F l a s h l i g h t

by Stark Raving Lolly

Nathan Blake. Robin Lawrence. Charles Austin. Bart Ford. Four boys, all dead. A violently haunted exboarding school. A fire in 1969. A man named Cole to run from. A mystery to be solved...and a love to be determined. Busy, aren't we Suze? [FINISHED]

5. Kicking off the SIA

Someone asked us why this story is called Flashlight . . .

Um, you tell us?

Teehee.

Nah, it's coming. Nothing big. It's more metaphoric. Teehee.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'Now isn't the time for hellos, Jesse,' I snapped. Only when I said his name, it was kind of said with a fusion of contempt, anger, coldness and – so sue me? – anxiety. Er, hello? Basically on my deathbed here?

But yeah. His name was acid on my tongue.

Jesse looked a bit hurt for a few seconds until he saw my predicament. His eyes widened and he stepped back slightly, something flashing in his eyes. Something I vaguely remember seeing before . . . fear. I don't blame him, though. I mean, it's one thing to see me all grown up, but all grown up with a knife to my chest? He's probably all, like, "Nope, nothing's changed here. Not a bit". I couldn't very well say much else to him besides that. I mean, I could feel the sharp metal cutting my top. My best purple off-the-shoulder top that I snagged at half-price. Ain't it my luck?

But my top did not matter anymore. I'm sure it'll all be repaired once I MEET MY MAKER! Oh, shit, I was so dead. That's because the ghostly hand that was holding me captive tightened his grip on me, saying 'It's a much better time to say goodbye.'

I turned my pleading eyes at Jesse . . . sending him brain messages to save me. He always needed to save me . . . I was incapable of saving myself. I don't think he understood me though, because he just dematerialized. Left in the same way he came.

Gone.

'Hey!' I called back to him. But it was no use. He was gone. That was so like him too! To leave me when I needed him most. At least in my last moments I can live with the fact that Jesse de Silva hasn't changed a bit.

The thing is . . . I tried to forget. I tried to let it go what he did to me. His words, I remembered, clearer than any I've ever heard. They were five years old, and a long time coming. But I don't think that I'd ever been so shocked in my whole life. I knew, deep down, that one day those words were going to bite me. But it came so sudden . . . too soon in my opinion. And they hurt way too much the way he said them.

"Susannah . . . I'm not going with you."

First it was that, then leaving me alone in on my hospital bed with a note, and now . . . it's this. Disappearing on me, in my time of great need. What's next? Taking the knife away from Biker Bob's smelly friend and plunging it in my heart himself? Well, that's what I felt like he was doing right now. And it was killing me more than the brute holding me hostage ever could.

I was preparing my final few moments by closing my eyes, trying not to think of the pain that would soon come over me. I could feel the knife slowly lifting away from my chest . . . and in a matter of seconds, I knew, that the cold steel would find it's way into my broken heart. My eyes felt a bit wet as I thought about my mom, Andy, and my stepbrothers. Especially Doc. It was bad enough that I hadn't been there for him in the past five years, but for all eternity? I really couldn't handle thinking about it anymore. I wanted to die right then, if only to save me from my thoughts.

And my life.

I opened my eyes a bit, chancing one last look at the world around me. The world that I had created. The chapel was a wreck. Pews had been ripped up and thrown all about, while people were clawing at the door to get out, not knowing what the hell was going on. Father Dominic was using a stray piece of wood to keep the ghostly gang away from the Blessed Sacrament. Jack, CeeCee, and Adam were trying to calm everyone down, when Jack pushed them away from a falling piece of plaster. He grabbed their shirts and ran everyone away from the danger. I couldn't help but feel proud of him.

This was my world. One obstacle after another. Conflict, and fighting, and rage, and hate. I lived here. I always would.

Because I'm a shifter. This is that cross that I bear.

Dani had one of the ghosts in a headlock, shrieking something violent at him. I couldn't tell what it was because her accent twisted the words around in the blur of the scene. The ghost she had, in one quick movement, body slammed her into the ground. She took the fall well, shifting to the side so she could get in a quick swift kick.

And that is why you wear stilettos, ladies. They hurt like hell when you kick someone.

Then, at last, I found Paul. He was struggling with three ghosts, all of them surrounding him in a triangle formation. The two behind him were trying to gang up on him, but he elbowed one in the nose and the other in the stomach in two fluid movements. The other one he was able to take on, first by stomping on his foot and then kneeing him in the nose. I turned red all of a sudden when he spotted me. Even though I was about to die . . . I still felt embarrassed. He seemed to stop dead in his tracks, his blue eyes wide with the same expression of fear that Jesse seemed to have. Before he left me to die.

One of the bikers he punched out was starting recover. Paul didn't see it coming, but the bikette had helped himself up and took off the bandanna that was wrapped around his bald head. He held it over Paul's head and before he could bring it down to choke him, I shouted, 'PAUL, WATCH OUT!'

Paul managed to duck out from beneath the threatening bandanna, grabbing it and thrusting the guy to the ground. I, however, was not as lucky. The ghostly biker who held me captive grabbed my hair and shoved my head back and brought the knife up menacingly.

'Now I truly see who you pledge your allegiance to,' the biker whispered raucously, 'Say your prayers, little princess. It might be the only way to save you.'

Before I had a chance to utter a single plea to the Lord our God, my captor let out a loud 'Oohf' and collapsed to the ground, letting go of my hair and dropping the knife. I whipped around quickly and saw Jesse standing over him, a piece of wood from one of the broken pews in his hands. He threw the wood down guiltily and looked to me with his dark brown eyes.

Time stood still for a few seconds, my chaotic world spinning around my head in a whirl as I looked at Jesse. He . . . he came to the rescue. He didn't let me down this time. But I had to be angry with him. He let me down so much in the past . . . and nothing could ever change that. My hands broke out in a cold sweat as I looked up to Jesse from the groaning ghostly form at my feet. I could tell Jesse wanted to say something to me. Part of me wanted him to. Heck, my entire being wanted him to say something. To say how he was wrong. To say how much he needed me. To say what a big mistake everything was.

But I never found out what Jesse may or may not have said, because I heard Jack yelling, 'Jesse! Jesse, help!'

Jesse broke eye contact. I felt like he'd torn my heart out again. A chill ran down my neck.

He ran over to Jack, who was trying to get to the door along with CeeCee and a few innocent Church goers. But three more huge bikers were blocking the exit . . . trying to gang up on poor Jack. Um, rude? Adam, CeeCee, and the other people born without paranormal powers had no idea what was going on, except that the chapel was falling down right before their eyes. And that Paul, Dani, Jack, Father Dom, and I were all battling with thin air.

'Go take shelter under the altar!' Jack yelled over his shoulder to Adam and CeeCee. They nodded without questioning, ushering everyone to the altar, ducking under it. It remained the only thing still cemented in its place, the one thing that wasn't broken in the whole chapel. It seemed like a pretty good idea, just in case the roof happened to fall in . . . it would protect them. But not everyone fit under it. Adam helped Kelly and her big stomach under the altar, along with any other small children. Everyone else surrounded the altar, keeping in one central location, all holding hands and praying.

'Okay, er . . . God?' Adam asked, holding CeeCee tightly, 'Are we on first name terms yet? I dunno . . . we haven't spoken in a while, have we? Well, I just wanted to say sorry for that, you know? It's nothing personal. Please . . . please for the love of, uh, yourself . . . SAVE US!'

