Rowan never expected investigating the mysterious death of Emery Lancaster would lead her into a world where the line between the living and the dead blurs. What begins as a quest for justice quickly takes an unexpected turn when someone tries to stop her investigation with violence, and that’s when Rowan realizes the truth: Emery’s spirit hasn’t truly left. She can see and even interact with her, caught in an impossible bond that deepens with each passing moment.
As Rowan digs deeper, she discovers the investigation is more than just about uncovering a death. It’s about untangling an ancient, dangerous legacy. The more she uncovers about the Kasper family and their connection to Emery’s death, the more entangled she becomes, not just in the mystery, but in her growing bond with Emery’s spirit. