Sleep of the Dead

*If your father hadn't died when you were a teenager opening that dammed casket, hadn't been killed by its imprisoned demon, would you have been part of the Legacy?* he thought to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. *Or would you be teaching at Oxford, leading a normal, safe life? A life that didn't include ghosts, demons or cursed objects?* The ringing of the phone cut short his reverie.

"Derek? It's Ian Llewelyn. Do you remember me?"

"From the London house?" Derek questioned. He thought he remembered Ian, a well-intentioned young researcher the Legacy house in London had used on occasion when their own people had been needed on other investigations.

"Yes, that's right. Listen, I've a problem and it's in your neck of the woods, so to speak. Something has happened at my aunts home, which is just down the coast from you in a town called Abbottsville. She thinks that her daughter-in-law has become, well... possessed. Says she keeps talking about things that happened years ago, only she makes it sound like it happened just yesterday. And there have been accidents, nothing serious but the old girl is rather spooked. It sounds like something the Legacy should investigate and I would but..."

Derek smiled to himself, understanding the younger man's reluctance to complete the statement. Sir Edward, the precept of the London house, had never allowed Ian to engage in actual field work, since the researcher was hopelessly incompetent when it came to any kind of physically challenging work. The only experience he had obtained during his years as a Legacy researcher was book-based.

"So I thought, well, since you and I are both, well... you know." Ian was beginning to stutter in his embarrassment at having to ask this stranger for assistance. It had been years since he had seen Winston Rayne's dark, brooding son. Even then they had spoken only in passing. But he remembered Sir Edward's mentioning the other man's "special" talents. And from what his aunt had told him about the situation at the family vacation compound, he knew that talent would be an asset to the investigation.

"Tell me what you know. I'll see to it that a member of my house looks into it." Derek took up his pen and prepared to listen to the stream of chatter from the relieved man at the other end of the phone, hoping that he wasn't about to send his associates on some wild goose chase.

Across town, in the garden of a home in the fashionable part of San Francisco, a young red-haired woman read a message with growing horror. Gwen looked down at the piece of paper in her hand, her eyes unfocused. *How could this happen?* she thought to herself, a shudder of revulsion rippling through her. *How could cousin my aunt allow this to happen? Who could have dug up Charlie's body without anyone seeing them? It's impossible!*

"Gwen?" a soft voice broke through her reverie. She looked up into the gentle eyes of the young priest seated opposite her.

"Oh, I'm sorry Phillip. I forgot we were suppose to meet today." She folded the letter carefully and returned it to its envelope. "I'm afraid I've forgotten what you said you wanted to talk to me about."

"It's not important." Father Phillip Callaghan looked his old friend over carefully, noting the pallor under her golden tan. Her hands, usually rock steady, were trembling. "Tell me what's upset you so."

"My dearest Phillip, even when we were children you had this annoying habit of trying to make everything better. It was your most endearing trait." Gwen gently touched the priest's face, willing herself to regain her composure. "It's nothing you can do anything about, luv. Just old family ghosts come home to roost. Nothing I can't handle." She rose and started back to the house, plucking a white rose from its bush on the way. There was much she would have to do before she could leave for Abbottsville.

Pt. 2

Gwen hurriedly entered her private office which she had courtesy of the San Francisco diocese. Her current employment as archivist and cataloger of the church's historical documents had been interesting and fulfilling enough to almost make her forget about her work with the Legacy. Almost but not quite. There would always be that uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought of her team mates out on another investigation without her. *If only Charlie hadn't gone and wrapped his car around the damn tree,* she thought wearily, *I would still be living just down from the Whitechapell, still working with the London house, still fighting with my team against the darkness...* She shook herself angrily and powered up her Pentium, logging on to the Legacy's database through the password that Sir Edward had given her before she left.

Login: Gwenneth Llewellyn

Password: Druid

The screen lit up, welcoming her into the database. She smiled to notice that some of the suggestions she had discussed with the groups programmers to make the database more user friendly had finally begun to be implemented. It had taken her weeks of arguing to convince them that not everyone was as computer literate as they were. *Looks like they finally got the hint* she thought. An icon at the bottom of the screen informed her she had a message.

* --If you are reading this, Druid--* the message read *--then let us know where you are. The old dragon -i.e. our beloved precept- won't tell us anything.--*

The message was signed Warlock. Gwen smiled at the memory of the former MI6 operative who had joined the Legacy shortly before she had left London. Putting the arrogant former agent and the dreadfully proper Sir Edward together in one house had been like mixing oil and water. Their quarrels about the spirit of the rules versus the letter of the rules had amused her no end. She thought about her response for a moment, then grimly began to type.

*--Where I am is where I am. Not any of anyone's business but mine. But I miss you guys a lot. And I will be back soon. Promise!--*

She sent her reply and moved onto the search she had worked out. The computer was soon scouring its vast memory banks for anything having to do with the small coastal town of Abbottsville and her deceased cousin Charlie. It wasn't long before several items were found. One was Charlie's obituary, a dry literary piece which managed to get all the facts wrong and carefully not mention the fact that the "accident" had been no accident at all. There was the insurance investigator's report, which had managed somehow to determine that that the accident had in fact been a suicide without mentioning the fact that Charlie had probably been dead before the car hit the tree. And there was an article from the local paper which someone had entered into the database, talking about Rose Haven mansion, the home of the Llewellyn family for six generations, which had been brought piece by piece from Wales along with its ghosts. Charlie's name was listed as the author of the piece.

"Great work, cousin. I'm sure our ancestral spirits were just thrilled to see this." She ran her fingers through her short auburn hair, pulling on a strand thoughtfully as she read. Suddenly, an message flashed on the screen, warning her that someone else was also searching the database for the subjects she had just called up. She quickly called up her security program, a little gift from Warlock she had never had need of before, and began to trace the other searcher's location. It didn't take long to realize that it was another Legacy house that was asking for the information, and one who's name she recognized. "The San Francisco House! Now why would want to know about Abbottsville?" She quickly logged off, hoping that the other researcher had not also been blessed with one of Warlock's handy little tracer programs. With a quick flip of the switch, she powered down all her equipment and started out the door for home. Home and her trip to Abbottsville.

Pt. 3

"Okay, Derek, here's what the Legacy database came up with on Abbottsville. Looks like a newspaper obituary on a Charles Llewelyn, who died recently in a car crash." Alex looked back her precept with interest. "An relation to your friend?"

"Yes. Charles and Ian were first cousins. Both of them were at some point part of the Legacy, but Charles left it when he married. I never met his wife but I heard the arrangement was not to the liking of his family." Derek leaned over the look at the screen, reading quickly over the list of survivors. " Listed as survivors are his mother, Josette Llewelyn, wife Ann and daughter Laurel. No mention of other family. Cause of death seems straight forward enough."

"Maybe not." Alex replied, scanning the other entries the database had found. "Looks like the investigator for the families insurance company decided it was a suicide and the company is refusing to pay death benefits. Do you suppose that's what is really behind your friend's call?"

"That's possible. What's this other entry?"

"It's an article written by the deceased about the history of his families ancestral manor house in England. It was moved to California stone by stone some thirty years ago by Martin Llewelyn, the author's father, after he inherited some money from a distant relative. According to this, the family hadn't lived in the house at all until recently. And he gives a detailed breakdown on the family ghosts, most of whom he claims were not terribly pleased to be moved from their ancestral land."

