. Now that was a world record.

I straightened my spine, not wanting to hear any more about this task—figuring this time it would be more detestable than the last.

Lynet fluttered her hand over her face, then rested it on her waist, covered by an ice blue velvet coverlet. “I’m only an inch taller than you, but otherwise our hair and eyes are the same color. And often we are mistaken for one another. Or at least we were until my father decided that you would no longer wear my favorite colors.”

Which left me with brown, black, or a pale yellow. My skin appeared sickly whenever I wore yellow, and black was worn in mourning only. So like the servants, I wore brown. Except because I am a duchess, my gowns are made of rich velvets, satins or silks, and then I stitch colorful flowers or bright green leaves to brighten the dull color. But the king had declared he didn’t wish one more suitor or courtier to mistake me for the princess. So until I marry and can leave Foxmoor, I will wear brown.

Most of the time it doesn’t bother me, except when I saw the most beautiful blue satin fabric at market that I would have made into a gown for my seventeenth birthday. Lynet swiped it from me, and made it into her seventeenth birthday gown instead.

I try not to think about that day a week ago, but sometimes the image of Lynet ripping the silky fabric from my hands and declaring, “Oh, dear cousin, you have found just the right material for my birthday gown,” comes back to me all in a rush. At these times I want to slap her, and take the fabric back, and tell her she can take a flying leap into yonder canyon. But this is only on really bad days. Like this evening.

Lynet studied me with a simpering smile on her lips. Was it from the sickness, or was it something else?

“Are you feverish? I could wipe your brow.”

“No, no, I’m fine. Well, not fine, mind you. But I don’t want cold wet compresses on my head messing up my hair.”

I nodded.

Not only did we look alike, our mothers gave birth to us only minutes apart. They were sisters, only her mother married the king, and mine married a duke. When my parents died, I inherited the dukedom of Cambria. But I could not possess it, until I wed a duke. Often times I wished my mother had been the queen, but now with Lynet having to marry this disagreeable Prince Renault, I was almost glad she was the princess.

Almost. As for now, I was to marry the despicable Duke Farthington, a forty-year-old, balding, out-of-shape, surly man who’d already buried two wives.

Prince Renault couldn’t be that bad. Could he?

“He has never met us, so he would never know it is not I who joins him,” my cousin said, touching the three-inch lace on the sleeves of her blue silk bed gown.

I studied my cousin’s healthy looking complexion. “I can’t marry the man who is to wed you. He could have me beheaded for pretending to be you if he found out.”

“You are to ensure you do everything to make him dislike you.”

“What?” Now this really was going too far.

“I wish to marry Prince Sumaria from—”

“Our mountain border. The prince in line for being king of Creshion.” Handsome, blond, extremely charismatic, from what I’d heard tell, though I’d never seen the prince. I wondered when Lynet had met him.

Lynet nodded.

I took a deep breath trying to settle my raw nerves. Pretending to be a princess, especially one that the king was using to forge an alliance with another kingdom, was an extremely dangerous thing to do.

“I am to marry Duke Farthington in a couple of months. How will my absence be explained?”

“It’s taken care of. I didn’t think you were fond of the duke.” The princess’s lips twitched up.

Of course I didn’t care for him. Most people didn’t. But he had power and money and the king’s ear. He wanted me, as I owned my own dukedom, had power and money and mine added to his would benefit him greatly.

“I don’t,” I said, in my most cheerful voice, “but I’ve been given no choice. Such is the way of royalty.” I often wondered what it would be like to be a baron’s daughter, or maybe a knight’s daughter. Would she have had more choice in her marriage to a gentleman?

“Yes, well, perhaps I can arrange for a new marital agreement,” the princess said, batting her dark eyelashes.

Perhaps? That was the key glitch to the whole thing. Perhaps my dear cousin, the princess of Lucianda, wouldn’t make the effort.

I could see myself pleading with the head chopper in Crondor, who summarily separated people’s heads from their bodies with his sharp axe. Yet should I escape such a fate...and furthermore if I were successful in convincing the prince I was his unworthy princess bride—which would be easy to do if I were truly Lynet—I would return to Foxmoor Castle and find? Dear paunchy, balding, and widowed—twice over—Duke Farthington waiting to wed me. Would the agreement have been nullified?

I hate to admit I very much doubt so. Which leads me to my current dilemma. How do I keep my wits about me, and my head connected to my neck in the interim?

But what if—and this is a big if—Lynet did stick by her word and she could arrange for me to marry someone else?

“There are no other nobles in the area as high a rank as me, who are unmarried.”

“True,” Lynet said. “But we will come to that bridge when we have to.”

Truth be known, I have always felt there is something terribly wrong with me. I just don’t find men appealing in a romantic sort of way. Though I recently learned my mother, and Lynet’s mother, my aunt, were both “late bloomers,” which may be what I am, too. When other girls are giggling, fluttering their lashes, and sticking their chests out to get a boy’s attention, I walk on by, absolutely disinterested.

Though this is not to say I don’t like to join in the company of men on hunts, either with my bow or bird, or that I don’t enjoy a good sword or staff practice. Or that I can’t discuss the management of soldiers, farming, households and the likes on an equal basis, but this is not the same as fluttering eyelashes and smiling coyly to obtain the highly regarded...kiss.

“You must remember always to pretend you are me,” Lynet said with a giggle.

“Well, I won’t have any difficulty showing no romantic interest in Prince Renault’s charms, should he prove to be charming, or handsome, or interesting, or an avid bath taker—as I have no interest in gentleman in that regard at all.”

Lynet shook her head. “You must flirt with others in his court. Irritate him in any way that you can.”