Everyone nodded their heads and said in unison, 'Amen.'

I whipped around to look at Jack who, along with Jesse, were taking on the three massive bikers in front of the chapel exit. Jack was pretty quick on his feet, dodging all of their attempts with ease. I felt a wave of pride for a fleeting moment, until the guy that Jesse had knocked out earlier brought me to the ground. And it looked like he had hold of his trusty knife again. I totally forgot all about him.

Murphy's Law sucks.

'I'd hate for this knife to accidentally slip and cut your beautiful face,' he growled as he held the knife right in between my eyes. I jammed my eyes shut and desperately wished for this all to be over. A wave of deadly hysteria pinned me down.

For some reason, I had this strange feeling. Like I could feel the knife hovering just inches above my head, without even seeing it. I could feel it shaking in the guy's clumsy hands. And when I felt it was the right moment, I rolled out from underneath the knife and quickly got to my feet. I kicked the knife from his hand, and it landed a few feet away. I propped my foot on his large, muscular chest and said, 'And I'd hate for my foot to accidentally slip and crush your not-so-beautiful rib-cage.'

And that's when I stepped on his chest. He let out a loud groan and crouched in a ball. I ran over to the knife and picked it up. I ran over to help Jesse and Jack. One of them had Jack backed into a corner. I tapped the big jerk on the shoulder and knocked him out with the back of the knife when he turned around. 'Bully,' I scowled at him. Man, what happened to witty punning?

Bully? Oh, that was SAD.

Jack flashed me a huge grateful smile, but it was quickly wiped away when he suddenly heard some shouting.

You know the altar idea? Yeah, not so great anymore. Because keeping everyone in a central location put a huge target sign on them. Like, "CRUSH US WHILE WE ARE ALL IN ONE PLACE" on a big post board. Yeah, that. And what's worse, the people had no idea what great peril they were in. Father Dom quickly grabbed one of the metal stands that held candles and used it as a pitchfork, poking them with it to ward them off.

I had no idea Father Dom was so . . . so resourceful.

Add that to his whole "let's be calm and reasonable when dealing with the undead" campaign, and it was kind of weird.

But it was hard for Father Dom to operate such a tool with his priestly robes on. That explains why one of the stronger ghosts just grabbed the end of the homemade pitchfork and tossed Father Dominic to the side.

'Father Dom!' I yelled as I ran to his help. I grabbed his arm and helped him up immediately. He brushed himself off a bit and then he looked worriedly at the victims of prey, standing at the altar, unknowingly surrounded by ghosts.

The biker gang inched closer and closer to my former classmates menacingly. I was in shock . . . I couldn't move to save my life, much less anyone else's. But, luckily, Paul could, damn him. He positioned himself in between the mob of angry, leather-clad toughies and stretched his arms out, protecting the innocent people behind him.

'Well, well, well,' one of the ghosts with a terrible mullet hissed, 'What've we got here? Looks like we have you right where we want you, Slater.'

The ghost that held the knife to me earlier, taking the ring-leader position in the absence of Biker Bob, took a step forward and got up in Paul's face.

'You thought you could control us like little puppets,' he growled as he jammed a finger at Paul's chest accusingly, 'but you were wrong. And now that we have your strings, we have your power too.'

'Your collective power cannot even begin to compare with mine,' Paul said calmly for a guy that was staring in the face of someone with twice the muscles.

This guy was FAR on his ego trip.

'You want a bet, Slater?' Sparky wannabe snarled. Paul didn't have a chance to say anything because he – holy crap - began to levitate an inch or so off of the ground. But he was being lifted, not manually by Bob's replacement, but by the whole gang's combined supernatural power. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to stir the fear in all of us. Well, except for Paul, who seemed completely unfazed by the whole thing.

Jerk.

Then Paul's arms began to move automatically. They made Paul a human puppet. Their new little toy. And now, he knew how they felt, being controlled . . . being a minion. Doing their bidding for once, and not his own. Their bidding, you ask? Well, to get himself killed.

They moved Paul's hands up towards his neck, holding it at first, as if he had a sore throat. But his grip kept tightening and tightening on his own neck. But it wasn't him . . . it wasn't him at all. They were doing this to him.

Oh my God . . .

'You knew it was only a matter of time before all of this would come back to haunt you,' the new leader shouted up to him. 'Too bad it had to happen so soon.'

Paul was gasping for air, thrashing his legs about, trying to break free. He was dying now, by his own hands. And according to the motorcycle men, he had brought it upon himself. And not because he was technically choking himself, either. No, he decided his fate when he decided to abuse their loyalty. They weren't minions.

No . . . they were slaves.

Paul was strangling. He really was. Dani was screaming at them all, and Jack – much as I thought he'd grown up – had burst into tears.

Me? I was actually kinda pissed.

Primarily, with Paul.

Ha, bad timing you say. Yeah, I know. But, he claimed to be so "oh look at me, dark, badass shifter in the house, I shall smite you all."

And now he's killing himself.

Isn't that so like him?

But, despite all that he'd done, I couldn't just . . . let him die. I really couldn't. I'm not like that. So he'd ruined my life. Well, I was still "alive" right? Even if you couldn't exactly call what I do living, I wasn't dead. Paul would be, if I didn't do something.

And suddenly, I felt myself getting angrier and angrier.

With Paul . . . with these ghosts . . . and with Jesse.

As my world of perfect pandemonium clouded in blackness, I felt my fingers crackle with dark power, with rage.

Ghosts . . . they haunted us, they plagued us.

But they were NOT going to kill us.

They could NOT have that power over us!

Over our LIVES.

THEY WOULD NOT!

And then, a roar of anguish, fury and wildness was stolen from my mouth, and my heart. With an explosion that brought half of the roof crashing down, and a white light that blinded everyone, Paul fell to the ground, perfectly fine.

I couldn't say the same for our bikie buddies, though.

No, they'd been crushed by the roof.

Ew.

You probably find that odd, don't you? How ghosts – made of no matter – can still be crushed?

Well, I'd made them have matter, just to do so.

And now I was terrified.

Of . . . myself.

As the silence greeted everyone, I fell to my knees, my eyes wider than they had ever been. I . . . what had I done? What had I just unleashed? Was this power . . . was it me? Had it been inspired by the rage that I had felt?

What WAS I?

I felt myself shaking a bit. The bikers were gone. As in, beyond Shadowland gone. I'd forced them to – somehow – move on. They were no longer there.

I'd done that.

I'd never done anything like that . . . but this? Wow, I was . . . destructive.

Jack ran up to Paul, and threw his arms around him. 'They almost killed you! They almost made you die!' he yelled at him, hugging him tightly. Hugged him like only a brother could. I felt a rush of an emotion that I couldn't place, but it made me feel very strange. I don't know . . .

Paul hugged him back, his eyes closed and his fingers tangling in Jack's messy curls. 'Almost, Jack,' Paul said with his eyes closed, 'but not quite. You can't get rid of me that easily. Everything's okay. I'm glad you're safe, buddy.'

Had I missed something? Since when did those two become such chummy brothers? I mean, I could understand Jack having that unconditional love for his brother, but I always figured Paul didn't give a flying rat's ass about his brother. But his voice was protective . . . filled with fear, concern, and . . . love.

He was making me sick.

