It took only a second for Kylie to realize that she was not of this world.

"You're not taking your meds like you should be, are you?" she said to the old man. "I can tell because your ankles are swollen. You're supposed to take the little red pills twice a day, not the blue ones. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself? You promised me you'd take care of yourself. Why won't you ever listen to me?"

Then the woman shifted her gaze and stared right at Kylie. Her aged gray eyes widened, then she vanished. Kylie hadn't taken her next breath when the woman materialized inches from her. Her skin was a dead gray color that matched her eyes. Her hair, only a slightly different shade of gray, got caught in the wind, and it swept up and floated almost motionlessly in the air around her head.

"Mother of God, you can see me," the elderly woman said.

The spirit's nearness brought more chills running down Kylie's spine. But the drop in temperature wasn't nearly as disturbing as the sudden silence.

The chattering of spirits had stopped. The only noise in the cemetery was the sound of the old man's footsteps. His shoes scrubbed against the gravel with his faltered steps while his cane tapped down on the earth, searching for a steady spot to rest his thick stick to support himself.

Tap, tap. Shuffle. Tap, tap. Shuffle. Tap. Shuffle.

Kylie sensed more than heard Burnett and Della move back. She'd asked for this space, but now she regretted it. Maybe she didn't want to be alone. But did she regret it enough to admit her fear? She knew someone like Burnett respected courage, and Kylie didn't want to come up short.

"Answer me, girl! You can see me, right?" The old woman waved a hand in front of Kylie's face.

She held her breath. The silence seemed to grow louder. The lack of chatter meant something. It meant the spirits were listening. Waiting for her to answer. Waiting to see if she admitted to being able to see one of their own.

Suddenly the air she pulled into her lungs grew so cold that it hurt. They, the silent spirits, were moving in. She couldn't see them, couldn't even hear them, but she could feel them. The cold increased tenfold.

Fear turned her stomach hard. She felt the thinnest layer of ice form on her lips. For a second, she questioned the wisdom of being here. Could she pretend she hadn't heard the woman? Was it too late to look away from the desperation of the elderly spirit?

"Tell him he needs to take two of the little red pills."

Kylie still didn't speak. Frost formed on the tips of her eyelashes, blurring her vision.

"He's going to get to meet our first great-grandchild. For years, all he's talked about was living until he saw his third generation make it into the world. But if he doesn't start taking his pills right, he'll never make it."

Suddenly, the other spirits started materializing around her. Ten, then twenty. Then more. And when they slowly inched closer, Kylie's heart raced with panic. She considered running, but could she outrun them?

"Can she hear us?" asked an older-sounding male spirit.

"Can she see us?" added a younger female spirit, crowding closer.

"Y'all are being silly," came another male spirit's voice. "The living can't see us no more."

"But this one can," argued the younger female spirit. "Look at her."

The spirits started to move closer.

"Do you think she can help us?" a female asked.

"Maybe," someone else said.

The older male spirit peered into Kylie's face. "What is she?"

The spirits crushed closer. A barrage of new questions started spilling out of their mouths, each talking so rapidly that it was hard to distinguish one voice from the other. The sound was so loud, Kylie fought the need to cover her ears. She couldn't remember what Holiday had said about the rules of shutting out the voices. Was it too late to attempt to shut them out?

"You looking for a particular plot?" The words seeped into Kylie's hearing and bounced around her panicked brain. It took a minute to realize that this male voice was different from the rest. The words were not from the dead, but from the living.

Kylie managed to look over and saw the old man walking toward her between two large tombstones. His cane pushed holes through the green grass into the moist dirt. Each time he pulled the tip of the walking stick from the ground, it created a squishing sound that seemed too loud.

Remembering she wasn't completely alone, Kylie glanced around and spotted Burnett standing at the end of the row, watching, ready to pounce in case the elderly gentleman posed any danger.

Little did Burnett know it wasn't him she feared, but all the others he could not see. The old man continued toward her. His presence brought a wave of calm that lessened the chaos sizzling in her blood. The closer he came, the farther back the spirits moved.

Kylie touched the tip of her tongue to the melting frost across her bottom lip and blinked away the shiny crystals of ice from her lashes.

"You look lost," he said again, coming to a stop a few feet away from her.

Thankful his presence had brought her some reprieve, she tried to smile, but the gesture seemed to fail.

"Cat got your tongue, child?" he asked.

"No," Kylie answered. Realizing she hadn't answered his initial question, she searched for a believable-sounding lie. "Yes, I'm looking ... for my aunt's grave."

"What's her name? I should be able to point you in the right direction. Lord knows I've walked these grounds enough. I'm here daily, visiting my Ima."