"Do you mind if I tell Burnett?" Kylie asked Miranda.
Miranda made a face but then said, "Fine. But I'm telling you, it's just a feeling. It's not nearly as strong as the last time I had one. It might not be anything."
"Or it could be something," Kylie said. And since that something probably had to do with her, it made her a wee bit nervous. And face it, she had enough to be nervous about.
* * *
Kylie stood in front of the heavy, creaky-looking rusted gates of the Fallen Cemetery. Burnett stood to her right-and Della held her spot to her left. Neither vampire looked especially happy to be there.
She couldn't blame them. She wasn't all that thrilled about it herself. But after experiencing the vision sent by Jane Doe, Kylie was more eager than ever to get this spirit sent on her way.
"You sure you want to do this?" Della asked, her voice laced with fear.
Kylie nodded, but in truth she wasn't sure about anything anymore. She took a look around. If Hollywood ever needed a set for a horror film, this was it. As if to prove her point, a gust of wind picked up and the gate swayed and creaked. The eerie sound filled the air.
Air that should have brought with it a sunny mood to match the morning. Above them, blue, cloudless skies promised a picture-perfect day filled with cheer. A vibrant sun beamed down and set the last of the night's dew in a sparkle. And yet nothing felt sunny, vibrant, or cheery.
To the contrary, it felt cold-so cold that Kylie's skin crawled with goose bumps. Della let go of a deep breath and steam billowed from her lips.
"I used to hang out in cemeteries sometimes," Della said. "They never felt like this." She hugged herself against the chill.
"The dead don't disturb humans nearly as much as they do supernaturals," Burnett said. Even his voice sounded hesitant. He looked at Kylie. "If you're at all worried about doing this, just say the word and wait until Holiday is here."
Kylie considered it and then remembered the pain, grief, and confusion the ghost had felt. Jane Doe needed answers as much as Kylie did.
"No. I'm fine."
"You're lying," Della said.
"I know." Kylie looked at her and then over to Burnett. "You guys don't have to come inside."
"We don't?" Hope filled Della's voice.
"The hell we don't," Burnett snapped, and took a step forward. "If you're determined to do this, let's get it over with."
Chapter Nineteen
As soon as they crossed into the grounds of the Fallen Cemetery, a big gust of wind slammed the gate shut behind them.
Kylie started. Della jumped and growled, exposing her elongated canines. Burnett didn't move, but his eyes glowed a bright yellow.
"Don't worry," he muttered. "I can knock the gate down if I have to."
Della looked at Kylie. "I do not see why you feel compelled to do this."
Kylie looked from Della to Burnett. "Can I have some space? I need it to communicate with them."
She hated having to lie, but she hoped the offer of space would alleviate the hardship of their having to accompany her into the graveyard. She knew they didn't want to be here. It seemed crazy, but supernaturals hated all things related to ghosts. At least maybe the coldness she always felt when a ghost was present wouldn't bite into them the way she knew it would take a chomp out of her.
"Yes, go ahead, but don't go so far that we can't see you," said Burnett.
Considering that Kylie had yet to tell Burnett about Miranda's "little feeling," she didn't mind him keeping a close visual on her. Not that right now she worried about Mario and his grandson. Right now, it was the whispered voices Kylie heard that concerned her.
Looking at the graveled paths between row after row of graves, she let her eyes shift from tombstone to tombstone, hoping one of them would call out to her. Some graves had small concrete or marble markers with just names and dates inscribed on them. Others were ornate statues. Some looked new; others were painted with mold and time. Some had vines clinging to the arms and legs of angel and saintlike figures, as if trying to claim them from deep beneath the earth where only the dead lived.
She couldn't see any of the ghosts yet, but she could hear them. They all talked at once. Chattering. Like two or three radios left on at the same time, but with tons of static. If they were speaking to one another or to her, she wasn't sure.
Some of the voices felt as if they were a block away, others felt as if their owners stood so close that Kylie could touch them if she moved her hand. Not that she wanted to touch them. Their cold already surrounded her, reaching for her like hands trying to warm themselves against a fire.
Kylie realized in a way that was what she was to them. She was like a fire, something that drew them. She was life. Probably the only life that they had been able to feel in a long time. Or maybe the only life that could feel them.
Footsteps sounded and Kylie looked to her right down the opposite path. An old man, his cane in his hand, shuffled between the row of grave sites. For a second, Kylie didn't know to which world he belonged.
But then she noticed Burnett and Della twitching their brows at him. Kylie did the same and was not surprised when his brain pattern revealed he was human. All of a sudden, an elderly woman of the same age appeared behind him. Her gray hair was long and thin and hung without luster at her shoulders. She wore one of those housedresses Kylie's grandmother had always worn. This one was a blue paisley print. On her feet were a pair of baby blue slippers.
It took only a second for Kylie to realize that she was not of this world.
"You're not taking your meds like you should be, are you?" she said to the old man. "I can tell because your ankles are swollen. You're supposed to take the little red pills twice a day, not the blue ones. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself? You promised me you'd take care of yourself. Why won't you ever listen to me?"
Then the woman shifted her gaze and stared right at Kylie. Her aged gray eyes widened, then she vanished. Kylie hadn't taken her next breath when the woman materialized inches from her. Her skin was a dead gray color that matched her eyes. Her hair, only a slightly different shade of gray, got caught in the wind, and it swept up and floated almost motionlessly in the air around her head.
"Mother of God, you can see me," the elderly woman said.
The spirit's nearness brought more chills running down Kylie's spine. But the drop in temperature wasn't nearly as disturbing as the sudden silence.
The chattering of spirits had stopped. The only noise in the cemetery was the sound of the old man's footsteps. His shoes scrubbed against the gravel with his faltered steps while his cane tapped down on the earth, searching for a steady spot to rest his thick stick to support himself.