I pulled my Dad’s old ‘89 Chevy Blazer to a stop outside my Uncle Rory’s house. I sighed and turned off the truck. New town, new house, new school and new people. It’s not like being the new girl in school is anything new. I’d been forced to go to twelve different schools in the last five years since Dad died. I found it amazing I passed anything at all.

I looked back to the house. It was an old two-story craftsmen with its multiple pane windows and a new coat of sage green paint. Thanks to Uncle Rory, this year was going to be normal. No more moving, no more changing schools, no more having to work a part-time job to make sure we had enough food in the pantry. I rested my head against my seat and closed my eyes. This year was going to be normal. As if I would know what normal is.

A chill ran down the back of my neck, I groaned. Come on, I just got here.

I sighed and opened my eyes. Standing at the side of the wooded road not ten feet away stood a man who looked to be in his early thirties. His eyes fixed on the lake, moving over the surface as if he was searching for something. My throat ached as I watched him. I knew before he turned to walk down the road; his throat was slashed wide open, and white bone glistened out of the gaping wound.

I gritted my teeth while I fumbled for my phone in my pocket and pretended to check my messages. He came closer. Shit. My throat closed, pain radiating up to my jaw and down to my chest. I took deep breaths and pretended I couldn’t see the dead man. As he came closer, the pain increased. My head throbbed as he walked past me. Come on, buddy, move faster.

I started struggling to get air into my lungs. The pain in my head increased as his memories poured into my mind. No, nope, don’t want to know. I closed my eyes and focused on pushing them away. I knew what he wanted; I felt it. He needed to tell someone his story. And I really didn’t want to deal with this right now.

It felt like hours later when the pain finally faded and I was able to take a deep breath again. When I couldn’t feel the dead man anymore, I opened my eyes and adjusted my side mirror with my shaking hand. He was about fifteen feet down the road – it didn’t look like he noticed me. I’ve been in town not even ten minutes, and the dead were already walking by. It was a new record even for me.

I don’t want to see the dead, but I didn’t get much of a choice. The Sight has been passed down through my family since the beginning; though it only affects the women. Lucky me.

I closed my eyes, suddenly tired. Please just let the dead stay away tomorrow.

I don’t know who I was asking or if I’d ever get an answer. All the other answers to my request have been no. This one will probably be the same.

Tucking my cell phone back into the inside pocket of my leather jacket, I slid out of the Blazer. I pulled out my duffel bag and the small box of art supplies that I had managed to collect over the years.

Shutting the door with my hip, I headed for the house, ignoring the paved pathway. I was grateful to Rory for letting me stay here, but I knew he had his hands full already with my cousin Tara.

I rang the bell, promising myself that I wouldn’t be a pain in the ass for him. The door opened and I looked up. Tall and fit, even I could admit my uncle was good looking. His brown eyes had always been filled with mischief. Even though he was a police officer for the Spring Mountain Police Department, he never lost his childish streak when it came to practical jokes.

Rory ran a hand over his short copper hair. He was blinking against the daylight. His blue jeans were rumpled, as was his white t-shirt.

“Lexie?” Rory seemed to be waking up. “Sorry, I must have passed out.”

He reached out and took the box from my hands. He gave me a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. These weren’t the best circumstance for a reunion, but it is what it is.

I gave him a small smile back as I stepped into the house.

The house looked like one big room. The family room area was to my right, with a blue couch and matching armchairs. A big entertainment center filled the wall a few feet from the door. The kitchen was further in the back, to the right, in its own alcove. It was clean and full of stainless steel and had a big window above the sink. The dining area was to the left with a dark wood dining room table that could easily seat eight.

It looked homey. I liked it.

“Come on, honey, let’s go get your things from the car,” Rory said.

“This is everything.” I started checking out the photos on the wall to my left. They continued all the way up the stairs to the second floor. I could see Tara in most of them. It took a minute before I realized that Rory wasn’t moving. I looked back to him; he was frowning.

“This is everything?” he asked with an edge of disbelief. “A duffel bag of clothes and a box of stuff? That’s everything you own?”

I took a deep breath, refusing to be embarrassed. I had busted my ass for that box of stuff, not to mention my clothes. I didn’t have much, but I’d earned everything I had.

“Yeah, Rory. That’s everything,” I said honestly, trying to keep the challenge from my voice.

