Luke put up a hand. "This time, Colina, I need you to do more than just listen to Thomas. I need you to focus your thoughts toward him, reach out to him." He paused as if trying to find the right words. A few seconds passed, and then he continued. "I need you to imagine the very core of your being moving forward, making contact... Think about that part of you where your power resides, the center of your being reaching out toward Thomas."

I tried to do what Luke asked. I didn't have a clue what I was doing, but I tried to focus all my thoughts—my whole being—on Thomas. At first nothing happened. I could only hear the sound of my own heart beating in my ears. But then a breeze rustled the drapes in the living room. The windows were closed, so I knew it was Thomas—he was here, I was sure of it. I could hear his small voice chattering in the distance. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he was talking to me.

I tried to imagine Thomas, but I had no idea what he looked like—there was no photo to go on. Before, when I'd seen him in the kitchen, he'd only been a ghostly outline of a boy. There hadn't been any distinct shapes or characteristics on his face—at least, not any I could truly recognize. I closed my eyes again.

Thomas, what do you look like?

As the thought appeared, an image started to glitter in the dark recesses of my mind. It was the face of a boy. Suspenders hung from slight shoulders, and a cap sat tilted at an angle upon his brown, ruffled hair. It was a style of clothing I'd only seen in movies. Historical movies.

There was a loud bang and my eyes popped open in surprise. One of the candles had fallen off the table and dropped to the floor. Luke quickly got up from his chair and extinguished the flame. An open candle and a wood floor were a dangerous combination.

Suddenly I saw—it wasn't sickness that took Thomas's life. Luke was wrong.

Thomas died in a fire.

I saw the flames flickering around the room, climbing up the walls, rushing across the ceiling. The smell of smoke was so strong, I raised my hand over my nose and mouth. I looked over at Luke. Doesn't he see what I'm seeing? I blinked, and the flames disappeared. But I knew I hadn't imagined them. There had been a terrible fire here. Well, not here in this house, but in a house that had once sat on this very spot a century ago. Thomas's home.

Thomas's image was no longer just in my mind—he was now standing only a few feet from me. His body was translucent. I could still make out the furniture behind him. He looked at me with a questioning expression. I didn't feel any fear, but rather a strong sense of curiosity. How long has he been bound to this place? Was he destined to roam in between forever?

Thomas began to sway, first to one side and then the other. The image of him flickered in and out in the candlelight. Then, before I knew what was happening, Thomas rushed forward. I instinctively raised my hands to defend myself as I felt his spirit crowding in on me.

Luke shouted, "Force the spirit back! You're strong now. You have the power!"

I tried to do what Luke said, I tried to will Thomas's spirit back. I could feel sweat form on my forehead as I strained to stay in control.

Luke was by my side, his hand on my shoulder. "That's it. Push him back. You're stronger than he is." Luke's grip tightened. "Now focus all your energy on Thomas again and, quickly, repeat these words: Constringo Constrixi Constrictum."

I spoke the words, and a loud screech filled the air.

Luke's fingers dug into my flesh. "Concentrate! Say the words again!"

I spoke them louder this time, and the screeching intensified.

Thomas's spirit swirled around me. Goose bumps rose on my arms, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The ungodly screeching was still going on, but now I could hear Thomas's voice in my head. He was shouting out in pain. Whatever I'm doing is hurting him!

"Say the words again," Luke demanded.

I shook my head. No. I tried to scoot back in my chair, but Luke's hand moved from my shoulder and came down hard on my arm. "You can't stop now. You have to bind Thomas to you."

What am I doing? Thomas's screams intensified. The spell's causing him pain! I don't want to hurt him. I never wanted to bind the spirit of this innocent young boy.

Things started falling from the nearby shelves as if someone was tossing items randomly across the room. One of the bowls on the table suddenly flew and slammed into the wall. A stereo in the corner turned on and off and then on again. When it came back on, the volume increased. Loud music filled the room. The screeching, Thomas's cries of pain, the music booming and vibrating through the air—it was all too much. I shook off Luke's hand and came to my feet. I had to stop this madness.

Luke rounded on me, his expression one of anger. "You can't stop now. You're almost there," his voice raised above the music. "You have to trust me—you're a death dealer. This is the only way for you to truly wield your power. Don't you want to avenge your family's death? Colina, this is the only way!"

Everything I had been through, all of it would be for nothing if I didn't do this. Without the banshee power, I'd be useless by Luke's side when he attempted to save his sister. When Macaven came after me again and I knew that it was just a matter of time until he did—I would be helpless. My only option would be to run again.

I was tired of running.

The power Luke offered was the sole reason I'd shown up at his doorstep. It would mean I'd finally be able to stand and fight. I'd be able to defend myself. I'd have a chance to live, and hopefully one day see the men who hurt my family pay for what they'd done.

I shouted out the words again. "Constringo Constrixi Constrictum!"

All sound stopped.

A bright light appeared.

I turned my head toward it. Is this part of the spell? In the light, I could see shadows, shapes, and human forms. It was as if they were standing in the doorway of a strongly lit room. There was a woman—I could feel her presence. I could feel sorrow, a longing for something lost, radiating out from her.

Then I heard the voices.

There was no more screeching, no more sounds of pain. These new sounds were words of comfort and love.

It's Thomas's family.

They were standing in the light, beckoning for Thomas to come and join them. The woman was his mother, and she was desperate for him to come to her. Thomas was still there in the room—his spirit was only a few feet from me, flickering in and out. He was facing me, and I realized he didn't see the light. He wasn't reacting to the pleas of his family. Instead, he focused only on me.

I thought of my mother, her spirit roaming the world forever in unrest. A sudden desire filled me—I wanted more than anything for Thomas to move toward the light. I wanted this little boy, who died so suddenly and tragically, to be reunited with his family. I wanted to call out to him, to somehow comfort him. The healer inside me was still there, that part of me still alive in a small corner of my being. The awakening of my inner death dealer had pushed it aside, and I had changed. I wasn't the girl I used to be, but deep inside, a part of me wanted so desperately to help instead of harm.

I looked again at the light, and as I did it swirled out toward me, circling me. Without thinking of what I was doing, I raised my hands and willed it toward Thomas.

He turned. He could see it. His expression changed, and his arms rose. He could hear the voices of his family—he could hear them calling to him. The light engulfed him and then flared, glowing so brightly that I raised a hand to shield my eyes. I could hear cries of joy—a feeling of love and contentment filled the room.

I reunited him with his loved ones.

The light dimmed. I turned and looked over at Luke.

His expression was one of shock. "What just happened?" His eyes searched the room. "I don't understand. You did the spell to bind him. Thomas should be bound to you."

"He's not here." I watched the remaining light slowly fade away. Thomas was finally back in the arms of his family.

Luke frowned. "I don't understand."

My eyes met Luke's. "His family was calling to him." I wasn't sure how to explain what had just happened.

Luke was silent for few minutes and then he said, "You set him free? You sent him into the light?" An odd expression crossed his face. "No one can do that. No one can set a spirit free."

"Thomas wanted to go."

"For over a century Thomas has been stuck here. His spirit was unable to move on. I know because Pagan and I tried to help him years ago."

I gestured toward the other side of the now empty room. "But he went into the light."

"You somehow forced him into the light," Luke said in a low voice.

"But that's a good thing, right?" I couldn't understand why Luke looked so upset. "All spirits want to go to the light."

"They do, but when they can't, no outside force can help them cross over. What you just did, it's never been done before. I've never heard of anyone doing something like that before."

"Someone in the past must have been able to do it."

"Not in any of the books I've read. Not in any of the spells I've heard or been taught." He looked at me, his eyes filled with awe.

Whatever I had just done was something he hadn't expected, and it seemed to excite him. Did this mean I had other powers that I might be able to use against Macaven's men?

I waited for him to continue, but he turned away from me and started clearing off the bowls, candles, and Ouija board.

Am I really doing things no one else can? It meant that I did have power, of a sort.

I could raise the dead, and now it seemed I could also set them free.