Lily reached for Talia’s hand. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to live with this. It’s more than many adults could handle. Is this screaming a physical pain?”
“No, but—but it feels so awful.”
Lily nodded. “Pain doesn’t have to be physical to be real. These new ghosts . . . I need you to tell me how many there are, and what’s different about them.”
“Five. The boy and girl and their mom—they’re the ones whose dad killed them. I’m pretty sure about that, though they won’t say. And the two newest ones got shot today.”
“I see. And they’re different from the others?”
Talia nodded. “Usually it’s the old ones who get all wispy, like crumpled tissues. They sort of wear out. Except the tall man—he’s old, but he’s still clear, and he makes more sense than most of them. I don’t know why. But these . . . they’re new, but they’re fuzzy and tattered, as if they were real old. And they scream at me. The rest don’t do that.” Talia’s mouth quivered into a smile. “You don’t think I’m crazy? Or—or possessed, or making things up?”
“No. I can sense your Gift, remember?”
“Are you going to tell my parents?”
“I’m hoping you’ll decide to do that. Wait, wait,” Lily said when both Justin and Talia burst into words that tumbled over each other like upset puppies. “I know you believe they won’t understand. You’re afraid they’ll think your Gift is evil. Some people do think that way, because magic can be scary, and they don’t understand it. So you might be right. They might react badly. I don’t know. But I’d like to tell you a story about me, if that’s okay.”
Talia and Justin looked at each other. Talia nodded.
“I’m a sensitive. I told you that. But for years and years—all my life up until about eight months ago—I wouldn’t have told you. My family knew, and that’s where I’m different from you. My family knew and they were okay about it, but I knew lots of other people wouldn’t be. I wanted to be normal—what I thought was normal—and I didn’t want to deal with the screwy ideas people have about sensitives. So I didn’t tell anyone.”
“But now you do.”
Lily nodded. “Now I do. And you know what? It’s better this way. Some people don’t understand, and they’re wrong in the things they think about me. Some people are rude, but most aren’t. And I breathe better now that I’m not hiding my secret anymore. Have you ever had a broken bone?”
Talia blinked. “Yes, ma’am. My arm. Right here, see? It’s fine now. I broke it in the third grade.”
“You know how it felt right after the cast came off? The skin’s really soft and tender, and your arm is weak because you haven’t been using it. It feels like you still need to protect it, as if it could be hurt easily—but I bet you didn’t want the cast back. Right? Well, that’s how I felt when I stopped keeping my Gift a secret.”
Talia considered that a moment, frowning. “But your family knew about it already. They were okay with your Gift.”
Lily nodded. “And that’s an important difference. But you’ve got family who know about your Gift and support you, too. Your brother’s right here, and he doesn’t think you’re evil. Or no more than any brother thinks that about his big sister.” She gave Justin a quick grin, and he grinned back. “What you don’t have—what you need—is an adult who will stand by you while your parents get used to the idea. I don’t think my mother would have accepted my being a sensitive very well if Grandmother hadn’t been there telling her . . . Well, Grandmother is not always polite.”
Toby chortled. “I wish you could meet her. Lily’s grandmother is really something. She can make anyone do what she says. She made the pres—”
“We don’t talk about that, Toby,” Dad said quickly.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Toby was still grinning, thinking of when he’d stood on the White House lawn near the president, because Grandmother insisted he be there when the dragons arrived. “But she really is something.”
Lily smiled, but didn’t look away from Talia. “Can you think of an adult relative who would be on your side?”
Justin answered promptly. “Aunt Sherri. No, really, “ he said when Talia looked doubtful. “She’s always telling Mom that Reverend Barnes is full of beans. Sometimes she doesn’t say ‘beans,’” he added, grinning.
“Mom doesn’t listen to her—she just changes the subject.”
“Mom doesn’t want to listen ’cause of Daddy. She doesn’t want to get in a fight, and Daddy thinks Reverend Barnes is Jesus’s best friend. Like the two of them have sleepovers and play ball together all the time, so Reverend Barnes has the inside scoop about heaven and all.” Justin paused, worry retaking his face. “Daddy’s going to be a problem.”
“If we tell.” Talia obviously hadn’t decided to.
“Maybe you could talk to your aunt Sherri about your Gift,” Lily said. “See what she thinks about telling your parents.”
“Yeah. Yeah!” Talia brightened. “I think she’d promise not to tell them something as long as it wasn’t about drugs or sex or something bad like that.”
“This still leaves us with a problem,” Dad said quietly. “When Toby comes home with us, Talia has no way to keep the ghosts from bothering her.”
“Can’t he stay?” Justin said. “Just for tonight. They’re worst at night. She’s tried crosses and holding on to a Bible and everything, but nothing keeps them away except Toby.”
“Not without your parents’ knowledge and permission.” Dad had a way of saying things in a way that made you know there was no point in arguing. “You need help managing your Gift, Talia. Neither Lily nor I can offer that, but for now . . . perhaps the ghosts are satisfied since you’ve passed on their messages. Why don’t you go to the other side of the yard and see if they’re still here? Would that be far enough?”
“Sure. I have to be real close to Toby to keep them away.” Talia bit her lip, then nodded and scrambled to her feet. The rest of them stood up, too, and watched as she went to the old swing set on the south side of the yard. She waited there a few minutes, looking around. Then she nodded, said something too softly for Toby to hear, and came back.
Her face looked a lot calmer. “The tall man said they—the regular ghosts—he said they’re circling the new ones to keep them from screaming at me. But they can’t pay attention for long. None of them can. They’ll forget why they’re doing it and quit. He said you really need to stop the ghost-maker.”
“I will,” Lily said.
It sounded like a promise. Toby worried about that. Could she really promise to stop the ghost-maker? They didn’t know who he was or how he was making people kill.
Dad did his thought-pulling thing, bending down to say softly, so only Toby would hear, “It’s what she does, you know. Right now she isn’t asking herself if she can stop the killing. She knows she will. She’s worrying about when.”
Toby swallowed. When made a difference, all right. “Okay. Only I can’t help wondering . . .”
“Yes?”
“What would ghosts be scared of? They’re already dead.”
Dad squeezed his shoulder. “Good question.”
TWENTY
WHAT would ghosts be scared of?
It was, Lily thought as she followed Rule and Toby through the gate, a very good question. Not the only one clogging up her pipes—her fingers itched for a notebook to jot some of them down—but maybe the most important one. If she could answer it, she’d go a long way to answering the rest.