Nine

"Are you sure about this?" Bran asked while still holding me close and staring into my eyes. "I don't mean to doubt it, but—well you know even if I have one foot in the paranormal world, I'm also a man of science."

"I really believe it could be true. There are so many times I've had dreams about two other people I don't recognize, but the emotions around them are the same I feel with you," I said, and hoped he understood.

"I'm still not convinced that reincarnation or souls being reborn anew is even possible. Like I said earlier, something about crossing the veil wipes out all memories of that life. But I trust you, and I can't deny how deep my feelings are for you. If you think it could be true and this could help us with the wraith, then I think we should see what we can find out."

"I haven't wanted to mention it, because I didn't want to tell you something that wasn't true. Then Edith said it, so I knew we needed to talk about it. Dad, I know you said it will give us more power, but I don't really know what that means. Bran is still figuring out his power, and I'm empathic but it can leave me in so much pain I'm not sure that's really useful."

"Baby, you threw your spirit out of your body to help knock my mother's spirit back into the nether. There's literally nothing you could tell me that I wouldn't believe. I love you," Bran said, and I realized how stupid it was for me to doubt him. He knew exactly what harm secrets could do.

"No more of that, young man. Let me remind you what happened to your great-uncle Cyrus," Mom said.

"I promise, no more throwing my spirit. I only did it because we had to get to Janis and warn her. Plus, I had Buddy with me, he'll always protect us if he can." I smiled and like I did about ten times per day, I reached to pet him.

"He's a good one to have around. You know there's more he can do too, don't you?" Dad said to Bran.

"Buddy? He hasn't shown any other talents other than being there when someone needs a little extra reassurance and love. Plus, I wouldn't want to ever risk him, he's important to me." He turned then to face me, forcing my attention on him. "What exactly happened to your uncle?" Bran asked, and sat stock-still while he waited for me to answer.

"Buddy's important to me too. I love having him around and I won't ever do anything to risk his spirit," I reassured him. There was no way I'd ever want to see Buddy leave us unless he was ready to go.

"Uncle Cyrus threw his spirit when there was a great spiritual confrontation. He had no other choice and didn't have anyone to watch over his body. He'd nearly done what he set out to do when he felt the connection to his body being severed. He died the worst death. His spirit was left to fade away, never crossing over and unable to stay on this side of the veil." Dad repeated the story he'd told me a few times in warning about what could happen if I threw my spirit and wasn't careful.

"Jordan? I don't want you to ever risk that," Bran said as the color drained from his face. "If that happened there wouldn't be anything I could do. Without a body to hold you here you'd fade away." He swallowed hard and I really wished my dad hadn't shared that bit of information.

Thinking back on everything that happened because of Sophia and his mother was still hard. It terrified me because I still didn't understand it all. Bran had been forced to embrace an ability he'd tried to deny and knew how dangerous it could be.

"Son, there are things we've kept from you. Abilities you possess that you inherited from our ancestors, but there are a lot of things you'll need to find out for yourself when you're ready. Family tradition," Dad said. "But we can help guide you. There's a notebook my great-grandfather left for us. He used all the information he'd been able to find and tried to separate stories passed down through the years from what was real and what was tall tale."

"Another notebook?" Bran said, and stood. "I don't want to bring something dangerous into our home. The book my mother left is protected and shielded so no one of power can find it, and so no one else can use it. Even then I have to use every precaution to study it."

"This is different. While your mother didn't seem to care enough to hide the book or make it safe, our ancestor did. It can't be seen or touched by anyone who isn't of our blood," Mom said, and took a bite of her gnocchi. "This really is good."

"Wait a minute, you're saying you have a book that can explain everything I've been experiencing?" I asked. "Why am I just now finding out about this?"

"It's the rules. No one shall be given access until there is no doubt they are the one who inherited the family talents. Feeling the pain of the dead and knowing they're near is one thing, but being able to throw your spirit and communicate with them in a dreamscape is another matter. Your powers are growing, and you'll need to know what to expect and how to handle the spirits," Dad said. "We'll be here for you, don't worry."

"Why do I feel like you knew everything that was going to happen?" Bran asked.

"It was all predicted the last time our family encountered the wraith," Dad said, and watched as Bran and I tried to control our shock. "A seer shall be born who will be a direct match in power and an opposite of the evil of the wraith."

"You know about that?" I choked out.

"Yes. Our family defeated it the last time it came into contact with one of our ancestors, but it took centuries to build its power and now it's back. The ancestors knew we needed to prepare, that's why they left a written history. Bran, we believe your ancestors are in there too. Our family couldn't defeat it then without your ancestors' help and we won't be able to do it this time either." He looked between the two of us waiting for us to speak, but when I finally managed to look over at Bran, he had the same shocked look on his face I knew I was wearing.

"Are you serious?" he whispered.

"Yes. Do you think we'd invite you over and tell you this just for shits and giggles?" Mom asked.

"Show me," I managed to say before clearing my throat. "Show us the journal."

Mom shared a look with Dad who walked over to where he'd prepared dinner and came back with a knife. "Hold your hand out."

"What?" I asked, but he grabbed my hand and cut my thumb. "Ow, what are you—" A drop of blood landed on the table in front of me and spread on the surface, but it wasn't the surface of the table. Now, a book appeared. An old leather-bound journal.

"Whoa," Bran said, and folded his arms. "Glad to see I'm not the only one with weird family secrets." He reached out a tentative finger toward the book, but it passed right through, proving what my parents said was true, no one without our blood could touch it.