Paul, I mean. Not Jack.

The try hard . . .

Once they were done showing their plastic brotherly affection – well, in Paul's case, anyway – Jack rushed over to me, his white altar robe flowing behind him. I noticed with something like, well, pride at how much he'd grown up. He wasn't seven and scared, no way. He was thirteen and thriving. Oh, go the alliteration. 'Suze,' he said as he grabbed my arm, 'What did you do? You, like, sent them into oblivion or something.'

I didn't say anything. I didn't really know what all that was about. It freaked me out, knowing that my potential power was greater than I thought. I could do so much more damage . . . if only I knew how.

But I was not going to go there. Especially since the only person I could get the info from? That was Paul. And you could see where it all got him.

Illusive attempted suicide, that's what.

Yah. I do not want to have ghost minions.

. . . Ew.

I smiled very weakly at Jack and he dragged me back over to Paul. I noticed that everyone had now evacuated the chapel, thanks to CeeCee and Adam, who'd ushered them out with a coolness that I had to admire, for two people who didn't know what the hell was happening. The dust everywhere was unsettled. I could see it clearly floating through the air, through the rays of sunlight that now penetrated the sanctity of the basilica. Holy crap . . . everything was a mess. Chunks of the building littered the floor, and yeah, heavy dust caked the ground. All in all? I SO did not want to be the one cleaning it up.

CeeCee and Adam scuttled over to me, brushing themselves down. CeeCee's hair was kind of, er, alive, with a slight Medusa thing happening there. Not that she could help it. I mean, you try kissing Adam McTavish and keeping your hair neat. He's kind of messy.

Oh and of course, there's saving a whole parish from death and destruction.

And the Adam thing? Totally as an observer, not as a receiver.

What? Adam's a sweetie, but – um, just, no.

Let's leave it at that.

'Suze, babe, what the hell happened?' Adam demanded, not looking so silky smooth himself. His very good attempt at a stylish outfit was now tarnished with grey dirt. 'Whoa, you've got a huge bruise on your face, Suze!' he observed, 'Just on your cheekbone – '

'Nah, I had that before – 'I started to say, but then closed my mouth abruptly. There was NO way that I was going to breathe a word about Cole Kennedy.

Well, that's if I can keep control over my freaking mouth for five seconds.

You all know me. Mouth of the South.

Blah, it sucks.

CeeCee gave me a funny look, as if to say, "Is there something you're not telling me, because you know that I can keep a secret even though I am a journalist," but the glint faded from her eyes. She looked around, and saw that Father Dominic was kind of having a rough time, standing up. Before she could move, I dashed over to him just as he was about to stumble again.

'Whoa there, Holy Man,' I said slowly, as he supported himself with my shoulder. He blinked, and then turned around fully to face me. 'Oh, Susannah . . . it is you.'

And with that, he pulled me into the largest, most affectionate and – er, yeah, most embarrassing hug I can recall, to date. 'May God bless . . . '

After getting over the "Eeek . . . ease up there, buddy" phase, I smiled, and remembered, "Oh yeah, this is Father Dom. The other guy you ran out on five years ago, Suze. Guilt cue, now."

'Never mind what God, blesses,' I told him as I buried my face in his shoulder, 'I'm just glad you're all right."

Father Dominic let out an exasperated sigh and chuckled a bit, saying, 'Oh, Susannah, you look so grown up. It is nice to know, however, that some things never change.'

I felt so warm in Father Dominic's fatherly embrace. He was, like, the grandfather that I always wished I could have. He had unconditional love for all of God's creatures, including little old me. Little old Suze Simon, who's life was seemingly unimportant in the vast scheme of things. Me, who had no control of my life. Me . . . an ass-kicker, a Chapel ruiner, one lacking that same strong relationship with God that he had. I was estranged from him . . . I was . . .

A sinner.

When we stopped embracing, I looked into his soft baby blue eyes and said, 'I missed you, Father Dom. I missed you so much.'

Father Dominic patted my cheek, a wide smile adorning his minimally wrinkled face. I saw a single tear glide down his cheek as he replied, 'I missed you too, Susannah. There is one thing I haven't missed, however.'

I frowned and asked, 'What? What don't you miss?'

'How, somehow, any destruction of the Mission is partly your fault.'

I laughed, shaking my head at Father Dom. Laughed pretty hard, too. Not because it was outrageously funny. But this was really it. I was seeing Father Dominic again, after so, so long . . . Just to add to this surreal situation, was seeing him again.

Ha, and I'd just destroyed his chapel.

I knew he loved this place with all his heart, and now it was wrecked. Not only was it a lovely place for worship, but it was also something of great historical significance. And I knew just how much Father Dominic loved history.

I knew Father Dom. And he hadn't changed a single bit.

I just kept laughing. He was beaming at me. 'Susannah, it wasn't that amusing, why are you – '

But I cut him off with another hug. 'I'm just glad to see you, is all. Such a sin?' I asked. 'I mean, I'd go to reconciliation, but . . . '

I cast a casual eye over to the confessional – or, what was the confessional. It had met its ugly end.

My skin was tingling a bit. I wanted to pinch myself, just to make sure that I wouldn't wake up in my Starbucks apron. I needed to know that this wasn't joke that someone was playing on me.

But the wiser part of my mind knew that this was happening.

And I was glad of it.

Only, my little reunion was cut short by FREAKING Paul.

'Suze . . . whoa. I didn't know you had it in you. You've gotten good.'

My eyes kind of flashed angrily. The fact that he was . . . that he was assuming things about me. Excuse ME?! Good? Hello, asswipe, that was the BIGGEST FLUKE OF ETERNITY.

But only, I answered something a bit different.

'Um . . . yeah . . .'

Yes. I am aware of how badly and truly I suck.

What can I say? Suze has changed. Suze has changed a lot.

She's gone . . .

'Haven't found a new teacher, have you?' Paul wanted to know.

'No,' I said more to myself, 'my potential ability is off the scale. Unless they wanted more mass destruction, I don't see why anyone would. No one's insane enough.'

'I am,' Paul said, dipping his voice low, causing my head to buzz. Why did he have to do this to me? WHY? Why couldn't I be immune to his voice, his charm, and his looks? A little help here?

Just then, Dani glided our way and strung her arm in Paul's casually, looking up to him with her hazel eyes beaming.

'Stop flirting with death, Paul,' Dani pouted, 'It makes me jealous. Not to mention very, very worried.'

'A little flirt never hurt,' Paul replied innocently, 'as long as you know, Dani, that I only have eyes for you.' Paul placed his hand on her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. Little did he know, but he was also stroking my gag reflex.

'And besides,' Paul added with a smirk, 'Death's a little too dangerous for my liking.'

And if you think I was grossed out before . . . to make things much, much worse, Paul pulled Dani towards him and kissed her quite passionately on the lips.

Right in front of me. Right in front of the CHILDREN.

Well . . . okay, Jack wasn't THAT little. And he couldn't be counted as two kids. And they were related, so he had to put up with it, probably. But . . . ew?

What was he thinking, anyway? That I'd be jealous? Of them? Like I ever could. I mean, they weren't even that cute together. I mean, Paul should be with someone a little less fake in the chest area –

WHAT was I SAYING?

It was disgusting. Whatever little trick Paul was trying to pull over on me . . . well, it wasn't going to work. He can make-out with as many stupid British models as he wanted to, and it wasn't going to make me feel any different about him. Nope, no different at all. And I certainly wouldn't be a bit jealous. Nope, not me.

