"Oh, shit. What have you guys done?" A familiar voice echoed in the darkness.

Holiday.

"I'm in here," Kylie called out. Only this time no words left her mouth. She couldn't speak.

"Cara M. said she could help us get out of here," another female voice answered.

Footsteps sounded above. The wood panel creaked. Dust and dirt sifted down on Kylie's face. She blinked the grit from her eyes and tried to hold her breath so she didn't choke.

"He's leaving," someone whispered.

Kylie blinked, and when she opened her eyes, everything had changed. She stood in an old dilapidated cabin, staring down at the creaky wooden boards beneath her feet. Then, as if the floor faded, Kylie saw what lay hidden below.

Three decaying bodies lay positioned shoulder to shoulder. A scream spilled from Kylie's lips. She tried to run, but her feet felt frozen. She tried to look away, but couldn't.

One corpse was a woman with dark hair, probably in her early twenties, wearing a nightgown. The second was a blond around the same age wearing a familiar waitress outfit with a nametag on it that read CARA M. And the third ... Oh God! Holiday.

Tears filled her eyes. Kylie screamed louder when she realized she once again lay flat on her back. Darkness swallowed her up. Panic tightened when she felt something moving at her side. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She leapt up and banged her head so hard, it rattled her brain. She collapsed on her back again.

"Where the hell are you?" A voice echoed around her. A familiar voice. Della's voice. "Mofo!" Light suddenly filled Kylie's vision. "What are you doing under there?"

Kylie gasped, swallowed her scream, and realized she lay on her bedroom floor with a shivering Socks plastered to her side.

"You are just too friggin' weird." Della, looking half-pissed and half-asleep, stood over Kylie holding the bed up above her head. Yes, the whole twin bed-frame and mattress. Holding it up as if it were nothing more than a lightweight piece of foam.

Socks let out a pathetic meow.

Afraid Della might drop the bed, Kylie snatched up the little skunk and lunged to her feet. Her knees wobbled; the skunk trembled in her arms. She glanced down, praying it would be her bedroom floor and not a grave.

No grave. No dead girls. No dead Holiday.

Kylie inhaled. As much as she wanted to push the gruesome memory from her brain, she couldn't. Something in the vision might help her. Help her figure it out so she could prevent it from happening. Help her save Holiday's life.

"What the hell is going on?" Della asked again. "Or do I not want to know?"

"Sorry. Bad dream." Kylie's voice shook.

Della dropped the bed. It banged and clattered on the floor.

"Is there a ghost here?" Della glanced around, obviously not believing Kylie's bad dream excuse.

Kylie took a second to feel the temperature. "No," she said honestly.

Della studied her, her expression softening. "Are you okay?"

Kylie nodded and watched Della's frown return.

"And you aren't going to explain this?" Della asked.

Kylie shook her head. Della really didn't want to know.

"Then good night!" The little vamp shot out of the room, leaving as quickly as she'd come.

Kylie breathed in. Breathed out. Tried to calm her racing heart.

She tried to see the bright side-the bright side of being in a grave with three decaying bodies.

Not an easy task.

However, at least she had something to go on. But would it help her? Oh, God, it had to, didn't it?

She pulled Socks closer, offering comfort and trying to take comfort in holding something as scared as she was. It might have worked if the loud knock on her window didn't have her heart slamming against her rib cage. Kylie jumped clear across the room.

Another scream rose in her chest, but before she released it, she spotted Miranda peering through, her palm pressed against the glass.

"You coming?" she yelled. "We're going to lose the first light."

The cold filled the room. And so did the spirit. Kylie looked over at the ghost who looked just like Holiday. "I'm so sorry. She shouldn't have done that."

Kylie tried not to envision Holiday, or God help her, the Holiday lookalike, as she had appeared in the grave. "It's okay," Kylie said, and she meant it. She could do this. If hanging out with dead people would save Holiday, she'd do it. Heck, she'd dance with the dead if it meant saving Holiday.

"I need to know things," Kylie said. "You need to show me things so I can figure out how to help you."

"Show you what?" Miranda asked.

Kylie ignored Miranda.

The spirit shook her head. "I told you, I don't think I'm the one you have to help."

And wasn't that just like Holiday, Kylie thought, too damn stubborn to accept help. Even in ghost form.

"The only help I need is you to bring out Socks," Miranda called from the window again.

"You should go," Holiday said. "That little fellow would like to be a cat again."

Kylie looked at Miranda and then back to the spirit. "How do you know what he wants?"

"It's one of my gifts; I can communicate with animals."

"No, you can't," Kylie said. Or Holiday couldn't communicate with animals. Did supernaturals who passed over change their gifts? Kylie didn't think so. Did that mean this wasn't Holiday? And if so, who was she?