"You look like you've seen a ghost," said Allison. "And, for you, that's saying something."

"Gee, thanks," I said.

But the truth was, I had seen a ghost.

Not a ghost, I thought. God.

I shook my head again. The boat had docked along a floating pier. The three crew members were busy securing the vessel, using a system of ropes and, apparently, rubber tires that acted as buffers between the hull and the wooden pier. All of it seemed more complex than I could comprehend. Especially considering my mind - or soul - had been far elsewhere.

To the far edges of the universe, in fact.

Lordy, my life is weird.

Allison wasn't looking too swell herself. In fact, she looked, I suspected, as pale as myself. Why I still looked pale these days, I didn't know. After all, thanks to the medallion that seemed to be permanently embedded just beneath my skin, I'd been able to head out into the sun for the past few months now. Glorious months.

You're pale, I thought, as I reluctantly accepted the hand of one of the shipmates who helped me across the gangplank, because you're dead.

I didn't feel dead, of course. I felt alive. And, when the sun went down, more alive than I'd ever felt in my life. Ever.

Once on the pier, as we followed Tara and a few other passengers - passengers that Tara knew and who were, I suspected, relatives - Allison caught up to me.

"Seriously, Sam, what's wrong?" she whispered in my ear. I couldn't help but notice her breath smelled of vomit. Blech.

"You look...out of it."

"I'll tell you about it later," I said over my shoulder.

She was about to fall back behind me when her eyes suddenly widened. "God?" she said, obviously reading my thoughts - thoughts that I had left open to her. "You talked to God? Seriously?"

"If not, then a heck of an imposter."

"So weird."

"Tell me about it."

And with that, Allison turned her head and just made it to the edge of the pier before she heaved what little remained in her stomach.

*  *  *

"As you can see, this is a private island," explained Tara Thurman.

She was driving behind a motorcade of Range Rovers. There were three in total, including our own. The road wasn't paved, but it was the next best thing - smooth. Allison seemed to appreciate the smooth part, although she was still looking a little green.

"I feel green," she whispered to me, reading my thoughts.

Our strong connection was surprising even me. I suspected that, coupled with her own psychic intuition, our telepathic link was particularly sensitive, thanks to the exchange in blood.

"You bet your britches," she said.

"Will you quit doing that?" I whispered to her.

"Excuse me?" said Tara from behind the wheel.

"Oh, nothing," I said, mentally pushing Allison out of my thoughts. "You were saying about the island?"

Tara, who was focused on the dirt road and the caravan in front of us, hardly seemed to notice this particular conversation  between Allison and me.

Instead, she nodded, clearly proud of the island.

"Like I said, the island has been in my family for nearly one hundred years. It was first purchased by my great- grandfather, who built the home. My grandfather inherited it, and spent the last thirty years of his life here. The rest of us have used the island on and off for vacations and getaways and reunions."

I nodded. We were surrounded by massive evergreens, each rising high above the car windows, effectively blocking out the sun, which I was always thankful for. Yes, although I existed somewhat comfortably in the light of day, I always appreciated deep shade.

Must be the ghoul in me.

The island itself seemed to be primarily surrounded by cliffs and bluffs.

So far, the only sandy beach had been where the boat had docked, where the row of Range Rovers had been waiting.

"Are there any bears on the island?"

asked Allison from the back, poking her head between the front seats.

Tara laughed. "No bears or predators of any kind on the island. We have deer and raccoons and squirrels and a few resident seals that prefer the rocks along the north part of the island."

The road shifted inland, cutting through a narrow road that seemed to barely have enough room for the bigger vehicles. Tara drove comfortably, clearly used to this scenic drive. Branches occasionally slapped the fender and roof.

"We have food and supplies shipped daily from the mainland. There's a courier service we use. Not to mention any of us who come over from the mainland bring additional supplies."

"Sounds kinda...fun," said Allison.

"Heaven, if you ask me. My grandfather was always so open to all of us. What he had, we had. He held nothing back and always made everyone feel so welcome." As she spoke these words, her lips curled up into that curious smile again.

So weird, I thought.

I also couldn't help but to notice the sadness in her voice. Her grandfather had been found, of course, face-down in a swimming pool. Allison seemed to detect Tara's tone as well and sat back in her seat. We were somber and quiet for the rest of the drive.

And what a drive it was. Winding roads, beautiful greenery, squirrels and rabbits...and then, finally, the road opened into a massive estate.

Where there had once been forest was now, perhaps, the most beautiful home I had ever seen.

"Sweet mama," said Allison.