Or rather I was laying in the middle of my bed, back against the pillows.

The person laying there was my exact twin, and she sure as hell wasn't Kelly.

"Leave me alone!" I shrieked, completely out of patience. "Get out of my room! Get out of my life!" If I'd had anything in my hands I would've thrown it at her.

"Your eyeliner is running," she said spitefully. "You look like a raccoon."

I couldn't help it-I threw myself at her, landing belly down on the bed, a face full of pillows. She wasn't there, of course. Her mocking laughter came from behind me now.

"Stupid girl. Like taking candy from a baby."

I flopped over on the bed, propping myself on my elbows.

Psycho Barbie morphed back into looking like herself, her "cold blond bitch" exterior a better fit than mine would ever be.

I took a moment to get my anger under control. My heart was tripping double time, and that wasn't good. I wasn't going to let her win by giving me a heart attack.

"My mascara may be running, but your crow's-feet are showing," I returned spitefully. "No time for a touch-up with the plastic surgeon before you died?" If I couldn't hurt her physically, I'd use the only method at my disposal.

Her vanity.

By the narrowing of her eyes, it was apparent Barbie didn't like that method.

Score one for Styx.

"And those shoes are so last year," I lied. "Emilio Pucci is the new Jimmy Choo. Stilettos are for whores and paid escorts." I gave her a tight smile, feeling better already. "Oh, wait-that's what you are, aren't you? A paid escort?" I sat up, facing her. "Or were. You're dead now, remember?"

Normally I'd never be so mean, but she'd just cost me the best boyfriend I ever had.

I hated her.

"You're just pissed because your boyfriend dumped you," I said viciously. "In the end, he chose his wife over you, and you just can't stand it, can you?" I was past caring if my words hurt. Dead or alive, Psycho Barbie was a first-rate bitch, and I had no power over her except my words.

"Keith Morgan was never going to marry you-you're an icicle, an expensive piece of arm candy, that's all. Why don't you go away and leave me alone?" . Her face twisted with rage. She opened her mouth to spit forth some venom of her own, then paused, staring at a point behind me.

I turned, and saw us both reflected in a mirror above the dresser.

There I was, dark hair and blue jacket, vivid pink in my hair and streaks of black beneath my eyes; and there was Barbie, blond hair coiled in an updo, makeup flawlessly applied.

"That's not true," she whispered, distracted by her own reflection. "He loved me. And now I'll always be young, I'll always be beautiful."

And with a splintered crack, the mirror shattered.

I flinched, expecting glass to fly, but the frame held. The once beautiful antique mirror now looked like a glass crazy quilt. Open-mouthed, I looked from it to Barbie, and what I saw in her face really scared me.

Before I had time to say a word, my Louis Vuitton overnight bag flew across the room, hitting the wall with a loud thud. "Dammit!" The suddenness of it shocked me, but I was still more angry than frightened. It fell open on the floor, spilling its contents all over the rose-patterned rug. I'd chosen the "Scarlett O'Hara" room for its deep crimson walls and cool antique four-poster bed, but I would've seen red anyway. My cosmetics bag was open, mascara and lipstick scattered atop the jumbled clothes I'd packed so carefully back home, shampoo already seeping onto my favorite pair of jeans.

I didn't dare move, though, unsure of what might happen next. "Hey!" A peasant blouse hit me in the face, while my jeans flew into a far corner as if they'd been wadded up and thrown. The bottle of shampoo just missed my head.

"Stop!" I covered my head with my hands, cowering as a heeled sandal flew past my ear. I slid off the other side of the bed and crouched there, waiting for things to stop flying.

Then the room itself began to vibrate.

"Stop!" I shouted again.

A picture fell off the wall. It hit the floor in a tinkle of glass, followed by the picture on the opposite wall, which was bigger. All bravado flew out the window when the heavy antique dresser began to vibrate, rattling the beautiful porcelain pitcher and bowl that graced the top.

Surely someone would hear the commotion and come running-but then I remembered. I'd left everyone outside when I ran up the stairs.

I stood up, ready to bolt, but on impulse, I snatched up the pitcher.

"My master says I have to give you a choice," Barbie hissed, taking a step toward me.

I froze, pitcher in hand.

She was practically snarling with rage, and for the first time, true fear crept in. "Choose to serve him and I'll leave you alone. Choose the life of a do-gooding doctor's wife, and he'll take your sister instead." Her eyes burned into mine, neck corded with the effort of rational speech. "It's up to you."

With a sound like the sharp crackle of electricity, Psycho Barbie vanished. But the smell of ozone lingered, stinking up the air.

It was a good ten minutes before I could pull myself together enough to pick my things up off the floor. I spent it slumped on the bed, at first trying not to cry and then giving in to tears completely. The rose-patterned pillowcase now had streaks of mascara and smears of lipstick on it, but Odessa would just have to get over it.

This was bad. This was really bad.

Joe thought I'd kissed Spider, and even if I ran after him and begged him to believe me, I couldn't explain the truth to him now even if I wanted to.

Which I wasn't sure I even wanted to, because he thought I was a slut.

But of course I wanted to, because I loved him. And I'd only just realized it and I hadn't had a chance to tell him yet. So he didn't know I loved him because I'd never told him, which probably made it a lot easier for him to believe I was a slut.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

But if I told Joe the truth now, then Sammy would go after Kelly, who was all too eager to be seduced by the dark side. She didn't stand a chance against a guy like Sammy-sexy, charming, with an edge of wildness that made you wanna see how deep it ran.

I already knew it ran straight to the depths of Hell. And because of that, hot as he was, I was pretty sure I didn't want the Prince of Darkness to be my sister's * boyfriend.

But I didn't want him to be my boyfriend either.

