BILL MYERS, LLC
NEW PORT RICHEY, FLORIDA

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher. Becka reached the stairs and started down, hanging on to the banister for support. The cast had only been off her leg a few days, and she was still a little shaky. Then there was Muttly, her pup. His bouncing and leaping around her feet didn’t help. “I am sorry to bother you at this time of evening, but there is someone . . .” She trailed off, pulling her cloak tighter as if fighting off a chill. “There is someone who needs your help.” Becka looked down. Muttly had his hackles up and was doing his best imitation of being ferocious. “Muttly!” she scolded. “Stop that!” The woman continued. “Someone desperately needs our help. They have been calling upon me, begging for my assistance, but I have neither the strength nor the power.” “Someone needs help.” The woman spoke calmly and evenly. “As a Christian, as a disciple of Christ, you have both the strength and the power to help this . . . person.” “There is a spirit — the soul of a deceased human — that is trapped in a mansion across town. It desperately wants to be free, to reach its resting place, but it cannot do so on its own. It needs your help.” “The one inhabiting the Hawthorne mansion across town. It is the spirit of a human, a victim of a tragic murder, that is trapped there by negative energy. It desperately wants to be free.” The woman’s voice grew more urgent, her eyes more pleading. “The anniversary of its death will be here in just three days, and it is begging me, pleading with me to seek your help.” Becka shook her head. “I still don’t understand. How am I supposed to be able to help?” “According to my charts, the anniversary of the murder is in conjunction with a unique alignment of planets. This Friday, April twenty-one, is when the spirit can make its escape. This is when we can join forces — bringing it forth in a séance and helping it reach its eternal resting — ” Suddenly a voice boomed, “What are you doing here?” Priscilla backed half a step toward the door. “I am not here to cause trouble. I am here to help. According to my astrological charts — ” He turned toward Becka. “This woman brings in that channeler creep, nearly gets you killed, helps those cruds who snatched you, and you expect me to be polite?” Before Becka could answer, Scott turned back to Priscilla. “Get out of here.” He knew Becka wouldn’t fall for the woman’s line about helping some deceased spirit. Becka’s heart might be soft, but her brain wasn’t. Still, there had to be some way to stop these guys from their constant harassment. Better yet, there had to be some way to get even. “You’re going to help, aren’t you?” Julie asked. “You know, take part in that séance?” Krissi looked up and nodded in gratitude as Julie handed her a tissue to wipe her mouth. With Philip on one side and Julie on the other, they helped Krissi back to the car. Ryan turned and followed. “Ryan . . .” Becka tugged at his arm as they walked. “There’s a little girl up there — I’m sure of it. Don’t we want to see if she needs help?” They arrived at the car, and Julie and Philip helped Krissi into the back. “Nothing I’ve seen provides better spiritual equipment for today’s youth to fight and win the spiritual battle raging around them. Every Christian family should have the whole set.” All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher. Trying out for the track team hadn’t been Becka’s idea. It was her mom’s. “To help you fit in,” she’d said. Fit in. What a joke. Rebecca had spent most of her life living in the villages of Brazil with her mom, her little brother, and a father who flew his plane in and out of the jungle for humanitarian and mission groups. And now, suddenly, she was expected to fit in. Here? In Crescent Bay, California? Here, where everybody had perfect skin, perfect bodies, perfect teeth? And let’s not forget all the latest fashions, right out of Vogue or InStyle or whatever it was they read. Fashions that made Becka feel like she bought her clothes right out of Popular Mechanics. It was pitch-black inside. Well, except for the dozen or so candles burning around a table. And the faces illuminated by the candles. Faces Scott had seen at school. They were all staring intently at something on the table. Scott squinted in the darkness, making out some kind of board game with a bunch of letters and symbols on it. Two of the kids had their hands on a little plastic pointer that was moving back and forth across the board. It had been nearly an hour since her little crash-and-burn routine on the track. Of course, everyone had gathered around her, making a big deal of the whole thing, and, of course, she wanted to melt into the track and disappear. But that was an hour ago. Yesterday’s news. Now most of the girls had hit the showers and were heading home. “Nothing I’ve seen provides better spiritual equipment for today’s youth to fight and win the spiritual battle raging around them. Every Christian family should have the whole set.” listened to a pompous master of ceremonies delivering another pompous speech. Tom stood with the forty or fifty other firm-bodied club members as the emcee continued his jibes at the locals: