The lake was bigger than I'd imagined. I could see wood cabins hidden amongst the trees around the lake. The lake itself was crystal blue. Small waves floating across the surface sparkled in the sunlight.

It was a beautiful fall day. The trees around us were all shades of red and orange. They'd started shedding their leaves, and I shuffled my feet through the colorful foliage on the ground as I followed Luke toward the water.

"The spirit is here. Can you feel it?" Luke asked. He was standing a few feet from the water's edge.

There was something out there—I could definitely feel it. The hair on my arms stood up, and a chill ran down my neck. "Yes," I answered, taking an unconscious step closer to him.

He turned and grabbed my arm. "Try not to concentrate on her."

I resisted the urge to pull out of his grasp and instead demanded, "I thought you wanted me to commune with the dead." Wasn't I supposed to talk to spirits? Hadn't that been the whole reason I went through that first horrendous ritual of his?

"You will, but not like this. Not yet. You aren't ready." He started to edge closer to me but seemed to change his mind and instead let go of my arm. "You don't know how to handle spirits yet. Until you're ready, it's too dangerous. A spirit can take you over." He took a step closer to the water. "Try to fill your mind with other things."

Like what? At the thought I felt a sudden chill run down my arm and a strong breeze whistle past my cheek.

Luke spun around. "Colina, listen to me. You have to focus on something else!"

At his words, I could feel pieces of my hair lifting in the breeze. But not all of my hair—only a piece here and there. I looked over at the nearest tree, which stood only a few feet away. It wasn't swaying in the wind—its leaves and limbs were still. Whatever was happening to me wasn't natural. It was a spirit.

"A childhood song," Luke said. "Think of a song you sang as a kid."

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the words to a song my mother used to sing when I was young. I tried to focus on the tune and ignore the breeze now blowing across my arm.

Luke suddenly looked up into the sky. "I hear you. Come closer. I can help you."

I hummed to myself as I watched him. His gaze became fixed to his left, and his head tilted as though he was listening intently to something. Or someone.

I heard him mutter, "What's your name?"

And for a moment I could have sworn I heard another voice on the wind. A girl's voice, just off in the distance.

But just as I tried to focus in on it, Luke turned to me and frowned. "The song. Keep filling your mind with the song."

I nodded and took a few steps away from him. I turned my back and studied the countryside. I loved how the trees changed color—deep red, orange, and yellow. Fall used to be my favorite time of year.

When things were different. When my family was still alive.

I turned my thoughts from my family and forced the words of the song back into my head. My mind slowly began to wander, this time my thoughts turning to Luke. My emotions were in turmoil. A part of me was attracted to him, even as another part of me trembled in fear every time he came close. I hadn't been afraid of him before the ritual.

No, that's not true, I admitted to myself. I'd been scared of who he was from the first moment I walked into the magic shop. Death dealer. Banshee wielder. A mage who performed the dark magics.

Even as I watched him now, I could feel my pulse quicken, but not with fear—it was something else. I wanted to reach up and brush the hair from his eyes. Wipe the frown lines off his forehead. My fingertips reached up to my lips at the memory of his kisses. I abruptly turned around, so he wasn't in my view anymore. This was crazy. I felt two opposite emotions toward him at the same time—desire and fear.

A hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Startled, I spun around.

"Sorry. I said your name a few times, but you seemed lost in your thoughts," Luke explained.

"The spirit?" I asked.

His expression turned grim. "She came to me. She was murdered by a group of men. Men who possessed magic."

I gasped in shock. "But the way she was killed—that's how the Redeemers have been killing. Drowning. None of this makes sense. They can't be Redeemers. How could they be? Redeemers hate anyone with magic. They would never allow a mage into their cult, but if it's not them, who is it?"

"Someone trying to cover up the murders by making it look like the Redeemers did it."

"If it was truly men of magic who killed her, does that mean—" I took a deep breath, my voice shaking. "Was she mage-born? Was she a sacrifice used to power a spell? A sacrifice like my father?"

