Like a marionette, I lurched toward Marie.
“Nothing
I need from you, cher.” She waved her hand, cutting my strings. I fell,
twisting in time to see Nate slam into the priest.
Screams
overlaid music I knew well – a lullaby of childhood, a spell of
protection. Free, my mother’s spirit tore through his, burning his
essence in a final act of retribution.
Her ghost appeared, young
and beautiful. “One last souvenir, bébé.” Icy kiss from insubstantial
lips seared like fire. I slumped, gutter fallen, rain washed, a new mark
throbbing just behind my ear.
Nate coughed blood, then was still.
___________
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