Chapter 2: Blood on the Snow, Ghosts at the Door

Grandpa took down the old shotgun from the wall.

He checked the chamber, hands steady, then slung it over his shoulder. The gun looked heavy, but Grandpa carried it like it was nothing.

He reminded us, "No matter what, stay inside."

His eyes swept over us, making sure we understood. I nodded, clutching the caramel in my pocket.

"Got it, Grandpa."

I tried to sound brave. But my voice wobbled.

"Got it, Dad."

Travis’s answer was quick, but he wouldn’t meet Grandpa’s eyes.

Grandma nodded, not happy about it. She pursed her lips, crossing her arms.

She pressed her mouth into a thin line. I could tell she wanted to argue, but she held her tongue.

Once he heard us answer, Grandpa finally felt safe enough to leave.

He stood in the doorway a moment, shotgun in hand, then stepped out into the snow. Boots crunching with every step.

As soon as Grandpa was gone, Grandma pulled on her boots. Getting ready to go out.

She laced them up tight, muttering under her breath. Her hands shook, but her eyes were fierce.

I said, "Grandma, don’t go. Duke’s changed—he’ll hurt people."

I tugged at her sleeve, voice trembling. The thought of losing her scared me more than any wild dog.

Grandma said, "If Duke’s gonna hurt anyone, it’s you all, not me. I’ve always been good to him."

She patted my cheek, her touch gentle. "He knows who loves him."

Uncle Travis said, "Mom, now that Duke’s gone wild, it doesn’t matter anymore."

He leaned against the wall, arms folded, but his eyes were red-rimmed. "Don’t be stupid."

Grandma said, "I don’t believe it. I raised him all these years."

She straightened her shoulders, chin up. "He’s still my dog."

With that, she headed for the door. Grabbed the laundry basket.

She grabbed the laundry basket, balancing it on her hip, and marched outside without looking back.

I grabbed her jeans, begging her not to go.

"Please, Grandma, stay inside!" I pleaded, but she shook me off, determined.

Grandma shook me off. "People shouldn’t be afraid of animals."

She ruffled my hair, forcing a smile. "Fear’s what makes them dangerous."

She slung the laundry basket over her shoulder. Walked out.

The door banged shut behind her, leaving the house colder than before.

"Uncle, why won’t Grandma listen?"

I turned to Travis, hoping he’d have an answer that made sense.

Uncle sighed. "Just hope nothing happens. If she gets hurt, there’s nothing we can do. She’s stubborn as a mule."

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. "Always has been."

A couple hours crawled by.

The clock ticked slow, every minute dragging. I sat by the window, watching the snow fall, praying Grandma would come back safe.

Grandpa came back with Mrs. Mallory. As soon as she stepped into the yard, she said, "The air here’s thick with bad energy. Frank, why didn’t you take care of that dog sooner?"

She wore a heavy wool coat and a scarf tied tight around her neck. Her eyes darted from the house to the woods. She shook her head, muttering under her breath.

Grandpa said, "We tried, but Martha wouldn’t let us. That’s why it dragged on."

He looked down, voice heavy with regret. "I should’ve done it sooner."

Mrs. Mallory did some quick divining. Her face went pale.

She pulled a bundle of twigs from her pocket, waving them over the snow. Her lips moved silently, and when she finished, her face was ashen.

"It’s bad. That wild spirit’s already hurt someone."

Her voice was flat, no room for doubt. The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Grandpa said, "Impossible. We’ve all been inside."

He glanced at us, counting heads. "No one’s left the house."

Mrs. Mallory shook her head. "If I say someone’s hurt, someone is."

She fixed Grandpa with a look that dared him to argue. He didn’t.

Just then, our neighbor Dale came running. Looking panicked.

His boots kicked up snow, breath coming in ragged gasps. "Frank! Frank!"

"Frank, something’s wrong! Aunt Martha fell in the river and drowned."

He doubled over, hands on his knees, voice shaking. "I saw her—she’s gone, Frank."

He meant Grandpa when he yelled for Frank. Around here, the neighbors called Grandma "Aunt Martha."

It felt like the world froze. I stared at Dale, not wanting to believe it.

"Don’t talk crazy," Grandpa snapped, angry.

He stomped his foot, fists clenched. "She’s just stubborn, not stupid."

Dale said, "I’m not making it up. I was out by the river and saw her floating there. I recognized her coat—she wears it every day."

His voice broke, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I swear, Frank."

Grandpa stomped his foot. "Damn it, Duke really did her in."

He grabbed his hat, shoving it on his head. Marched toward the door. "Come on."

We all rushed to the riverbank. The snow crunched under our boots.

The snow crunched under our boots, the cold biting at our faces. The river was half-frozen, the current sluggish and dark.

Sure enough, Grandma was floating face-up. Her gray hair fanned over her face.

She looked peaceful, almost asleep, but the sight made my heart ache. Grandpa knelt beside her, hands shaking.

Grandpa cursed, "I told you not to go out, but you just had to. Now look."

His voice broke, and he turned away, shoulders shaking. I’d never seen him cry before.

Uncle Travis nearly collapsed. Dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Oh God, Mom…"

Grandma’s basket was still by the river. Surrounded by muddy paw prints.

The prints circled the basket, deep and fresh. I counted at least a dozen, all different sizes. Duke’s were the biggest.

Just like that, Grandma was gone. The cold seemed sharper.

The cold seemed sharper, the sky darker. I hugged myself, trying to hold back tears.

Mrs. Mallory said, "A face covered in hair is a terrible omen. You have to leave the body out for three days, then burn both body and casket, or she’ll haunt you."

Her voice was matter-of-fact, like she’d seen this a hundred times before. Grandpa just nodded, too tired to argue.

Grandpa said, "We’ll do whatever you say."

He wiped his eyes, squaring his shoulders. "Just tell us what to do."

Mrs. Mallory glanced at Uncle Travis. He nodded quick.

He couldn’t look at her, but he nodded, swallowing hard.

She said, "Eli, call your grandma home."

She looked at me, eyes softening. "It’s important, honey."

I shouted, "Grandma, come home!"

My voice echoed across the water, bouncing off the trees. The river seemed to hold its breath.

Grandma’s body didn’t move.

She floated, still as stone. I bit my lip, fighting back tears.

Mrs. Mallory started chanting. Words lost in the wind.

Her voice rose and fell, strange syllables twisting through the air. The hairs on my arms stood up.

I called again, "Grandma, come home!"

I yelled until my throat was raw, but nothing happened. The world felt empty.

Suddenly, Grandma’s body jerked. Then floated slowly toward us.

Her arms drifted out, fingers curling. Grandpa gasped, reaching out to pull her to shore.

Grandpa picked her up without a word.

He cradled her gently, tears streaming down his face. For a moment, she looked just like she used to—warm, safe, home.