Page 67 of She Haunts Me Still

“Don’t touch me—” She lashes out blindly. He catches her hands, attempting to fold her into his arms. “Stop,” she pleads, flailing in his grasp. “Ezra, let go, let go, letgo—!”

And when she finally focuses on him, she gasps.

His eyes are fully green again, mouth devoid of fangs. His lips aren’t wet or red, and the only bit of blood left is a tiny smudge beneath his nose. Her hand flies to her collarbone; the rosary beads are there, beneath his Caligo sweatshirt, and when she touches her throat, she can’t find any open wounds.

“What?” she whispers.

Ezra sits back on his heels, identical shock on his face.

“What just happened?” he asks. “A second ago we were on my bed. I was having a nosebleed. And now—”

“No.” Mallory rises to her knees. “No.”

But when she leans to inspect the back of his shirt, she freezes.

The fabric is perfectly intact. No shreds. No rips. No feathers.

As if it never happened at all.

But it did.It did.

“I know what I saw,” she says. She fixes him with a thorny stare and springs to her feet. “I’m leaving.”

He stands just as fast. “Wait—let’s just talk, okay?”

“Talk?” A furious laugh shudders out of her. “Youattackedme!”

“Attacked y—?” Ezra flinches in horrified confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you serious right now?” She doesn’t even bother swiping at her tears. “I thought you were going tokillme.”

The panic on his face multiplies. “What?Jules—”

“Why did you say that about my mother?” Mallory snaps. “She must have thought she was so clever. What did you mean by that?”

Ezra flings her an incredulous glance. “I—I didn’t say that.”

“And witches?” She continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “What witches? Whatelsedo you know about my family that I don’t?”

His reply is infuriatingly calm. “Nothing. Only what you’ve told me. I—”

“Stoplyingto me. I know what I saw, Ezra. I know what youdid. I know—”

“For god’s sake, Jules—you’ve been hallucinating since we met!”

His words land like a gunshot, careening them both into silence.

Mallory can’t hold back the fresh tears that follow. Like she’s five years old and realizing for the first time that she’s different. A girl who death clings to like a wisp of smoke, a curse burned into her soul. When it catches up with her,she’ll be all alone, bleeding from a blade in her chest. Just like every woman who came before her.

How foolish to wish this was a shared haunting, that their ghosts were somehow aligned. She’s always known that hope is a traitorous thing. She should have kept hers locked up.

“Hallucinating,” she echoes, voice quiet and dark.

Ezra’s eyes flash with the alarm of someone who just accidentally swallowed poison. “Fuck, that came out wrong.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I meant, from the start, you’ve been seeing things. Maybe you just had a vision now, maybe you—”

“Hallucinating?”

“I didn’t mean to say that—”