One of the boys swore quite colorfully, but before any of them had time to dematerialize, Jesse was speaking – and in such a low voice that Father D and I couldn't hear him above the sound of the waves. We could only watch as Jesse – glowing a little, the way ghosts tend to – spoke to them, and then, slowly, after a little while, lowered himself into the sand, still talking.

Father Dominic, watching the proceedings intently, murmured, "Excellent idea, sending Jesse in first."

I shrugged. "I guess."

I guess my disappointment that I'd missed out on what probably would have been a first class brawl must have shown, since Father D tore his gaze from the group around the campfire, and grinned down at me.

"With a little help from Jesse, we just might make a mediator of you yet," he said.

As if he had a clue as to how many ghosts I'd mediated out of existence before I'd ever even met either of them, I thought. But I didn't say it out loud.

"And how," Father Dominic asked quietly, "is your little friend Gina occupying herself while you're out tonight?"

"Oh," I said. "She's covering for me."

Father Dominic raised his eyebrows – and his voice – in surprised disapproval. "Covering for you? Your parents don't know you're here?"

"Oh, yeah, Father D," I said sarcastically. "I told my mom I was coming out to Big Sur to deal with the ghosts of some dead teenagers. Please."

He looked troubled. Being a priest, Father D frowns on dishonesty, particularly when it involves parents, whom his ilk are always encouraging us to honor and obey. But I figure if God really wanted me heeding that particular rule, He wouldn't have made me a mediator. The two things just don't mix, you know?

"But evidently," Father Dominic said, "you had no trouble telling Gina."

"I didn't, actually. Tell her, I mean. She kind of just … knows. I mean, once she and I went to this psychic, and …" My voice trailed off. Talking about Madame Zara reminded me of what Gina had told me, about the whole one single love of a lifetime thing. Was it true? I wondered. Could it possibly be true? I shivered, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold.

"I see," Father Dominic said. "Interesting. You feel comfortable telling your friends about your extraordinary ability, but not your own mother."

We had had this argument before – recently, in fact – so I just rolled my eyes at him. "Friend," I corrected him. "Not friends. Gina knows. Nobody else. And she doesn't know all of it. She doesn't, for instance, know about Jesse."

Father Dominic glanced in the direction of the bonfire once again. Jesse appeared to be deeply engrossed in his conversation with Josh and the others. Their faces, orange in the firelight, were all turned in his direction, their gazes locked on him. It was strange they had built that fire. They couldn't feel it, any more than they could get drunk from the beer they'd tried to steal, or drown in the water they'd been under. I wondered why they had gone to the trouble. It had probably taken a lot of kinetic power to light it.

All four of them glowed with the same subtle light Jesse gave off – not enough to see by on a dark night like this, but enough to tell they weren't quite … well, human was the wrong word, because of course they were human. Or had been, anyway.

I guess the word I'm looking for is alive.

"Father D," I said, abruptly. "Do you believe in psychics? I mean, are they real? Like mediators?"

Father Dominic said, "I'm sure some of them are."

"Well," I went on in a rush before I could change my mind. "This psychic Gina and I went to once, she knew I was a mediator. I didn't tell her, or anything. She just knew. And she said this weird thing. At least, Gina says she did. I don't remember it. But according to Gina, she said I would only have one true love."

Father Dominic looked down at me. Was it my imagination, or did he look amused? "Were you planning on having a great many?"

"Well, not exactly," I said, a little embarrassed. You would have been, too. I mean, come on. The guy was a priest. "But it's kind of weird. This psychic – Madame Zara – she said a bunch of stuff about how I'd just have this one love, but that it would last for, like, my whole life." I swallowed. "Or maybe it was all eternity. I forget."

"Oh," Father Dominic said, not looking amused anymore. "Dear."

"That's what I said. I mean … well, she probably didn't know what she was talking about. Because that sounds kind of bogus, right?" I asked hopefully.

But much to my disappointment, Father D said, "No, Susannah. It does not sound bogus. Not to me."

He said it in such a way … I don't know. Something about the way he said it made me ask, curiously, "Were you ever in love, Father D?"

He started fumbling around in his coat pockets. "Um," he said.

I knew what he was looking for so intently: a pack of cigarettes. I also knew he wasn't going to find any – he had quit smoking years ago, and kept only one pack for emergencies. And that, I happened to know, was back in his office at the school.

I also knew, from the fact that he'd started looking for them at all, that Father D was stressed. He only felt an urge to smoke when things weren't quite going how he'd planned.

He had been in love. I could totally tell by the way he was avoiding meeting my gaze.

I wasn't really surprised. Father Dominic was old, and a priest, and everything, but he was still a hottie, in a senior citizen, Sean Connery kind of way.

"There was, I believe," he said finally, when his search came up negative, "a young woman. At one time."

Aha. I pictured Audrey Hepburn, for some reason. You know, in that movie that's always on, the one where she played a nun. Maybe Father Dom and his one true love had met in priest and nun school! Maybe their love had been forbidden like in the movie!

"Did you know her before you took your, um, orders, or whatever they're called?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Or after?"

"Before, of course!" He sounded shocked. "For heaven's sake, Susannah."

"I was just wondering." I kept my gaze on Jesse over by the campfire, so Father D wouldn't be too embarrassed thinking I was staring at him, or anything. "I mean, we don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to." Only I couldn't help it. "Was she – "