My heart kicks against my ribs. "It's okay. I see you. Whatever it is, I’m here.”
She gestures wildly, still trying to speak, but nothing comes out.
"Come inside." I hold the door open wider. "And don't worry. I'm going to help."
The ghost follows, panicked as I guide her inside. "Mom? I need you!"
Wylder appears in the hallway first, his expression shifting from curious to concerned when he sees me standing in the hall. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Right, he can’t see her.
“Mom and I have a visitor.”
Mom arrives seconds later, fully opaque now, her witch instincts clearly overriding whatever is draining her.
"What is it, petal? You sounded—" She stops mid-sentence, her gaze locked on the girl in our front foyer. "Oh no. Sweet girl, how is this possible?"
“How is what possible?” Wylder asks.
"You know her?" I ask at the same time.
Mom strides closer, studying the spirit with an intensity that makes my stomach drop. "It's the crescent-shaped scar on her chin and the shape of her face." Her voice comes out strained. "Davina? Davina Draven?"
The ghost's eyes widen and she nods frantically.
"Wait." Wylder looks between the space where we’re staring at the ghost and my mother. "Davina Draven went missing over a decade ago."
"Draven… as in Amber Draven? Bitch bully and bane of my existence?” I clarify.
"Her younger cousin." Mom's hand hovers near the ghost's face without quite touching her. I’m not sure if it’s the nearness to another ghost or emotion that makes Mom's form flicker. "Davina was nine when she died."
I study the girl's face. Her features should be those of a child if she'd died ten years ago. "Obviously not."
Mom's expression shifts through shock, then confusion. "No. We searched for her. All of us. Every witch in Emberwood combed this town for months."
"What happened?"
"Nothing." Mom's voice hardens. "Every search turned up empty. No traces, no leads, nothing. The final determination was that something dark and intentional had been done to her if locator spells and divining wouldn't work."
She studies the pitiful form of Davina's ghost. "There were rumors the Draven family was somehow responsible, but I never believed it. It destroyed them."
The pieces click together with sickening clarity. "But if she disappeared when she was nine and looks nineteen now as a ghost…"
"Then she only died recently."
Wylder's scowl darkens. "So, someone kept her prisoner for ten years? How? Where?"
Crimson fury edges my vision as the demon influence surges, feeding my rage like gasoline on fire. Someone took a child. Hid her. Did who-knows-what to her for a decade. And now she's dead.
She never even had a chance at life…
"Poppy." Mom's voice cuts through the thundering buzz of blood rushing in my head. "Breathe, petal."
I try, but seeing the frail rake of a girl in front of me makes it hard. She has the same shape of face as her cousin. And even though I can't stand Amber, it still hurts my heart.
She didn't die ten years ago—she's been alive somewhere this whole time, growing up while everyone thought she was dead. While everyone forgot about her and went on with their lives.
Davina's mouth twists in desperate attempts to speak, her eyes wild and imploring.
