"Why?"
"Because I think she's sitting on the end of my bed. If it's her, the will is taped to the bottom left drawer of her dresser."
The ghost started floating up to the ceiling as if something were pulling her away.
"Long gray hair," Holiday answered. "And green eyes."
"It's her," Kylie answered, now looking at the spirit floating near the ceiling. "So you'd better check out her dresser."
The ghost smiled. "Thank you."
"Thanks, Kylie," Holiday said.
Kylie felt another chill and pulled the covers up a bit. "No problem."
The ghost started to fade into the ceiling, then stopped and slid back down. "Almost forgot. They wanted me to tell you something. Someone lives and someone..." She vanished, leaving the sentence unfinished.
But Kylie knew what she meant.
"Dies," Kylie said, and closed her eyes. Someone lives and someone dies. The message wasn't just the mutterings of a crazy amnesia ghost. But how could Kylie make things right if she didn't know what to do?
Chapter Eleven
Dressed and still fighting the feeling that something wasn't right, Kylie stepped out of her room an hour later. Either Miranda and Della had already left, or they were still asleep. Either way, Kylie was happy not to have to face them. First, she hoped to find Helen, the half-fae who also had the gift of healing. Kylie wasn't sure if the "someone will live and someone will die" message meant she could prevent a death, but she had to try. Then she planned to talk with Burnett and tell him what she knew about Holiday. Not that Kylie was doing it behind the camp leader's back.
Before they'd hung up, she had asked if she could share their conversation with Burnett. When Holiday had wavered, Kylie asked her how she'd feel if Burnett disappeared on "an emergency" and didn't explain himself.
"Fine," Holiday said.
Although she hadn't sounded happy about it.
* * *
A few minutes later, Kylie started out of the cabin, tripped, and landed half on and half off the huge black Lab that was curled up on the welcome rug in front of the door.
"What the heck?" Stunned, she scrambled to get up and, in the process, stepped on the canine's tail. The dog yelped as if in pain, and guilt filled Kylie's lungs. "Sorry."
Was the animal hurt? Once an injured dog had shown up at her doorstep when she'd been a kid. Her mom had her dad take it to the vet and they'd ended up having to put it down.
Kylie had cried and blamed her mom for killing the dog. With the emotional footprints of that memory tugging at her heartstrings, Kylie crouched down.
"Sorry," she told the dog again, and let it sniff her hand before she gave it a gentle pat. "Are you hurt? You get hit by a car or something?"
"No. You stepped on my tail, and of course it hurt," the dog said.
Kylie, still down on her haunches, fell back on her butt and glared at the talking canine.
"What?" the dog asked.
"Don't do that!"
"Do what?"
"Talk!"
Okay, the sparkles now popping all over the place and the changing eye color told her it was Perry, but seeing a dog talk still freaked her out.
She jumped to her feet and continued to scowl at the animal. Basically, she needed a kick-dog to target her frustration, and she'd just found one. A black Lab that at this moment was changing forms.