It wasn't long before Joey opened her eyes and sat up stiffly. She felt strange, like she wasn't quite all there. Then reality hit her. She looked at the table behind her. Her corpse lie there, pale and lifeless. She almost laughed at how stupid she looked.

Pulling her hands free of her mortal body, she turned her eyes to her brother. Denny seemed sad, as if he could have cried. Joey reached her hand out and tweaked his nose, something she'd done as a little girl to cheer him up.

"I'm back," she smiled.

Looking at Royce, she knew a playful prod wouldn't make him better either. Joey got off the table to stand next to him. When her feet hit the floor, she thought she'd crumple to the ground. Her legs felt unstable. She nearly fell into Royce, who put a hand out to steady her.

"Careful," he said softly. "It's a little hard the first time."

Joey looked at her body, knowing what had to come next. She needed to get Royce and Denny away for a little while so she could work in secret.

With a sad look to the two other ghosts, she said "Can I have a few minutes alone?"

They both nodded and, not wanting to leave her entirely alone, moved to the far corner. She could hear them talking, probably about how best to keep her body safe. She wasted no time in pulling the Arcanum out. Flipping to no specific page, she stopped and stared. She pushed aside all her thoughts and concentrated solely on the book's writing.

Slowly, as if by magic, the words began to take on meaning. They glowed furiously, but became clearer and clearer until she could read them like English. She was ecstatic to find she was right. Latin was not only a dead language, but the language of the Dead. Any ghost with the right motivation could understand it.

She grabbed the marker from her pack and began writing on the stomach of her dead body, the Latin words flowing from her fingers haphazardly. It was a protection spell. She looked at her handy work. A bit sloppy, but understandable. Picking up a rather large chunk of glass, she wrote a similar one of the clear surface.

Just as she finished, a gleefully evil cackle howled through the night air. All three ghosts knew that maniacal laughter well. Royce turned around to find Joey standing there. Her face had a look of grim determination that he didn't understand. Shoving a big shard of glass into his hands, she said "Keep this with you at all times."

He went to grab her as another cackle arose in the air, but she had disappeared.

"Where did she go," Dennis asked, worried.

"I don't know," Royce replied. "But she isn't safe. Watch the body. I'll find her."

Then he too faded away, leaving Denny alone with the sounds of evil growing louder.

---

The crazy laugh came in short intermittent bursts. Joey was sure it followed her through the endless halls. She kept ahead, knowing the laugher was toting with her. She finally found what she was looking for, a long deadend corridor.

Any person in their right mind would not have walked down that hall. Joey strode down there with little hesitation. At the deadend, she picked up a fist sized bundle. Unwrapping the cloth, she pulled out a large rock; the one she had picked up on the road almost a week ago. It was heavy in her hand.

Suddenly, she knew he was there. The cackling had stopped and she looked

toward to open end of the hall. The Jackal stooped there, smiling like the cat who'd caught a mouse. He swayed on his feet, as if dancing to his own music. His tongue flicked out and licked his lips as he watched her.

Joey was naturally terrified, even though she knew exactly what to do. Her entire lonely life had already flashed before her eyes when she died. Now, the moments she saw were images of her brother, who had died saving others, and Royce, who had been ripped to shreds at far too young an age. A steely resolve set on her at the thought of Dennis and especially Royce. She had to bring them back.

Tossing the rock down the hall, she said "No matter what the price."

A low cackle erupted from the Jackal, causing a sudden rage to flare within Joey. With a long, angry cry, she began running for the demented ghost. Howling in amusement, he darted towards her.

Joey's hands shot out just in time to grab the cage around the Jackal's head. She cried out in pain as his claws ripped at her hands and arms, but she didn't let go. Swinging the cage back and forth, she battered him against the walls fiercely until she was able to hurl him to the floor.

The force of him hitting the ground seemed to jar the Jackal enough to allow Joey to straddle him and pin his wrists down with her knees. The she saw him lick his lips again. He laughed and squirmed suggestively beneath her. She realized disgustedly that he had allowed her to win this battle.

But there was no way he could have predicted her next move. The rock was well within her reach. She picked it up and brought it down hard upon his cage, sending sparks flying. His squirming turned into frantic, fearful jerks as she continued beating the metal.

With a low, rusty groan, the frame gave and the cage popped open. Joey threw the rock aside and took the vile thing off the Jackal's head. The crazed ghost's eyes held hers, his expression akin to shock and confusion. She faded out and reappeared a several feet away. He sat up and looked at her strangely. She didn't move, just waited. It was the Jackal's move now, but the smirk that appeared upon his face had her rethinking her plan.

---

Dennis paced back and forth, worried beyond belief. He hadn't heard hide nor hair of Royce or Joey for quite a while, and time was ticking fast. He reluctantly checked the watch on his sister's dead arm: 12:03 am.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, little sis," he said sadly.

A crunch of glass behind him had Dennis spinning around. Ben Moss stood in the library with an evil smirk.

"Eighteenth birthday? Well, it's time she had a little adult-age fun."