"Can't I do it alone?"

"No. She's shaking her head no. You have to share your memories with both of us."

"Both?"

"Me and Meggie."

"Of course. Anybody ever tell you that you're as bossy as my mother?"

"Whoa. Anybody ever tell you that witches are rumored to be capable of turning princes into toads?"

"You think I'm a prince?"

"I think you're a pain in the-"

"Buttkuss," Meggie said. "Tell him."

"Meggie says you're a pain in the buttkuss."

He looked around. "Buttkuss? I'm starting to believe you might be psychic, Kismet."

"Good one." Destiny wrinkled her nose at him. "Show me what's in there."

He opened the chest, lost the twinkle in his eyes, and took out a ratty old rag doll, scorched around the edges. "This is Samantha. Meggie loved this doll. The authorities found it in the tower. My mother threw it away, but I fished it out of the trash. I-" He shook his head as if he couldn't go on.

Destiny touched his hand. "It's okay."

"I took Samantha with me to the seminary. A doll. Imagine. No wonder I kept it under lock and key. I'd take it out when I missed Meggie. Eventually, I left it here. Meggie told me to take care of Samantha, if she couldn't. She said there'd be a fire, and Samantha would be in danger."

Destiny's head came up with her radar. "Wait. Meggie was psychic?"

"She made my parents-well, mostly my mother-furious when she predicted the future."

"Didn't they understand when the things she predicted happened?"

"No, that just made them madder." Morgan held the doll up to his face. "She doesn't smell like Meggie anymore." He set it on his lap, took out a metal flute and played it. "She warned me to be careful with this, that her throat hurt when she looked at it. She was right."

"What happened?"

"I was playing it on my way into the house, and the flute got to the door before I did. It cut my throat up. Lots of blood. Fast ride to the emergency room."

Destiny knuckled his throat; she needed that badly to touch him right then. "Why did you keep the flute?"

"To remind me that Meggie was right, and I was wrong." Morgan shook his head with regret. "So very wrong." He looked up. "Meggie talked and laughed all the time. Mother spent half of Meggie's life shushing her. Meggie would have reacted the way you did today. She would have laughed at my mother's nonsense. Mother said that Meggie's predictions were insane, and she meant that literally."

Destiny gasped at the cruelty, and she felt hurt radiating from Meggie even now.

Morgan looked around. "You weren't insane, Meggie," he called. "See?" he said to Destiny. "Now I feel a little insane. Why would she be here, anyway? Why not at my parents'? Never mind. Dumb question. Who'd go there if they didn't have to?"

"Meggie attached herself to you, Morgan, and when you started coming here, she stayed, knowing you'd return."

"But why? Why didn't she just move on? Aren't ghosts supposed to do that?"

"Not if they have unfinished business."

"What's Meggie's?"

"You, apparently."

"This is crap. I've had enough." Morgan shut the chest.

Destiny opened it on command. "She says you have to remember."

"Look, Kismet. Part of me wants to believe you, but-"

"You're frustrated and falling into your old habits of disbelief. It doesn't help that you went home today."

"Are you implying that I let my mother influence me?"

"She's a powerful woman who influenced your entire life. Old habits, as they say. I dare you to take out your electronic debunking equipment to prove there are spirits here. Meggie says you never turn down a dare."

"The brat," he muttered, as he went upstairs. "No, scratch that," he said, stopping in the middle of the stairway, recognizing his turn toward belief. "Tomorrow I'll take out my debunking equipment and put this ghost talk to rest."

"Tonight," Destiny said, ready to do cartwheels, she was so close to proving to him that ghosts, psychics, and magick did, indeed, exist. Close, but no cigar. Yet.

She passed him on the stairs and turned to look him in the eye. "You believe, but you don't. I understand. It takes time to go against a lifetime of disbelief."

"Tomorrow, I'll prove I'm an idiot for this belief creeping into my good sense, without my permission. Tonight, I plan to practice my new skills."

She took his hand to lead him the rest of the way up the stairs.

"I want more lessons," he said. "I want to see what you have in your toy box-great pun, eh?"

"Shh. Meggie can hear you."

"Shh," he whispered. "I want to bury my memories in your-"

Destiny stopped, and he walked into her. "You have memories?" she asked.

"None that I want to keep or acknowledge. Subject closed."

Chapter Thirty-four.

SUBJECT closed, until she opened it again, but Destiny knew how to bide her time and choose it wisely. "I want to see your angel tattoo," she said as they got to the bedroom. "Is it Buffy?"

"It's Meggie's drawing of Buffy. I've kept it for years." He emptied his pockets and took the folded paper from his wallet to show her. "The tattoo artist used it as a model."

"Good thing you didn't put it on your butt."

"Sacrilege."

"Even I know that." She took the drawing. "Wow, Meggie is a good little artist. It's Buffy to a T. See the colors? I told you, red and blue gown, and a gold sash."

"Yeah, yeah, Sassy Ass. Let's play with the toys."

"Shh. Not yet. Let me lull Meggie in a way that won't hurt her like we did last night."

Morgan's stricken expression said he believed more than he wanted to. "I'd never knowingly hurt her."

"She's aware of that. But she died an innocent, and she'll always be one. While you are anything but."

"About time." He sat at the foot of the bed. "Go ahead and protect Meggie, nutcase that I am for saying so."

Destiny went to the top of the stairs where she could see Meggie, protected in her angel-wing cocoon.

"Meggie, sweet, float in sleep.

A sphere of light so white,

Soft with wings, angel bright

To protect you from sight.

"Private here, private now.

To keep your innocence, I vow.

Come the dawn you will be

On the camera; he will see.

"Happy our forever child.

Your fate to ever run wild.

My will for you be done.

And it harm you none."

When she got back to the bedroom, Morgan caught her around the waist with a growl. "Low blow on the camera thing."

"I speak only truth in prayer."

He grabbed her by the buns and pulled her up to his knees at the edge of the bed. "You speak a different language."