“She’s no ordinary ghost, that seems certain,” he says. “I know. Something’s made her stronger.” “The way she died?” he asks. “I’m not sure. From what I’ve heard, she was just murdered like so many others. Throat slit. But now she’s haunting her old house, killing whoever steps inside, like some goddamn spider.”

“You do know what we’re dealing with here, don’t you?” I ask. “She’s not just a ghost. She’s a hurricane. Overkill is fine by me.”

“He says you kill ghosts for a living. Like you’re a ghostbuster or something.” “I’m not a ghostbuster.”

“I love her.” “She’s dead.” “That doesn’t mean to me what it does to other people.”

“I’m not afraid. Despite the searing between my eyes andthe knowledge that something is coming for me, somethingthat could easily rip out my spleen and pop it like a waterballoon, I am not afraid. She’s with me. She’s my purposeand we’re going to save each other. We’re going to saveeveryone. And then I’m going to convince her that she’ssupposed to stay here. With me.”

“She doesn't like to talk about him, and I know that she hasn't been the same since he died. She's not quite here anymore; there's something missing in all of her smiles, like a blurry spot or a camera lens out of focus. Part of her followed him, wherever it was he went.”

“I don't believe that." She seems like suck a force,this reasonable girl who kills with a turn of her fingers. She would have left all this behind, if she had the chance. "I honestly don't remember," she sighs "I don't think I was strong in life. Now it seems like I loved every moment, that every breath was charmed and crisp." she clasps her hands comically to her chest and breaths in deep through her nose, then blows it out in a huff. "I probably didn't. For all my dreams and fancies, I can't recall being...what would you call it? Perky?”