Max looked at Bella, one hand over his mouth as if trying to hold in the words he couldn’t help but say. “I think we should slow down and think about this a little more.”

“No!” I stamped my foot. “Would everyone stop treating me like I’m so damn fragile? If it’s going to fix Nathan, let’s get it over with!”

I don’t know why it took a total, public hissy fit to kick my compatriots into gear every time a monumental task was ahead of us, but it was starting to get on my nerves. Of course, that wasn’t fair of me. They probably weren’t as used to harrowing escapes and heart-pounding adventures as I was. It made me feel worldly and a little proud when I looked at it that way, though I would gladly trade it for a few consecutive years of boredom.

Bella explained the rest of the process to me without sensitivity or second-guessing my ability to participate, and for that I was very grateful. The more she talked, the more I doubted, and the last thing I needed was for them to offer me another out clause.

At midnight, Max, Bella and I filed down the hall to the bedroom.

Cyrus hung back, and when I asked him what he would do during the ritual, he shrugged and said, “Take a nap?”

“I did not think it would be wise to include him, considering he was involved in…well.” Bella cleared her throat and smoothed her shirtfront, then placed her palm flat against the door. “Are we all ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Max said, rolling his head to one side and cracking his neck. “How about you, Carrie?”

I took a deep breath. I was about to surrender my body completely to a long dead and possibly pissed off ghost-woman, whose husband I had been sleeping with for the past two years. “Let’s do it.”

Bella pushed open the door and motioned for us to be quiet. Nathan still slept soundly, and I prayed he would continue. We couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong.

As she had instructed us to do earlier, Max and I took our places: him at Nathan’s bedside, myself kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed. She walked the perimeter of an irregular circle from one side of the bed to the other, pouring white sand from a clay jug as she did so. The circle broke where it intersected the bed, so she poured the line right over the pillows, as though it were perfectly normal to dump two good handfuls of dirt into someone’s bed.