Chosen at Nightfall (Shadow Falls #5)(94)

She shot him a scowl. "Isn't saying that a bit dangerous considering these aren't wooden swords and the ends aren't even taped?"

He laughed. A real laugh, and the sound of it washed over her like a soft summer rain on an extra-hot day. Then flashing in her mind was the look on his face when the weres had left him alone on parents' day. Then she recalled that Will and Chris were out there, probably listening to every word they said.

Will was supposed to be a friend, but would he, too, turn his back on Lucas?

She cut her eyes to the woods and whispered, "We're not alone, remember?"

"I don't care who hears it. I love you!" His voice rose louder this time.

She frowned. "Nothing's changed."

"Everything has changed," he said.

No it hadn't. He might think he could walk away from everything that had mattered to him, but she wasn't about to let him do that. She loved him too much.

"Are we going to practice? If not, I'm leaving."

"Then let's practice," he said.

They continued with the exercises for another ten minutes. Finally, he faced her. "We'll start, but remember, this isn't wood. We start slow."

He wasn't joking about slow. They moved at a snail's pace and continued for the next fifteen minutes.

"Who were you fighting with last night?" His question broke the long tense silence as they finally started picking up speed.

"The ghost."

"Is she good?" he asked.The fact that he asked about a ghost surprised her.

"She claims she's better than you."

"I knew I didn't like her," he said, and half smiled. After a pause, he asked, "Who is this ghost?" His gaze stayed on the swords.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. And just like that, Kylie sensed it was imperative that she find out.

* * *

Kylie didn't remember to call Derek. She and Lucas had a good practice. They didn't really let loose and spar like they would have with wooden swords, but almost.

When she checked her phone at almost midnight that night and found another text from Derek, she felt guilty. Call me now!

She'd seen him at dinner-that had been after his text-and he hadn't said anything. He hadn't even sat with her; instead he'd grabbed his dinner and left.

Still a bit worried, but not knowing if he'd still be awake, she texted him back. What's up?

She waited up for a good forty-five minutes to see if he would text her back. Nothing.

Frustrated, she flopped back on her pillow. The ghostly chill waved through the room for about the third time since she'd come to bed, but the spirit didn't stay.

Kylie's conversation with Holiday this afternoon added merit to her feelings. If she could just figure out the spirit's identity, it might help to answer a lot of questions.

While the spirit hadn't confirmed it, Kylie was almost certain the ghost was connected to Mario.

"Who are you?" Kylie asked the wisp of cold moving like a quick shadow in the room. "Tell me. Or at least show me something."

No answer came. Accepting that no spirit spoke before they were ready, Kylie rolled over and tried to sleep. Tried to think about something other than the ghost.

Anything other than killing someone.

Anything other than dying.

Anything other than Lucas and the hope she'd seen in his eyes.

Sleep had just about lured her in when she heard a slight noise. Footsteps on the wood floor. She opened her eyes and reached under her pillow for the sword.

Under her pillow? She didn't sleep with the sword.

Instinctively, she knew they were coming after her.

Who was coming for her?

Something wasn't right. Yet Kylie pulled out the weapon and lunged out of bed. Her feet landed on carpet. She looked down at the Oriental rug. Plush. Expensive.

Where was she?

Or a better question was: Who was she?

Heart pounding at the sound of the approaching footsteps, she looked around the room. A bedroom. Not Kylie's bedroom.

Heavy, expensive-looking wood furniture glistened from the little moonlight filtering through a large bay window that looked out at palm trees.The taste of fear and fury lingered on her tongue. She raised her sword. Only to realize it wasn't the sword that had been delivered to her, but the sword of ...

Everything made sense now. She was the spirit and she was in a vision. She spotted a heavy framed mirror over a dresser. For a flicker of a second, she stared at the image. Her dark hair hung loose, uncombed.

But causing Kylie's first stirring of panic was the gown. The one the spirit had obviously been wearing when she'd been murdered.

And Kylie was going to live it. Her first impulse was to scream out "Hell, no." Her second was to be aware, to find the answers she needed.

The thundering of footsteps drew closer, thudding as if climbing old wooden steps. Instinctually, Kylie knew that the spirit had expected her attackers. She had known that the night would bring her death. She'd chosen to wear white, yet had questioned if the sign of purity would do her any good.

Now as she waited for the end to draw near, a surge of regret, remorse for the life she had lived, crossed her mind. But deep down she accepted it was too late. Too late to change how she'd lived. But she could and would change how she died.