Chapter 2: Natalie’s Arrival

I never imagined that, even as a drifting wisp of a soul, someone could still see me.

Even more surprising: the one who saw me was the long-lost true daughter of the Montgomerys.

Half a year ago, when the Montgomerys brought her back, their SUV rolled over the land where I was buried.

The Montgomerys’ black Escalade rolled to a stop, tires crunching over gravel, country music leaking from the cracked window. The car stopped beneath the crooked old maple tree that grew from my grave. The housekeeper, grumbling about the drive, hurried behind the tree line, cussing under her breath as she disappeared.

Someone tumbled from the SUV. It was the daughter, Natalie, newly reclaimed by the Montgomerys.

That small, pale face met my gaze. She went instantly white with terror.

My death had been ugly.

That witch, Julia, gouged out my eyes and slashed up the face that had once bewitched Sean Carter.

Even my hands—once so skilled with a knife—were hacked off and tossed into the koi pond behind the governor’s mansion.

My skeleton had been nailed here in this forgotten field, left to rot in boredom.

Every day, I hung upside down from the maple tree, swinging as if on a child’s swing.

Sometimes, the wind would creak the tree so hard, I’d feel like a playground ghost, stuck in a twisted version of my childhood summers.

When the cold wind blew, my blood-soaked head would swing down, landing right before Natalie’s face.

Her wide brown eyes would widen in horror.

My invisible blood dripped onto her cheeks.

Baring my teeth, I blew a chilling breath into her face.

"Let me sniff your snacks, and I’ll spare your life."

A little dark humor for a country graveyard. It’s what I had left.