Derek read the article somberly, a cold feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. For a moment, the screen in front of him disappeared, to be replaced by a vision of a place and people unknown to him. Derek had had the Sight all his life, yet it always caught him by surprise when the visions manifested themselves. In fact, they terrified him as much as they did the night he had seen his father killed in a vision moments before he had actually witnessed the event. This vision was no better. A woman and a young girl stood backed up against a wall in a burning room. The child was screaming but the woman was strangely calm. Then she looked directly at him. He jerked back from the computer screen in alarm, the sight vanishing as quickly as it came.

"Are you all right?" Alex asked, concern written on her face.

"Yes. Find Nick and Philip. We're going to Abbottsville. All of us. I think that Ian's family may be in more trouble than even he suspects."

Across town, Gwen was just finishing her packing when she heard the phone ringing in the living room. "Who could that be?" she fumed, dropping her bags beside the sofa. She yanked the phone off it's receiver. "Hello?"

There was only static for a moment than a distant voice replied. "Hey cousin, coming to my funeral?"

"Charlie?" She grasped the receiver tightly, her head in a whirl. "You're dead!"

"I know. You're in danger Guinevere. Don't come to Abbottsville. Stay away." The voice died out, leaving only static and then a disconnect signal in its wake.

Gwen sat down on the sofa, her legs unable to hold her. Only Charlie had ever called her "Guinevere", a habit that had infuriated her. *Why did he reach out to me like that?* she thought frantically. *Why is he trying to warn me away from the family home?* A knock on her front door broke through her reverie. "Come in. The door's open."

"That's not wise, is it?" Philip asked, looking into his friends apartment with a frown. "Leaving your door unbolted is an invitation to trouble." He looked at her pale face and knelt down in front of her, taking her cold hand in his. "Don't put me off this time. Tell me what's wrong." Philip had know Gwen for most of her life. He and his brother had informally adopted the British waif when her mother had made her yearly summer visits to Belfast to see family. An English child in the midst of the "Troubles" could have been the catalyst for disaster, especially a child as willful as Gwen. But he had never seen her as unnerved as she was now, not even in the midst of playing hide and seek with stone throwing youths and gun carrying soldiers.

"Nothing much. I just got a call from a dead man, telling me to stay away from my home. That's all." She leaned back with a sigh, holding the young priests hand tightly. "I've got a problem, Philip and if I were home in England, I would just call my precept and tell him to send the team. But I'm not. I'm alone here, with no backup and the dead are calling me on the telephone. Someone's stolen my cousin Charles body from his grave in a small town called Abbottville. And I've got the horrible feeling that its only the first of a string of occurrences which may put my cousin's family in danger. You know, sometimes being gifted with the power to hear the what other's don't hear and see what other's don't see isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"You're not alone, my friend. My house and I will give you all the help you need. You know that."

"You shouldn't volunteer your house for something like this, Philip, at least not without checking with your precept first." She gently pulled her hand free from his and rose from her seat. "Look, call your house and see if they're willing to send someone along with me for backup. I'll just put these out in my car while you're on the phone." She handed him the portable phone and started out the door, bags in hand. She turned back to say something as he started to dial the mansion's number, then changed her mind and moved out towards her car.

Philip waited impatiently for someone to pickup at the other end. "Come on, pick up, Alex. Someone pick up."

"Luna Foundation." Alex's voice sounded harried.

"Alex, it's Philip. I need to speak to Derek."

"Philip, we've been looking for you. We've gotten a request from another Legacy house to investigate a haunting. Derek says we're all going."

"I can't. A friend is in trouble and I've told her I'd go with her to a place called Abbottsville."

"But that's where we're going." Alex's voice was suddenly concerned.

The sound of a car's engine suddenly caught the priest's attention. Dropping the phone, he raced out the door to see his friend roaring off down the normally quiet street, leaving skid marks in her wake. He watched her disappear over the horizon before he returned and picked up the discarded receiver.

"Alex, she's gone. I'm afraid she's going to try to face whatever is happening with her family alone. Can you send Nick to get me? I'll explain what I know when we're all together." He gave his worried team mate the address then sat down to wait.

Pt. 4

Nick pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex Alex had sent him to, impatiently searching the sidewalk for the group's reluctant priest. He had been on his way to the rectory where he had expected to find Philip when she'd called and given him new instructions. Alex did not explain much about why they were needed back at the island. Nick had worked with Derek long enough, however, to know that when he called them all together like this, it had to be serious. Luckily, the place she had directed him to had not been far from his original destination. He pulled into the first open parking place and hopped out of the jeep, looking for the apartment number Alex had given him.

"Nick, up here." Philip called, leaning out of the second story window.

Nick glanced up and nodded, racing up the stairs with the ease of a natural athlete. He glanced inside the untidy apartment curiously. "What's going on? Alex said you might have something for us on this case Derek's sending us on."

"I did." Philip replied ruefully, moving to sit behind the desk. A letter sitting on the desk's blotter caught his eye. It looked like the message Gwen had received earlier, the one that had caused her such concern. He unfolded it carefully, reading its strange message with foreboding. "Maybe I still do. I was visiting with a friend today. Her name is Gwen Llewellyn. I've known her since we were children. Her family used to visit relations in Belfast, where I was born ." He looked at his friend earnestly. "Alex said we were headed for somewhere called Abbottsville, right?"

"Don't know. All I know is that I got a call from Alex saying that Derek wanted us all back at the mansion right away because we had a new investigation to start. And that you had someone who might know something that would help. So, what's going on? Where is your friend?"

"Gone. She got this note from someone named Ian Llewellyn telling her that her cousin's body had been stolen from the family crypt and asking that she return to Abbottsville to investigate."

"So who is Ian Llewellyn?" Nick asked, eyeing the letter curiously.

"I'm not sure. I think they are related but I never met much of the rest of the Llewellyn clan. Just Gwen. But Alex told me on the phone that the new investigation that Derek wants to talk to us about is centered in a place called Abbottsville. I don't believe in coincidences, do you?"

"Maybe this is the same person who contacted Derek and asked for our help. What kind of game could this guy be playing?" Nick tore the letter from Philip's hands, glancing quickly at the brief message before crumpling it in disgust. "We'd better contact Derek and Alex. This may be some sort of set up."

Philip took the letter back from his agitated friend and carefully folded it in half. "Maybe the London house can help with this. Gwen was member of that house until about six months ago. We can have Alex send a message to them when we get back to the mansion. Come on, we'd best get moving before Derek comes looking for us himself." The young priest started toward the door, then stopped, his eyes drawn to a photo on the bookcase. A portrait of Gwen and an auburn-haired young man smiled back at him from its place on the shelf. He lifted it carefully, searching for something to tell him who the individual was. The signature in the lower right hand corner was illegible but he could just make out the name Charles Llewellyn in the message. It was the same name as was on the note. The name of the dead man who was missing from his grave.

"Know them?" Nick asked, curiously.

"It's Gwen. I think the man with her may be her cousin Charles, the man whose corpse has disappeared. Derek may want to see this." Philip pocketed the photo thoughtfully, then followed his friend out to the car.

