Rhiannon's house mirrored Grandma's. What made it seem so different was the bareness. The air smelled stale almost like no one lived there, the walls were bare and only a few items of trendy furniture were scattered throughout. I shivered. Grandma's house was much more inviting and cozy. I noticed some boxes in the corner and then remembered that they'd moved fairly recently.

"Not done decorating, huh?"

"What?" Rhiannon followed my gaze. "Oh, that. Yeah, we move so often we usually don't do a lot of decorating. Besides, my parents are never home."

"Where are they?"

"Work, mostly. They don't really fill me in on their plans. Let's just say I'm not their top priority. My parents never should've been parents. They're completely career driven."

I was starting to understand why she'd been a cutter.

"What about your grandma? Won't she wonder where you are?"

"Nah, she thinks I went to lunch with Isaac." Just saying his name made my heart ache.

"Oooh, Isaac, huh? So, that's where you've been lately."

"Yeah, well that's over now."

"Oh no. What happened?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough."

"So, are you going to show me what made you stop cutting?"

"Yeah, c'mon."

Rhiannon led me down the darkened hallway to what I a.s.sumed to be her room. When she opened the door the smell of incense smacked me in the face. Her room was dark, curtains drawn. It was such a contrast to my country style room. In the corner stood a dark cherry wood dresser and a bed with a deep purple bedspread hugged the wall. Black and white gothic pictures stared down at me.

"When I was in counseling, the shrink told me that the reason I cut was because I want to control some aspect of my life. That totally made sense to me but I didn't know how I'd ever find another way to control my life since my parent's pretty much dictate everything about it. But when I moved here I made some new friends and they introduced me to witchcraft and I finally found something I could control."

Chills snaked up and down my spine. I glanced around uneasily at the candles and incense burners, the tarot cards scattered across her dresser. This wasn't really what I had in mind.

"Witchcraft?" I asked my voice squeaking. "Isn't that scary?"

"Not at all. It's not like we curse people or play with voodoo dolls or anything. The thing is that my new friends said they could tell I was spiritual the first time they met me and they were right. I've discovered I have a real spiritual gifting. I can read auras and tarot cards, I can speak to spirits and I've even cast a couple of spells."

Now I was really uneasy. The woman in the portrait hanging above me seemed to follow me with her eyes. Another picture of a star caught my attention. It looked identical to the tattoo Rhiannon had on her wrist.

"That's like your tattoo."

"Yeah, it's a pentagram. It symbolizes unity and wholeness."

Well, that didn't sound so bad.

"You know," Rhiannon said, "when I first met you I could totally tell that you also have a spiritual gifting. You just haven't learned to tap into it yet."

Rhiannon was crazy. I was convinced of this now.

"C'mere. Give me your hand."

I held my arm close to my body and shook my head.

"Don't be scared. I just want to read your palm."

Reluctantly, I thrust my hand forward. She ran her fingers along the lines in my flesh. It tickled. I curled my fingers.

"Stop it. You have to hold still." She spread my fingers back out. As she traced my lines she looked like a blind person reading Braille. "It looks like you will live a fairly long life. That you will be married only once and you will have two children. Oh, and you will have a lot of money but that it will be inherited through your family, so maybe that means you'll marry rich." She winked at me.

This must be standard speech for a palm reading. I couldn't believe people actually bought into this c.r.a.p. Anyway, it made me relax a little to realize Rhiannon wasn't actually able to perform magic. If pretending made her feel better than who was I to judge? When she released my hand I glanced over and my gaze landed on a board game lying on the ground.

"Is that a Ouija board?"

"Uh-huh. You ever use one?"

"No, I've always thought they were pretty silly."

When I was a kid a friend of mine had one. She always wanted to play it but I had visions of her pushing the game piece around, forcing it to spell things. I didn't believe in ghosts and spirits and stuff so there was no point.

"It's not silly at all. C'mon, I'll show you."

I shook my head.

"C'mon." She grabbed my arm.

Geez, she was pushy.