'Um, hello?' I waved to them, 'I'm still here, you know. Little old Suze . . . yeah, hi.'

Oh yeah, CeeCee and Adam and Father D and Jack were there too . . . but I'm sure that Cee and Ad were totally accustomed to French kisses. Jack was here strictly to learn, and Father Dom, well, he worked here. He had to watch people kissing at weddings and only have very small heart attacks.

But me? I hardly even GET kissed any more.

And it was kind of, um, gross that it was Paul. I was ashamed to say that our lips had ever made contact. God, I'd never say THAT in court . . . ew.

'Sorry, Suze,' Paul said as he planted one last peck on Dani's lips, 'I must have gotten a little carried away. What were you saying?' Then he continued showering Danielle with small kisses as she cackled in delight.

'I was saying . . . ' I started, but realized there was no point. 'Ugh, nevermind, just . . . get a room or something. No one wants to see that here.'

Dani clung onto Paul's arm, and something flushed inside of me. I have no idea what it was. But . . . who cares? I thought that Danielle Moore was kind of pathetic. "Oooh, kiss me, make out with me in public and let's try and make your old friend jealous."

Well, what is there to be jealous of? Huh? Tell me THAT?!

Nothing. A big fat –

'Susannah.'

I spun around as something snagged very severely on my heartstrings. Jesse . . . oooh, no. In every bit of his spectral glory, he stood by the half- annihilated altar.

I swallowed.

Very, very hard.

My eyes fell slowly to his feet, and I raked my gaze up his body, absorbing in every single tiny detail that had plagued me for five years, confirming that everything was still exactly the same as it had been. His pants still hugged at his legs tightly, and his boots still rose to his knees in that swashbuckling manner. His shirt was still white and it still opened to reveal the gentle dusting of chest hair. His abdominal muscles were still pronounced beneath the fabric, and his shoulders were still broad and strong. His whole stance was one of not oblivious confidence, and his hair was still crisp and black and every bit as sexy as the rest of him. He still radiated with that almighty spectral glow that only served to enhance his already hot self. It was NOT FAIR.

I couldn't rip my stare away from his face, though. His strong, masculine jaw, his pale skin, his scarred eyebrow, his perfect lips that had once been on mine . . .

But his eyes were the worst.

For eyes that had been so unfathomable once, Jesse's were well on their way to actually showing emotion . . . They were still as inky and mysterious as ever . . . but when I looked at them now, I could no longer see a beautiful night sky reflected back. Instead, I saw rock. I wanted to see rock. I had every RIGHT to want to see rock! You don't understand, none of you . . . you don't understand how this guy butchered my heart. You have no IDEA. None!

Jesse hadn't changed. Hadn't aged. Hadn't grown.

And he thinks that a freaking "Hello Susannah" is going to get me to squeak a happy "Hey Jesse" back at him?

DREAM ON, ENRIQUE.

When I reached his eyes, I could feel them boring back into me. I felt it when he pinned me to the wall with his gaze, and when he tore at my thoughts with a total lack of control. Just seeing his eyes riveted on mine inspired the most painful thoughts that I'd ever experienced . . .

That night when he'd said "goodbye."

And had meant it.

I suddenly felt something grip my body. No, nothing physical. It was an emotion. A furious passion . . . It caused my heart to burn and my face to flush and my fists to clench and my eyes to narrow and my blood to boil and my world to spin and my throat to go as dry as the Sahara . . .

I was a volcano. I needed to explode. I needed for him to know – KNOW what he put me through!

But as usual, I kept it all in . . .

No wonder my mind is in shreds. I'm mutilating myself, keeping the hurt locked away from prying eyes.

But that, by God, was where it was going to stay.

Hidden.

Taken to the grave.

No one could know what I've become . . .

So, ignoring the rush of bubbling, scalding rage that had seized me, I pushed it down for later . . .

And I turned from him.

'CeeCee, did everyone get out okay?' I managed, and flashed her a very quick smile. I heard Paul snort, and I rounded on him. 'What?'

His eyes danced devilishly. 'That's it?'

I choked. 'W – what?'

Adam frowned in bewilderment. 'What?'

Paul's hand slid around Dani more intimately, and he pulled her so she was under his chin. 'That's the hello you give de Silva, after five years?' He rolled his eyes boredly. 'No wonder he dumped you – '

'Shut up,' I said dangerously, my fists balling again, but Paul shrugged. 'I'm just pointing that out, Suze,' he said innocently. 'There's no need to get all . . . hotheaded.'

I swallowed down another wave of resentment. 'Get out.'

Father Dom coughed. 'Excuse me for intervening, Susannah,' he said with a waver of anxiety, 'But could we, er, perhaps, discuss what is going to happen now?'

Now we were all confused. 'Huh?' CeeCee said with a weird look.

Father Dom looked irritated. 'Well, due to the fact that the church has been, er, damaged, as well as a small part of the school, I think that it would be wise to perchance, postpone the reunion.'

'Well, duh,' Adam said bluntly. CeeCee elbowed him and gave him a scowl.

I blinked at him. 'Postpone it? To – to when?'

'Well, evidently, when repairs have been made to the Mission, Susannah,' he said. A small smile tugged at his lips. I couldn't imagine why. I mean, he'd just lost half the school. He's happy?

. . . Don't tell me Father Dom's turned junkie since I've left –

Don't even go there. I do NOT want to visualize him in – God forbid, leather.

And one of those little spiky collars –

ENOUGH, Suze.

. . . Smoking pot?

ARGH.

I could have torn my hair out. After FLYING from Massachusetts to here, admitting that I was a loser to my best friend, screwing up my sleeping pattern, meeting Paul and his skank, getting a knife jabbed at my throat, seeing bloody JESSE DE SILVA again, Father Dom's like, "Oh, whoopdeedoo! Let's screw up Suze's pathetic excuse for a life even further and CANCEL."

APPRECIATED, DOMMYKINS.

'Well, I think that's reasonable,' CeeCee said simply.

ARGH! SOMEONE SHOOT HER!

. . . No, just shoot me, please?

'I think that delaying the reunion is the smartest way to go,' Paul muttered slyly from his stupid corner with his stupid Pommie girlfriend with her stupid plastic – um, clothes. Er, yeah, clothes.

What I'm trying to say is PAUL IS STUPID!!!

. . . Uh huh? Reeeeal mature, Suze.

'What about everyone that flew down here away from their jobs . . . their lives? You can't just POSTPONE it like that. I mean, some of us are totally busy, you know," I said as I crossed my arms and glared at Paul. Which, I noticed, was much easier than even muttering a simple greeting to Jesse.

'They can go back to their jobs, if it's that important to them,' Paul countered, 'But I don't see why you're worried about that.'

Why, that little poof!

But . . . what could I do? The loser had me there. Why was I even fighting this, when the only job back home I had was to search for a new one, and my only life was waiting for Gina to call and tell me more about the things her rich boyfriend buys for her. Face it. I was pathetic.

But nobody needed to know that.

'Susannah, things should start back up in three to four weeks,' Father Dominic assured me, placing a slightly shaky hand on my shoulder. 'We have nothing to worry about-'

Just then, a few reporters with microphones and camera crews following them rushed up to us, dodging the rubble as they inched closer.