Pt. 5

The San Francisco Legacy house stood in the center of Angel Island, accessible from the mainland only by helicopter and ferry. Its weathered stone battlements stood watch over the lonely terrain, providing a safe home for the members of the Legacy in their struggle against the dark forces. Nick and Philip pulled off the ferry and drove up the winding driveway in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

*Why did she run away like that?* Philip thought, holding the portrait of Gwen and her late cousin. He tilted the photo to catch the fading rays of daylight, vainly hoping it would give him an answer to his questions.

"Home sweet home." Nick remarked, pulling up to the front door. "Let's see what Derek and Alex have for us on this case." He bound out of the car ready for another showdown with whatever evil force was presented to him.

Philip followed silently behind, his emotions in turmoil over returning to the house and the group he had left recently left behind. Derek did not understand, even now, why Philip wanted to leave the Legacy. He would not listen when his troubled young friend tried to explain the feeling of having his soul chipped away a piece at a time by their many encounters with evil. Derek was obsessed with the Legacy and had been since he had seen his father killed by the demon that Winston Rayne had released from a sepulcher. The others were equally determined to rid the world of the forces of darkness. But for him, the battle had become more a struggle to retain his humanity in the face of the ugliness of their battles. Now he was back and, much as he hated to admit it, he was glad to see the familiar control center and the faces of well-loved friends.

"What took you two so long? Derek was ready to send out a search part for you." Alex Moreau walked out of the study, a small suitcase in her hand. She was dressed for travel, her coffee-colored skin set off by the creme color of her jacket. "Are you all right, Philip?" As head researcher for this Legacy house, her duties had always included keeping track of research in progress and new items of interest to the House's peculiar vocation. Unofficially, she had taken upon herself the job of worrying about the other members of the house, particularly Philip. Ever since he had returned to the house, Alex had sensed that his heart was not in the work. He seemed more distracted than normal today.

"Where's Derek?" Philip asked, his soft Irish accented voice almost too quiet to hear.

"In the study." She replied, glancing past him at Nick, who stood behind him on the stairs. Nick shrugged, annoyed at the delay.

Philip lightly tapped on the study door then, without waiting, pushed it open and entered the room. Derek looked up from his desk, his eyes enigmatic. "Alex said your friend might know something about this place we will be visiting."

"She got a letter from someone named Ian Llewellyn." Philip noticed the small start of recognition in his precept's eyes. He handed him the letter he had put in his pocket as they were leaving the apartment. "She also said something about getting a phone call from a dead man. What do you know about this Derek?"

Derek read the letter thoughtfully, then dropped it back on the desk. "Ian is a researcher for the London House. He asked me to see about some problems at his aunt's home. Nothing was said about the theft of a corpse."

Philip looked into his mentor's eyes, wishing he had some of the psychic gift that Derek often used to see what was hidden from the rest of the world. He knew his leader had a tendency to tell the members of the house only what he thought they should know about an assignment and sometime even less than that. He had sent Alex into a haunted tenement without warning her of the danger she would face to see if she would be strong enough to survive the experience on her own. Derek had told her later he needed to know if the rest of the house would be able to rely on her strength in a time of crisis. Alex had never quite forgiven Derek for the horror he had sent her into and neither had Philip.

"Are we going or what?" Nick's voice called out from the front hall, ringing with impatience.

"Are you coming with us?" Derek asked, rising to retrieve his coat.

"Just one more thing." Philip reached out and handed the older man the photo of Gwen he had retrieved from her apartment. "It's Gwen and ... Derek are you all right?"

Derek was frozen in place, staring down at the photo without actually seeing it. The woman who looked back at him from the frame was the same as the one from his vision. The one he saw in the burning room. The one who had looked back at him from behind the flames.

Pt. 6

Gwen stopped her car at the edge of the long, circular driveway and looked around her. The grounds, normally immaculate, had an air of neglect that had not been there on her last visit. Weeds poked up everywhere, choking the flower beds that Charlie had spent so much time preparing. Dead leaves lay over the once pristine lawn, as though it had not been raked in ages. *Nothing's been done since Charlie died.* she thought, guiltily. *I should have checked on Aunt Josette before this.*

"No one expected you to come." A soft voice sounded from the bushes, causing Gwen to start in surprise. An old man walked out from behind the hedge, a rake in his hand. "It's good to see you again, Miss Gwen." Silas Martin had worked for the Llewellyn family for nearly forty years, first in England, then coming with the family when Charles father had insisted on moving the estate to California. He had always managed to keep the grounds well in order before. Now, it seemed, he was in need of help.

"Good to see you to, Silas." She jumped out of her car and reached out to shake hands with the aged groundskeeper.

"Terrible sad things have been happening around here since Mr. Charles died." He leaned wearily against the rake handle and gazed across to the house. "And she doesn't help matters any, either."

"Who is it you are talking about?" Gwen asked, concerned.

"Mrs. Anna, Mr. Charles's wife. She's been nothing but trouble to your aunt since he died." He glanced up at his employer's niece glumly. "Things are happening here, Miss Gwen, things that aren't natural. Someone's gone and stolen Mr. Charles's body, right out of the cemetery. Who would do such a thing? That's what I want to know." The old man looked quickly back at the house and started back to his work, dragging his rake behind him. "But your aunt will tell you all about it herself. Here comes Ms. Josette now."

Gwen looked back at the house to see the upright figure of her aged aunt coming down the driveway in their direction. She walked quickly to meet her, alarmed by the other woman's hesitant gait.

"Gwen, I am delighted to see you here but I fear I must ask, why are you here?" Her aunt's patrician features were lined with sadness, her eyes still red rimmed from crying. She made no move to embrace her grand-niece, and Gwen knew from experience not to offer.

"I received a message from Ian, telling me what had happened to Charles's body. Why didn't you contact me? You knew I was just down the road in San Francisco."

"That was most inconsiderate of him, dear. I wonder what possessed him to do such a thoughtless thing?" The elderly woman turned back to the house with an exasperated sigh. "But then, Ian always was the unthinking one of this family. Park your car beside the garage and Silas will take care of it. I'll see to your room."

"The Rose Room?" Gwen asked, cautiously, looking up at the house.

"Yes, if you insist. Though why that room of all the rooms in the house ..." She continued her complaints as she walked back through the front door, unconcerned by her lack of audience.

*Because it was our old playroom.* Gwen thought, sliding back into her car. *If there is are any clues to what's going on around here, that will be the place to start looking.* She drove around the corner of the house, headed for the garage. Behind her, at a second story window, a curtain waved briefly, touched by an unseen hand.

Pt. 7

Nick looked in his rear view mirror and shook his head. They had been driving now for almost and hour and Derek was still staring at the photo in his lap, as had done since Philip had given it to him at the mansion. There was something about that simple image that had troubled the normally reserved Precept. So much so that he had insisted on Alex running a search on the people in the photo, Gwen and Charles Llewellyn. There hadn't been much on the man, but the girl had been another story. Alex had discovered that the woman in the photo had belonged to the London House up until six months previous to her cousin's death. Then, suddenly, she had requested a leave of absence. No explanations, just a terse note in the file stating she was temporarily on loan the Catholic Diocese of San Francisco.

