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He snuffs out his cigarette and saunters over. “Davor Bondulić. I used to work for your family, making lavender oil. Before Karmela shut the business down.” He glares as if this decision was mine.

Nodding toward my dad’s grave, he adds, “Nasty business, that curse.”

I blink, unsure I’ve heard correctly. “Curse?”

“That’s what killed Jadran. Many of the others too.”

“My dad died of pneumonia.”

He shakes his head. “Your family was always scared to speak the truth.”

“What are you talking about?”

His expression grows serious. “Your father was killed by a mora.”

“Mora?” I repeat. “You mean, the sea?”

“No, not mo-re,” he says, enunciating the syllables. “Mo-ra. From noćna mora. Nightmare.”

A chill skates down my spine as I think of the bad dreams I had the previous nights. “What do you mean exactly?”

“A mora. An evil spirit, born from a witch and disguised as a beautiful woman.” At my blank stare, he goes on. “They come to your bed at night and sit on your chest so you can’t move and give you nightmares. They feed off fear, you see. That’s how they stay alive, grow strong. They can take more too, sucking at your life energy until you’re dead. And they can change shape, turning into creatures like a cat, a mouse, a fly. That’s how they get into your room, through openings, even ones as small as a keyhole. Are you following?”

I remain silent, but my body stiffens with the memory. The weight pressing me into the mattress. The shadowy silhouette hovering above me.

“They are often found near the sea,” Davor continues. “Their names being similar, as you noticed. Now, this mora came to Tolba many years ago, and when she saw your ancestor Nikola Klarin, she fell madly in love. He was good-looking, apparently. And a mora is a very lustful creature.”

I think of the photo of Nikola, his cool eyes staring back at me.

“During the day, she hounded him, trying to seduce him. But it didn’t work. When he got engaged to someone else, the mora didn’t like that. She got angry, jealous. About a year after the wedding, Nikola’s wife suddenly died, some sickness or whatever, they said. But it was really the mora getting her revenge. She wanted to break Nikola’s heart, like he broke hers. Only, she didn’t stop there.”

Davor leans closer. “Ever since then, she’s preyed on your family. That’s how your grandfather Šime died. Your father too.”

Indignation rises in me. “My grandfather died of heatstroke.”

His gaze hardens, the brown of his eyes deadening to black. “Your mother tell you that?”

I’m about to retort, but a sudden thought stops me—my mom was a liar. She wouldn’t lie about that, though.

Would she?

When I say nothing, he smirks. “Tell me, why is there a horseshoe hanging above your front door?”

I cross my arms, recalling how I’d noticed it when I first arrived. “I don’t know.”

“Because it’s made of iron, and iron is harmful to a mora. It hurts them, makes them mortal, so they can be killed. Your family acts like nothing is wrong, but one of them, years ago, must’ve believed in the mora and put it up there.”

Bristling with disbelief, I ask, “Has anyone actually seen this mora?”

“I haven’t, luckily. But others have. She only killed in Kuća Lavanda, but sometimes she tormented other people. They say she wears a red crown, the same one brides here used to wear at their weddings. Because she wanted to marry Nikola. She hasn’t been seen in years though, thank heavens, not since your mother left.”

He points back toward the main road. “If you don’t believe me, take the trail toward Slatinica, for about fifteen minutes or so. You’ll see the bunja where she used to live. I wouldn’t get too close though. Just in case.”

I stare toward the cemetery gate. I don’t know what a bunja is, but it doesn’t matter—all I can focus on is how absurd this all is. My dad wasn’t killed by some fantastical spirit. Not my grandfather either, or the rest of my ancestors. This must be some folktale, nothing more, believed by the same kind of people who claim Sasquatch or ghosts are real.

“That whole story is ridiculous.”

Davor’s eyes narrow. “Why do you think your mother left and never came back? I remember seeing her around town, with these big dark circles beneath her eyes. Haunted, she was, by the mora.” He shakes his head. “According to the doctor, she had some sort of breakdown after your father’s death. Luda Marija, some people called her.”