Chosen at Nightfall (Shadow Falls #5)(13)

She recalled Burnett saying that her coming here was a mistake. And even though it didn't feel right, she wasn't prepared to call it that.

Voices drifted from the dining room and she moved that way. As she entered the hallway, the voices stopped. Stopped too quickly, as if they knew she was there and didn't want her to hear them. She paused at the threshold. Her aunt and grandfather sat at the table looking at her. She wished she knew the right thing to say. Yet a part of her knew that no matter what she said, it was going to hurt them. Maybe Burnett was right. Coming here had been a mistake. If for no other reason than the pain she'd brought on her grandfather and aunt.

"I'm sorry if I've caused problems. I'm sorry that-"

"No worries, child. Sit down," her aunt said. "Do you want me to heat your pizza?"

"No, I'm not hungry." Kylie sat down and gazed at her grandfather. "Are the elders upset at what happened? Are they upset at me, or you?"

Her grandfather sighed. "Upset, yes, but not at a particular person. They do not like change, and lately there has been a lot of change."

And mostly because of me. Kylie bit down on her lip. "I know someone who told me that it's when things don't change that a person should start to worry.""I'm bettir grandfather nodded. "He convinced them that you tricked him into taking you off the grounds. They still don't know what he is, and it needs to remain that way."

Kylie nodded, but she couldn't help but be suspicious. Burnett wasn't that easily tricked.

"Actually, Hayden speaks highly of how things are run at the school."

"See," Kylie said. "It's really not a bad place."

* * *

That night, not knowing what time Burnett would come for her, Kylie packed her bags. Then she stretched out in the bed with the softest sheets and down comforter she'd ever felt, flipping through the pictures of her dad. You would think being with her grandfather would make Kylie miss her real father less, but no; it seemed to work just the opposite. Seeing this man who looked like an older version of her dad made her miss him more.

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.