I almost jumped out of my skin. "You're dead."
She laughed, a tinkling sound. I remembered her laugh. Used to hate it more than anything in this world. But now, it felt different. Light hearted, without malice.
What the hell?
"I assumed you'd show up long before now." She drifted toward me, looking solid and as real as ever. It had been seven years since I killed her. How was she standing here, perfect black bangs shining in the low light, ice-blue eyes sparkling, flawless, porcelain skin ghostly? She wore the same robe she was wearing the night I killed her.
I did kill her. Right?
"Been a little busy living my life." This was impossible. And yet, when she pulled herself up beside me, I reached out and touched her hand.
Solid. Real.
Oh. My. Swearword.
"Don't worry," she said with a
