She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped as Malachi moved to stand in the center of the waiting room.

He bowed his head and placed his fingertips at his temples.

“Oh, please,” Alona muttered. “Doesn’t this drive you crazy?” she demanded of me.

I grimaced and looked around, but Malachi seemed to have the rest of the room captivated. “What do you want me to do?” I whispered back to her. Denouncing him as a fraud would only cause more problems for us, and we didn’t need that.

Misty shushed us.

Malachi rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’m sensing several spirits here who’d like to communicate.”

“Yeah, I have something to communicate,” Alona muttered, maybe not quite as quietly as she should have. “Jerk.”

He looked up sharply and searched the room until he identified Alona as the source, which probably wasn’t too tough. She was glaring at him as if she’d have set him on fire if she could.

He gave a forced magnanimous chuckle. “I see we have a doubter in our midst.”

Heads, belonging to both the living and the dead, turned toward us. Damn it, Alona.

Malachi approached, still smiling. “I understand your hesitation, but the ways of the dead are not—” He stopped abruptly, staring at me.

The color drained from his face, making his glasses stand out starkly. He attempted to keep his smile, but it wobbled and then fell away. “The ways of the dead are not our own,” he tried again in a croaky voice, his hands at the sides of his cloak.

Then he swallowed hard, forced out a barely audible “Excuse me,” and turned tail, stalking back through the door he’d just exited, his cloak flapping behind him.

I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d dropped to the ground and started clucking like a chicken.

Alona stared after him. “What the hell?” She looked to me, and I had no answer.

Except…he’d looked right at me and freaked. That had to mean something, didn’t it? It was almost like he’d recognized me, but I’d never seen him before. Did he know that I was the real thing, the ghost-talker he was pretending to be? Or…could he possibly have known my dad?

The thought took my breath away.

My dad and I had looked enough alike; it wasn’t impossible that Malachi would come to the conclusion that we were related.

I scrambled to my feet and hurried after Malachi. At least, that was the plan—catch up to him, pin him down, and make him talk. But apparently the ghost of the girl dressed for spring break had the same idea. And we collided…hard.

We went sprawling in different directions.

I’m not sure whose gasps of surprise were louder—those of the living people, including Misty, who saw me bounce off seemingly nothing and hit the floor, or those of the dead, who saw exactly what happened and knew what it meant.

“Will!” Alona lurched to her feet.

Misty looked astonished.

“Will?” the ghost in the Abe Lincoln hat repeated, moving closer to stare down at me.

Crap, crap, crap.Still half dazed, I rolled to my side and pushed myself to stand, ignoring the sharp pain in my elbow. Malachi’s carpet had, unsurprisingly, the cushion factor of cheap toilet paper.

Spring Break Girl flipped her long auburn hair out of her face and got to her feet. “You’re Will Killian? The one everyone’s been talking about?” she asked, reaching through the neck of her Señor Frog’s T-shirt to tug her bright pink bikini top back into place. She managed to sound surprised and disgusted at the same time.

“Another ghost-talker?” Severed Arm Dude asked, pointing the stump end of his arm at me.

The woman in the long white nightgown danced closer. She seemed, possibly, a little crazy.

I took a step back, unable to stop myself. Severed Arm Dude, Faux Lincoln, Spring Break Girl, and Nightgown Lady…four, no, five—I’d forgotten about the Al Capone– type who’d been disappointed by Malachi’s interpretation of his message—against just me.

If I tried to run, they’d stop me without breaking a sweat…Well, you know what I mean. If it came down to a physical confrontation, each of them vying for attention, they’d probably tear me apart. Attacking me might drain them of some of their energy—being violent as a spirit takes away from the resources required to remain on this plane of existence—but how much and whether that would be enough…there was no way to know. Not until it was too late.

I swallowed hard, my heartbeat shaking my whole body.

Alona moved toward me, faster than I’d seen her move before, at least in this body. She stepped between the ghosts and then turned to block me from them, her bad leg dragging a little behind.

“If you know Will,” she said calmly, “then you know his spirit guide.” The ghosts stared at her, as if uncertain what to make of her. I wondered, for the first time, what she looked like to other spirits. Could they see she wasn’t like the rest of us?

“What are you doing?” I whispered, alarmed. They hadn’t even known there was anything different about her. She was putting herself at risk unnecessarily.

Alona ignored me and turned to face Severed Arm Dude. She lifted her chin, daring him to come closer. “You don’t want to get on her bad side, do you?”

I prayed I was the only one who could tell she was a little off, her gaze on his neck instead of his face. Several of the breathers who’d been waiting for Malachi bolted for the door. I didn’t blame them. I could only imagine what it must look like to them. Misty was still in her chair, staring at us.

“The one who they say disappeared weeks ago?” Severed Arm Dude scoffed. “No one has seen her.”

Spring Break Girl rolled her eyes as if the entire conversation were ridiculous.

I couldn’t see much of Alona’s expression at this angle, but from the sudden tension in her shoulders, I guessed she hadn’t considered what the ghosts might be saying about her absence.

“Really?” Alona flipped her hair back, a classic attitude-filled move for her, and seemed startled when it didn’t stay behind her shoulders. Lily’s hair was shorter. But she recovered quickly enough. “I’ve seen her, and trust me, she is not happy.”

Spring Break Girl tilted her head to one side, giving Alona a shrewd look. “Who are you?”

“No one youneed to know,” Alona said in a snotty tone that was a bit jarring to hear in Lily’s voice. She reached back toward me with her left hand, flapping it until I realized she wanted me to take it. I stepped up and slipped my hand into hers. Her fingers closed over mine and squeezed almost to the point of pain, and as I drew even with her, she leaned into me the slightest bit, and I could hear her uneven breathing. She needed the help, I realized belatedly. That quick moving she’d done had come at a cost.

“We’ll be going now,” Alona said. “Give our regards to Malachi.”

She started forward, and to my surprise, Severed Arm Dude and Spring Break Girl moved out of her way, though the latter watched us with more suspicion than was probably healthy.

I adjusted my stride to match Alona’s shorter one so she could lean on me without it being as noticeable. But the slow walk across the room to the door felt interminable with the ghosts staring holes through us.

I held my breath, waiting for their rallying cry and the inevitable rush to block the door.…

But they let us walk out without another word.

So, maybe there was something to be said for being a bitch…or at least, knowing one. We’d coasted out of there on nothing but attitude and Alona’s spirit-guide reputation. Problem was, that was not going to last forever.

“That was fun,” I said through gritted teeth, collapsing into the passenger seat of Will’s battered Dodge. My heart was pounding way too hard from the adrenaline rush, and pain shot up my leg in uneven bolts of agony.