I don’t think I managed it. Rory gave me a small grin.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that,” he said turning and heading up the stairs before I could ask him what he meant. “Come on, I’ll show you your room, and then we can figure out what you need.”

I followed him up the light pine staircase. It had a railing so you could look down into the living room and at the front door. There were three doors in the hallway; one on the left, one directly ahead, and an open door that looked like the bathroom.

Without turning around, he pointed out the left door with his thumb.

“That’s Tara’s room.” He then pointed to the door at the other end of the hall. “That’s the bathroom for you and Tara.” He turned to me, his face serious. “That bathroom is for both of you. She’ll probably give you a hard time in the morning, don’t let her.”

He reached the door straight across from the stairs and opened it. “And here is your room. Sorry it’s so small.”

I stepped into the bedroom and smiled. The room looked huge to me. The white walls were plain but bright, the dark wood floor was clean. Across the room and against the wall sat a twin-sized mattress on a wooden platform frame with three drawers underneath. To the left of that was a metal and wooden desk with different colored drawers. I stepped further into the room and looked at the light wooden shelves on the left wall.

“It’s the biggest room I’ve had in a long time,” I told him, not bothering to keep my surprise from my voice as I went to examine the closet. There was an actual closet! Not a cabinet! I opened the door and was amazed by the room I was getting.

“I was sleeping on that pullout bed from the dinette set,” I said absently. I left the closet and put my bag on the bed. When I turned around, Rory’s face was frowning again, his lips in a tight line.

“Damn it, Alexis.” He cursed, running his hand over his face before catching my eyes with his. “What your mother kept putting you through....”

I swallowed hard as I looked around, trying to find any way to avoid this conversation.

He stepped into the room and dropped the box onto the desk, then pulled out the chair and sat down. “Sit down, kid.”

I sighed deeply. I didn’t want this conversation. I sat on the twin bed, absently noticing how soft it was.

“How are the bruises?”

My head jerked up. His eyes stared into mine, demanding an answer.

“Big red marks, big bruises, and soreness,” I answered lightly as I felt my collar to make sure my jacket still covered any bruises near my neck. “You know how redheads bruise, it looks worse than it is.”

I didn’t want to talk about this. I just wanted to forget it ever happened and move on. By the look on Rory’s face, that wasn’t going to happen.

“I talked to your mom’s doctor today,” he began.

I put my hands on the bed behind me and leaned back. I instantly regretted it as pain shot through my shoulders. I sat back up, hands dangling between my thighs.

Rory waited until I stopped moving before continuing. I paid attention even though I was sure I knew what Rory was going to say.

“She was way over the legal limit on alcohol. They also found cocaine in her system.”

I nodded; yeah, that’s what I thought he’d say. I didn’t care. My mother had come after me. She beat the shit out of me. I was done with her.

“They’re charging her,” he continued. “They’ll send her to rehab for a couple months, then she’ll either be released until trial, or she’ll be held until trial. If she tries to come get you, she can go to hell.” His voice was hard as he looked into my eyes.

My heart slammed in my chest. I dropped my gaze, fighting to keep control of myself. Rory actually cared. No one had cared in a really long time.

“I’ve already got a lawyer working to get me permanent custody of you. Even if she’s acquitted, which I highly doubt will happen, my lawyer said he could tie her up in red tape long enough for you to turn eighteen.”

Rory reached out and lifted my chin till I was looking him in the eye again. “You’re never going back with her, Lexie.”

I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. No more moving, no more new schools.

I was going to be able to have a normal life--well, as normal as it can be with the Sight.

I didn’t know what the hell to say.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, my voice choking off as my eyes filled. I bit down on the tip of my tongue to push them back; it worked.

“You’re home now, Lexie,” Rory said, smiling a small smile. “You’re stuck with us.”

I snorted. It was more the other way around, but I’ll take it.

Rory clapped, startling me. He stood up, rubbing his hands together. “Now, show me what you have for clothes and we’ll go shopping to fill in the gaps.”

I got up, opened my bag, and began pulling out the few clothes I had.

“You don’t need to buy me clothes, I’ll get a part-time job and…” I began laying out my clothes for him to see.

“If you want a job, that's fine.” His voice grew firm. “But I want you to focus on researching the Sight, finding anything you can.”

