when she overdosed on her mother’s prescription medications, combining Ambien with OxyContin. Her parents, Mat thew and Laura Jordane, were attending an art exhibition in Seattle. After taking the medication, Mary attempted to call her father’s cell phone several times, unaware he had turned it off. She called 911, but the paramedics did not arrive in time, and she died en route to Overlake Hospital Medical Center. She is survived by her parents and her grandmother, Estelle Goodrich.
The article went on recounting mundane details. Julian studied the accompanying photo, which appeared to have been taken at school by a class photographer. Even posed, her face was angry, defiant, and unhappy. She had short, spiky hair dyed magenta and a nose stud.
Although Julian practiced the purity of isolation, he knew something of human nature, and he could read between the lines. This girl was addicted to attention and had probably worn her parents thin, forcing her to create larger and larger dramas. Julian did not believe she’d ever intended to commit suicide. She had overdosed and then called her father, knowing her parents would run home immediately.
Her plan failed.
This was the ghost he wanted.
She did not wish to be dead, suggesting a good chance that she remained on the bleak middle plane, trying to get back to this one. If so, he could manipulate her. He could use her.
Gathering the candles and the thermometer, he left the table and moved over to the threadbare Indian rug in the center of the study. He sat on the floor and arranged the candles in a triangle. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he lit the candles and then laid the thermometer beside himself on the rug.
From what he had read, what he was about to attempt required no telepathic ability whatsoever, simply a connection to the dead. There were risks, but he was prepared.
Staring at the candles, he tried to clear his mind. At first he failed, dwelling on Eleisha’s suddenly manifesting psychic ability, wondering how this came to be, wondering if the same thing could happen to Philip, whom he’d terrified and driven into solitude. What would Philip do if he ever gained power over Julian?
Even worse than Eleisha.
But Julian forced himself into a state of numb emptiness as he focused on the candles, on Mary Jordane’s name, on the image of her face, on achieving a connection.
“Mary Jordane,” he said aloud, and then he closed his eyes, picturing the middle plane of existence, the in-between place where lost souls wandered.
“Mary Jordane,” he repeated more loudly. “I ask you to come to me. Hear my voice.”
Julian never made requests. He gave orders. This practice of asking her to hear him felt alien.
At first, nothing happened, but he continued focusing on the image of her face, and he called her name over and over. The temperature in the room began to drop. He had built no fire, so it was cold already, but Julian could feel the difference. He didn’t need to look at the thermometer.
Then he sensed a presence—nothing concrete, just a feeling. He opened his eyes, staring at the three candles, keeping everything from his mind except for the image of Mary Jordane, but he did not ask her to manifest yet.
“Are you there?” he asked without looking up. He needed to maintain his focus.
No one answered.
“Are you Mary Jordane?”
“Ask me to show myself and you’ll see,” said a female voice, sounding as if she was standing in the room.
He raised both hands. “Not yet.”
Several of the texts had warned him that malevolent ghosts could masquerade as the person being called—seeking entry into the world of the living. He did not fear ghosts, but he wished to be certain he’d found Mary.
“How did you die?” he asked. “Let me feel how you died.”
Nothing happened and the moments kept ticking.
Then he began to feel ill, nauseous and dizzy. The sensation was made worse by the fact that he had not felt such things for two hundred years. The floor rushed up, and he narrowly avoided hitting the nearest candle. He was sick, floating on wave after wave of nausea, and then he grew tired.
“Stop,” he said hoarsely. “Stop now!”
His head cleared. He had found Mary.
“Show yourself!” he ordered. “I call on you.”
The air in front him, just across the edge of the carpet, wavered and began to fill with color. A few seconds later, a transparent girl was staring back at him in surprise.
She looked younger than sixteen, skinny with a hint