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hair away from her neck, and I saw it again, those hash marks and ovals carved into her delicate skin.
    This time when she gripped my face, she pushed her way into my mind. I saw her at a playground, playing tag with her sister; her twin. I don’t know how I knew they were twins, because they didn’t look alike. The other girl was taller with brown hair and a slightly darker complexion—fraternal twins. The spirit must have planted the knowledge in my mind.
    The image twitched, flickered. She saw something on the street… a cat. She followed the cat even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to. It darted off into a deserted side street with her right on its heels. She never caught the cat. Something came from behind, a dark, looming shape. It grabbed her, smothered her.
    I was pretty sure I yelped at that point, because I was feeling her fear and her pain. She felt a sharp pinch in the side of her neck and she collapsed. Laying there, staring up at the tops of the buildings, she was unable to move. I screamed when the shadow engulfed her. It came so close, I was almost able to make it out, to see what it was— who it was.
    “Dude, what is your problem?” Riot demanded as he burst into my room.
    I was so startled, I sprang off the bed and swung into a defensive crouch, my fists at the ready. The girl had disappeared—or maybe she was never there, maybe I’d dreamt her—and I was alone. Well, except for Riot.
    “What?” I asked, rubbing my face where I could still feel the icy fingers of death. “What are you doing in here?”
    Riot rolled his eyes and eyed the contents of my bed. “I don’t know what kind of Weird Science you seem to have going on in here, but you’ve got to stop with the screaming. I’m trying to work.”
    I shook my head, trying to get my wits about me. My mind still felt foggy, like it had been touched, used, by something abnormal, and I had a metallic taste in my mouth. The sensations made my skin crawl.
    “Um, sorry. I had a bad dream, I guess.” I looked back at my bed; at the pile of crystals, the alter, and the device. “That’s just some crap I had in a box from my grandmother. Must have fallen asleep while I was going through it. I’ll keep it down.”
    Riot cast me a dubious look, then shrugged. “Whatever. Hope you sleep better next go round. I’m going back in the cave.”
    The cave was what Riot called his studio. Throwing one more concerned look my way, he backed out of the room and shut the door. I cleaned up the remnants of my little impromptu conjuring and stowed the stuff in a box under my bed. I couldn’t help but think I might need it again soon.
    I’d spent so much time trying to ignore the voices of the dead, but I had the strange feeling that these few—the ones with the cuts on their necks—were connected to me somehow, and trying to tell me something. The impulse to dig, to piece together what had happened to them and why it was important, was intense. I didn’t feel like I would be able to rest easy until I figured it out.
    I knew the only way I’d be able to find out more about these spirits was to isolate them and mute the rest of the voices. The upside would be that, beyond these four spirits, I would be able to go out into the world without being bombarded—they’d still follow me, but I could tune out the voices at will. Sure, it sounds like a win-win, but the downside was a heavy price to pay. I’d have to surrender to the old ways of the chovihani —witchcraft, sorcery, shamanism.
    That was something I’d avoided since I was old enough to realize how much it would isolate me. I was already gay—I’d go through life being hated by many just because of who I was—so why would I want to be any more different, to be feared by my peers.
    But it appeared as if, in this case, the end would have to justify the means. By the time dawn was peeking through the drapes, I had made a decision that wasn’t an easy one. I would call on the one person who