Still, temperatures in the seventies or not, I shivered… and not just because I was standing in the cool shade of the breezeway. No, it was a cold that came from inside that was causing the goose bumps on my upper arms. Because, beautiful as the Mission gardens were, there was no denying that beneath those glorious petals lurked something dark and…

…well, Paul-like.

It was true. The guy had the ability to cause even the brightest day to cloud over. At least, as far as I was concerned. Whether or not Father Dominic felt the same, I didn’t know… but I kind of doubted it. After his somewhat rocky start to the school year, Paul had ended up not having nearly as much regular contact with the school principal as I did. Which, given that all three of us are mediators, might seem a little strange.

But both Paul and Father D. seem to like it that way, each preferring to keep his distance, with me as a go-between when communication is absolutely necessary. This was partly because they were—let’s face it—guys. But it was also because Paul’s behavior—at school, anyway—had improved considerably, and there was no reason for him to be sent to the principal’s office. Paul had become a model student, making impressive grades and even getting appointed captain of the Mission Academy men’s tennis team.

If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. But there it was. Obviously, Paul preferred to keep Father D. in the dark about his after-school activities, knowing that the priest was hardly likely to approve of them.

Take the Gutierrez incident, for instance. A ghost had come to us for help and Paul, instead of doing the right thing, had ended up stealing two thousand dollars from her. This was not something Father Dominic would have turned a blind eye to, had he known about it.

Only he didn’t know about it. Father D., I mean. Because Paul wasn’t about to tell him, and, frankly, neither was I. Because if I did—if I told Father Dominic anything that might make Paul seem less than the straight-A-getting jock he was pretending to be—what had happened to Mrs. Gutierrez was going to happen to my boyfriend.

Or, you know, the guy who would be my boyfriend. If he weren’t dead.

Paul had me, all right. Right where he wanted me. Well, maybe not exactly right where he wanted me, but close enough….

Which was why I’d had to resort to subterfuge in order to secure some form of justice for the Gutierrezes, who’d been robbed, even if they didn’t know it. I couldn’t go to the police, of course (Well, you see, officer, Mrs. Gutierrez’s ghost told me the money was hidden beneath a rock in her backyard, but when I got there, I found out another mediator had taken it….What’s a mediator, you ask? Oh, a person whoacts as a liaison between the living and the dead. Hey, wait a minute… what’re you doing with that strait jacket?).

Instead, I’d placed the family’s name on the Mission’s neediest list, which had secured Mrs. Gutierrez a decent funeral and enough money for her loved ones to pay off some of her debt. Not two thousand dollars’ worth, though, that was for sure….

“—while I’m gone, Susannah.”

I tuned in to what Father Dominic was saying to me a little too late. And I couldn’t ask, What was that, Father D.? Because then he’d want to know what I’d been thinking about, instead of paying attention to what he was saying.

“Do you promise, Susannah?”

Father Dominic’s blue-eyed gaze bore into mine. What could I do but swallow and nod?

“Sure, Father D.,” I said, not having the slightest idea what I was promising.

“Well, I must say, that makes me feel better,” he said, and it was true that his shoulders seemed to lose some of the rigidity with which he’d been holding them as we’d talked. “I know, of course, that I can trust the two of you. It’s just that… well, I would hate for you to do anything— er, stupid—in my absence. Temptation is difficult enough for anyone to resist, particularly the young, who haven’t fully considered the consequences of their actions.”

Oh. Now I knew what he’d been talking about.

“But for you and Jesse,” Father Dominic went on, “there would be especially catastrophic repercussions should the two of you happen to, er—”

“—give in to our unbridled lust for each other?” I suggested when he trailed off.

Father Dominic eyed me unhappily.

“I’m serious, Susannah,” he said. “Jesse doesn’t belong in this world. With any luck, he won’t continue to remain here for much longer. The deeper the attachment you form for each other, the more difficult it’s going to be to say goodbye. Because you will have to say good-bye to him one day, Susannah. You can’t defy the natural order of—”

Blah blah blah. Father D’s lips were moving, but I tuned him out again. I didn’t need to hear the lecture again. So things hadn’t worked out for Father Dominic and the girl-ghost he’d fallen in love with, way back in the Middle Ages. That didn’t mean Jesse and I were destined to follow the same path. Especially not considering what I’d managed to pick up from Paul, who seemed to know a good deal more than Father Dom did about being a mediator…

…particularly the little-known fact that mediators can bring the dead back to life.

There was just one little fly in the ointment: You needed to have a body to put the wrongfully deceased’s soul into. And bodies aren’t something I happen to stumble across on a regular basis. At least, not ones willing to sacrifice the soul currently occupying them.

“Sure thing, Father Dom,” I said as his speech petered out at last. “Listen, have a real good time in San Francisco.”

Father Dominic grimaced. I guess people who are going to San Francisco to visit comatose monsignors don’t necessarily get a lot of time off for touristy stuff like visiting the Golden Gate Bridge or Chinatown or whatever.

“Thank you, Susannah,” he said. Then he pinned me with a meaningful stare. “Be good.”

“Am I ever anything but?” I asked with some surprise.

He walked away, shaking his head, without even bothering to reply.

Chapter

three

“So what were you and the good father gabbing about during lab today?” Paul wanted to know.

“Mrs. Gutierrez’s funeral,” I replied truthfully. Well, more or less. I’ve found it doesn’t pay to lie to Paul. He has an uncanny ability to discover the truth on his own.