Gillian stood as if her snow-powdered body had been turned to ice. Because it was the worst, the
absolute worst that she could possibly have imagined.
He killed a kid.
"The little girl who disappeared a year ago," she whispered. "On Hilkrest Road." The one she'd thought
of-completely irrationally-when she'd heard the crying.
"I was doing a spell," Gary said. "A strong one; I was a quick learner. It was a fire elemental spell-so I
was out in the woods. In the snow, where nothing would burn. And then she showed up chasing her dog."
He was staring into the distance, his face dead white. Looking not haunting, but haunted. And
Gillian knew he wasn't with her at that moment; he was far away, with Paula.
"They broke the circle. It all happened so fast. The fire was everywhere-just one white flash, like
lightning. And then it was gone." He paused. "The dog got away. But not her."
Gillian shut her eyes, trying not to imagine it. "Oh, God." And then, as something twisted inside her, "Oh, Gary ..."
"I put her body in my car. I was going to take her to the hospital. But she was dead. And I wasconfused.
So finally I stopped the car. And I buried her in the snow."
"Gary..."
"I went home. Then I went to a party. That was the kind of guy I was, you see. A partyin' guy.
Everything was about good times and me, me, me. That was even what being a witch was about." For
the first time there was emotion in his voice, and Gillian recognized it. Self-hatred.
"And at the party, I got really, really drunk."
Oh. Suddenly Gillian understood. "You never told anybody."
"On the way back home I wrapped my car around a tree. And that was it." He laughed, but it wasn't a
laugh. "Suddenly I'm in Neverland. Can't talk to anybody, can't touch anybody, but sure can see
everything. I watched the search for her, you know. They passed about a foot away from her body."
Gillian gulped and looked away. Something had twisted and broken inside her, some idea of justice that
would never be put back together. But this was no time to think about that.
It hadn't really been his fault... but what did that matter? You played the hand you got dealt. And Gary
had played his badly. He'd started out with everything-good looks, obvious brains, and witch power
enough to choke a horse-and he'd blown it.
Didn't matter. They had to go on from here.
She looked up at him. "Gary, you have to tell me where she is."
Silence.
"Gary, don't you see? That's your unfinished business. Her family doesn't know..." Gillian stopped and
swallowed. When she went on, her voice wobbled. "Whether she's alive or dead. Don't you think they
ought to know that?"
A long pause. Then he said, like a stubborn child, "I don't want to go anywhere."
Like a frightened child, Gillian thought. But she didn't look away from him. "Gary, they deserve to
know," she said softly. "Once they're at peace-"
He almost shouted, "What if there isn't any peace for me?"
Not frightened, terrified.
"What if there isn't anywhere for me to go? What if they won't take me?"
Gillian shook her head. Her tears overflowed again. And she didn't have any answers for him. "I don't
know. But it doesn't change what we've
got to do. I'll stay with you, though, if you want. I'm your cousin, Gary." Then, very quietly, she said,
"Take me to her."
He stood for a long moment-the longest of Gillian's life. He was looking at something in the night sky that
she couldn't see, and his eyes were utterly bleak.
Then he looked at her and slowly nodded.
"Here?" David bent and touched the snow. He looked up at Gillian. His dark eyes were young- a little
scared. But his jaw was set.
"Yes. Right there."
"It's a pretty strange place to do it."
"I know. But we don't have any choice."
David got to work with the shovel. Gillian pushed and mounded snow into walls. She tried to think only
of how she'd done this in childhood, about how easy and interesting it had been then. She kept at it until
David said, "I found her."
Gillian stepped back, brushing off her sleeves and mittens.
It was a clear day, and the afternoon sun was brilliant in a cold blue sky. The small clearing was
peaceful, almost a haven. Untouched except for a welt in the snow where a ground mouse had tunneled.
Gillian took a couple of deep breaths, fists clenched, and then she turned to look.
David hadn't uncovered much. A scrap of charred red wool muffler. He was kneeling beside the shallow
trench he'd made.
Gillian was crying again. She ignored it. She said, "It was the last day before Christmas vacation, so we
took the day off from school. We were playing hooky in the woods. We decided to make a snow fort...."
"And then we found the body." David got up and gently put a hand on her elbow. "It's a weird story, but
it's better than the truth."
"And what can they suspect us of? We never even knew Paula Belizer. They'll know she was murdered
because she was buried. But they won't know how she died. They'll think somebody tried to burn the
body to get rid of it."
David put his arm around her waist, and she leaned into him. They stood that way for a few minutes,
steadying each other.
It was strange how natural that was, now. David had agreed to help her with all this without a moment's
hesitation... and Gillian hadn't been surprised. She'd expected it. He was her soulmate. They stood together.
At last, he said quietly, "Ready?"
"Yes."
As they left the clearing, David added even more quietly, "Is he here?"
"No. I haven't seen him since he showed me the place. He just-disappeared. He won't talk to me either."
David held her tighter.
Mr. Belizer came at dusk, after most of the police had left.
It was almost too dark to see. David had been urging Gillian away for an hour. So had Gillian's parents.
They were there, both of them, huddling close and touching her whenever they could. David's father and
stepmother were on the other side of David.
Yeah, Gillian thought. It's been a rough last few days on everybody.
But here they all were: David, pale but calm; Gillian, shaky but standing; the parents, bewildered but
trying to cope. Not comprehending how their kids could have found so much trouble in such a short time.
At least nobody seemed to suspect them of having hurt Paula Belizer.
And now, here was Paula's dad. Alone. Come to look at the last resting place of his daughter-even
though the coroner had already taken his daughter away.
The police let him go up to the clearing with a flashlight.
Gillian tugged at David's hand.
He resisted a second, then let her tow him. Gillian heard murmurs as they went. What are you doing,
following that poor man. My God, that's- ghoulish. But none of the parents actually grabbed them to stop them.
They ended up a little distance behind Mr. Belizer. Gillian moved to see his face.
Now here was the thing. She didn't know about spirits. She wasn't sure what needed to be done to
release Gary from the between-place. Did she need to talk to Paula's dad? Explain that she had the
feeling whoever had done it was sorry, even if they could never tell him themselves?
It might get her locked up. Showing too much interest in a crime, too much knowledge. But, strangely,
that didn't scare her as much as she'd have thought. She was Gary's cousin, and his debts were hers