"Why did she leave her House?" Derek asked suddenly, looking over at Philip who was seated beside him.

The young priest shrugged. "She never told me. But I think it had something to do with an investigation of some unexplained deaths in a small Scottish village a few hours outside of Edinburgh. We had talked before she left about my taking a vacation and our going back to Ireland to see my family. Then suddenly she was here, working for the church. Whatever happened, it must have affected her deeply for her to take a break from the Legacy's work. She was devoted to the London House."

Derek looked back down at the photo, trying to call back to his mind the images he had seen before. "Does she have a child, a daughter or sister perhaps?"

"No. She was an only child."

Alex glanced down at the printout she had run before leaving the mansion. "According to this, your friend Ian, Gwen and the deceased were all first cousins." She looked back at Derek with concern. "What did you see, that's got you so worried?"

"Images of fire. A woman and a child trapped behind a wall of flames. I'm not sure exactly what it means. But I am sure that the woman in my vision was Gwen Llewellyn." Derek looked up at Alex with a frown. "Did her folder say whether she had the Sight?"

"As a matter of fact, it documents several investigations when she was proven to be able to sense things about to happen that the other team members couldn't. She supposedly has some mediumistic tendencies as well."

Philip chuckled, unexpectedly. "I suspect that's more from growing up with ghosts than anything else."

"Ghosts?" Nick replied, skeptically.

"Yes. Gwen told me once that the family's ghosts reached out to speak to various relatives who were more sensitive to their presence than the others. She said she had thought as a child that everyone could see their dead relations. No one ever told her that her gift was unique until she started boarding school."

"What happened in boarding school?" Nick asked, curiously.

"From what she told me, the ghost of her great, great grandfather decided to appear one night in her room to have a "wee chat" as she put it. Something about her acting more like a lady and less like a tomboy. After a few minutes of arguing with him, she realized her roommate couldn't see who she was talking to. Poor girl must have thought her friend had gone quite mad. Her father told her later that he had meant to tell her not to talk to the ghosts in front of other people but hadn't gotten around to it. Seems he could see them too and it had slipped his mind that the outside world might not understand their unique talent. It had always been so natural to them both."

"That's one way to make sure she wasn't frightened by it." Alex remarked dryly. "But it must have come as a terrible shock to know that no one else could see the things she could see."

"It was probably more like a revelation." Derek replied absently, thinking back to the moment when he had realized the same thing. "How far are we from Abbottsville, Nick?'

"Not far. Should be there within the hour."

"Good. The sooner we know what exactly is going on at the Llewellyn estate, the sooner we can put an end to it." Derek looked out the window, cutting off any further conversation with his teammates.

Philip and Alex exchanged worried glances. Their precept had a tendency towards brusquness when he was worried. And it was obvious that this case was getting under that famous icy control. But neither could think why. All they could do was watch the road go by and wait.

Pt. 8

Gwen followed her aunt into the house silently, glancing up quickly as Josette led her into the darkened study. "When were you planning on telling me there was a problem around here?" she asked crossing to open the heavy drapes.

"There was no need to worry you, child." Her aunt began, when the French doors at the other end of the room flew open.

"Aunt Gwen, you're home!" a small bundle of energy threw itself across the room and into Gwen's arms. "I knew you'd come. I told you she would, didn't I Granny?"

Gwen hugged her ten year old niece fiercely, stroking her fair blond hair lightly. Charlie's daughter had inherited her father's almost white blond hair and pale blue eyes. Combined with her pale complexion and slender build Laurel, like her father, looked more like a ghost than most ghosts.

"Really, Laurel, it's most impolite to interrupt people when they are talking." Josette scolded, taking her seat behind an antique oaken desk.

"I'm sorry granny, but I couldn't wait. When I saw Aunt Gwen drive up I just had to see her." The child looked up at her aunt gravely. "Someone stole my Daddy out of the grave yard, Aunt Gwen. I see him walking the halls at night and I know it's because he's not at rest. But you'll find him and give him peace, won't you? Daddy said you did things like that, laying ghosts to rest. You'll do that for him, won't you?"

Gwen shot her aunt a withering look then led her niece to the door. "Listen, honey, your granny and I have a lot to talk about, so why don't you run back out to the garden and pick some of your daddy's roses for me to have in my room? You remember which ones he always gave me, don't you?"

"The white ones?" Laurel asked hesitantly.

"Yes, that's right. The white roses. Pick me a few and take them up to my room and wait for me. Then we can talk while I get ready for dinner, okay?" She gently shoved the reluctant child out the door then locked it behind her. Turning, she braced her back against the sturdy doors and looked coldly back at the older Mrs. Llewellyn. "Now then, Aunt Josette, we're going to have a talk about just exactly what happened to my cousin, your son's, body and why he walks the hallways of his family home. And I don't want to hear from you that it's not happening because I know it is." The two women stared at each other silently, so intent on their own affairs that the arrival of other souls went unnoticed.

Outside, Philip pulled the Range Rover parallel to the front of the house and pulled on the brake. It had only been an extra ten minutes from Abbottsville to the Llewellyn family home so it had been decided that Alex and Nick would stay behind and start digging into the facts surrounding the disappearance of Charles Llewellyn's body while Derek and Philip would go straight up to the house. Philip hoped that Derek's friend Ian had warned his aunt that they were arriving. He had a feeling that with all that had happened to the family in the last few months, having unexpected strangers show up on their doorstep would not be a welcome diversion.

Derek climbed out of the back seat and started up the walk. "We'll need to talk to Josette Llewellyn, Ian's aunt and the matriarch of the family. Hopefully she can give us some idea of what all has been happening in the house that would concern Ian enough to call the Legacy for help."

The front door chose that moment to swing open and a small girl ran from the house, a large pair of scissors in her hands. She stopped dead at the sight of the young priest and his friend on her front step. "Who are you?" she asked angrily, clinging tightly to the shears.

"I'm Father Philip Callaghan and this is my friend Dr. Derek Rayne. Who might you be?"

"I might be anyone." The child replied, edging around the two men carefully. "But I am Laurel Llewellyn and you're trespassing on my family's property. You'd better go away before Granny calls the police." She bolted past them and ran around the edge of the house, quickly disappearing from their view.

"Well, that went well." Philip remarked, looking back at his friend. It was then that he noticed the fixed look on Derek's face. He reached out and grasped his precept's arm. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Derek replied, shaking free of the priest. He turned back to the door to find a woman in a maid's uniform standing in his way. "Please give Mrs. Llewellyn my card and tell her a friend of her nephew Ian's is here to see her," He commanded, moving past her into the front hall. The maid looked down at his card then moved down the hall and entered the far door. Philip followed Derek worriedly, his eyes on his friends face.

"Maybe we should have called from town?" Philip asked, making note of the silence which echoed in the vast house.

"Too late now." Gwen replied, exiting the study with a sigh. She smiled wearily at her friend then turned to meet the silent stranger at his side. "Hello, I'm Gwen Llewellyn. I take it your Philip's precept, the one he's told me so much about."

"Derek Rayne." He replied, holding out his hand. "Your cousin asked us to look into some problems his aunt is having, problems that he believed would be of interest to the Legacy."

