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of sheer will power I could make his features and voice materialize at a more rapid rate. After several seconds of screwing my face up into a determinedly focused stare down—I probably looked constipated—I finally accepted the inevitability of my week long stay at this charming B&B with a roommate more appealing than any man had the right to be.
    “Well, whoever you are, I suppose I’ll see and talk to you later.”
    I gave the ghost a flippant solute, and stepped backward, throwing myself back into my body. As I came out of the summoning, I heard the spirit whisper a name, one I hadn’t heard in years.
    Zurina, my birth name.
     
    *  *  *
     
    I abruptly awoke and sat straight up in bed. My heart beat a heavy staccato as my mind raced at the possible reasons this most recent spirit might know my birth name. I’d never even known I had a different name until my parents reluctantly admitted to adopting me as a baby.
    They never wished to reveal that kind of life altering information, but the emergence of my gift as a medium forced them to answer some troubling questions I relentlessly posed.
    Apparently, my birth parents were convinced that I was in some kind of danger, and giving me up was their only option. They arrived at my adoptive parents doorstep in the middle of a rainy October night, introduced themselves, explained their dilemma and promised to return for me when it was safe. They disappeared shortly thereafter. Needless to say, I never saw them again, and their disappearance convinced my adoptive parents that I really was in some kind of danger. So we moved.
    Several times.
    The entire story was completely ludicrous, but then my ability to astral project and commune with restless spirits didn’t exactly reside within the parameters of anything normal.
    I’d stopped looking for answers a long time ago, after my parents had begged and pleaded with me to let it go before the people my birth parents hid me from discovered my whereabouts. I learned my birth name, but never used it. No one but my two sets of parents and myself knew about it, or so I’d thought.
    Now, I had some random spirit calling me Zurina. It was enough to make any person with sense pack up and disappear.
    I’d never claimed to have much sense.
    If this spirit knew my real name, he might also know about my birth parents. I didn’t usually stick around long enough to help spirits with their unfinished business—not anymore—but perhaps if I helped this spirit with whatever project it had, I might bargain for some much needed information where my past and birth parents were concerned.
    It was definitely something to consider, and since I had a few days before the ghost came into focus, I had time to consider it.
    It would be a departure from the way I’d come to deal with summonings these days. I didn’t like to get involved with supernatural problems anymore. I couldn’t help my quick emotional withdrawal from any and all personal connections. This gift, or rather curse, had ruined several relationships throughout the course of my existence. There were few who believed in what I did, and even fewer who could live with it.
    I used to expend so much energy and emotion truly caring for the spirits that entrusted me with their last requests and personal problems. It had given my life purpose and filled me with a sense of importance. I’d been willing to deal with the complications my gift posed when it came to friendships or romantic relationships because I thought I was needed and felt that what I did served a greater, grander purpose.
    After Ian’s cold rejection, I couldn’t work up enough emotion to get out of bed in the morning. When I considered what a mess I’d been a year ago, I had to give myself a small pat on the back for how far I’d come. There was no avoiding what I could do, so I put it to good use and made my gift work for me. A jaded way of doing things, but I couldn’t work up enough emotion to care or even feel