Once they were alone, Lucas's gaze went back to her. "What happened?" He moved in, cupped his hand around her neck, and pulled her against him.

She rested her forehead on his warm chest and fought the need to cry. The need for TLC was one thing, but tears were too much.

"It was awful," she said, and swallowed hard.

"What was awful?" he asked.

"They were everywhere. And then-"

"Who were everywhere?" His hand moved to her back, consoling and offering just the comforting touch she needed.

Her heart hurt with the need to have someone help her understand the experience. She lifted her head and looked at him, but she didn't pull away. "The spirits. But that wasn't the worst part. I-"

He let go of another frustrated growl, cutting her off. Then he studied her for a second as if weighing his words with care. "Didn't you expect them to be everywhere at a cemetery, Kylie? After what happened in that vision, why you would even go there is beyond me."

Okay, so Lucas was like the others; he didn't understand what she did. She couldn't really blame him, though. Just as Della had pointed out this morning, ghost whispering pretty much made her a freak. Still, it hurt.

She wanted him to understand, to be able to sense how important this was to her. But he couldn't. He wasn't ... fae. He wasn't Derek. Not wanting to go there, she pushed that thought away, far away.

"I had to," she said, though she didn't think it would make a difference to Lucas. "That's what I'm supposed to do. That's why they come to me for help."

He frowned. "But at what cost? I don't like seeing you upset like this. I sure as hell don't like thinking you're putting yourself in danger to help someone who's already dead. For all we know, they're dead because they did something stupid and now they're gonna try to make you do something stupid and you could end up getting hurt as a result."

His tone, his expression, and even his body posture told Kylie that telling him that her ghost very well may be a murderer of small children might not be a brilliant idea. So she resigned herself to her current reality. She'd just have to bundle up the rest of the story until Holiday arrived. Which Kylie hoped would be soon.

"Damn, I hate seeing you upset," he muttered through gritted teeth, and then tugged her closer.

She bit down on her lip, remembering how it had felt when it had been coated with ice. "It was a little scary, but nothing happened."

He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. "You sure?"

Not wanting to lie to him, she rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. He tasted so good-a little like toothpaste and a bit like chocolate. She'd always been fond of chocolate mint, so she opened her mouth wider and he accepted the invitation and the kiss went from sweet to passionate in a heartbeat.

When his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she melted against him even closer, and any remnants of worry in her heart faded. All Kylie could think about was the wonder of this moment. The wonder of passion.

She loved having him this close to her. The silky feel of his mouth against hers was so perfect. The slight stubble on his cheeks tickled her, and his hard chest pressed against hers as though it were made to fit. She savored the tight feel of his strong hands on her waist. A voice deep within said she could deal with anything, stalking blue jays, a barrage of ghosts, even the amnesiac spirit of a child murderer. She could take it all on as long as she had Lucas's arms and kisses waiting for her when it was over. She could survive as long as she had the wonderment of his closeness to help her cope.

"Someone lives and someone dies."

The voice came at the same time as the chill crawling up and then down her spine. Kylie pulled away from the hot kiss and buried her face on Lucas's warm chest, not wanting to feel this cold. Not now. Not so soon after the visit to the cemetery and the haunting memory of all those lost souls who needed her help. Not when she'd just read the terrible things this woman had done.

"They keep insisting that I tell you," Jane, aka Berta, said.

Who dies? Kylie asked the question in her mind.

"Maybe they meant me," the spirit said, sounding confused again.

Somehow Kylie knew that wasn't right. Someone lives and someone dies. The words flowed again through her head. Perhaps there was one thing Lucas's kisses couldn't fix. The idea of losing someone she cared about was too much to bear.

Lifting her cheek from Lucas's warm chest, she opened her eyes and tried to focus on Jane Doe.

Staring at the spirit's face, Kylie recalled bits of the story she'd read about Berta Littlemon. She hadn't killed just her own child, but that of a neighbor, too.

The spirit gazed back at Kylie without reservation. No worries. No shame. Had the woman forgotten about what happened at the cemetery, that Catherine had ratted her out-that Kylie now knew everything?

But even now, as Kylie looked deep into the spirit's eyes, she didn't see the soul of a killer. She saw the soul of a woman who was lost, forgotten, and needed her help.

What, if anything, did this mean? Kylie wondered.

Chapter Twenty-one

An hour later, Lucas left to go to a hiking class and Kylie continued her online research. She'd read most of the articles on the Web sites containing information about Berta Littlemon. She'd also done a quick search on Catherine O'Connell, the woman who'd ratted on Jane. Not just because Kylie intended to keep her promise to her-a deal was a deal-but because she wanted to know if the woman was honest.