I met his eyes again; he was serious.

“I’m sick of the women in our family dying from this,” he continued. “I want you to have control. Understand?”

I nodded, my heart warming. Having someone who actually cared about how I was doing was new, but good.

“I’ve already got some feelers out working on that,” I answered, fighting a smile.

I picked up one of my shirts and went to put it on a hanger.

“Don’t bother with that now, we need to head over to the school and get you registered. Hopefully, they got your records by now.” Rory was already heading back downstairs, clearly expecting me to follow.

I tossed the shirt down on the bed and went to my box. I dug through it until I finally found the flash drive I kept my school records on. I tucked it into the pocket of my black leather jacket and followed.

Rory was already opening the door and heading out. I hurried downstairs to walk out the door then stopped cold. Rory was standing in front of the Blazer with a strange look on his face.

“Is this your dad’s old Blazer?” he asked, his voice thick as if he was holding something back. I walked over to stand next to him, looking over the old SUV.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to keep her running.” I hoped he didn’t mind, it was the only thing of Dad’s that I managed to keep Mom from selling.

He nodded, seeming to make up his mind about something.

“Needs a new coat of paint,” Rory mumbled before opening the door and looking inside. “New interior, new seats.”

Was he making a list? “Rory?” My voice seemed to snap his attention back to me.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Your Dad loved this thing; did you know that?”

I shook my head, my heart heavy. I remembered riding around in it as a kid. The weekend camping trips he’d decide to take at the drop of a hat.

“How’s it running?” he asked as he shut the door and headed back toward the driveway.

“Not bad, but it shakes when you go to seventy.”

We were climbing into Rory’s newer Toyota when I added, “You're not fixing my Blazer.”

He snorted. “How about just getting the engine checked? The Blazer shaking worries me.” He pulled the truck out of the driveway and headed down the road back to town. “It could be dangerous.”

He acted as if he didn’t want to mention it. But I highly doubted it. Rory had always been a charmer. Dad used to say he had a silver tongue and the charm of a devil.

I sighed, giving in a little.

“Fine, just the engine, Rory. But I’m paying you back for it.”

Rory snickered. He actually snickered.

Spring Mountain High School was unlike any other high school I had ever seen. The single-story brick buildings were spread out. The students were traveling from building to building. The roofs had enough overhang that it created covered hallways between the buildings.

I watched several other teenagers hurrying from the front of the gymnasium towards the other buildings as Rory parked the truck in a small parking lot.

“Come on, let’s get your schedule set up.”

An hour later, we were back at the truck. I was looking over my new schedule. AP World Civilization, English, Algebra 2, AP Chemistry, lunch period, then gym and Art. I hated being stuck with a gym class, but the woman in the office said the class was actually a good one. Apparently, they did yoga or something.

I was too busy going over my schedule and finding the rooms on my map to notice where Rory was driving. When I finally looked up, I realized we were out of town and on the highway.

“Where are we going?”

“Shopping,” Rory told me smugly.

I looked over at Rory and glared at him. Rory just smiled, pleased with himself.

“Lexie, this isn’t California, you need winter clothes; it’s going to snow next month,” he explained, gesturing towards the surrounding mountains. “You don’t have to go crazy, but you need at least enough to get through the week without doing laundry.” He took a deep breath then mumbled, “And then some.”

I pretended to not hear that last part. I sighed deeply. I hated to admit it, but he was right. It would be nice not to have to do laundry every few days.

“Fine, you win,” I said.

Rory snickered again. I rolled my eyes; he was such a kid sometimes.

We drove into a larger town than Spring Mountain; Northridge, the sign said. It wasn’t long until he parked in the mall parking lot. I got out of the truck, resigned. Rory came around the front of the truck, beaming.

“Come on, we’ll hit a department store or something,” he said as I followed him into one of the larger stores. I resigned myself to the inevitable as we walked past make-up and perfume counters. Between the fact that I hadn’t bought new clothes in the last year and his demand for my need of winter wear, I wasn’t really that unwilling. I just hated having to spend the money.

We walked into the women's section of the store. Rory turned around twice and scratched his head. He gestured at the clothes. “Have at it.”

