I blamed the poor choice of safe house on a transportation-code mix-up, and promised to find him something more suitable… as soon as he answered a few questions. He agreed, and Kristof joined us.

Ross said he'd never asked the Nix anything about herself, including why she'd shown up at his door.

There's a Luther Ross in every bar every night of the week—guys who are willing to sit across from a pretty girl for hours, look deep into her eyes, and entreat her, with near-perfect sincerity, to tell him everything about herself, her thoughts, her fears, her hopes and dreams. But, hey, if you'd rather just hop straight into bed, then your private life is your own, sugar.

So I focused on what she'd asked him. And that answer did surprise me. The Nix had asked Ross absolutely nothing that didn't relate to telekinesis and poltergeists. During lessons, she was a little keener, always volunteering to try a new technique, always persevering in the face of failure. Though she hadn't succeeded in actually moving anything telekinetically, Ross was certain that, had she stuck with the lessons, she would have become one of his success stories.

When teaching sessions ended, the Nix would always withdraw from the group, find a quiet corner to practice in, and keep working. Yes, she had shared Ross's bed on her last night there, but the postcoital chitchat had been purely business, and she'd apparently used the sex only to get some one-on-one training time.

"Speaking of one-on-one training," Ross said as we finished. "Send me someplace decent this time, preferably warm, preferably female-friendly, and definitely safe, and you can forget about owing me for those poltergeist lessons."

"Er, right." I resisted the urge to sneak a look Kristof's way, but I could feel his gaze boring into me. "So how about we send you—"

"What I don't get, though," Ross cut in, "is why someone like you even wants poltergeist lessons. Not that I'm complaining." A quick grin. "But, let's face it, you're powerful enough to get whatever you want without resorting to parlor tricks."

"Being able to manipulate objects in the living world would help me solve a problem."

His brow crinkled. "With the Nix?"

"No," Kris murmured. "It has nothing to do with the Nix… or anything in this life."

"It's to help my"—I glanced at Kris—"our daughter."

"Ah," Ross said. "Well, now, that I can see. But I'm not sure how much good poltergeisting would be.

What you really need is that demon amulet."

"Demon—"

Kristof cut in. "It's a legend. A myth."

I glanced at him. "You've heard of it? What does—?"

"There is no amulet, Eve."

We exchanged glares. Then his gaze softened, and his eyes begged me to let it go.

I tore my gaze away and looked at Ross. "This amulet—"

Kristof strode out. I murmured an apology to Ross, and a promise to return, then hurried after Kristof.

I found Kris on the front lawn, standing behind a tree, face lifted to the sky. He couldn't have missed the sound of my shoes in the snow, but he didn't call to me, didn't even look at me when I found him.

"Kris?"

"Do you think you're the only parent who worries about her children?" he asked quietly.

"No, of course not—"

"Do you think you're the only one who made mistakes? Who isn't haunted by those mistakes? Who wouldn't do anything to turn back time or reach into the living world and set them right?"

I stepped toward him, hand going to touch his arm, but he moved away.

His gaze swung down to meet mine. "My younger son is poised to ruin his life following a path he hates, because he thinks it's what I would have wanted, and my eldest is trapped between betraying himself and alienating the only family he has left."

"So you know—"

"That Sean's gay? I'm his father, Eve. I probably knew it before he did. I saw him struggling, trying to find his way, and I decided I had to let him find it himself. When he figured it out, I'd be there for him. Only I wasn't, was I? Now he's left wondering how I would have reacted, and I can't help him, can't support him. Just like I can't tell Bryce that I never wanted him to follow in my footsteps. That life made me miserable, cost me the only woman I loved, and I thanked God every day that Bryce had the guts I didn't have."

I tried to say something, but my voice dried up in my throat.

He continued, "Even with Savannah, I made mistakes. I was so afraid of facing her, of seeing you in her, so afraid that she'd hate me, that I let Gabriel Sandford go to Boston in my place. His mistakes were my mistakes, and all the hell Savannah suffered because of him is my fault."

"It wasn't—"

"Do you know what I don't regret, though? Going into that basement after her. Even if I couldn't protect her, even if she accidentally killed me, I have not one regret about that. Do you know why? Because it brought me here. To you."

"Kris—"

"So maybe I screwed up in my life. Maybe I can't undo any of that. But coming here gave me the chance to fix the biggest mistake I ever made: letting go of you."

I opened my mouth but, again, nothing came out.

"This is our chance to start over, Eve. Yours and mine. Forget everything we did before and start over.

Not just with each other—that's only part of it. Maybe you didn't need a new life the way I did, but you got one, and there's no going back now, no matter how hard you try."

"You want me to choose," I whispered. "You or Savannah."

He turned so fast he startled me. "Goddamn it, are you even listening? I'm not saying forget Savannah, and I'm not saying start up again with me. I'm saying start living a life. Any life. I thought—" He swallowed. "I thought with this Nix thing, maybe you were finally moving on, finding a place for yourself here, but then I see you in there, talking about Savannah and poltergeist lessons and that amulet, and I can see in your face that you haven't moved on at all. When you're done, you'll go right back to where you were, living in your own limbo, no better than one of those damned earth-spooks." He paused, voice lowering. "And I'm not sure how much longer I can stand to watch you do it."