Spirited by Shannon Delany, Judith Graves, Heather Kenealy, et al., Kitty Keswick, Candace Havens, Linda Joy Singleton, Jill Williamson, Maria V. Snyder

free.”
    A drop of rain splashed onto Isaiah’s face, and then another. Maybe Destiny had learned her new trick. Or maybe the time for rain had arrived. Either way, the drought had ended. And the hunts had ended. Isaiah smiled and released his final breath. He was already free.
     

Thread of the Past
     

 
    Cleveland, Ohio – 1999
    Franklin Castle
     
    Angry flames poked holes through the gabled rooftop, extending into the midnight sky like Satan’s horns.
    Loch Craven kicked open the door of the mansion, splintering the wood with a sharp crack. Black smoke billowed out, blurring his vision and filling his throat with the acrid stench of burning flesh. The fire hissed and spit from across the room, deafening. Immobilizing.
    Children cried, their soft echoes an eerie siren amidst the snap and crackle of burning lumber. The weight of their screams felt trapped between his ribs, crushing his lungs.
    Save the children.
    Overhead a giant chandelier swung like a pendulum, threatening to fall. Crystal icicles, pointed at the wooden floor, clinked together in warning. Loch held his arm across his mouth to block the suffocating smoke and choked back his fear. Listened.
    There….
    Hang on, baby girl. I’m coming for you .
    Flames shot toward him like lizard tongues. Tears trailed down his cheeks. He sucked his throat closed and squinted through the fiery smog.
    But his daughter did not emerge from the blaze.
    The room was empty.
    Yet the children still continued to scream.
     
    Cleveland, Ohio – Present Day
     
    Letitia Hawke couldn’t take it. One more schoolgirl giggle and she’d start cutting again.
    She slid the ribbon cuff of her lace undershirt down to cover the thin vertical scars on her wrists. Not that anyone would notice. She and her classmates were crammed on a school bus like pigs led to slaughter—and if the rumors were true, that might not be far off the mark. The site of this year’s after-grad bash boasted a less-than-innocent past.
    Ghost stories didn’t seem to bother the gaggle of girls in the front. They compared frilly pink dresses and pursed their shiny, glossed lips in admiration.
    Or envy.
    Backstabbing was a team sport at Cleveland Heights High.
    Letitia didn’t fit in there. Or anywhere as best she could tell.
    While the rest of the girls clung to gold clutches, Letitia’s leather pouch hung from one of the chain links around her waist. She wore tall, black lace-up boots instead of ankle-biting heels, clunky jewelry rather than Grandmother’s pearls.
    And unlike the bulk of her graduating class, Letitia had no suitor to impress. She’d attend the celebration just as she had every other significant event in her high school years—alone.
    Suck it up, Tish .
    She rubbed at her wrist. The pain had long ago subsided, but she could sometimes feel the sharp slice of the blade across her flesh. Back and forth. Over and over…
    And then flashes of blood. So much blood…
    Blood the color of the satin wrapped around her body. A tight corset cinched her already small waist, drawing attention to the row of Victorian coins that acted as buttons down the front of the ruby gown. A silver belt hid the stitching where the bodice met the long, flowing skirt, steeping her in a sophistication the school pom-pom pushers could never understand.
    And sealing her status as a social pariah.
    The ever-wise parent council had thought communal transportation would cut back on drinking and driving, and increase student bonding. But her classmates had given her a wide berth, opting to sit beside—or on top of—one another instead of anywhere near her on the bus. Obnoxious music with indiscernible lyrics blared from the front and back speakers, nearly drowning out the animated chatter of the slightly buzzed.
    Almost, but not quite.
    Letitia bit back a gag. If not for the destination, she might have skipped the party altogether.
    At the front of the bus, Rebekka Eastwood shrugged out of her boyfriend’s embrace. “I