“You know where it is?” That was a shocker.
He gave me a sidelong glance. “I’ve lived here most of my life, Blissful.”
I quirked a shoulder. “That doesn’t mean you know every nook and cranny.”
“Trust me, there are plenty of those to avoid.”
I laughed and followed him through the forest. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and held it at the ready. Apparently I needed to take a picture to prove I’d seen the banshee.
I was so lost in thought that when Roan said sharply, “Blissful,” I nearly jumped from my skin.
“Whatsabeech!”
“What?”
I rubbed my temple. “I don’t like to cuss. You know that.”
Roan smiled. “It’s just so cute. I could pinch you.”
I shielded my waist. Pinching was as bad as tickling in my book. Anything that made me vulnerable usually made my hands cock into fists, ready to punch.
“No pinching,” I commanded.
He raised his hands in surrender. “Got it. No pinches. Probably no tickling, either.”
“May I remind you that we’re here on serious—”
A scream split the air. My gaze locked with Roan’s.
“Someone found the banshee,” I said.
Before Roan had the chance to say anything, I darted toward the sound, expecting to find the spirit.
I raced down a steep incline until I reached the covered bridge. There, looming on the other side, floated a glowing figure.
“The banshee,” I whispered.
The woman had dark hair that streamed all around her. Her clothes were no more than a white halo engulfing her lower half. The banshee opened her mouth and wailed. Then she darted across the bridge and stopped right in front of me.
Her dark eyes were like black pits, and her lips parted, revealing a hole that resembled a tunnel more than a mouth.
“Death,” she said in an eerily high-pitched voice. Then the banshee darted back across the bridge as if she’d been pulled on a rope. A moment later she vanished.
“Wow,” I said.
My leg brushed up against something. I glanced down to see a figure on the ground. It was one of the older ladies—I could tell by the white hair.
“Roan, I need help!”
“I’m here.”
He appeared and flipped the figure onto her back. It was Cora from Birda’s group. Her eyes gazed at the sky. There was no life in them.
I rested my hand on Roan’s shoulder. “CPR?”
Roan shook his head. He pointed to Cora’s neck. “CPR won’t work. That looks like a strangulation mark.”
His eyes darkened. “Cora was murdered.”