I'd like to see your optimism pass this test, Father D.

Let me tell you, I did not find any of this fun. I mean, one of my biggest fears – besides bugs and Paul Slater – was people knowing about my 'ability'. It wasn't just being afraid about getting sent to a mental institution and being forced to wear those unstylish straight jackets. Dusty white is NOT my color, hello? But no . . . It was the fear that people would label me as a freak. Which is what I truly was. Pure, one hundred percent grade A FREAK.

Another reason it wasn't any fun? Well, all of that flashing lights and the equipment and the rush of people here and there . . . it was dizzying. The reporters were hurling questions at all of us with no mercy. In the background, I could hear an ambulance, a fire truck, and a few police car sirens. Talk about sensory overload.

Paul seemed to handle all of the questions with ease and utter professionalism. It was as if he talked to the press everyday. He took it up to be our official spokesperson, answering questions on the strange occurrence easily on our behalf. Lawyers . . . pssh.

But when they asked what our names were . . . well, Paul set his foot down.

'But, sir,' one of the male reporters pleaded, 'We need to know exactly what happened and who witnessed it. You want your names there, don't you? So all your family and friends can know it's you?'

'It doesn't matter to us,' Paul grinned cooly, 'We don't need recognition for witnessing this event.'

'But-'

'We ask to remain anonymous, sir. If you want to go against our wishes, I'm afraid you'll find yourself with a hell of a lawsuit. How would that make your little television station look?'

Everyone laughed hysterically. Well, everyone except for Jesse and me. Quite frankly, we knew that it wasn't funny. Because Paul really would take down a TV station at the snap of a finger.

And I don't mean chucking a "Suze Simon" and dropping a roof on it.

I could just see him slamming his fist on the paper to shut down that poor little TV station. Crushing the paper, just as he would crush the hopes of their station ever making it big like ABC.

Paul wasn't just a powerful shifter. He was now well on his way to becoming a powerful lawyer. And that, my friends, is an even scarier thought.

He knew the law well enough by now. Enough to know its loopholes, its shortcomings, its exceptions. Knowledge is power...making Paul all- powerful now.

He became unstoppable. All I can say? Holy crap, we're all doomed.

Smart people are just so insufferable.

Well, maybe not CeeCee.

Er, yeah.

'Oh yeah?' asked one of the cockier reporters, clutching a microphone as a bunch of ugly guys wearing earmuffs and were carrying a huge camera that was pointed at the ground, 'Who are you to say that?'

Dani, at that point, swelled with nauseating pride. 'He,' she stated, her chest puffed out – more than usual – 'is a lawyer.'

'Well, actually, an intern,' I pointed out.

Paul shot me a glare, and Dani looked like she wanted to force-feed me venom. Oh well, she deflated by that, I was happy.

The reporter, looking cautious, gave Paul a quick nod. 'Okay, boys,' he said, 'Let's get the footage and go.'

And . . . they left the chapel. Just like that.

Aww, man.

I blinked in surprise. That intern thing was supposed to make them go, "okay, let's get footage of this loser," while I quietly dragged CeeCee and Adam and Jack and Father Dominic out of there. Paul was NOT supposed to escape humiliation!

But bah, he did.

Isn't life cruel?

'Hey.'

I turned around to look at the Hey-er, consciously making an effort to avoid Jesse's eyes. He was still there – my God, he was still there – but I acted as if he weren't. As if he were –

Dead. As in, really, really dead.

I didn't care if he thought I was being rude. I was through caring about what he thought.

'Hey what?' I asked Adam with a frown. I dragged my hands through my long hair slowly, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was barely messed up from the scuffle with the bikies. Well, that's nice. At least I can still kick butt without mortifying myself, mane-wise.

Always a plus.

Adam was staring at where the TV crew had left. 'Suze . . . what we just did . . . all of us. We just stopped a pack of ghosts.'

'No, we didn't,' I corrected him, 'We didn't stop them, they still smooshed the chapel –'

'But they're gone,' CeeCee butted in. 'You got rid of them.'

I stared at them both. '. . . your point?'

Adam was now grinning at CeeCee in an excited way, who was returning the look. He squeezed her hand and then looked back at me. CeeCee continued for him. 'Suze . . . what we all just did, that was – wow. We handled a crisis situation with poise, quick-thinking – '

'And some really cool special effects,' Adam said quickly.

CeeCee smiled wider. 'Suze . . . we could – ' she looked at Adam AGAIN.

'What?' I demanded in exasperation, 'Just spit it out, please?'

'Do not spit,' Father Dom said hurriedly. '. . . Oh, metaphorically, you –'

'Suze,' Adam grinned, his eyes twinkling, 'We could . . . do that for a living.'

I stared.

Paul stared.

Jack stared.

Dani coughed.

And then she stared too.

Staaaaring . . .

But CeeCee and Adam were now fixated on this weird idea.

A . . . a living? Mediation, as a living? Yeah, what did they call my WHOLE LIFE? What, I didn't go through one week without seeing a ghost? A DAY, even? If that isn't a living, I don't know what it is.

I mean, well, it's life. But life and living are the same, right?

No. No way, Suze. You have a life, but you don't live it . . .

I stopped thinking hurriedly, and glared between CeeCee and Adam. 'What the hell?'

CeeCee's smile widened in tumult. 'Oh, come on Suze! Think about it! We could actually get rid of ghosts, as our profession!' she stressed. 'I mean, as well as our other jobs . . . this would, of course, be part-time –'

'Full time for Suze,' Paul cut in nastily. 'She doesn't have a job.' I flared up. Do you SEE what I have to PUT UP with? A girl can't get a break around here, jeez. He's just being bitter because I dumped him a long time ago. Well no, I didn't dump him. I completely snubbed him.

But then again, why would he be bitter about that when he has Danielle Double-D's for a girlfriend? And he gets paid a heck of a lot more than I do. You know what? I can't compete. Who's the bitter one now?

'Well, you can take your intern position and you can shove it –'

'Suze, I'm SERIOUS!' CeeCee snapped. I twisted back to her madly. 'CeeCee, that's the stupidest idea I've ever heard! What, we get paid to send ghosts to hell? Cee,' I said in a different tone, because she looked like I'd just told her that there really was no Santa, 'you can't even see them.'

'But you can,' Adam said quickly. 'And so can Father Dom. And Jack. And them two,' he motioned offhandedly to Dani and Paul with a flick of his wrist.

'Whoa there,' I stopped him angrily, 'You can't be serious, you two. You actually think that we should start some sort of . . . ghost-busting group? Are you ON CRACK?'

CeeCee beamed at me. She really was living in some cracked-up dreamland.

'Yes,' Adam grinned.

CeeCee scowled at him.

'I mean no,' Adam grinned some more. 'Not much.'

I shook my head at the pair of them. 'Oh my God, you ARE serious . . . ' They weren't just mucking around. They were suggesting that we – Me, Jack, CeeCee, Adam, Father Dom, God forbid Paul and Dani, and the Devil forbid, JESSE truly join forces and what, battle evil spirits?

. . . Drunken people talk more sense.

I put my hands on my hips. 'No way. Absolutely not. It's gay. It's worse than gay. It's positively homosexual! I will not, I repeat, NOT – '

'I think it's a marvelous idea.'

I rounded on Thou who dared to defy Thee and Thy thoughts, but DAMN IT, it was Father Dominic.