"She was a mage, but she wasn't killed on a full moon or a dark moon," Luke answered.

I gasped again and grabbed his arm. "That means Darla isn't being kept for a spell. That means they could hurt her at any time. That means she could already be dead."

Luke's eyes darkened. "Darla is still alive. I would know if she..." His words faltered off.

My fingers dug into his skin. "The spirit, can she help us find Darla?"

Luke's eyes suddenly had an odd, faraway look. "The girl, her name was Sarah. They wanted something from her, something she couldn't, or wouldn't, give them. And when she refused them, they killed her."

"What did they want?" I whispered.

His attention focused back on me. "I don't know. Spirits don't always talk in straight lines. When they're murdered, the very essence of them is forced suddenly from their bodies and there's a lot of confusion."

As I listened to him, the image of my brother, James, popped into my mind. No knife or bullet had touched James's body. Instead, it had been something far worse. Something I hadn't been able to tell Luke about. Not yet.

Luke continued. "Communicating with spirits can be somewhat cryptic. The things they tell you, they often talk around things or in a way that's hard to immediately understand." Luke looked around as if trying to find the right words. "Think of it as pieces of a puzzle you have to put together in order to see the whole picture."

"This girl, Sarah, she gave you some pieces to the puzzle?"

He nodded. "Not a lot, but she talked about the ones that killed her. About the place where they kept her. She stayed there—was held there—for days before they killed her. I think it might be where they're holding Darla."

"Where is it?" I demanded.

His eyes filled with sadness. "That's the problem. I don't know. She didn't communicate enough about the place. She said it was big. It was dark when they took her there. She seemed more focused on the men. It just happened, her death. Sarah doesn't fully realize that she's dead. Her spirit is a jumble of emotions and confusion."

"And will that change?" I asked, worried the answer would be no.

He took a deep breath and looked up into the sky. "It does for some, as time passes. They realize they've passed. But Sarah's spirit won't find peace until the men who killed her are brought to justice."

"Sarah can't help us find your sister." And where does that leave us?

Luke's eyes met mine. "It doesn't look like it. Our best bet is still your family. Once we do the second ritual, you'll be able to communicate with them. That is, if they come to you."

I shuddered at the thought. "But, Sarah, are you sure she can't help us? If she's confused, can't you help her? Can't you just tell her to go to the light or something?"

"No. Some spirits can cross over on their own, but Sarah's spirit is looking for justice. I could make her come forward again, but I'm not sure how useful it will be. Until her soul finds justice, she's bound to the ether sea," he answered.

"But you can bring spirits forth? Like the banshees?"

He nodded. "Yes, I can make spirits do my bidding."

A shiver went through me as I thought of my family. "You force them? Force them to do your bidding?" My voice trembled.

He turned away from me. "It's hard for you to understand now. It will make more sense to you later."

Horrified, I reached out and grabbed his arm and pulled him back around. "You're forcing these poor souls into doing your bidding!"

"Colina, the souls are restless, they can't go to the light. They're stranded in the places between and nothing I could do would set them free."

"So, you use them?" I said, my voice full of anger.

"Yes," he answered quietly.

"And force them to do whatever you ask? To hurt people?" I demanded.

"To protect myself. To protect my family."

That part I could understand, using whatever tools you have to protect the ones you love, but another part of me was outraged. "And when I become a death dealer, you'll expect me to bind spirits? To force them to do what I want?"

He looked away and said quietly, "You'll do it."

"And if I won't?" I demanded.

He looked back at me. "There's no choice. It will be something you have to do as a death dealer." Luke's voice grew softer. "You have to understand, often they can't move on. It's like an empty hole they have within them that someone else has to fill in order for them seek the light. Getting vengeance for their murder, for example, or finishing something that was left undone. For those that can't move into the light, at least this way they can be of some use."

I thought of my family's souls. Of their souls forever chained to a death dealer. Their anguished faces full of pain. Forced into our world, becoming a pawn in some mage's twisted game. I felt unexpectedly cold. If I didn't get vengeance for my family, they may never find peace.