Finally, after spending too much time wishing things could have been different, she lay there and stared at the ceiling. She worried about how leaving her grandfather might hurt him. She worried about Della, and even a bit about Miranda feeling abandoned by both of them. She worried about her mom off in England, probably doing the dirty with a man who gave Kylie the creeps.

Oh, goodness, she had to push that image out of her head really fast, or she was going lose what little pizza she'd eaten.

She worried about how she was going to cope with Lucas.

But you aren't worried about me?

The cold hit so fast Kylie's breath caught when the frigid oxygen hit her lungs. She grabbed the comforter and pulled it all the way up to her chin."Should I worry about you?" Kylie asked, and looked over to where the ghost stood. Her hair hung loose and dangled almost to her waist. She wore the same white gown covered in blood.

And she looked ... dead. Deader than before.

Kylie didn't understand. If a ghost had an option to look dead, or not so dead, why didn't they choose not so dead every time?

No, don't worry about me. I'm already dead. See? She pulled her skirt tight and showed a dozen or so bloody slits in the white dress. It looked as if someone had taken a knife to her and hadn't known when to stop.

"That's terrible." Kylie looked away for a second and then back. "Who did that to you?"

The ghost didn't answer; she just kept looking at the holes in her dress. Actually, it's not so terrible.

And to be honest, the person you should worry about is you. Because if you don't start listening to me, you're going to end up dead. Just like me.

"Listen to what? Listen to you go on about my killing someone, you mean?" Kylie asked, frowning.

Yeah. She continued to stare at the holes in her dress. And don't make it sound like a terrible thing.

Taking a life is not the worst thing in the world.

"Okay, I'm curious, how many people have you killed?"

The spirit looked up as if considering the question. And it seemed to take her too damn long. As if she actually had to count. "You really did it, didn't you? You killed more than just one?"

I'm up to twenty-something, but I know I've missed a few. Some didn't seem to count very much.

"What were you? A hit man ... a hit woman?"

No, well, sort of, I guess. I didn't profit from my work. I just took care of someone else's problems.

And a few of my own. Blood suddenly appeared on her hands. She held them up and stared at them. Blood dripped from her fingertips. Some of it fell onto her already bloody dress and some dripped to the beige carpet. The smell, the coppery scent, filled the room and almost made Kylie gag. She supposed she should be happy that it didn't smell good to her right now.

"Are you trying to take me to hell with you? Is that what this is about? I've heard about some evil hellbound spirits doing that. But I'm not going there, and I refuse to help you kill someone, so just give it up.

You got that?" Kylie closed her eyes and tried to think positive thoughts the way Holiday had said could prevent a ghost from getting control of you-from taking you places you didn't want to go.

She felt the cold ebb away, but the spirit's words whispered in her head. I don't want you to go to hell. I want you to send someone else there.

"Go away! Go away! Go away!" Kylie muttered both aloud and in her head. "I'm not killing anyone for you. Nope. Nope. Not me."

The cold was gone, and Kylie took in a deep breath. But the cracking sound at her window had the breath seeping out in a squeal and made her jump at least three inches off the bed.

Kylie's gaze shot to the window but she didn't see anything.

Once the initial panic slaked off, her mind envisioned the blue jay-the one she'd pulled from death.

Had the thing followed her here?

Getting out of bed, she moved to the window, and with thoughts of hell-bound ghosts still too close to her mind, she cautiously pulled back the white lacy drapes. Out of nowhere, a distorted face appeared pressed to the glass pane.Kylie screamed.

Chapter Five

"Kylie? Are you okay?" Her grandfather's voice sounded at the bedroom door at the same time she was able to make out the face at the window. Jenny. The young chameleon who had spoken with Kylie earlier and acted so nervous. The one Kylie thought might have been Monique. What was she doing at the window? What could she want this late?

Jenny's gaze shot to the bedroom door and she shook her head. Panic filled her face, making her eyes widen, and her expression pleaded for Kylie not to tell her grandfather that she was there.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I must have been dreaming," she lied, and then hoped her grandfather wasn't in vampire mode and could read her heartbeat. Glancing back at the window, she saw relief flash in the girl's green eyes.

"Sleep well, then," her grandfather said from behind the door.

"I will," Kylie said. She waited until she heard the footsteps moving down the hall and then inched to the window and opened it.

Jenny pressed a finger to her lips and motioned for Kylie to come outside.

Before she did as Jenny requested, Kylie poked her head out and glanced around. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she just didn't want any surprises. Jenny's presence already surprised Kylie enough.

Just as she started to crawl out, Jenny stopped her and leaned in. "Is that your packed bag?"

Kylie looked back at her suitcase sitting on a side chair. "Yes."