I bit the corner of my bottom lip, suddenly uncomfortable. I hated feeling uncomfortable. I pushed it aside and began looking around at the racks of clothes. In no time at all, I had almost more than I could carry. I looked around for Rory, but I couldn’t find him. An older girl, around her twenties, came over.

“Hi, I’m Karen, are you Lexie?”

I nodded.

“Your Uncle Rory asked me to help you get everything you needed, including bras and underwear.”

I bit my tongue to keep from cursing at Rory. The guy just had to keep pushing.

“He said he’s going to walk around the mall and come back after a while,” Karen said.

Sighing, I gave in and handed over a bunch of hangers.

“Let’s get a room started for you and put this stuff inside. Then we’ll get some bras and try on everything at once. Oh, and your uncle wanted me to tell you to pick up some sheets and a comforter,” she said with a big friendly smile.

In the end, Karen was a godsend. Karen helped me get the bras in the right bra size, which was way off what I had been wearing--no one ever told me bras could be comfortable. I now had more than enough clothes for school and at home. We were just bringing out the clothes when Rory showed up outside the fitting rooms.

“How’d we do?” he asked, looking at the large pile of clothes on the counter.

“We did very well. She should have everything she needs through till winter. Several pairs of shoes, and a couple hoodies. But she will probably need a heavier coat when it gets colder,” Karen explained as she finished ringing up the clothes.

My mouth dropped at the price.

Rory gave me a huge smile.

“I like the way you shop, Lexie.” He handed Karen his credit card. "Fast and frugal.”

“T-That is not frugal,” I stammered.

Rory laughed. “You should see the pile Tara tries when she goes shopping. I give her a limit and make her stick to it.” He signed the receipt before continuing. “You’re under even her cheapest shopping trip.”

I couldn’t believe it. How could someone need so many clothes?

We carried it all out to the truck and piled everything into the small space at the back of the cab. It was completely full of bags. I got into the truck and still couldn’t believe it. I kept looking back at the pile in disbelief. Shopping for myself had always been at second-hand stores. Even then, it was only when something was beyond repair. I had actually liked shopping today, and I was starting to look forward to school tomorrow.

When Rory pulled into the driveway, a red Ford Focus was parked in one spot of the driveway.

Rory sighed. “Tara’s home,” he announced as he shut off the car. “Tara might have a fit since I took you shopping. Don’t let it bother you or make you feel bad. Alright?”

I nodded before climbing out of the truck.

We loaded up our arms with bags and headed for the front door. When we stepped inside, Tara was closing the fridge. My cousin was pretty. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sweet face. Too bad the effect was ruined when she opened her mouth.

“You took her shopping? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Tara yelled shrilly, making my ears hurt. I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it around. Damn, how did she make her voice that high?

“Damn, Tara, nice to see you too.” I never could keep my mouth shut.

Tara’s face was pink, her arms crossed over her chest. If looks could kill, Rory would be a puddle of bloody pulp on the floor.

“I asked to go shopping last week, and you said no!” Tara shouted again.

“Stop screaming, Tara.” Rory’s voice was hard and quiet.

Tara’s mouth snapped shut.

“I’m going to help Lexie take her stuff upstairs. When I come back, we can have a discussion.”

Tara huffed before flopping down onto the couch. I took the opportunity to head up the stairs and into my bedroom while Rory followed closely. I put everything on the bed, Rory followed suit. He dug into a bag and pulled out a large flat box. He turned and handed it to me.

“You are going to need this for homework.”

I looked down to find a laptop box in my hands. My mouth dropped; I was stunned. First the clothes. Now a computer? Why the hell was he buying all this stuff? I looked up at him, probably still looking like a stranded fish.

“W-Why?” I stuttered.

Rory shrugged. “You need to know how to use computers these days. You can’t use mine, and I doubt Tara’s going to share,” he told me matter-of-factly before heading for the door.

“Thank you, Rory,” I blurted out, my voice full of repressed emotion.

Rory waved his hand as he headed down the hall.

“Anytime, Lexie.”

I smiled down at the computer box. I was still trying to control my emotions when Tara’s shouting began downstairs. I put the box on the desk and closed my bedroom door. MY bedroom door. I had a bedroom! It's weird the things you get excited about when you’ve lived in a travel trailer for four years.

