• "Morgan, time to get up," Mom said, shaking my shoulder and pulling the covers off my head. The sudden bright sunlight pouring into my eyes made me bury my face in my pillow. "I'm nocturnal," I muttered, hoping she would hear. "Get up now, or you'll be late for school." Good morning to you, too. I sighed. School, ugh. The one place I so did not want to be. The only upside to school is seeing my friends. I don't even know why I go. Ah well, what can you do when the force of motherhood is thrust upon you? I slid out of bed and began the tiring routine of taking a shower, getting dressed and brushing my teeth. It was way too early to be doing this. At least the shower helped some.
    I went back to my room and made my bed. My stomach growled, but I didn't want to eat anything right now. I ignored the hunger waves and finished pulling the comforter over the pillow. "Jacks," I froze. The voice was loud and clear, but totally unfamiliar to me. Who was it that had spoken? Straightening up, I glanced around my empty room. Mom is just coming out of the bathroom. Maybe she heard it. "Mom, did you hear that?" I ask, walking to the doorway. Mom looks at me, confused. "No, what?" Suspicion suddenly flooded in her eyes. "I just heard a voice," I say. She rushes up to me and puts her hands on either shoulder and shakes me lightly. "What did it say?" She asks me, eyes wide with fear. "Um, it said 'jacks.'" I say uneasily. What's wrong with Mom? Why is she acting like this?
    She gasps, backs away. "Mom-?" She shushes me with a wave of her hand.
    ................................................
    Lily Rhodes, Morgan's mother, avoids looking at her daughter. No, she can't have heard right. After all, Lily herself had chosen that key word with every intention of doing what was wise. She even consulted a priest. How she hated magic. Why did her daughter have to be the one gifted with a curse? Having the ability to see the dead was a horrible, gruesome power she herself had when she was a child. And that alone had made her life a living hell. Now she wondered what would become of her independent, often times reckless, tender hearted daughter. What have I done?