Chapter 2
SINCE MALCOLM’S CALL, I’ve drifted in and out of consciousness. I know I must move, crawl if I can’t walk, stay awake if I can’t do either.
But my eyelids are so heavy. The icy dread that fills the room makes it difficult to breathe. The ghost isn’t letting down its guard this time around. Forming complete thoughts is a challenge, never mind forming a plan to escape this thing. My head aches every time I try.
I know my grandmother faced such ghosts during her life. I remember a showdown in an old barn on the outskirts of Springside when I was barely eight. I remember that particular ghost lifting my grandmother as if her bones were hollow and tossing her into an empty stall.
We hadn’t even used coffee to defeat it, although we’d started there. We always started there. All gho