"Are you afraid?" she teased, a gleam in her dark eyes.

"Of course not."

"Then come on."

By then she was already sitting on the ground in front of the board, crossing her slender legs.

Sighing, I reluctantly dropped to the floor across from her. "All right. Let's get this over with."

"Okay, put your fingers on the planchette."

"The what?"

"The pointer. It's called a planchette. Put your fingers on it."

I did as she said.

"Okay, what do you want to ask it?" she said.

I shrugged. "I don't care."

"You're going to have to be a little more open that that or no spirits will want to visit us. They can tell if you have a willing spirit or not."

Oh brother. I rolled my eyes.

Just then the pointer moved forward and landed on the letter H.

I c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Rhiannon. "Why did you do that? We didn't even ask a question."

"I didn't do anything," she snapped. "Obviously some spirit decided to join us despite your bad att.i.tude."

The planchette moved to the letter "I".

"Hi. The spirit is greeting us," Rhiannon explained. "Hi, I'm Rhiannon and this is Kenzie. We're so glad you joined us."

When I rolled my eyes again she kicked me in the shin and gave me a sharp look.

"What's your name?"

The pointer moved and I watched Rhiannon carefully to see if she was the one pushing it. It spelled out the name Wesley.

"Nice to meet you Wesley," Rhiannon said.

My hands shook. I pulled my fingers away.

"What're you doing?" Rhiannon hissed at me. "You're being rude."

The pointer moved forward with dizzying speed and Rhiannon could barely keep her fingers on. Chills broke out all over my arms. A cold sweat slithered down my back as I saw that it was spelling my name repeatedly.

"Make it stop!" I screamed.

"I can't!" she responded. "He obviously came here for you."

"What do I do?" The planchette still swirled around the board spelling the word Mackenzie.

"Put your fingers back on."

I obeyed and the pointer settled. Rhiannon pushed her hair back and cleared her throat calmly.

"So, Wesley, do you have a message for Kenzie?"

I glared at her not wishing to hear a message from a board game. I still wasn't sure how she was causing this but I wasn't ready to buy into the fact that Wesley was a spirit speaking to me from beyond the grave.

The planchette moved again, slower this time and it spelled the name David. My stomach dropped like I'd just ridden a roller coaster. I sucked in a breath.

"Does that name mean anything to you?" Rhiannon asked.

"That's my dad's name."

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know. I've never met him."

"Wesley, do you know Kenzie's dad?"

Y-E-S.

"Where is he?" The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

C-A-N-T T-E-L-L.

"But you do know?" I asked.

Y-E-S.

"I-is he dead?"

N-O.

I sighed with relief. I may be totally angry with him for abandoning me but I didn't want him to be dead.

Before we could ask another question the planchette moved again. B-Y-E.

"Wait, don't leave yet," I pleaded but I could tell he'd already left. The air was lighter around me; the pointer stayed still.

"That was awesome!" Rhiannon said.

"A little freaky too. Do you really think that was a spirit?"

"Totally. I wasn't moving the planchette. Were you?"

I shook my head.

"And besides that the spirit knew about your dad. How can you explain that?"

I couldn't. As skeptical as I'd been there just didn't seem to be any other explanation. Obviously, Rhiannon wasn't guiding the pointer and she didn't know anything about my dad. n.o.body did. I'm not even sure my grandma did. Mom kept pretty tightlipped about it. I only found out by accident when I stumbled across a picture of the two of them. His name was scrawled across the back in Mom's handwriting. She had no choice but to tell me the truth when I confronted her about it.

"If you need proof, next time we'll ask him to give us a sign. I've seen spirits blow out candles before or knock something over just to prove that they're really here."

I shivered. "You really think he'll come back?"

"Oh yeah. He clearly has a message for you. He'll keep coming back until he can deliver it."

"Why didn't he just tell me now?"

She shrugged. "The supernatural world is a mystery."

Isn't that the truth? I was starting to regret this whole experience. My skin crawled. It was time to get out of here.