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The threads come together, and I can see the scene in my head. A girl in vivid color doing the wash when her mother shoves her under.

I only have a few questions to ask before I can do my job.

"Then she hid you in the well and you got angry. I understand that. But this isn't you. You don’t want to hurt other people, do you?”

She looks scared as I speak the words. She floats further away from me, but I have to finish the job. This one will be easy. I'll be able to go home and have a hot cup of tea before bed.

"You don't have to keep hurting others, Matilda."

She stretches an arm out, a puddle forming where she stands. "Not me."

What?

I notice the specter of a young boy behind the headstones, a lopsided smile on his face. My eyes drift to the stone at the end of their family's plot.

Edgar Welles II. Aged Ten. Went to meet his sister at the gates of heaven.

Oh shit.

I have no time to pull out my talisman or spill salt on the graves. He's right beside me, whispering and trying to pull me back to the dark place I'm always fighting to avoid.

"Come with us, Beatrice," he laughs.

I need to find a thread of his life to snap before him, but I'm frozen. I'm not thinking fast enough. He touches my arm, leaving my skin damp.

Shadows dance in my vision.

I'm flung back toward the place that straddles life and death. The one I've been avoiding since I was eighteen.I only have one thought running through my mind as the world drops away to a cold, dark void.

I still haven't really lived.

The regret is still swimming through my consciousness when I hear a deep, silky voice speaking through the layers of darkness.

"Edgar Welles Junior. You were ten years old when your mother drowned you in the washtub next to your sister. I command you to take your eternal rest. "

I find myself coming up for air. This is the world with its blinking stars and endless opportunities for adventure and wild nights.

I'm yanked up by my wrists, and my body is pressed up against something as cool and hard as the headstones themselves.

I blink my eyes open, and the face above me takes shape. It tickles something at the edge of my memory. I've seen this man before. Just an hour ago, in fact. He's the one who was casting bedroom eyes at the bar after the last call.

"Beatrice," he says smoothly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you."

I have so many thoughts racing through my head.I'm not dead. I've been saved.

I swallow hard.

I've been saved, but I'm pretty sure I'm still in danger with those dark eyes on my throat and the sharp teeth flashing in this man's smile.

2

AN OFFER YOUR CAN'T REFUSE

Ican't move. I'm stuck beneath the guy from the bar. His hands pin my wrists to the ground.

He's straddling my body, which is pretty uncomfortable, to say the least. My heart is still racing from the close call with the ghost.

That must be why I'm not struggling. I'm obviously not thinking straight.