WHY DID HE ALWAYS MANAGE TO DO THIS???

I was scandalized. I really was. You would think he, of all people, would put his foot down. I mean, five twenty-three year olds, one thirteen year old, a ghost, and a servant of the Lord? Talk about hell raising. I was truly thinking that he would be the voice of reason right along with me. I mean, he never went for any of my clever schemes, so why THIS one?

'Father D,' I said, my mouth open, 'It's crap. It's not going to work. What, do we advertise ourselves?'

'Obviously,' Adam said.

Obviously? OBVIOUSLY?!?! And have people throw us in the insane asylum like some crazy FREAKS?!

'ARE YOU INSANE?' I wanted to know.

'Susannah,' Father Dom, with a bite of annoyance, interrupted. He took a step towards me. 'Do take a moment to consider this.' His baby blues were twinkling. He really, really wanted to do this.

I accidentally gazed at Jesse. He nodded his head, adding, 'This is a wonderful idea. You would be using your collective powers for the good of people who need it. I support this idea wholly.'

I ignored his comment, giving him the cold shoulder, as usual. Using collective powers for the good of people who need it? What the HELL was that? If you ask me the whole thing was stupid. Not to mention ridiculous, farfetched, and absolutely absurd.

'Adam,' I said, not meaning to jump down his throat. 'You have no IDEA what it's like having to see ghosts ALL THE TIME. When they're not demanding the impossible, you know, getting their life back, they're off trying to slug you because you can't help them like you promised. It takes a lot of guts, pain, suffering, and absolutely no glory comes of it. It's hard work, Adam.'

'Suze, it's not that hard. It takes some discipline, self-control, and a steady hand,' Paul said cooly as he ran a hand through his hair casually, 'Just as long as you don't fall in love with them.'

All right . . . now I was furious.

'Shut up!' I yelled at him, smacking his shoulder hard. He winced and threw me a peevish sneer. 'You have no right to say that you . . . you-'

'Simmer down, simmer down,' Adam said as he made himself a human barrier between us.

'Suze,' Paul said, ignoring Adam, 'This is a great opportunity. I know you tend to run away from such things, but Suze . . . this is too good to pass up. Opportunity seldom knocks twice, you know.'

Dani stood by Paul and agreed, saying, 'It wouldn't be all that hard, Suze. Three mediators, two shifters, one ghost, and two researchers. I'll say that's a winning team if I ever saw one.'

Jack, patting me on the back, added, 'Those stupid ghosts don't stand a chance.'

Jesse frowned at Jack for a moment and then laughed, coming up and ruffling his hair. 'No offense to you, or anything Jesse. We want you around,' Jack apologized.

Well, I didn't. I wanted him gone. Out of my sight. And maybe then, I could get him out of my mind.

It wasn't until we had a small moment of silence, that I realized that everyone was looking at me. I was the only obstacle in their little plan. And I was not- I repeat NOT- going to go through with this. NO WAY!

But . . . everyone seemed so excited about it. I mean, actually getting some monetary reward for our ability? I wouldn't mind that so much. Especially since my lack of job wasn't going to pay any bills anytime soon.

Everyone looked at me. All eyes were on me. I did not like this. I mean, it would have been okay if I had have known they were staring at me in admiration of my very classy ensemble of purple and black . . . but I knew otherwise.

I sighed. What else was there to do? But sigh, I mean. I had decided. I wasn't going to say yes. I wasn't going to get them walk all over me and make me –

'Whatever.'

HEY?! WHAT WAS THAT?! I DIDN'T MEAN THAT! I take it back!

I glared in self-protest, but Adam was already looking perky. 'Wicked! Does that mean we –'

'Wait!' I said. Adam stopped, looking crestfallen. 'This "we" thing. This . . . thing, it's not going to include Paul and Danielle,' I said, as if stating the obvious. I laughed at the thought. 'I mean, come on.'

Paul blinked lazily at me. 'Of course it is. You couldn't handle the pressure of being the only shifter.'

'I SO could – '

'No, you couldn't. You said it yourself. You've had no one to teach you how to control your powers. You won't be strong enough for a group that would rely heavily on you,' he said smugly. Dani backed him up with some complacent smirking.

I quivered in fury.

What was this? Suze-as-target-practice day or something? The one-liners Paul threw towards me were getting terribly old. And not to mention cold. Yeah, some of them may have been true, but he didn't have to rub it in my face like that. I was SO not going to wake up to that every morning.

Um . . . not that I'm going to have to. I meant that since we'll probably have early office hours and stuff, you know, and I'd have to look at him in business suits with over-priced ties and designer shoes. I didn't actually mean that I was going to wake up every morning-

Oh, spare me, okay? It's been a bad day!

To CeeCee and Adam, I spat, 'They are NOT in this thing! They're not cut out for –'

'Excuse me, Sue,' drawled Dani in a voice that irritated every cell in my body to death – have you HEARD a whinier voice?! – 'I think that we are well aware of what we are capable of. More so than you, because we are both still currently employed.'

Her accent stank of arrogance. I felt like punching her perfect little face in, poking out her extreme hazel eyes, and pulling out her flaming red hair.

Only, I didn't.

That'd be weird.

I tried to force out some words of wild, agitated objection to CeeCee, but Adam cut me off. 'Now that that's sorted,' he beamed, 'What are we going to call ourselves?'

Father Dominic smiled to himself. 'God's Messengers.'

'That's lame,' mewled Jack.

I second that.

The lameness, not the, er, suggestion.

'Specter Hunters?' CeeCee shrugged.

Dani wrinkled her nose. 'I don't like it.'

'I don't like you,' I said.

She looked startled. It's not like it was some big secret or whatever. Maybe she's not used to people who don't worship the ground she walks on.

Father Dom gave me a warning glance. I crossed my arms, glaring at the ground, away from the gaze of Paul, of Dani.

Of Jesse . . .

'1800–NO–MORE–GHOSTS?' Adam shrugged.

'Have you been watching Lifetime again?' CeeCee demanded.

'Maybe?'

CeeCee gave him an accusing look. 'What?' Adam asked in indignation, 'Missing's a great series, okay? Based on that book by -'

'Er . . . um... Death Hunters?' Jack shrugged, ignoring them.

'Sounds like we're on a search for the Grim Reaper. Or we are all suicidal,' I sniffed in disdain. 'This is so stupid –'

'The Afterlivers!' proclaimed Jack, proud to make a contribution to the group.

'What, we're internal organs now?' I asked cynically. Jack scowled at me and then frowned to himself.

'Spirit Seekers!' CeeCee stabbed.

'We are NOT cheerleaders!' I snapped. I could just imagine Kelly doing our commercials. Well, after she popped the kid out of her womb.

'Spirit Searchers?'

'Sounds like a New Age group.'

'Shifters Inc.' Paul submitted, smiling to himself smugly.

'We're not shifters!' CeeCee and Adam protested.

'Shifters, Mediators, Normies Incorporated, then,' Paul retorted, rolling his eyes at them.

'I am also present,' Jesse said softly. Paul scoffed.

'Mystery Inc.' sniggered Adam. 'Too Scooby Doo?'

'Heaven's Advocates,' Father Dominic sighed.

'How about we make up a name using all our initials?' Adam grinned.

We all groaned.

'ACDDJJPS?' I sighed, rolling my eyes, 'As if. This is so stupid.'

