CHAPTER 1

      MASON

      They are from another world, another way of life that somehow has merged with our own. These worlds are kept separate for the safety of everyone. And yet, I connect them.

      —Meredith T. Taylor, Churning Waters

      As Mason Hunter looks down at his worn black Converse sneakers, each step crackles and crunches down a colorful leaf-strewn sidewalk of Peaks Island, a neighborhood within the city of Portland. If only he had someone to walk with. If he could choose anyone, who would it be? Mason imagines himself with a group of boys from his hockey team who always hang out together. He has tried a few times to get into their clique but always awkwardly messes up. Like the time he worked up the nerve to join in as they jumped up and into each other in a playful way, but when Mason did it, his head hit one of the guys under the chin, causing him to bite his tongue. The fun game was over, and each of them gave Mason an annoyed glance. If they were here now, maybe Mason could talk to them the way they talk so casually to each other. Would they talk about hockey or girls? Mason smiles as he imagines he would say something funny and they would all laugh and pat him on the back. Suddenly, Mason trips a little on an uneven part of the sidewalk, and his mind snaps back to the present. He continues walking and feels embarrassed as if people could hear his thoughts.

      His loneliness vanquishes for a while as he arrives at the port to watch ferries carrying passengers from Portland to Forest City Landing at Peaks Island. This day does not seem different from any other. However, one tourist in particular catches Mason’s attention. In his midtwenties and walking hand in hand with a beautiful young woman, the man exudes an intense confidence and power. Mason notices the man’s expensive watch. A Rolex? How incredible it would be if Mason were rich and famous and could buy whatever frivolous thing he wanted. Then he notices a few people whispering about the man before one of them approaches and asks for an autograph. The man smiles and signs his name very nonchalantly.

      Mason leans against a pole and examines the man. His smile looks more like a smirk. Mason can’t see his eyes under sunglasses, but it is nonetheless obvious by his casual demeanor that signing autographs is run of the mill for him. Mason imagines that he is in this man’s shoes. Fame. How incredible it would be to be famous. Fame means love, acceptance, adoration, and wealth to show the world how truly powerful one is. Is the man an actor? An athlete? It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that no one looks down on, rejects, or bullies a famous person. To be famous must be the most incredible feeling in the world.

      The man and his girlfriend walk away, and Mason looks around the port. In most of the tourists’ faces, he sees a peaceful contentedness that eludes him. They rent bikes or golf carts with Island Tours and go for rides to admire ocean views and homes like Mason’s that trace the shore. The visitors rarely stay longer than a few hours. Nonetheless, for a limited period of time, Peaks Island is alive and active with strangers who do not know Mason and the alienating reputation his family of mediums has. By nightfall, the tourists board the ferry, head back with their families, friends, or lovers to the mainland, and Peaks Island resumes its stale mannequin existence.

      Heading back home, Mason approaches the home of Trent Stellar, his tormentor for the past three years. Now in their senior year of high school, Mason still walks on the opposite side of the street to avoid any close confrontation. Nonetheless, the thought of Trent always brings back painful memories. Mason remembers his first week of high school when Trent came up to him, pretending to be a friend.

      With a smile on his face, Trent said, “Hi, are you Mason Hunter? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

      Mason remembers his naive feeling of relief to have someone approach him in a friendly manner. “Yes, I am. How do you know my name? Are we in homeroom together?”

      “No, we are not in homeroom together. It’s just that I can always spot a freak.” Trent bursts into laughter as he nudged Mason in the shoulder and walked away.

      Now, only a block away from home, the usual suspects already begin looming around Mason. He doesn’t look up but senses the faint shapes moving slowly. In small, quaint towns like Peaks Island, there is always a nosy or bored neighbor watching from a front porch or living room window. Mason wants to yell at these supernatural things to go away, but someone would see, and the gossip would begin anew about how one of the Hunters is talking to ghosts again. Yet he can’t stand these strange, ghostly figures following him any longer. They look like regular people, but Mason knows they are deceased