“Mine’s the same,” she said. “Stephen told me the other night when I was waiting for you that it’s like that for all of us.”

I looked at her with surprise. “What?”

She shrugged. “Apparently technology doesn’t like us. We give off some sort of supernatural vibe now that messes with the signal. Or whatever. I don’t really understand stuff like that, but it completely sucks.”

I felt myself pale. “That would explain it then.”

It had nothing to do with a faulty battery. It was a gray thing. Another reminder of what I now was and what it could mean if Bishop didn’t restore my soul.

Still, the thought of showing up at that church at the demon’s request didn’t sit well with me. The flippant tone of the note had left me with a bad taste in my mouth. If Bishop had asked me himself, I might feel differently.

I’d figure out what to do about him later, even though I knew it would be very hard to get him out of my mind so I could focus on my classes today.

“Crave again tonight,” Carly said as she shut her locker. “You’re in, right?”

I hesitated, stuffing the note from Kraven into the pocket of my jeans. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on. We’ll have fun. We can hang out after my date with Paul.”

I looked at her with surprise. “Paul? The guy who’s had a crush on you for two years? That Paul?”

She grinned. “Yup. But it’s not an official romantic date or anything. I know that’s not a good idea until I figure out how to deal with my hunger properly. I hope he’s okay with my current chicken-wing addiction and doesn’t think it’s too nasty. But we’re going to hang out and get to know each other better. No big deal.”

“I think it’s fantastic. Just…be careful, okay?” I felt a little surge of optimism over this. If Carly’s new self-confidence was helping her get over her Colin issues, then it was a very good thing. I’d always thought she and Paul would be perfect for each other, even if there was no kissing allowed until I figured out how to get our souls back and go back to our normally scheduled lives.

Even after my conversation with Natalie, I still hadn’t changed my mind about that.

The bell for first class rang and Carly clutched her binder to her chest. “See you later!”

“Yeah, see you.” I watched as she scurried down the hall. I really wished I could accept everything as easily as she could. It was as if missing her soul hadn’t fazed her one little bit.

I went to English and tried to focus on Mr. Saunders talking about themes in Macbeth—and tried to ignore Colin sending constant glances in my direction. I wished very hard that he would get interested in another girl. Soon.

The day dragged on. As I walked home after school, I pulled Kraven’s note out of my pocket and read it again. I wanted to be confident and strong, but just reading about how bad Bishop was getting made my heart ache. I didn’t want Bishop to get hurt—but now I didn’t want Natalie to get hurt, either.

I was stuck in the middle.

Both Bishop and Natalie had told me different sides of the same story. All I had from either of them at this point was words. Words, even though they weren’t daggers, were still dangerous if they turned out to be untrue. Both had their reasons for not being completely straight with me. Could Bishop be leaving important pieces of this puzzle out so I’d continue to help him?

Maybe these zombie grays Bishop told me about didn’t even exist—it was like the monster in the closet. Once you opened the door and shone a light into the darkness, you realized that there was nothing there in the first place except for your own fear of the unknown.

Seeing Bishop again would have to wait until I made some sense out of the confusing mess that my life had become. And I had a feeling that Natalie had more answers I needed right now. I just hoped she’d be there again tonight.

Without putting on quite as much eyeliner as Tuesday night, and foregoing the heels for flats, I got ready to leave the house at seven-thirty. My mother was in the kitchen, sitting at the dinette table, a glass of white wine in front of her.

“Hey.” I grabbed my bag from the edge of the chair where I’d left it earlier. “Didn’t hear you get home.”

Her blond hair was down around her shoulders tonight, rather than up in her usual perfect French twist. It was nicer like this, in my opinion.

“I’ve been working a lot lately, haven’t I?” she said before taking a sip from her glass.

That put it mildly. In fact, her flippant way of saying that she’d essentially abandoned me in favor of her beloved new career jabbed at my anger button. “You could say that.”

She removed her designer eyeglasses and placed them on the table next to the daily newspaper before rubbing her temples. She looked tired. “Honey, sit down. I want to talk to you.”

Between her serious tone and that extralarge glass of wine, I started to worry. We might have our mother/daughter problems, but I didn’t hate her. Seeing her so disturbed by whatever it was she wanted to discuss with me…well, it was disturbing.

“What’s wrong?” I fought the urge to reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

Her knuckles were white as she took another sip of her wine. Her slightly bloodshot eyes met mine. It looked like she’d been crying. “You have a right to know this.”

“Know what?”

“I’d always planned to tell you the truth, but I put it off and put it off. I figured I’d wait till you turned eighteen, then you could do whatever you liked with the information.”