'Alphabetical,' Adam shrugged, 'Give ya that.'

'Ghost Busters?' Danielle suggested. I scoffed. 'Not the most original, you think?'

'Fine,' snapped Dani, glaring at me, 'You think of a suitable name, if you are so clever.'

I was seriously gonna suggest the "Bomb the British Co." but I stopped. And smiled.

It came to me just then in a vision. We'd all be dressed in our swanky black spy wear, running up to the door of a haunted mansion. I'd bust down the front door with my black knee-high stretch boots and say something like: Stand back! We're with the-

'Supernatural Investigations,' I said simply. 'It's what we are, right?'

Dani started, 'I think that's shi –'

'Perfect,' breathed Jesse from behind me.

I refused to turn around and acknowledge him. I refused! I just shrugged in an unfeminine way at him, and went, 'Well, he likes it.'

CeeCee nodded slowly at Adam. 'Yeah . . . I like that.'

'And chuck "Agency" on the end for the hell of it,' Adam smiled. 'Makes us sound professional.'

'God knows, one glance at you and they'll run,' Cee said fondly, and Adam drew her into a big hug and laid a sloppy one on her mouth.

Oh, please . . .

'The SIA,' Paul tried. He adjusted his tie importantly and cleared his throat. '"Stand aside ma'am, I'm here on behalf of the SIA . . . "Yeah, sounds okay.'

'Oh, Paul,' Dani sighed gustily as she placed a hand on her heart, 'You make it seem so . . . sexy.'

I scowled at the two of them. Hey, I was the one who thought of it first! You know, the cheesy breaking-into-the-house line. Mine was SO much better. Plus, it's harder to bust down doors in expensive alligator shoes such as the ones Paul wore.

I could sound sexy while I said it too! Paul's not, like, the monopoly on sexy or whatever. I mean, he may look nice in those suits, but he can't beat my feminine charms. Father Dominic told me once not to use my "sexual wiles" to lure Jesse from –

Bah . . .

The point is, I was sexy. A priest nearly admitted it!

Albeit, that was – what? – five or six years ago? But I got a whole heck of a lot of compliments from my former classmates before mass started. Granted, they didn't go, "wow Suze, aren't you sexy?" But, they, um, said I looked good. That's GOOD. And earlier that day Brad tried to flirt with me? Yeah, THAT? Totally gross, but still proving that I, in fact, still had it going on.

Adam, too stepped forward, and with a very strange, stoned, corny expression, he leaned in towards Dani, humouring her. '"The SIA, ma'am, offers . . . many services . . . "' He wiggled his eyebrows at her and Dani giggled.

Oh, PLEASE.

I rolled my eyes heavily, still crossing my arms. I was not happy. CeeCee looked a little put out too. Jack was just staring with naïve eyes at us gross, strange adults.

'Susannah,' Jesse said quietly.

I turned around that time. He was standing right me, and again, an upsurge of something powerful and angry claimed me. He was looking at me up and down, smiling a little. 'Look at you,' he said, his eyes twinkling, 'You have grown up.'

I didn't say anything.

'Your hair,' he said, his eyes looking glazed as he lifted one of his hands to stroke it, 'It's longer.'

'Duh,' was my oh-so-romantic response. 'At least a hundred and fifty five years hasn't, you know, impaired your judgment or anything.'

He stepped a little closer, that light smile across his lips. But the only thing was, er, I didn't want him that close. I didn't want him to get close to me, oh, no, no not at ALL.

And yet I let him. Get closer to me, I mean. But only because, you know, I was in shock. I mean, he was just pretending like nothing happened! Talk about appalling.

He played with a strand of my hair from my roots to the end of the hair that rested at my shoulders. My skin tingled as his fingers accidentally brushed my arm. Why was I reacting like this? I certainly didn't want to feel those feelings again. I had to, as Mr. Lowe put it, "nip this in the bud".

I looked in to his seemingly desperate eyes . . . pleading, appealing, and praying. For what, I did not know. But I had a bad feeling that it had to do with me. It had to be, with the way he was now touching my arm and the way his dark, cavernous eyes were sparkling like that.

My nerves started going haywire and I felt very lightheaded. When I couldn't take it anymore, I turned away from Jesse and walked away.

Moved on.

Paul caught me walking away, and he blocked my path, asking with a grin, 'Where do you think you're going, Suze?'

To tell you the truth, I kind of froze there. I mean, Paul may have changed, only according to himself, but he still frightened me the same way he did five years ago. His name still caused my blood to boil while my veins froze. His touch still caused my to quiver, and his eyes still burned on me.

Aww man . . . I'm still seventeen . . .

'Um, nowhere,' I squeaked as I tried to go the other way. He glided to the side where I had just tried to dodge him, so I went the other way and he did the same thing.

'Go away,' I said, after getting tired of the avoidance dance. Paul smiled at me, showing me all of his perfectly straight white teeth. Though seemingly innocent, that grin sent chills up my spine. Bad chills . . .

'Away is overrated,' Paul said, his voice dipping low again. Was that supposed to be funny? Or was it meant to scare me? I wasn't laughing, so I judged it as the last one.

'You've done enough damage today, Paul,' I told him, crossing my arms cooly across my chest, trying to cover where it was ripped from that ghost that cut it with the knife.

'My bad,' Paul said innocently. But I knew better. His eyes were twinkling with something . . . something barbaric.

'That's it?' I asked incredulously. 'You're former slaves attacked you during mass, almost making you kill yourself. And all you have to say is "my bad"? What about "thank you"? If it weren't for me, you'd have been dead meat, Slater. Dead as a doornail.'

'Give me some credit, Suze,' Paul said as he took a step closer. 'I could have saved myself last minute. You can't get rid of me that easily.'

I scoffed and tried to walk away again, but he blocked my exit, causing me to almost ram into his chest. Then I would have had a mouthful of expensive tie. 'What is your damage, Paul? Besides the whole stinking chapel?' I wanted to know.

'Well, actually, that was your fault,' Paul corrected me. 'Credit where credit's due, Suze.'

MY FAULT?

I didn't want to know . . .

'Whatever. Go away,' I hissed. I just wanted him to leave. That was all I was asking. Very, very simple request. But he wouldn't budge. This time, I turned around fully to go in the opposite direction, even though Jesse was there, assessing the damage. What? I was desperate. I could just snake away from Jesse and go to CeeCee and Adam or something.

But Paul wasn't having any of that. He grabbed my upper arm. I could feel his warm fingers through the fabric of my sleeve.

'What do you want?' I asked lamely. What? The guy was giving me the creeps. My mouth wasn't taking over my body like it usually did. Fear was.

'Thanks,' Paul said suddenly, not answering my question. I looked down at his hand, gripped on my arm. Then I looked back at his eyes, and I saw something there. Something that went away as soon as I asked, 'Thanks for what? Saving your life, or thanks for getting rid of your pesky ghost problem?'

'For everything,' Paul's deep voice swirled around my head as he said it. He was making me dizzy.

'You are impossible,' I told him as I swiped his hand away. 'I save your life, and then you crack jokes, making fun of me for not having a job. And then you try to say thanks? What do you take me for?'

'Someone who's ungrateful,' Paul said with a frown. 'I said thanks, Suze. What more do you want?'