"Shit," I sighed, scrubbing my face with my hands. I sat up, surveying the destruction in the room. A pair of my undies was lying on the floor right by the bed, and I snatched them up, still crying. A tube of lipstick rolled off and under the bed.

"Shit, shit, shit."

I bent to pick up the lipstick, but didn't see it, so I got down on my knees and lifted the dust ruffle.

And nearly had a heart attack.

"Holy-" I jerked back, scrambling to my feet. "What are you doing under there?"

Perfect. Just perfect. There was a little blond girl lying under my bed, head on her arm, like she'd hidden there a thousand times.

"You said a bad word," the little girl said, her voice coming from behind me now. "Lots of times."

I turned around, and there was she was, standing by the dresser. She looked about seven, blond hair in braids, bare toes peeping beneath the hem of a flannel nightgown.

I could see right through her.

Not past her. Through her-the dresser drawer pulls shone a dull gold behind her back, the top of the bureau level with her head.

"Why are you crying?" she asked. Her braids were mussed and tied with strips of blue ribbon.

My mouth went dry, my throat tight. Such a pretty little girl, so sweet, so young... too young to die.

I shook my head, lifted my chin. "It doesn't matter," I said, trying to smooth out my features. After the little pity party I'd just had, I probably scared her more than she scared me.

She looked at me solemnly, as though expecting a scolding. "Are you a lightskirt?"

"A what?"

"Chloe says lightskirts paint their faces and dress all fancy. You have all kinds of paint on your face, and pink stuff in your hair."

I was pretty sure I'd just been insulted, but I was too drained to care. What had happened to me today wasn't this poor little spirit's fault, and I wasn't going to take it out on her. My earlier anger had been washed away with tears.

"Who's Chloe?" I asked, swiping my damp cheeks with the undies I still clutched in one hand.

"Chloe sleeps in my room."

A maid, no doubt, maybe a nanny. Long dead, either way.

Careful to make no sudden moves, I squatted so the little girl and I were at eye level. "My name is Nicki. What's yours?"

"Sarah," she said, eyes cautious. "Sarah Montgomery." She paused, clasping both hands in front of her. "Have you seen my brother?"

Montgomery. I was pretty sure I'd heard that name earlier in the day, when Spider mentioned the man who'd built the house. The sea captain who'd come home to find his family dead of yellow fever.

"I haven't seen him," I answered truthfully. And I hope I don't.

"He was supposed to meet me here," Sarah said. "I've been waiting and waiting, but he never comes. Do you think he's forgotten?" An anxious look crossed her face. "Do you think he's lost? He got lost once at the market. Mama was very cross."

"I'm sure he's fine," I soothed, though I wasn't sure of anything. "You know how boys are. They get distracted easily. He probably found a-" I cast around in my mind for something a nineteenth century boy would do, but the only image that came to mind was Huck Finn. "-a new place to go fishing or something."

Sarah gave me a shy smile, as though relieved by the explanation. "Old Cletus used to take him fishing. Johnny says Old Cletus knows all the good fishing spots."

"Well there ya go, then." I was happy to have that settled. I didn't wanna be the one to tell a little girl ghost that everyone she ever knew was long dead.

But if I didn't, who would? Sarah Montgomery had been waiting a long time for something that was never gonna happen.

Damn, damn, and double damn.

"That's a very pretty nightgown, Sarah." This might take some easing into. "Have you been sick?"

She looked down at herself and shrugged. "I was sick yesterday, but I feel better now. Mama never came to brush my hair or help me get dressed. Do you think she's fishing, too?" A giggle escaped the little girl, quickly stilled behind a hand. "No, that's silly. Mama doesn't like to fish."

This was gonna be hard. "Was your brother sick?"

Her smile vanished. "Yes, but Mama said he'd get better. She said he'd come play with me as soon as I could get out of bed." Sarah frowned, thoughtful. "So the next morning I got out of bed, but everyone was gone."

No, they'd probably still been here, grieving the beautiful little girl who'd died in her sleep. Or perhaps they'd all been stricken with yellow fever by then, unable to care for her, never knowing that Sarah was already gone. In a way, I hoped that was the case-she was a heartbreaker, this one.

"Sarah, would you like to see your brother and your mama again?"

Her face brightened. "You do know where they are! I was hoping you did-you look like the other one, the lady who knew things-but I can't find her anymore."

"The lady who knew things?"

"She was nice, even talked to me sometimes, but she couldn't see or hear me when I tried to answer," Sarah said. "You can." She took a few steps toward me, her tiny form a faded veil I could see right through. "Where's my mama?"

Without thinking, I reached out a hand, but stopped before I touched her, losing my nerve.

"Your mama is in a good place," I murmured. "She's waiting for you, and she can't wait to see you."

Sarah made a noise of frustration. "But where is she? Why doesn't she come get me?"

I smiled, giving a shrug. "Because you have to go to her. You have to be a brave, big girl, and go to her."

Solemn blue eyes, clear as water and almost as transparent, regarded me intently.

"Will you go with me?"

My heart skipped a beat, but I kept a smile on my face.

"I can't. I've already been there once, but I had to come back."

Sarah's face fell. I could see she was about to cry. She was seven years old, eight at best. "Where do I go?"

"You have to go into the Light." It was the only answer I could give her. "Have you ever seen the Light, Sarah? It's very beautiful, a bright white light, sparkling like the sun, only bigger. Your whole family is there, in the Light, waiting for you."

I watched myriad expressions flit across her face-dismay, disbelief, fear. "I won't go without Johnny." She turned her face away, lashes sweeping down to cover her eyes.

Then she was fading, until all I could see was the pale blond of her braids, and then nothing. Except her voice.

"He promised he'd meet me here-he promised. I won't leave without Johnny."

CHAPTER 16.