Tara really had a set of lungs on her; I could hear her through the door as I pulled off my leather jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. I pushed it out of my mind and began unpacking and putting clothes away. When I was finally done, I stuffed all the plastic bags into one and hung it on the doorknob. I quickly made the bed with my new sheets and comforter--a dark gray comforter with a white geometric pattern with the teal sheets giving it a pop of color. I liked the way it looked. I tore into the computer box next and focused on setting it up. It was an hour later when I heard my name called.

“Lexie! Dinner!”

Before heading downstairs, I shut my new laptop and closed my door behind me--is it sad how happy I was about a door? Heading downstairs, I decided I didn’t care if it was.

Tara was frowning as she put paper plates on the table next to a pizza box. Rory grabbed a plate and served himself. I followed, taking three pieces of pizza. I didn’t notice it before, but I was starving. I was halfway through my first piece when I felt eyes on me. I looked up to find Tara watching me as she cut her pizza with a knife and fork.

“So, Alexis, are you planning on joining any school clubs?” Tara didn’t sound like she really cared about the answer.

I shrugged and swallowed the food in my mouth.

“What clubs are there?” I asked, before taking another bite.

Tara smiled. “Well, I imagine for you, chess club, yearbook, and 4H, of course.” She seemed very pleased with herself. Was Tara trying to insult me or something? I decided to ignore it.

“Are there any art clubs? Painting?” I tried to make nice with my cousin.

Tara raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I don’t think so.” She took another perfect bite.

“I didn’t know you painted,” Rory said, finishing off his first piece of pizza.

“I want to try. I’ve been mostly drawing and using soft pastels.” I shrugged. “Student level pastels are cheap.”

I looked over at Tara, watching her chew slowly. Was she still on her first piece of pizza? I got curious.

“What school activities do you do?”

“I’m a cheerleader; I’m also a member of the fashion club and the student council.” Her eyes ran over me before she leaned forward and whispered across the table. “I can help you dress better for tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. Wow, Tara was rude. I smiled sweetly at her, not wanting her to realize she’d just irritated me.

“No thanks, I know what colors look good on me and I stick to them. Besides, I’m really not that into fashion,” I explained, picking up my third piece of pizza. “I like my clothes to be comfy and still be able to climb onto the Blazer to check the oil.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rory smile. Tara seemed horrified. I reminded myself I needed to get along with her.

“But if there’s a formal dance or something, you’ll be the first person I call, Tara.”

Tara smiled again then continued eating.

Rory was giving out chores for the week when I felt a familiar chill run down my neck. I froze, my heart slammed in my chest as my throat closed. I lifted my head slowly. Standing between Tara and Rory was the dead man from earlier today. His clothes looked like they were from the forties. His eyes were on me; he knew I saw him. Damn it. Pain ran up my jaw and down my chest.

“Alexis?”

I barely registered Tara’s voice as the man started coming towards me. I held up a hand, palm out, and motioned for him to back up. He stopped and stepped back; the relief on his face made my heart ache. When he was far enough back, the pain eased, throat loosening. I finally took several deep breaths.

“Tara, go upstairs,” Rory stated calmly, his eyes never leaving my face.

I shook my head as I was getting to my feet. “I’ll take him outside,” I mumbled as I rushed upstairs to get my sketchbook and pastels. I came back downstairs and hurried across the living room. I needed to get outside before the ghost decided he wasn’t waiting anymore.

“What is going on?” Tara asked loudly.

I ignored her and headed for the back door.

“Are you sure you got this?” Rory asked.

I kept my focus on getting to the door without the man getting too close. I nodded, opening the door and flipping on the back-porch light.

“You have five minutes, Lexie, then I’m coming out,” Rory said.

I waved that I understood and shut the door behind me. The dead man stepped out through the wall of the house.

“I’ll listen, but you can’t get too close, it really fucking hurts,” I told him firmly.

He nodded emphatically.

I led the way away from the house down the small paving stones to the patio furniture that was about 10 feet away from the house. Thankfully, the back porch light reached the area, giving me enough light. I sat down in the corner of the patio sofa, crossing my legs under me. I pointed for him to stand near the wicker patio chair across from me. As he walked over, I opened my sketchbook and turned to the first clean page. I opened my box of chalk-like pastels before looking up to meet his eyes.

“Who are you?” I asked. That was all he needed.

