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“I think you’re being a bit too optimistic there.”

“Maybe.”

“What did it take to make you let go of the hope you had about your son?”

Emma scrunched up her face at the horrible memory of the moment she gave up. “I went into Stan’s house. The windows were shattered. There was blood everywhere. I thought I’d find Stan and Billy dead, but it was Stan’s new wife torn to pieces. Her eyes were pinned to one spot in the room. It was the changing table. I found her baby inside the hamper, barely alive.”

“Shit, Emma. I’m sorry.”

“He died within minutes of me arriving. When I killed what was left of her, she was staring at where her baby had been. Was she staring because she wanted to eat him? Or because she gave her life to save him? There was no way to know.” Emma shrugged. “Stan and Billy weren’t in the house. If Stan had been there, he would have done everything to save his family. It was then hope started to die inside me, bit by bit, every day, until I put Billy to rest. It was a process. A slow, agonizing process.”

“I betcha it’s the same for her, don’t ya think? What will make her give up that last bit of hope?”

Staring at him straight in the eye, Emma said, “You.”

“There’s no guarantee of that,” Rune replied. “I won’t lie. If her son’s ghost ain’t hangin’ around, I’m not pulling some fake ass John Edward’s shit.”

“I’m not asking that of you. I promise.”

Rune watched her, blue eyes pensive, mouth tight with apprehension. “Once I open myself up to the other side, I might get bombarded. Every ghost hanging around might swarm me, demanding I help them find peace. If that happens, I’ll have to head out for a while. Give them time to settle down.”

“For real?” Emma stared at him in disbelief. “You’d have to leave the Fort?”

“I’ve done it before. Things settled down a little when the horde came through. Ghosts got their peace and moved on, but that only cleared the way for weaker ones to start manifesting. So far, I’ve been able to ignore them, but doing this...” Rune lifted his hands in surrender.

Heart sinking, Emma sighed. “I apologize for asking. I didn’t know.”

“Well, it’s not like I told ya. I got the gift. I’m supposed to use it, right? Besides, I thought you were going to ask me if you’re haunted by your dead family. That’s what most people ask me.”

“I see the face of my grandfather and my ancestors every time I look in the mirror and see my reflection. I know they are with me, in my blood and flesh. I never doubt that. I also never doubted that once I put down the monster that took my son’s body that his soul would be at peace. I don’t need you to confirm it to me.”

“Lipan Apache, eh?”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“The Native blood running in your veins. Lipan Ap

ache.”

“And a good dose of Texas redneck,” Emma answered, unsettled.

If Rune noticed her discomfort, he was ignoring it.

Bending at the waist, he leaned toward her, blue eyes piercing and disconcerting. “Your soul is Lipan Apache.”

“That’s what my grandfather always told me.”

Her gaze swept over her surroundings, almost expecting to see her grandfather standing nearby with an all-knowing grin on his face.

“But your grandmother hated it. She blamed him for your mother running off. Thought him sneaking her off to the reservation for what she called heathen rituals is what corrupted her and made her leave.”

“You’re getting personal,” Emma said, biting off the words.

“This is what I do. This is what you want me to do to that woman out there. It does sting a bit, huh?”

Closing her eyes, Emma took a moment to compose herself. “Who’s talking to you?”

“All of them.”