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The dead girl’s smile broadens. “Just keep going,” she encourages. “You’re going to need a lot more for when the other one arrives.”
Other one? I blink through the smoke filling the room, wondering how high I am, wondering what’s real, if she’s even real, if I’m even real. Then I spot her, lurking in the midst of the smoke. Not my dead girl, but another. One with fiery red hair, who looks just like the woman Sage was kissing on the porch earlier. The only difference.
She’s now dead.
Moments later, I hear sirens.
The red-headed dead girl laughs as she stares at Sage. “I can’t wait to make him pay.”
I’m not exactly sure what she means, but a slimy chill slithers up my spine. And the last time I felt this kind of sensation, I ended up with blood on my hands.