His name was George McFee. As I listened to the story of his life over the next couple of hours, I drew his portrait in my sketchbook. I drew his face, minus the gash in his throat. It took time; he began talking about his family. His daughter Rose, she was only six when he died. His wife Charlotte and how much he missed her. He’d lived in Brooklyn in the 1920’s and had made the mistake of working with the mafia. He told me all the horrible things he did while trying to support his family. Some of it was pretty gruesome. Eventually, he went on the run. They caught up with him here. His own boss killed him and left his body in the lake. I ignored that part for now.

My head was starting to ache. His memories from his life started pouring into my mind. I pushed them aside and focused. I asked if his body had been found. He said it was. He was buried in St. Michael Cemetery.

“Do you want to see Rose and Charlotte again?” I kept my voice polite as my head began throbbing in time with my pulse.

George pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Then why are you still here?” I asked, feeling wetness dripping onto my upper lip. I needed to help him faster. He was staying too close for too long.

“I don’t think I’m going to where they are,” he told me honestly, his eyes filling with pain.

My own heart ached for him; I could feel how much he wanted to see his family again. I wiped at my nose, blood smearing across my hand.

“Do you regret the things you did?” I asked, gently keeping the urgency from my voice.

“Yes, more than anything.”

I barely heard him over the blood rushing through my ears. I felt more blood dripping from my nose.

“George, if there is a God, do you really think he would punish you for something you regret so much?”

He was quiet for a while. Just sitting, not speaking, not moving. I waited, trying to be patient as my head throbbed and my nose began to bleed even more.

Finally, he nodded. He looked into my eyes and smiled.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I smiled in understanding. “Alexis.”

He gave me a smile full of joy. “Thank you, Alexis.” I watched as his body disappeared slowly.

“You're welcome, George.”

When he was finally gone, I took my first full breath in what felt like forever. I rubbed my hand over my forehead, my head throbbing. Footsteps had me looking up. Rory was there, holding out a blue handkerchief. I took it gratefully and put it against my nose. Rory took a seat across from me, a strange look on his face. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. My head was killing me, and my stomach churned. In short, I felt like shit.

“I have never seen anything like that.”

I brought my head up so I could look at him. He was looking out on the lake.

“All the other times I’ve seen were horrible,” he said. “Claire was always screaming, shaking, blood pouring.” He turned back to me, his eyes meeting mine. “Why was this different?”

Claire was my Aunt. She died when she was eight years old.

“Depends on the ghost, their memories, how close they are to you, if they're angry or not. You have to keep them away from you. They don’t normally try to jump you,” I explained, pulling the handkerchief from my face.

I picked up my sketchbook, and on the facing page, I wrote a large paragraph summing up the life and death of George McFee with his birth and death year at the bottom of his portrait.

“How did you learn to do that?” he asked, watching my face.

I knew that one day he would ask that question. I know I should tell him, but I was exhausted, and I didn’t want to have the long drawn out conversation it would need.

“I’ll tell you someday,” I began, letting exhaustion into my voice. “Just not today.”

Rory met my eyes and gave me an understanding smile. He gestured to the sketchbook in my hands. I handed it over to him without thought.

“You keep a record of them?” he asked, surprise in his voice.

I nodded, feeling my heartache.

“Some of them haven’t been found. I figured someone should remember them.” I looked out over the water, listening to it lap at the dock. “How long have I been out here?”

Rory was flipping through my sketchbook as he answered. “A couple hours.”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I turned my mind back to one of my big worries.

“What did you tell Tara?”

Rory sighed closing the book. He raised his head and met my eyes.

“I told her it was none of her business.” He handed me back my sketchbook before resting his elbows on his knees.

“How long do you think we can keep it from her?” I asked.

I really didn’t want to deal with Tara thinking I’m crazy. I’ve done it at school and dealt with it at home. I really didn’t want to go through that again, if I could help it.

“If you want to tell her, tell her. I can’t make that choice for you. But she’s at her mom’s every other week, it should make it easier,” he said.

Rory was right, but I had one big question that nagged at me. If the Sight was always passed down through the women in the family, why didn’t Tara have it?

“Okay, kid, you’ve got school tomorrow. Get up to bed.”

I picked up my supplies and headed inside. A light shut off above me, drawing my eye. Tara was stepping away from the window. I sighed. Great.