Kylie thought of Tom Galen, her stepdad, the man who'd raised her, the man who until recently she'd believed was her real father. Though Kylie had yet to come to terms with his abandonment of his seventeen-year marriage to her mom, she couldn't deny she'd taken on some of his mannerisms. Not that she didn't see more of Daniel in herself-from her supernatural DNA to her physical features.

"We read this was a home for troubled teens." An apology rang in the old man's voice.

She recalled Daniel telling her that his adoptive parents had loved him and would have loved her if they'd known her.

Love. Emotion crowded her chest. Trying to decipher the sensation, Kylie remembered Nana-her mom's mother-and how much she'd adored her, how much she'd missed her when she died. Was it knowing the Brightens were old-that their time was short-that made Kylie want to pull back?

As if the thought of death had somehow caused it, a ghostly chill filled the room. Daniel? She called to him with her mind, but the coldness prickling her skin was different.

As frigid air entered Kylie's lungs, the spirit materialized behind Mrs. Brighten. While the apparition appeared feminine, her bald head reflected the light above. Raw-looking stitches ran across her bare scalp and caused Kylie to flinch.

"We're just concerned," said Mr. Brighten. "We didn't know you existed."

"I ... understand," Kylie answered, unable to look away from the spirit that stared at the elderly couple in puzzlement.

Seeing the spirit's face again, Kylie realized it was the same woman from earlier today. Obviously, her shaved head and stitches were a clue. But a clue to what?

The spirit looked at Kylie. "I'm so confused."

Me too, Kylie thought, unsure if the spirit could read her mind the way the others had.

"So many people want me to tell you something."

"Who?" Realizing she'd whispered the word out loud, she bit her lip. Was it Daniel? Nana? What do they want you to tell me?

The spirit met Kylie's gaze as if she understood. "Someone lives. Someone dies."

More puzzles, Kylie thought, and looked away from the ghost. She saw Holiday glance around, sensing the spirit. Mrs. Brighten looked at the ceiling as if searching for an AC vent to blame for the chill. Luckily the spirit faded, taking the cold with her.

Pushing the ghost from her mind, Kylie looked back at the Brightens. Her gaze took in the mop of thick gray hair on the elderly man. His pale complexion told her that he'd been a redhead in his younger years.

For some reason, Kylie felt compelled to wiggle her eyebrows and check the couple's brain patterns. It was a little supernatural trick she'd only recently learned, one that mostly allowed supernaturals to recognize one another and humans. Mr. and Mrs. Brighten were human.

Normals and probably decent people. So why did Kylie feel so jittery?

She studied the couple as they studied her. She waited for them to make some declaration of how much she looked like Daniel. But it didn't come.

Instead, Mrs. Brighten said, "We're really excited to meet you."

"Me too," Kylie said. As well as scared to death. She sat in the chair beside Holiday, opposite the Brightens. Reaching under the table, she sought out Holiday's hand and gave it a squeeze. A welcome calm flowed from the camp leader's touch.

"Can you tell me about my father?" Kylie asked.

"Of course." Mrs. Brighten's expression softened. "He was a very charismatic child. Popular. Smart. Outgoing."

Kylie rested her free hand on the table. "Not like me, then." She bit her lip, not meaning to say it out loud.

Mrs. Brighten frowned. "I wouldn't say that. Your camp leader was just telling us how wonderful you are." She reached across the table to rest her warm hand on Kylie's. "I can't believe we have a granddaughter."

There was something about the woman's touch that stirred Kylie's emotions. Not just the heat of the woman's skin-it was the thinness, the slight tremble of the fingers, and the defined bones that time and arthritis had changed. Kylie remembered Nana-remembered how her grandmother's gentle touch had grown more fragile before she died. Without warning, grief swelled in Kylie's chest. Grief for Nana, and maybe even the forewarning of what she would feel for Daniel's parents when their time came. Considering their age, that time would come too soon.

"When did you learn Daniel was your father?" Mrs. Brighten's hand still rested on Kylie's wrist. It felt oddly comforting.

"Just recently," she said through a knot of emotion. "My parents are divorcing and the truth sort of came out." That wasn't altogether a lie.

"A divorce? You poor child."

The old man nodded in agreement, and Kylie noticed his eyes were blue-like her dad's and hers. "We're glad you chose to find us."

"So very glad." Mrs. Brighten's voice trembled. "We've never stopped missing our son. He died so young." A quiet sensation of loss, of shared grief, entered the room.

Kylie bit her tongue to keep from telling them how she'd come to love Daniel herself. From assuring them that he had loved them. So many things she longed to ask them, to tell them, but couldn't.

"We brought pictures," Mrs. Brighten said.

"Of my dad?" Kylie leaned forward.

Mrs. Brighten nodded and shifted in her chair. Moving with old bones, she pulled a brown envelope from her big white old-lady purse. Kylie's heart raced with eagerness to see the pictures of Daniel. Had he looked like her when he was young?