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ritual, trying to find out as much about it as he could. But he was hasty, too eager, and he acted before he discovered the complexity of the ritual.
    “Claire told me there was no way, that it was just friends getting together. She kept defending them. I think a small part of her always regretted what giving up her friends entailed. She lost her popularity and her ranking. When Jenna, and then the little girls, went missing, it was like the fear crept back into her. But she didn’t admit it. Not to me, not to anyone.”
    That brought up Ambrose Slaughter’s revelation into my mind, and it still stung just as much as when I’d first heard it.
    “Do you know that she tossed a coin to see who would give up something precious?” I asked, bitterness undisguised. “With Jenna’s mom, Rachel. Rachel lost.”
    He frowned severely, seeming genuinely shocked. The power left his voice, leaving it hushed. “I didn’t know anything about that. She never told me. Is that true? Who told you that?”
    “Ambrose Slaughter.” I neglected to clarify that it had been in a dream after his death.
    “The Slaughters can’t always be trusted―” Hugh began, but I cut him off.
    “I believe him about this. He was telling the truth.”
    “Ariel. I’m sure your mother wouldn’t put you in danger.”
    “Really?” I challenged. “She changed when she went to those meetings. It was like they were brainwashing her.”
    “I saw that. I know it was all she could think about.”
    That subject was still too raw. Claire would normally have been sitting there to defend herself, but she was gone. Never coming back.
    “How do you feel about the ghosts? Was it hard to believe at first?” I asked, trying to get the subject off of her.
    He pulled at his bottom lip with his thumb and finger, looking deliberately away from me.
    “What?” I frowned. He was still keeping secrets from me.
    “You’re going to make me lay it all out in one sitting, aren’t you?” he asked with a weary smile.
    “Yes.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my scalp began to prickle. How bad was it?
    He squeezed his eyes shut. “Your mother wasn’t the only one. I used to see ghosts, too.”
     
     

CHAPTER 2
    I COULDN’T STOP my jaw from dropping open. My mouth dried up. “What?”
    “I saw spirits. Only for me, it didn’t start in puberty. I just saw them for as long as I could remember. I had these really warped dreams about things that I’d only come to understand later. I tried to ignore it and pretend that the dead men staring at me weren’t in the room. But then, when your mom told me about what she was seeing, I told her the truth. We kept each other going.”
    He was getting emotional again. I didn’t know how to comfort him without making us both cry.
    “You said ‘used’ to see them. What made you stop?” I asked.
    He bit the inside of his cheek. “I used to ride motorcycles. I bet you never knew that about me.”
    Random topic switch. “No.” There were a few Harley Davidson helmets and other memorabilia down in the house’s basement, but I’d never given them much consideration.
    “Well, I used to ride them all the time. I had this cherry 1982 Honda Interceptor. She was a beaut, but dangerous. You knew it when you rode it. But at eighteen, of course, I was fearless and thought we were immortal. I’m sure you know.”
    Actually I hadn’t really felt like that at all. I’d spent most of my time feeling finite and vulnerable. “What’s your point?”
    “We felt like nothing bad could ever happen, and just feeling that feeling is tempting fate. Your mom used to ride with me. She loved it. We were out riding one night, and it started to rain. My tires skidded out. We spun out and hit a tree.”
    He was silent for a long minute, undoubtedly relieving his memories. Then he continued, “Knocked me out. I was an idiot about not wearing a helmet. I was in a coma for almost three days. And when I woke up, I couldn’t see