"Yes, well it seems he's hedging his bets all the way around. He sent me a letter asking for my help as well to locate our cousin's body, which has disappeared from its grave. But I'm sure Philip has told you all about that."

"He mentioned it. I understand you're a member of the London House?"

Gwen's eyes reflected her sadness. "That's a story for another time. One disaster at a time is all I can handle. My aunt is in her study, so if you'll follow me, I'll introduce you. But be prepared. She's not being very cooperative right now." The petite redhead motioned the two men to follow then stopped dead in her tracks. "On second thought, maybe it would be best for us to start at the cemetery and give my aunt a chance to talk to Ian. I don't think he told her about any of us coming down here. She's not terribly happy about my presence so I don't think she'll be overly enthused about yours." She led them back out the door and into the Rover. Climbing into the back seat, she gave Philip directions to the town cemetery, which was just down the road.

As they left, a small figure walked out into the road behind them, holding a fist full of white roses. Laurel watched her aunt leave with the strangers impassively, her fingers clenched around the flower stems so tightly that blood dripped down her arm.

Pt. 9

Gwen rode silently in the back seat, content to examine her unexpected allies. She had heard much about Derek Rayne, especially from Philip, but this was the first time she had ever laid eyes on him. He had a handsome face with dark, wavy hair streaked with gray. But it was his eyes that intrigued her, eyes that could look past the flesh and into a person's soul. She had heard he had what her precept had sarcastically called "The Gift", that second sight that allowed him to see what others could not. Somehow Gwen felt that it hadn't brought him anymore joy than hers had.

"What are you staring at?" Philip asked, looking into the rear view mirror at his friend.

"I'm not staring." Gwen replied, shifting in her seat to talk to the priest. "At least, I don't mean to. It's just that, when I look at someone for a while, I get a sense of who and what they are. I already know what you're all about, Philip, but your friend here is something of a challenge for me."

"Am I?" Derek asked, looking quizzically at the man at his side.

"Yes. From what my precept and Philip have told me about you, I guess I was expecting .. I'm not sure what I was expecting. But what I didn't expect was to find you and my favorite father-confessor on my doorstep."

"Your cousin ..."Derek began, then stopped, an image forming in his head. The same image he had seen in San Francisco, a room on fire. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the door frame, willing the image away.

In the back seat, Gwen also was seeing the image of the burning room in her mind's eye, but from a different angle. She could smell the smoke all around her and feel the heat creeping closer. She could hear Laurel crying beside her, the child's hands clinging to her arm. And in her heart there was a sense not of fear but of sadness, as though something precious had been taken from her. The door to the room was in front of her, flames blocking her path. In the doorway was a figure, a shape she knew she should recognize, that she would recognize if she could only concentrate. If only Laurel would stop crying she could concentrate...

"Derek, Gwen, what do you see?" Philip demanded, pulling the Rover to the side of the road. In front of him he could see the gates to what was obviously the city cemetery.

Gwen shook her head in a daze, the vision fading from her mind as quickly as it had come. She unclenched her hands slowly, seeing that she had dug her nails into her palms. In front of her, Derek took a deep breath and tried to focus on the scenery in front of him, the image still vivid in his mind. Both looked pale and shaken. "It was a fire," She began, looking at her hands.

"You and the child were surrounded by it." Derek chimed in, turning in his seat to look at her.

"And someone was at the door, someone I ... was it you?" she asked, looking into his hooded eyes.

"You both saw the same vision. A warning of things to come." Philip pulled the car back onto the road and drove it through the gates. "Perhaps we should take heed of it."

"Yes, I suppose we should." Gwen replied, looking away from Derek's piercing gaze. "Take the path to the left and go another hundred yards. That's where we buried Charlie." She lapsed into silence, trying not to notice that Philip's friend was still watching her, waiting for her to say something more about what she had seen or felt. She wasn't sure what he expected her to say. He had seen the image as clearly as she had, yet he couldn't have felt the overwhelming sadness she had experienced. *Why sadness?* she thought, puzzled. *Fear would have made more sense.* Gwen tapped her ring against the window absently, trying to make sense of what had just occurred.

"Looks like we're not the only ones here." Philip pulled the Rover into a clearing and stopped. In front of him was a Sheriff's patrol car and a long, black limousine with a chauffeur standing beside it. Two men stood near the place where Gwen remembered the family had gathered to lay her cousin to rest. At their feet was a gaping hole where his grave should have been. A uniformed officer and a man in a dark suit looked up at their arrival and started towards them.

"Cemetery's closed today folks. Best you come back another day." The officer stopped in his tracks as Gwen jumped from the vehicle. "Well, Ms. Llewellyn. I haven't seen you since the funeral. Come to see your aunt, have you?"

"Sheriff Doby, I'm here for the same reason you are, to find out what happened to Charlie's body. These are friends of mine, Father Philip Callaghan and Dr. Derek Rayne. They are here at the request of my cousin Ian, who is executor of Charlie's estate. Sheriff Doby represents the local constabulary." Gwen brushed past the sheriff, oblivious to his annoyance and moved to kneel beside the open grave. "You've had a few days, what have you found out?"

"Mr Whitaker here, he's the local undertaker. Not the man your aunt hired to take care of things for her, by the way. He says he had orders to exhume your cousin and take the body back to the funeral parlor. Says the orders came from the deceased's wife. He wasn't any too happy to tell me about it, either. Seems the lady didn't want her mother-in-law to find out she was moving her hubby to another cemetery." The sheriff smirked at the assembled men, expecting them to find the situation as amusing as he did.

No one laughed. "You spoke to my cousin's wife personally?" Gwen asked, exasperated.

"No, I received a telephone call from her shortly after the original service." Whitaker commented, looking back at the hole. " She sent a messenger with all the proper paperwork to my office, so I made the arrangements. I had the coffin taken to the mortuary. Someone must have come for it that afternoon."

"You're not sure?" Gwen lashed out angrily, straightening up to look in the embarrassed man's eyes. "Surely someone in your office must have seen who came for the coffin."

"Well, to tell the truth, most of my help were at lunch and I was presiding over another funeral. I just assumed..."

"Assumptions are of no use to me." Gwen snapped, stalking back to the car. Derek and Philip exchanged looks and followed at a safe distance. "I'll be in touch, Sheriff, as soon as I get some things straightened out at the house. Good Day!"

pt. 10

The ride back to the family estate was tense. Gwen couldn't remember when she had been so angry. *Damn you Ian, you dragged me out here, away from my work, just to mediate a turf war between Aunt Josette and her daughter-in-law. There's nothing going on here that a good day in family court wouldn't clear up.* Yet in the back of her mind, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something going on, just under the surface that she should be looking out for. What that something was, she wasn't sure, yet it felt wrong. Why else would her cousin's ghost have tried to warn her off? Why did his spirit walk the halls at night, visible to his young daughter if there wasn't something he needed done by his living family?

"Penny for your thoughts." Philip offered, trying to break the tension.

"They're not worth that much." Gwen countered, tapping her fingers on the door frame. "Well, this explains Aunt Josette's reluctance to have me investigate what was going on around here. When I get my hands on that woman..."

"Your cousin's family is not fond of his wife?" Derek interjected, remembering the rumors he had heard.

