Whispers at Moonrise

she glanced at the crowd of spirits, shifting from foot to foot, reminding her of hungry zombies waiting for the right moment to move in and feed. Pushing that fear-inducing, insane thought away, she remembered they were just people. Lost souls robbed of life, chained to this world by some unfortunate circumstance.
    Looking around again, she asked, “Is someone else here?”
    “I’m here,” one spirit said.
    “I’m here.” A barrage of the same words spoken by each of the dead filled Kylie’s ears like thunder. They all wanted to be counted. To be acknowledged.
    Emotion filled Kylie’s chest. “Is there anyone alive here, besides me?”
    “No one else is here who can see us,” one of the spirits spoke up, sounding desperate.
    “But someone else is here?” she asked. Again she wondered why her grandfather had chosen the cemetery as a meeting place.
    “In the back of the property,” the spirit of a young girl answered, and she pointed toward the darkest area in the cemetery. “ I saw them under the oak trees, hiding in the shadows.”
    “Thanks,” she said, glancing up one more time, hoping she didn’t spot a pissed-off shape-shifter circling in the dark sky. The clouds must have blocked out the moon, because only a few stars stared back at her from the heavens. She started moving. With each step she prayed that in the deepest, darkest part of the graveyard under the trees, she’d find her grandfather. And with him she’d find her answers.

 
    Chapter Twenty-two
    The rear of the cemetery stood eerily quiet. Even more statues stood guard over the graves. Most were covered in dead vines. Some were dilapidated, others decapitated by vandals or the passage of time, their heads resting on the ground. Still, they all seemed to watch her as her feet crunched upon the gravel path. Suddenly feeling alone, she looked back and realized that the chill of the dead had subsided. She was truly alone.
    The spirits hadn’t followed. Why? Fear knotted in her throat. Did they know something she didn’t? Even as panic built inside her chest, she kept walking, praying that coming here had been the right thing.
    She saw the trees ahead of her; beneath the alcove of gnarled limbs hung shadows—black shadows that could hide anything, or anyone.
    Moving closer, she could hear herself breathe, and in the distance a few birds called out as if in warning. She stopped a few feet from the trees. Their heavy limbs seemed to be reaching out for the cracked tombstones nearby.
    “Hello?” Her voice seemed to be swallowed by the night.
    “You came,” answered a voice, deep and serious.
    Breath held, she saw a figure move out of the shadows. Malcolm Summers, her grandfather. He looked younger than he’d appeared at her camp; obviously he’d dressed to play the part of Mr. Brighten. She recalled Della telling her that supernaturals didn’t age as quickly as humans.
    His gaze met hers, and even in the darkness his light blue eyes stood out. Kylie realized they were her exact color. She studied his face and saw the features of her dad, features that she, too, exhibited.
    She suddenly felt insecure, unsure how to behave around him. Her chest ached. Should she hug him, not hug him?
    “I’m sorry,” Kylie blurted out.
    “For what?” her grandfather asked.
    “For … not being able to talk to you that day in the forest.”
    “It wasn’t your fault,” someone else said. Kylie’s great-aunt eased out of the shadows and stood beside Malcolm. The woman smiled. Before Kylie realized it, she’d been caught in an embrace. The strength and warmth in her aunt’s touch surprised Kylie—the woman felt hot.
    When the hug ended, Kylie realized that, like her grandfather, the fragileness her aunt had displayed on the the day she’d come to Shadow Falls had disappeared. Kylie did a quick calculation in her head. The woman had to be in her seventies or eighties, but she didn’t look older than fifty.
    Chameleons must have a long life expectancy. She tucked that info away for future contemplation.
    “Look at you,” her aunt said. “So beautiful.” She glanced back at her grandfather. “What’s wrong with you, Malcolm? Give your granddaughter a hug.”
    He moved in hesitantly. “I’m not much of a hugger, but I guess the moment merits it.” He embraced her. And like her aunt, he felt hot to the touch. The embrace was short, but sweet, and reflective of the ones she’d savored from Daniel, and even her stepfather before