Deliberately making the man dislike me, that’s another story. I never make it a practice to annoy people. Though I’m sure that I irritate my cousin, Lynet, at times inadvertently. A prime example goes back to the rule of dress.

I swallowed hard, hoping somehow I’d wiggle myself out of resting my head on the executioner’s block at Crondor. “Your father hasn’t said a thing about this to me. Are you sure this is what he wants?” I couldn’t imagine it was. “I thought he wanted ties to Crondor, not Creshion.”

“He wants ties to everywhere to avoid conflicts. But alas he only has one daughter.” The princess’s face brightened. “And...a look-a-like niece that could save my life.”

A little overly dramatic I thought. So she had to marry an ogre. I had to, also. And certainly what I would have to do to get her out of her predicament could put my life in real peril.

“So you’re saying the king agrees with this scheme?” I still didn’t trust that he did.

“Yes. You’re to leave tonight. I’ve already had one of my trunks packed with the gowns I wore when I was still your height. Pick out one of my brown riding gowns for the trip.”

Even in her disguise I would not be able to ditch the brown gowns, at least for a time.

The princess said, “You will go, make the prince detest you, and then I’ll be free to wed Prince Sumaria.”

I sighed deeply exasperated, making another attempt to change her mind. “But if you have never met Prince Renault and then spent some time with him, perhaps you would care for him as much as you do for Sumaria.”

“He threatened my father with war until my father agreed to give me up as his bride. Though Prince Renault did say, I had to pique his interest. If not, he would release my father from his agreement.”

“But when you get well, you could show how much you dislike the prince.” And much better than I could. Princess Lynet could have the worst tantrums without provocation of any rich, spoiled lady I knew.

Lynet shook her head. “I can’t do it. Prince Sumaria said if I go to see Prince Renault, he’s calling off his agreement to marry me. He was very agreeable that I would send you in my place.”

“Do you have the letter from Prince Renault? I should probably take it with me so they know it is me—well, you rather—that has come at his request.”

“No.”

I must have looked startled at the abruptness and rudeness in her voice. I thought my request totally appropriate and sincere.

She smiled sweetly. “Father keeps important documents like those in his archives.”

“Is everyone to know about this—”

“No. I will live in your quarters pretending to be you until you return, though I don’t know how I’ll manage to wear only brown dresses all the time. You’re lucky you love the color so well. But you must accomplish the task quickly and come home right away.”

I took another deep breath, trying to calm my anxiety as the nape of my neck crawled. I could see my hair being piled high on my head while the executioner readied his axe.

Though I was a royal duchess, only one rank lower than a princess and had many privileges, I also found myself in predicaments—such as these—I had no control over. “I will do as you wish, Princess Lynet.”

She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her darkened, narrowed eyes. “Of course you will.” Lynet motioned toward the door. “Your escort awaits in the courtyard.”

There were no more “dear cousin” sentiments and now that I had been formerly dismissed, it was time to leave the home I had known for the last four years and venture across lands I had never been.

But first, I had to change, gather my staff and sword, and arrange for my lady-in-waiting, Baroness DeChamplainet, to join me.

Nothing worked out as I planned.

As soon as I stepped out the door, a man I’d never seen before grabbed my arm and hurried me down the long hall toward the side door to the castle. I guessed it was because of my pretending to be the princess, and she’d had the whole matter well taken in hand.

“But I need to change into the princess’s—”

“In the coach,” the man said gruffly. His black hair brushed his collar, and his black beard did, too. I could barely make out his black eyes, as beady as they were. Wrinkled flesh and a bridge of black brows hid them almost entirely.

“But I must speak with my lady-in-waiting and—”

“You are under strict orders to leave without word to any.”

I stared at the carriage that I was being rushed to. It was not one of the royal carriages, painted in familiar brilliant red with a golden eagle emblazoned on its side. Instead, black paint peeled from the wooden conveyance and a remnant of red paint, indicating whoever’s emblem had once graced the carriage, was nearly gone.

“Whose carriage is this?”

“Bandits will avoid attacking a carriage like this.”

I knew then the king either didn’t have word of what his daughter intended, or if he did, something else was at stake.

At least I had my jewel-handled dagger and a fair amount of coins in my purse.

Where the carriage sat waiting, the torches had all been extinguished—another ominous sign. But then again, if I were to leave in secrecy...

The man jerked the door open and it creaked. I lifted my gowns and nearly fell inside the carriage while he made no effort to assist me up the rickety wood step.

Then he slammed the door closed.

As soon as I sat on the leather bench seat, I felt something crinkle underneath me. Black leather flaps hung down in the windows, though with the darkness of night, I couldn’t see anything anyway.

The horses took off and I nearly fell from my seat.

I spoke a light spell, having discovered that since I turned seventeen, I had somehow garnered several new mage abilities. To my relief, in the equivalent of a faint candlelight’s glow, I found my traveling cloak, a perfectly weatherproof garment. In addition, I found a pouch filled with cheese, dried fish and beef, and freshly baked bread, resting upon my cloak. My water pouch lay nearby. Then I pulled the paper from underneath my gown. There was no seal, just a folded piece of parchment. I opened it with enthusiasm, hoping for some word of encouragement on this dismal night.

They intend to sell you to slavers. As soon as the carriage stops anywhere, get away. Make your way to Castle Ro. My good friend, Duke Yalovon, manages the dukedom. You will say you are my niece, Lady Arabella. She died last year, but he will not know this. You will be his governess for his twin girls. Live there and prosper, dear lady. I will join you when I can safely do so.

Your lady-in-waiting, Baroness DeChamplainet.