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Mad Marija.

Anger rushes down around me, making my cheeks burn. “My mom wasn’t crazy.”

Davor raises his hands defensively. “Well, mad or not, it wasn’t right to abandon her family like that.”

“What do you think she should have done, then? Stay here and suffer from this supposed curse?”

He ponders this. “If it were me . . . I would have found some way to kill the bitch.”

That’s it. I’ve had enough of this nonsense. With an exasperated huff, I turn and march away. “You’re wrong. About all of it.”

“Believe what you want, Klarin girl,” Davor calls behind me. “But if I were you, I’d be careful while you’re here, especially—”

But his voice is cut off by the clang of the iron fence shutting behind me.

A dark cloud hovers over my thoughts as I walk up the road.

Why didn’t my mom tell me that she grew up surrounded by people who thought some . . . dark spirit killed my dad? Was that the reason she never wanted to come back? I always assumed it was grief, but maybe this played a part as well. I would’ve understood somewhat—I’d want to avoid this place too if people thought my home was haunted and my family cursed. But as with all things about her past, she kept so much locked away.

I want to dismiss Davor’s story, but a tinge of fear lingers. I don’t normally have such intense nightmares, nothing like what I’ve had the past two nights. Was it merely a coincidence, or could it actually be something . . . more?

I pause when I reach a crossroads marked by hand-painted signs. To the right is the path to Lavender House. To the left, Slatinica Beach. The way to the mora’s “home.”

A mixture of curiosity and stubborn pride tugs me to the left. I need to see this for myself.

This road is more rugged, with only trees beyond the drystone walls flanking it on either side. My sandals are not the best for this terrain, but I manage, picking my way carefully.

After about fifteen minutes, I reach an open field. A peculiar structure rises from the earth on the other side, made of layer upon layer of stacked stones, culminating into a dome. It must be the bunja. A dark doorway pierces its front like a gaping maw, ready to swallow its entrants whole.

I shiver despite the heat. It’s nothing, I tell myself. Just some old shelter.

Carefully, I move closer, the dry grass crunching beneath my feet. When I’m about ten feet away, I crouch, peering into the darkness within. From what I can tell, the dome is empty.

But then a faint sound floats toward me, a whisper on the breeze. It drifts from the bunja in bursts, like sobs. Like a woman crying.

My heart picks up pace. I’m about to leave when a sudden force slams into me. I fall backward, hitting the ground hard. Pain shoots up my leg, but it’s not that I’m focused on.

A figure hovers in the entrance of the bunja. I recognize the slanting shoulders, long, dark hair. It’s her—the same woman from my nightmare. She’s glaring right at me, her eyes two endless pits drilling into mine. The air warps around her soulless stare, pressing against my skin, making my lungs constrict. Icy terror cloaks my body like a sheet.

With a jerk of my head, I break contact, then scramble to my feet and run.

I don’t stop until I reach the harbor, the decision already formed in my mind. I’m not sure if what I saw was real, but I’ve had enough—the chilling encounters, the rude locals, and now the silly superstitions about my family. My grandmother’s creepy house. I should have accepted it when I first arrived: I don’t belong here and never will.

I need to get off this island—now.

I hurry toward the ferry ticket booth. I’d seen a man sitting inside earlier, but now he’s gone. “Hello? Can I get some help?” I call out, even though the small shack is clearly empty.

After a few moments of waiting, searching the perimeter, a burly man in a white tank top saunters up with a cigarette in his hand. “What do you need?” he asks in curt Croatian.

“I want to buy a ticket,” I reply.

He shakes his head. “No ferry.”

“What?”

“The ferry left. Next one is tomorrow.”

My heart drops at the idea of another night in Karmela’s house. “Okay. I’ll buy one for tomorrow.”