I couldn't very well answer that question, because I really didn't know what else I was demanding from Paul Slater. Maybe for him to get an attitude adjustment. Or maybe I was asking him to get rid of his stupid model girlfriend, who was a total bitch. Whatever.

I scoffed again, this time managing to break free of any other attempts to keep me in Paul's presence. I stormed over to Father Dom and crossed my arms. He and Jack gave each other a weird look and then continued the conversation with one last reporter who was jotting everything down quickly.

'So you're saying that these were ghosts, Father?' the reporter asked suspiciously.

'Yes, sir, it had to be,' Father Dominic said slyly, for an old guy.

'What makes you say that?' the reporter asked skeptically.

'We all had a strange feeling,' Father Dominic said, his eyes twinkling, 'But if the SIA hadn't been there, well...it would be quite a tragedy.' Father Dominic looked at Jack and I and with a wink he added, 'God bless them.'

'The "SIA"?' The reporter asked, taking down a few more notes, 'Who are they?'

'The Supernatural Investigations Agency,' Father Dominic replied simply.

'Who?' the reporter asked again, his pencil stopped moving temporarily.

'They are a group of individuals who use their paranormal abilities for the good of others,' I replied thoughtfully. Wait, Jesse said that. AGH!

'They're like the Ghostbusters,' Jack added with a smile.

'Paranormal abilities?' the reporter echoed, 'What do you mean?'

'It's very hard to explain, because I wouldn't know,' I said, checking my fingernails, 'but they have something about them that we don't.'

'Like a sixth sense?' the reporter asked, his pencil rapidly moving again.

'I don't know,' I told him. If it helps, I really didn't know how or why we got these powers...we were just born with them. 'But, because of some fluke or whatever, they can see ghosts.'

'Did the SIA tell you that?' the reporter sneered.

'It's the only logical explanation, sir,' I said, doing everything in my power not to punch his face out.

'If people were to have any problems, how would they get in touch with this "agency", then?' the reporter asked, a smug grin appearing on his face. 'Could you find them in the phone book?'

'The phone book is not that recent,' Father Dominic told him, 'But we have their number right here.'

Father Dominic looked at his hand, pretending to read a number from it, as if someone had written it there for him. Clever old priest...first using candles as ways to defend innocent victims, and now this? Maybe he isn't exactly the same.

The reporter raised an eyebrow, but took the number down in his notebook. He thanked us for our time and then nearly skipped merrily to the camera crew, who was talking to Paul. Paul was reminding them about the lawsuit he was going to pound on them, if they were to mess with the SIA.

'We can go to the teacher's lounge to watch the news,' Father Dominic suggested after he was done talking.

'Sweet!' Adam exclaimed, 'I've always wanted to go in there. I mean, detention area, I know, but teachers lounge - '

'You're soiling yourself, I hope you realize,' CeeCee said, patting his arm with a playful smile on her white lips.

We had to step over all of the rubble to get to the exit to the chapel. We walked down the hallways, seemingly unaffected by what just went down. The sky was turning darker as it was nearing the time for the five o'clock news.

The teacher's lounge was pretty small. I always imagined it to be, like, some sort of teacher getaway complete with a karaoke machine and a Hawaiian theme . . . you know, with plastic palm trees and such.

But the teacher's lounge, in all reality, was just a room with a microwave, a fridge, a small television, a table, and a soda machine. Talk about disappointing. Bah, I'm sure as hell not working here. No wonder Mr Walden used to throw chalk . . .

Imagine me remembering that . . .

I smiled in spite of myself.

Needless to say, not only was Jack unhappy with the mediocrity of the room, but so was Adam. They both pouted as they grabbed a chair. Father Dominic switched on the TV, and almost instantly we were shown what a mess we – no, I – had created. It looked so much worse on the news than it did from the inside.

CeeCee nearly spit her soda across the room when she saw that the interviewed Debbie Mancuso. Adam slapped his knees laughing, as Brad, in the background, started waving and mouthing "Hi mom". It was pathetic.

'We're live from just right outside the Carmel Mission. This just in,' the reporter's deep masculine voice echoed in the small teacher's lounge, 'There's a new ghost – busting team in town, the "Supernatural Investigations Agency", as they call themselves. The heroes that saved the mission from a most untimely end have now decided to form a team to get rid of any malevolent spirits. The group wishes to remain anonymous, but they did give contact numbers. For more information, you can go on our website and click the link provided.'

'Whoa,' Jack said in response, 'They put a link to us on their website? Score!'

'News travels quickly,' Paul told Jack, ruffling his hair a little bit. The kid never gets a break with the hair. I tell ya, he shouldn't even bother styling it or whatever he does to keep it so curly and silky.

'Didn't you just give them that information, like, ten minutes ago?' I asked curiously at Father Dominic, who was looking up at the TV from where he was standing. He smiled at me and said, 'It's only a matter of time, Susannah. By tomorrow, we should have some business.'

Just as he said that, Father Dominic's cell phone began to ring. We all sat there in silence, watching as Father Dominic reached into his pocket and flipped the phone open. It was a pretty nice phone, even if it was Church property.

'Hello?' he answered the phone in his soothing, gentle voice. The rest of us weren't being that calm however.

Father Dominic motioned for Jesse to get him a piece of paper and Father Dominic began writing on it, nodding his head in agreement. He concluded the conversation with, 'We would be happy to help, sir, thank you for giving us a call. We'll be there as soon as possible. God bless,' and then he flipped the phone closed.

'Well,' a smile formed on Father Dom's face, 'I believe we have our first customer.'

Everyone jumped out of their seats and began jumping up and down. CeeCee laid a big wet one on Adam, while Dani hugged Paul with her stupid British designer shoe clad foot slightly raised.

'Did you hear that, Suze?' Jack asked, in reference to my lack of jumping around like an idiot, 'We have a customer. We get to start soon.'

'Yeah,' I told him as I patted his shoulder, 'I heard.'

Jack smiled and threw his arms around me in a tight hug that left me with no air. I patted him, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Then I remembered something. He's a Slater . . . known for their deadly iron- grips. Luckily, Jack uses it for the good.

But, this job . . . whoa. It was happening too fast. I'd just gone from unemployed to – er, well, employed. I didn't even know what I was DOING. I mean, an Agency for getting rid of ghosts? People would laugh at that one. This was a joke. A complete joke.

Like me.

And PAUL AND DANI, on this thing? Um, how about NO?

But everyone seemed determined to make me shut my mouth and bear it.

I wasn't sure that I could, though. Because, this thing – this, job, it meant, well . . . working with Jesse. And Paul. And I really wasn't sure if I could handle that. Seeing them everyday. It didn't make sense to me, why I was agreeing to all of this. Maybe it was for CeeCee and Adam . . . they seemed to keen.

Maybe it was because I was still shocked. You know, the numb thing going on and stuff? And my heart was pounding a little faster than usual. I felt as if I'd been in total darkness for so long, and someone had just flashed a flashlight into my eyes, with the intention of blinding me. This was too fast. This was happening WAY too quickly.

"Don't go into the light . . . "the Gate Keeper had told me so long ago.

I didn't know if I could do this . . .

'Susannah,' Jesse whispered from behind me in a voice as soft as the wind, but sharp as knives to me, 'Are you not pleased?'

Oh God.

I DEFINITELY couldn't do this.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hayley: Love you all in a non-gay way!

Lolly: Just review.

Both snigger.