Chapter 4: Funeral Clothes for the Living

The West family’s death day—no, birthday—was coming.

The date circled in red on my mental calendar. I could almost taste the anticipation. My pulse quickened.

When I gave the three of them the clothes I’d sewn myself, Carter’s face changed.

He stared at the fabric, fingers trembling. There was something off about the stitching, something he couldn’t quite name. He looked at me, eyes narrowed.

Because, before he got blocked, the ghost hunter had warned him:

[If a vampire gives you clothes, never wear them. It’s so she can peel your skin off easier!]

The words echoed in his mind, gnawing at his nerves. He eyed me warily, but said nothing. I just smiled.

I didn’t blink, slowly turning my head, a smile curling on my lips. “Honey, why aren’t you wearing yours?”

My voice was syrupy sweet, but my eyes never left his. The tension crackled between us. He swallowed hard.

Carter secretly re-added the ghost hunter.

He typed furiously, hands shaking. Desperation makes people reckless. I watched, amused.

[She gave you funeral clothes. For the living, the wings on the back are folded. Only on burial robes are the wings spread open—it means riding to the afterlife!]

The chat was skeptical, mocking. Nobody believed in old superstitions—not really. They spammed clown emojis and memes.

The fans in the livestream were unimpressed. “Please, this is just the new goth style. It’s trendy now.”

They laughed, posting memes and jokes, but the ghost hunter wouldn’t let it go. I watched, silent.

No one believed him, and the ghost hunter got anxious. “Count the buttons—funeral clothes always have an odd number. Satin means no descendants. The sleeves are always longer than the hands, so the body stays covered. Every one of her gifts has those features. No, the vampire is about to become a full-on vengeful spirit. I’m coming to save you!”

Carter checked, and it was true.

He counted in a panic, lips moving silently. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He nearly dropped the shirt.

He’d only half believed it, but with the Twitch traffic booming, he played along, acting like he was convinced, even sending a deposit.

He hyped it up: “Folks, if you want to see a ghost hunter battle a beautiful vampire, make sure to tip and reserve your spot!”

He spun it into content, turning his fear into profit. The chat went wild, donations pouring in. I smirked.

But on Carter’s birthday, there really was a murder in the house.

The air was thick with tension, everyone on edge. Nobody expected what happened next. I waited, patient.

Only, the one who died was my father-in-law.

His body was torn to pieces, a horrific sight.

He’d been coming home drunk from seeing his mistress, stumbled off a slope, and was eaten by wolves—most of his lower body and head gone. But strangely, the new clothes I’d made for him were untouched.

The police called it an accident, but the truth was far more gruesome. The funeral clothes hung in the closet, pristine and waiting. I smiled to myself.

Now, the new clothes really were funeral robes.

Carter knelt before his father’s corpse, dazed. “Why him first… Wait, it’s supposed to go in birthday order. Damn it, that ghost hunter tricked me again!”

He rocked back and forth, voice cracking. The chat was silent, the spectacle suddenly too real. I watched, satisfied.

As I wailed alongside my mother-in-law, I couldn’t help but curl my lips into a sly smile.

I pressed a tissue to my eyes, hiding the satisfaction that bubbled up inside me. One down, two to go. My heart thumped with triumph.

Yes, Father-in-law could’ve lived a few days longer.

But he found out my secret.