Author's note: Thank you to those who sent me kind messages; I really appreciate your support! On a related note, my New Year's resolution is to continue to throw in as many 'loves' and 'sweethearts' in my writing as I please.

A powerful shudder went through her body. Cold seeped into her bones and refused to leave. Fear. Her instincts were telling her to be afraid. Quickly glancing around, Caroline couldn't understand why she'd react this way when faced with a spirit. After all of her experience, she'd learned to quickly read a spirit's true intentions, and the small boy in front of her wasn't a threat. But something dark had weighed down his soul to the point he couldn't cross over.

She knew all about darkness in a soul. Once, she'd been contacted by a young woman named Elena who was being haunted by a malevolent spirit with icy blue eyes. She possessed a sweet, innocent vulnerability that instantly convinced Caroline to help her, and it wasn't until she found herself trapped in a cramped kitchen with a raging spirit and some scary-sharp knives that she realized Elena was anything but a victim. She'd told Caroline that the ghost was her fiancé's brother who'd relentlessly pursued her despite her rejections. She'd cried such beautiful, sorrowful tears when she revealed he'd killed himself and had been terrorizing her ever since. Of course, secrets never stay secret — especially among the dead.

Caroline eventually learned from the vengeful spirit that the truth was Elena had carried on a passionate affair with him and when he wanted to tell his brother, she killed him and made it look like a suicide. Instead of banishing the ghost, Caroline locked Elena in the kitchen with it and recorded her tearful confession to tip off the police. She hadn't lasted long in prison. Fake damsels in distress never did.

And now Caroline was faced with a similar feeling of dread that surrounded this child. She quietly studied him, considering her options. She was familiar with ghosts asking her for help, but it was rare that one so young understood enough about the afterlife to recognize her gifts. Taking a calming breath, she quietly told him, "I will help you. My name's Caroline. What's your name?"

"Henrik," he answered, his mouth trembling as he tried to get his emotions under control.

"Okay, Henrik, do you know what you need from me," she gently asked, heart pounding as she recognized telltale signs that the boy likely had been an abused child during his short lifetime. The way his small form jumped at random loud noises in the marketplace. How he shrank into himself at the sound of a raised male voice from a crowd nearby. She'd already made up her mind that once Henrik's spirit was at rest, she planned to get revenge on whatever coldhearted bastard had hurt him.

Sniffling, the boy said, "I need to tell my brother, Nik, something. It's important."

She casually moved to a quiet corner next to a closed barber shop and pulled out her phone, pretending to be talking on it so passersby wouldn't think she was talking to herself. Nodding in understanding, she replied, "Okay, I can help you deliver your message. Do you know where I can find Nik?"

Henrik eagerly pointed down the block and Caroline's heart sank a bit when she realized that he was looking at the attractive, dimpled stranger she'd been flirting with just moments before. Damn. And she'd been looking forward to scaring him off with her abysmal dating skills after their potential, clumsily implied date, not before it. "That's him," Henrik explained, stomping his sneakers in frustration, "I've been trying to talk to him for so long and he just won't listen."

"But I can talk to him, Henrik, and I promise I'll make him listen," Caroline swore to him, steeling herself for the next phase. As part of her process, she had to absorb a bit of the spirit's energy, not only to keep them on this plane while she spoke with their loved one, but also so that they could communicate crucial details that would help smooth over the skepticism she tended to receive. As she completed her task, she watched Nik, secretly pleased that he was part of the small artist community here — a creative soul tended to be more open to the ethereal and less likely to be stubborn about things they knew nothing about.

As she walked back to the curly-haired stranger, she wasn't sure what to make of the small blush that stained her cheeks as she saw the way his gray eyes lit up with interest when she approached him. "Hi, again. Um, Nik," she said hesitantly, "I have a message for you."

The attractive, somewhat cocky expression on his handsome face slowly evaporated as he said, "It's Klaus, actually. Only family calls me Nik."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Yeah, I know. The message is from your brother."

"You know Elijah," he asked curiously, flicking his gaze at her with a bit more interest as he said with a wry grin, "You appear to be a bit more laidback and creative than what I'm used to seeing dangling upon my uptight brother's arm, sweetheart."

She refused to be distracted by the silly thought that his voice carried a slight hint of disappointment that she might be involved with his brother. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she glanced down at her loose floral sundress topped off with a worn denim vest, and defensively answered, "This is my favorite outfit and I look really cute in it and I can assure you I don't dangle!" She could tell from the way his eyes lit up in amusement, he likely was gearing up for some teasing banter that she normally couldn't resist, but she glanced over at Henrik's bittersweet smile, and remembered why she was there.

She held up her hand to stop whatever Klaus was getting ready to say, and told him in a serious tone. "I don't know your brother, Elijah. Actually, I know Henrik. He approached me just now and needs me to deliver his message."

"My little brother has been dead for years," Klaus growled, his handsome face suddenly closed off and suspicious. "Whatever you're after, you won't find here. New Orleans is full of disgusting charlatans like you."

Caroline hated the way her eyes watered at his ugly accusations. As Klaus stood there, surrounded by his vibrant display of oil paintings filled with such frail beauty, she didn't understand how someone so handsome could be so hideous on the inside. "My name is Caroline Forbes, and I'm a professional spiritualist, not a fake, or an opportunist, or any other mean-spirited word you want to call me. Henrik recognized my abilities and asked for my help, and that's what I'm going to do."

He snorted in derision, "What abilities might those be, Miss Cleo? How to swindle people out of their money because you're too lazy to get a real job?"

"Seriously?! I'll have you know people who aren't close-minded asshats appreciate my help. They beg me for my help!" At Klaus' condescending smirk, she felt her temper flare, and was relieved to see that Henrik had faded away for the moment. She abandoned her initial plan of trying to ease him into this admittedly bizarre situation and instead bitch-slapped him with some truths. "When you were 14, you had so much catnip in your room that when your mother found it, you lied and said you'd found a litter of kittens. And when you figured out you couldn't get high off that, you stole the nutmeg from the kitchen." At his indignant gasp and reddened ears, she winked and added, "Although from what I've heard, what's stuffed in the average spice rack would barely get a toddler stoned."

"Utter nonsense," he muttered angrily, the flush of embarrassment spreading.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small crowd had started to gather, and she tried to get a handle on that Forbes' temper of hers. Lowering her voice, she urged him quietly, "Let's go somewhere more private to discuss this, hmm?"

Klaus icily replied, "Not necessary. This conversation is over."

"Fine. Henrik also told me about how you used to hide your drawings in the attic after your father stepped on your hand until most of your fingers were broken because he said art was a waste of time."

He reared back as though she'd slapped him, and for a fleeting moment, she felt awful, but then, that mocking smirk of his returned when he accused, "Clearly, you've been stalking my family in a preposterous attempt to bleed money from me as I buy into this bloody ghost nonsense. Rest assured, love, the only proof of your gifts you've shown is that you're incredibly foolish to perpetrate fraud with a police officer."

And that was when the handcuffs came out.