Chapter 3

Reverend Lester arrived two days later, his black car kicking up dust as it pulled into our driveway. He stepped out, a tall man in a cheap suit, carrying a worn leather bag. He had an air of authority that immediately captivated my parents.

He didn't even need to come inside. He stood on the porch, closed his eyes, and took a deep, theatrical breath.

"There is a disturbance here," he declared, his voice booming. "A spirit is unquiet. There has been a recent passing, yes?"

My mother nodded eagerly. "My husband' s mother. She passed last week."

The Reverend' s eyes opened, and they seemed to look right through the walls of the house. "And her burial... was it proper? Was it done with respect?"

My parents exchanged a nervous glance.

"We... we took care of it," my father stammered.

Reverend Lester performed a show of a "reading," waving his hands in the air and muttering to himself. Then, his arm shot out, his finger pointing straight up the hill behind our house.

"The disturbance comes from there," he announced. "From sacred ground. An improper burial has taken place in the old church cemetery. This has unleashed a negative influence on your home."

My heart stopped. My blood turned to ice. He knew.

His eyes, sharp and predatory, swiveled from the hill and landed directly on me. I was standing in the doorway, trying to make myself small.

"It was her," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The girl. She is the vessel of this misfortune. She is the one who caused it."

All the air left my lungs. It was happening.

My mother' s face twisted into a snarl of pure fury. "You!" she screamed, lunging at me. "You did this! You defied me!"

My father, no longer passive, grabbed my arms and pinned them behind my back. He was surprisingly strong. I struggled, but he held me fast.

"We told you to dump her in the lot!" my mother shrieked, her eyes wild. "You brought this curse on us!"

She looked around the living room, her eyes landing on the heavy cast-iron pan she had threatened me with before. She snatched it from the counter.

"I' m going to beat this curse out of you," she snarled, raising the pan high above her head.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the blow. This was it. They were going to kill me.

CRACK!

A sound like a gunshot exploded through the house. But it wasn' t the pan hitting my head.

I opened my eyes. The large picture window in the living room had shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the floor. A violent, unnatural gust of wind ripped through the house, extinguishing the candles Reverend Lester had lit and making the temperature plummet.

The lights flickered once, twice, and then died, plunging us into a sudden, chilling darkness.

"The spirit!" Reverend Lester shrieked, his composure completely gone. He was genuinely terrified. "The offended spirit is here! It' s in the house!"

He scrambled back, tripping over his own feet.

"You have to move the body!" he yelled at my parents, his voice cracking with panic. "Dig her up and move her now! Or we will all be doomed!"

My mother dropped the pan with a loud clang. The three of them stood frozen, staring into the darkness where the window used to be.

The cold in the room wasn't just wind. It felt alive. It felt angry.

And in the deepest part of my soul, I recognized it.

It was Grandma Stella.