"No. I'm not sure why, except that her family was part of the working poor and Charlie's mother was from old money. I've always had a hunch that it was more to do with neither wanting to share Charlie's affections with the other. Things really got bad when Laurel was born. Charlie doted on his daughter but I think he finally got a little sick of both his wife and mother bickering all the time. I know I would have been." Gwen leaned forward in her seat to look into Derek's eyes. "But none of this explains the vision we both saw, does it?"

"No, it doesn't." he agreed, watching her through the rear view mirror. "Perhaps you should not return to the house."

"I have to." She sighed, her anger draining from her. "I can't leave Laurel alone. Having the Gift of the Sight isn't easy, especially when you're young. It can be even worse when you're trying to deal with it by yourself. Charlie was trying to help Laurel deal with being able to see what wasn't there but I got the distinct impression that his mother wasn't making it any easier. She never did believe in the any of it, the ghosts and the premonitions. She's a terribly unimaginative woman." Gwen smiled grimly at the thought of confronting her aunt with what they had discovered. "Even if there is nothing going on here that the Legacy should deal with, I can't in good conscience leave a ten year old stuck between two warring factions without at least letting her know she has a friend."

Derek smiled one of his rare smiles. "She has quite an ally in you." He leaned forward in his seat as Philip pulled up in front of the house, searching the darkened grounds with a wary eye. His smile was replaced with a grim frown. "Let us go with you when you speak to your aunt. You'll need support if something happens."

"That's an offer I won't refuse." The trio left the Rover parked in front of the manor and started inside the silent house. Gwen shivered as a cold breeze swept past them, slamming the front door behind them. A feeling of utter coldness and sadness enveloped her. "Something's happening, Derek. Do you feel it?"

"Yes." He agreed, his senses tingling with the feeling of danger all around him. Outside the sun had begun to set, leaving blood red shadows to cover the estate. "Where would your aunt be at this hour?"

"Upstairs, in her room. I think I can find it. Follow me." She bolted up the stairs before either man could stop here, only to stop before she reached the top. "Derek, Philip, don't move. There's something happening on the landing."

"What?" Philip asked, starting up the stairs. Derek's hand grasped his arm, keeping him from following his friend.

"Wait, Philip." Derek looked up at Gwen, who was still frozen in place at the top of the stairs. He could see now what she was looking at, a whitish cloud which was forming on the landing, coalescing into the shape of a man. He watched in fascinated horror as the figure took on the form of the man in the picture from Gwen's apartment, Charles Llewellyn.

"Hello, Cousin." The figure's voice had a hollow ring to it, as though the speaker was at the end of a very large and empty chamber. Though the figure was almost translucent, some parts of the body were disturbingly solid. It bore the injuries that Charles had sustained in the crash, including a nasty gash where his face had hit the steering wheel. It gave Gwen a ghastly smile then looked back down the hall towards the bedrooms. "Shouldn't have come, you know."

"Well, I'm here." Gwen replied, trying to hide her dismay. "Why are you here, Charlie? Silas said that terrible sad, things have gone here since your death. Was it you causing them? Why? Is it because your wife has moved your body?"

"Has she?" the ghost asked, sounding amused. "Well, that sounds like her. Always wanting to put one over on Mother." The phantom looked back over Gwen's shoulder, lifting one ruined eyebrow in mock surprise. "I see you brought a priest with you. Is he going to exorcise me?"

"Let us help you move on, cousin." Gwen replied, trying to sound soothing. "Tell me what binds you to this house."

The ghost's face suddenly lost its amused expression. "Nothing here is as it seems, Cousin, and I died because of it. Trust no one. " It reached almost longingly for her, then disappeared before their eyes.

Pt. 11

"Well, that cleared up a lot of mysteries, didn't it?" Gwen asked sarcastically, looking back at her companions. "Trust no one, indeed! I knew Charlie had been watching too much X-Files. He's carried it over to the other side with him."

"It was a sincere warning," Philip protested, bounding up the stairs to stand at her side.

"But a warning of what?" Derek asked, moving past the pair into the main hallway. Somewhere in the darkness, they could hear a door slowly opening, as though its occupant was reluctant to leave their hiding place. Derek's eyes, accustomed finally to the dim lighting, could just make out a small figure moving at the end of the hall. "Someone's moving about, just there, past that table. Do you see?"

Gwen peered down the hall, then bit her lip as a wave of apprehension swept over her. "No, but that's the way to Laurel's room. I think I'd better go check on her. My aunt's room is just to the left here, two doors down. If she's talked to Ian then she's probably expecting one of us to come calling. I'll meet you there in a few minutes." She started off down the corridor, leaving the two men in her wake.

Derek watched her leave with a frown. "Come, Philip, let's get this introduction over with. I don't want to leave Gwen by herself for too long." He walked off in the opposite direction, with the young priest trailing behind him, trying not to look too worriedly after his other friend.

At the end of the corridor, Gwen stopped and held her breath, willing herself to hear all the little sounds that came out of the darkness. The sound of the wind blowing through the eaves. The sound of a mouse scurrying across the polished wooden floor. To her left, behind a slightly open doorway, she could hear the clink of a glass and the sloshing of liquid as it was being poured. She tiptoed over to the door and looked inside. Ann, Charlie's wife, was upending a glass of some brown liquid, getting a good portion of it on her expensive nightdress. An empty bottle of Chivas was laying on the bed along with what appeared to be a family photo album. To Gwen's dismay, she could see Laurel huddled in the corner, trying to avoid being noticed by her very drunk parent.

"We were so happy before that witch of a mother of yours lured you back to this mausoleum." Ann lifted a large, framed photo from the bed and unsteadily began to dance with it. "We used to go out every night, see all the show, meet all the beautiful people. We could have been so happy... But No! You had to come running back to Mamma." She suddenly threw the fame across the room and crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

"Don't cry, Momma!" Laurel begged, creeping out of her corner. "Daddy's not gone. He's still here. I can make him come anytime I want. Look, I'll show you." The little girl closed her eyes and clenched her fists in intense concentration. But nothing happened and the child soon gave up with a sigh. "Well, most times I can make him appear."

"Laurel, I think we should put your mother to bed." Gwen opened the door and stepped inside, avoiding several empty bottles that rolled from behind the door.

"I don't need your help. No one here needs you . Why don't you go back to where ever you came from and leave us alone." Ann snarled, trying to rise from the floor. However, her knees betrayed her and she sank once again to the ground. "He was always telling me - Why can't you be like my cousin Gwen? Nothing bothers her. She could handle mother. Always comparing me to you. I don't need you to tell me how to handle that old bat. I don't need anyone." The drunken woman began to sob again, pushing her stringy hair away from her face.

"Yeah, I'll just bet you don't." Gwen replied, shoving everything off the bed. She caught the drunk woman by the scruff of the neck and hoisted her up onto the bed, ignoring Ann's struggles. She threw a light blanked over the woman's legs and pulled the extra pillows out from behind her patient's head. Then she turned away, leading the child out of the room before she flipped the light off. "Time for you to be in bed too, Laurel."

Laurel skipped over to her room then turned and sat with her back to the door. "Aunt Gwen, did you like my daddy?"

"That's a silly question. He was my cousin. I loved him, just like I love you."

