Excerpt: The Threads That Bind

A white shape fluttered on the other side of the room, too bright in the darkness to be any normal object illuminated by the faint moonlight floating in through one of the high, unshuttered windows. It swayed as if it were a piece of cloth hung to dry, as if a breeze had blown in and were tugging it gently away from a clothesline.

Suddenly, it stopped and jerked into a more solid form. A thin white child stood across the room, staring at Esa with round, terrified eyes. She sat up slowly and stared back at it, but it seemed to look past her, not seeing her at all. It raised one silver hand up to its face and touched its forehead with three fingers, the details of its features unnaturally clear and distinct in the darkness. It was colorless, but Esa could tell that the ghost had had dark hair in life, and its dress was mud stained and tattered, with a wide tear in one sleeve.

She tried to curse at it, find some words to send it away, but she could not speak. It moved forward, half walking and half floating. The thing stopped halfway across the room, and then lowered its head and began to weep. It made a low, snuffling sound, a sound of loneliness and misery.

"Go away," Esa finally managed to croak out in a whisper. Her breath came out in a cloud, as if the room had become suddenly much colder than it had any right to be.

The ghost child looked up. But it wasn't looking at Esa. It was looking at the small sleeping mound beneath the covers next to her. Suddenly, its face grew hungry, like the face of one of the refugees who had gone without food or shelter for too many days. The ghost rushed forward in an instant, arms stretched out towards Norina's unconscious form.