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but I didn't tell her to see a doctor."
    "Izzie, you can't hold yourself responsible.
She was a young woman. There was no reason you should have feared
for her life. She could have had a cold and you would have seen
that her aura was off. People don't run to the doctor for a
cold."
    "Still…"
    They were silent for a moment, but she knew
it wouldn't last.
    "Izzie, what were you doing when I found you
next to Marcy's body?"
    She sipped her tea before she looked at her
brother. "I believe you know."
    "Why?" He shook his head. "She was already
gone. Why would you risk trying to bring her back?"
    "Nick, something wasn't right. I couldn't put
my finger on it, but I know if I could just awaken her for a
moment, I could have asked her what happened."
    "You know the shades aren't always
reliable."
    "I know they can sometimes be confused, but
doing nothing leaves us wondering why a young, healthy girl dropped
dead."
    He shook his head, his features troubled as
he pursed his lips. "You shouldn't have tried. It's too dangerous
to conjure."
    Yes, she was aware. Nicholas didn't say it.
He didn't have to. Their mother brought her back from the veil.
Louisa Lucci broke the rules and paid for it, too.
    If only Isabella hadn't been screwing around
on her bike that day. She rode it with no hands. Nicholas kept
telling her to stop showing off, but she wouldn't listen. She'd
lost control and swerved as a car came around the corner. She was
thrown from the bike. She would have survived, if she hadn't been
thrown into oncoming traffic.
    Nicholas had raced back to the restaurant and
told their mother what had happened.
    A few days later, she woke up in the hospital
room. The press found out what happened and printed: A girl
rises from the dead. She was then dubbed the Lazarus girl.
    She hadn't understood it then, thought it a
miracle, but later she realized her mother summoned her, brought
her back from the veil and defied death. Less than a year later,
death demanded payment and took both her parents.

Chapter Four

    Garran pinned Harrison down with his stony
gaze. An unearthly growl emanated from his throat and his fangs
lengthened. "I knew ye were reckless," he hissed, "but to
contemplate bringin' a human into our confidence—yet again, seems
like a redundant argument. We do not need a human's help with
this." He paced the room with his pent up energy, slamming his
books back into their rightful place within the shelves of novels
and reference books that lined his walls.
    Harrison plopped himself down on the large
throne-like chair, which Garran recently purchased for his library.
It fit well with the other medieval castle-like reproductions in
the room.
    "We could train her, hone in on her talents
and shape them to suit our needs," Harrison added casually, as if
the last fifteen minutes of saying— we don't need a human on
their team— never occurred.
    Garran looked at him. "Surely, ye did no'
suggest we train the human."
    Harrison chuckled. "Aye, I did. Why not, I
ask you?"
    "Why no'?" he sputtered. "Because… Because I
have no wish to. That's why no'." He stopped to rearrange a few of
his books, noticing his historical volume on Medieval Europe sat on
the shelf beside Shakespeare's book of sonnets. He replaced the
book back on the reference shelf.
    "I'm beginning to believe you're afraid of
humans," Harrison teased.
    "Don't be a dunderhead," Garran grumbled.
    "With ye sweet talkin' me that way, ye wee
couthie, I might think ye cared." Harrison imitated his brogue to
the tee, which only proved to annoy him further.
    Garran glared at him with narrowed eyes, a
stare he perfected when he was laird back in Scotland centuries
before. His nostril's flared as he took an exaggerated breath.
"We're dealin' with creatures I am sure yer human doesn't know
exists. Ye said it yerself, she isn't trained. She cannot protect
herself from Otherworldly bein's, which means one of us would have
to be with her at all times. She'd be a target and we'd be so