"Then why didn't you marry my daddy? Then I could have been your little girl." The child reached across the floor and pulled up a small stuffed animal and began to smooth it's well-stroked hide.

"Because your daddy was my cousin." Gwen replied, looking down at the small figure. "He was like a brother to me. But he loved your mother and you very much and he would be very unhappy to see how sad everyone is. Your mom especially needs time to get over been sad about your daddy not being here with her."

"Then why can't I stay with you instead of my mother?" the child asked, her solemn eyes resting on her aunt's face. "Then she can have time to get happy again with looking after me. I heard Daddy say once that he was going to send me to school in San Francisco so that you could look out for me. He told Mommy he couldn't trust her with me."

"Why on Earth would your Daddy say a thing like that?" Gwen asked, kneeling to look into Laurel's eyes.

"Oh, she got drunk once and accidentally set fire to her bed. I told her she shouldn't smoke in bed but she just got mad." Laurel shrugged, then looked off down the hall. "Sometimes Mommy does some really dumb things. Like taking Daddy's body from the cemetery without telling Granny."

"Now how did you find out about that?" Gwen followed her look down the corridor, hoping Derek and Philip had already gone into her aunt's room. She had a distinct feeling that Laurel would cease to confide in her if she saw strangers in her house.

"Mommy and Granny were arguing, right after you left. I could hear everything they said. Mommy told Granny she wouldn't give Daddy's body back to her unless she gave her control of Daddy's money. She wants to move out of here. I don't, though. This is our family home. This is where all Llewellyns should live. You used to live here, when you were little, didn't you Aunt Gwen?"

"Yes, but that was a long time ago. You shouldn't listen at doors, Laurel, it's not polite."

"I know, but no one tells me anything. They all think I'm just a little kid. Anyway, they stopped arguing when the chair caught fire."

"The chair caught fire?" Gwen asked, a cold feeling starting to creep through her veins.

"Yes, the one Mommy was sitting in. She was smoking again. I really hate it when she smokes and I especially hate it when she argues with Granny." The somber child looked up at her aunt with a frown. "Did you bring those men back with you?'

"Yes, I did. One of them is a friend to your Uncle Ian and the other is Father Callaghan, one of my dear friends from when I was a girl. I think you should talk to them later, about seeing your Daddy's ghost. They understand about things like that."

"I don't want to!" Laurel scrambled to her feet and dashed into her room. "They're not family, they won't understand about our Gifts. Just like Mommy never understands! She didn't understand with Daddy and she doesn't understand with me!"

"All right, calm down." Gwen soothed, following her into the nursery. "There's no need to get upset."

"Yes there is! Mommy's going to take me away from here, I know she will!"

Gwen walked purposefully across the room and reached out to embraced the distraught little girl. As the child wept, neither noticed a curl of smoke and a tendril of flame start in the room's darkened corner.

Pt. 12

Derek and Philip paused before the door to what Gwen had indicated was her aunt's room. The dark oak panel was polished to a high shine, as though dust motes would never dare settle on its occupant's property. The older man threw his companion a look then tapped gently on the portal.

"Come in," an aristocratic voice from within the chamber called out.

The two men entered the room and stopped, looking about them curiously. Derek had always believed that studying a person's private sanctuary would reveal a truthful image of that person. Most people lived in spaces designed to please other people's tastes. Only in their own rooms could they allow their own personality to take hold. His own bedroom in the Luna mansion was elegant yet functional, with no frills to distract him from his thoughts. Josette Llewellyn seemed to favor the same type of decor. The old woman sat behind a large antique roll-top desk, its top partially closed to prying eyes. A very modern phone and answering machine sat close to her hand. She looked at the two men speculatively, her eyes cold.

"You must be Dr. Rayne," She said, holding her hand out to Derek. "My nephew has told me why he asked you to come. By now, of course, you must have realized that your trip was wasted. There is nothing here that your organization could possibly find interesting."

"Perhaps." Derek replied, holding the woman's wrinkled hand in his own. "But both your niece Gwen and I have the feeling that this quarrel between you and your daughter-in-law is not the only thing happening in this house." Derek's pager chose that moment to ring, breaking the mood. He fished it out of his pocket impatiently and took note of the message. "My associates in town are trying to reach me. May I use your phone?"

"Certainly," Josette replied coolly, rising to stand beside Philip.

Derek dialed the Nick's cell phone number quickly. "Yes, Nick. What is it?"

"Derek, we just found the doctor who performed the initial autopsy on Charles Llewellyn. Your friend made arrangements for us to view his notes. Derek, there's something weird here. Charles Llewellyn died from a combination of burns and smoke inhalation."

"Why is that strange? I thought he wrapped his car around a tree. It must have caught fire."

"No it didn't. That's what's so strange. The interior of the car was charred, but the exterior wasn't damaged except from a banged up bumper where he drove into the tree. The fire was inside the car, nowhere else. And according to the wrecker driver who towed it, there wasn't any reason why that fire started. The crash wasn't that severe. The gas line wasn't ruptured. There was no reason for him to burn."

Derek looked back at the old woman at Philip's side. "Nick, you and Alex get to the Llewellyn estate. I have a feeling we're going to need some backup." He hung up the phone and looked his hostess straight in the eyes. "You know how your son died, don't you Mrs. Llewellyn? His death was no accident."

"I don't know ... " she began, then stopped, determined to say no more.

"Yes, you do. The car was on fire but there was no reason for the blaze. You know how it started, don't you? That's why you didn't want your niece to come back here. You didn't want her to discover the truth about her cousin's death." Derek reached out and laid his hands on the elderly woman's arms. "You must tell us what happened. We are here to help you."

Josette Llewellyn had spent her entire life controlling the world around her. She wasn't going to stop now. "Your concern is kind, Dr. Rayne, but unnecessary. Now, I would appreciate it if you and your companion took my niece and left the house. I would not want my granddaughter exposed to these absurd ideas you have about her father's death." She shrugged free of his hands and motioned to the door.

Philip looked back through the open doorway and took a deep breath. "Derek, I smell smoke! Something's burning!"

Derek dashed out into the corridor with the others in tow. Down at the end of the hall, he could just make out the frightened screams of a child. "NO!" he exclaimed, running down the darkened path towards the source of the smoke.

Philip started to follow his friend when a soft moan from behind him stopped him in his tracks. The mistress of the house had sagged against the door to her chamber, her face ashen. "Not again! Oh dear Lord, not again!"

"Call the fire department." Philip demanded, catching her before she could fall. "You must call for help."

"No one can help this family." She replied dully, her eyes glazed with grief. The older Mrs. Llewellyn straightened suddenly in his arms and shook free of his hands and ran down the stairs, calling for Silas. Philip raced off after his friend, praying the elderly woman would find help before it was too late.

Pt. 13

Gwen wasn't sure just exactly when she noticed the smoke. It just suddenly seemed to be everywhere. She stared in horror as flames suddenly leapt out of nowhere and set the child's bed on fire. Beside her, Laurel began to scream wildly, panicking at the sight of the flames. All around them, little tongues of fire seemed to be igniting every flammable object available. Gwen snatched up a quilt which had fallen to the floor and swiftly wrapped the terrified child in it. She hoisted the child up in her arms and looked for a path out of the flames. In her vision, she had seen the path to freedom, right in front of her. But now, the smoke and flames obscured her sight and dulled her confidence. She hesitated, unsure in the darkness.

