Page 39 of She Haunts Me Still

“If there are any spirits here, please make your presence known. We bring you an offering of”—she pauses—“shared blood.”

Ezra’s hand twitches along hers.

“Redeo vita—”

“Wait.” There’s an unexpected urgency to Ezra’s voice. “I don’t think you should say the Latin anymore.”

Mallory opens one eye. “Why? It—”

She doesn’t finish the question. Because the entire room slips away.

To nothingness.

It’s as though she’s suddenly wading through a sea of black, no up or down or left or right. She’s alone in an abyss, the deepest trench of the ocean, a far-reaching corner of space. She should be afraid, but Ezra’s hands are still on hers, grounding her body, letting the rest of her float up and away.

“Hello?” Mallory whispers, faintly aware she’s speaking only in her mind. “Is anyone there?”

And then, from the shadows, she emerges.

Lily, in a white dress, dark hair skimming her waist. She slips into view, hovering, feet mangled with thinning pale flesh. She inches closer and closer in their private world of shadows, with tenebrous eyes and a peeling mouth, face charred and textured like a bees’ nest. And her chest, hollowed out and matted with blood.

“What do you want?” Mallory asks, voice shaking.

For a moment, Lily is silent. Mouth a line. Eyes unseeing.

“What do you—”

And then Lily’s lips part. A fly snakes out, buzzing and buzzing in the empty air, just in time for Lily to hiss:

“You are going to die.”

Terror spikes inside Mallory’s veins. “What?”

“You. Will. Die. Like. Her.”

“What?” Mallory gasps at the confirmation. The exact thing she’s feared. “Why?Why—?”

“BURNIT.”

Her heart, she must mean. But Lily doesn’t finish the threat. Her eyes liquefy like spilled buckets of tar. And then her jaw unhinges in a keening wail, releasing a storm cloud of fat, humming flies.

Mallory unleashes a feral scream and loses her balance. It’s like she’s falling and falling forever, careening through broken worlds—

Her voice catches on a terrified sob. The dorm. Wooden floor. Chalk circle. Candles, blown out. Silver moonlight.

Ezra, holding her against him, stroking her hair.

“What the hell was that?” he demands, concern strewn across his face. “Did you see something just now?”

She swipes at her lashes, faintly aware of something wet dripping from her right nostril. Her nose is bleeding again, tinged with dirt, just like last time.

Dirt, like from a grave.

“Lily,” Mallory coughs. “She said I was going to die. Like my mother. I was right.” She takes a deep, steadying inhale. “It’s going to happen if I don’t stop whatever this is.”

Ezra stares at her for a long time. Time enough for herpulse to return to normal. Long enough to register that she’s clinging to him, fists clenched around his shirt, legs threaded with his. But when he finally speaks, it’s not what she expects him to say.

“You should sleep here tonight.”