"Gwen!" Derek's voice snapped her from her indecision. She glanced up and saw him in the doorway, just as she had in their shared vision. She ran swiftly towards him, handing him the child as she neared the door. Behind her the drapes disappeared in a wall of flames, hungrily devouring everything in their path.

"We must get everyone out of the house," Derek insisted, pushing her towards the stairs.

"I can't leave Ann. She's just in here. Philip, help me get her down the stairs." Gwen threw open the opposite door then stopped, horrified. Ann's bed was already fully engulfed in flames. For a moment she feared they were too late to save the woman. Then a whimpering sound by the side of the bed attracted her attention. "Philip, there, beside the bed!"

Philip dashed past her and lifted the not quite sober woman in his arms. He moved quickly out of the bedroom and down the stairs, with Gwen and Derek behind him. Once outside, Derek set the child on the ground, letting her run to her aunt for comfort. Philip laid Ann on a garden bench, draping his jacket around her shivering form.

"I've called the fire department." Silas called, loping across the garden towards them. Behind him, Josette Llewellyn stood in the shadow of a weeping willow, watching her home burn to the ground. Her face was composed yet everyone could see the tears that streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.

"I doubt it will do much good." Gwen replied, looking somberly across at her aunt. "The house is pretty much gone." She looked down at her young niece speculatively. "Laurel, I think Granny could use a hug. Why don't you go stand with her while we make your Mommy more comfortable until the firemen come, okay? Would you do that for me?"

"Okay, Aunt Gwen." The child responded, throwing herself tearfully into her grandmother's arms.

Derek laid a hand on Gwen's shoulder. "You know what caused this?" he asked gently.

"Oh yes. I can make a pretty good guess." She took a deep breath and turned to face her fellow Legacy members. "Laurel caused it. She manifests the fire in response to situations which frighten her. It's similar to other poltergeist activity I've witnessed, but with the potential to be far more destructive."

"Then this may happen again." Derek replied, looking briefly at the child.

"Maybe. Maybe not. She might grow out of it. Charlie did."

"Your cousin had this same talent!" Philip exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes. He and I both had a "gift" which ran in the family. Mine was my visions. His was the fire. When we were kids, whenever his mother would do something to make him so mad he couldn't see straight, things would burst into flames. Luckily, Charlie was a pretty even-tempered sort. It took a lot to make him mad so not a whole lot was burned. She never believed in his power, though. She always accused us of playing with matches whenever something went up. But we knew different, Ian, Charlie and I. I guess that's why Ian asked me to come. Charlie must have mentioned something to him."

"Yes," A whispery voice agreed. Turning swiftly, Gwen saw her cousin's apparition form in the driveway, the flames of the house visible through his transparent shape. "I was afraid for her. And of her. Afraid of my own child."

"That's why you didn't want me here." Gwen looked sadly at her cousin's shade. "You were afraid of what I would find."

"Afraid your daughter would do to your cousin what she had done to you." Derek moved to stand at Gwen's side. "She caused the fire in your car that night, didn't she?"

"She didn't mean to hurt me. She was angry because I was going to let her mother take her to a doctor, someone who could help her control her anger. She thought I was sending her away from our home. I didn't see the flames until it was too late. The car crashed into the tree and I was knocked out. If I hadn't crashed, I could have escaped. It wasn't her fault." The ghost looked sadly at his mother and daughter, who were staring in amazement at him. "What will become of her now?"

"Ian and I will work something out Charlie." Gwen reached out her hand to the ghost, her fingers brushing the cold ectoplasm which formed him. "It's time for you to go on. Time for you to rest. Go to the light, Charlie. It's time."

"Yes, it is, isn't it. I'm so tired. So very tired." The ghostly figure began to waver and the form became more and more indistinct. "Take care, cousin. I'll be waiting for you when its your time." The last remnants of the ghostly apparition disappeared, leaving nothing behind in it's wake. In the distance, the sound of the fire engine horn echoed sadly in the silence, crying for another home lost to the beast which was fire.

EPILOGUE.

It had been almost a week since Gwen had watched the flames claim her family home. Much had changed in those seven days, yet much had stayed the same. Derek had offered her and her family sanctuary in the Luna foundation mansion which was his home, at least until other arrangements could be made for them. Gwen had accepted his offer with relief, as she had not particularly looked forward to crowding three more people into her small apartment. It had not, in the end, been necessary for the rest of the family had chosen to move back to England. Ann and her mother-in-law had not become fast friends but, to Gwen's relief, they had ceased to try to make each other's life miserable. They were united in their efforts to help Laurel, who still suffered from the emotional trauma of seeing her house destroyed and hearing her father's ghost tell of her unintentional involvement in his death. The child was under the care of a therapist that Rachel Corrigan, the only member of the San Francisco house who had not been there that night, had recommended. Laurel was young and her doctor held out much hope for a completely normal life for the child. But Gwen had her doubts.

"She's only ten. What's going to happen when she hits her teens?" Gwen asked, perching on the edge of Derek's desk. "What happens if she can't learn to control her responses to stress before her hormones kick in?"

"Your aunt and Laurel's mother know what they're dealing with now. If they work together, they can make things right for the child and not add to her already precarious emotional state." Derek leaned back in his chair and looked up at the petite red-head. "At least now they've put aside their personal agendas for Laurel's sake."

"For now."

"Have you talked to your precept in London?" Philip asked, walking in from the library. He sat on the desk beside his friend with a smile.

"No. I haven't really decided whether I'll go back yet."

"You belong with the Legacy." Derek replied solemnly.

"I used to believe that. I'm not so sure now," Gwen responded, mildly depressed. "For all my gift of the Sight, for all my training and experience with unusual phenomena, I still couldn't stop the destruction of my family's home. Or see that my cousin and his child needed help before it was too late. What good are my gifts if I can't even take care of my own?"

Derek didn't respond, his mind flashing back to his father's death in South America. He knew exactly how she felt. Though he had seen in a vision the demon which ultimately killed his father, he had been too late to stop the attack. It had taken him years to convince himself that Winston Rayne's death had not been his fault. Even now, there were times when the guilt colored his outlook on the world. He glanced away from the pair on his desk, willing himself to regain his composure.

"Why don't you stay here, with us? I'm sure this house could use another member, couldn't we Derek?" Philip looked anxiously at his precept, hoping the other man would agree. He was not surprised at the pain he could see in the depths of his old friend's eyes. Gwen's heartache was so similar to Derek's own.

"Yes, I think that would be best." Derek agreed, rising to stand before the young woman. He gently lifted her chin, looking deeply into her eyes. "A fresh start with a new house will help you get back on track. That is, if you want to return to the battle against the darkness?"

Gwen found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his. *He has the most beautiful eyes.* she thought, her spirits beginning to lift. *But so much pain! I wonder why?* She brushed his hand away gently then straightened her back with a sigh. "If you wouldn't mind having me, I would like to be part of a house again." She rose and started out the door, then turned and flashed Philip a grim smile. "I guess once a Legacy member, always a Legacy member." She turned and left, leaving the two men with their thoughts and at least one with his ghosts.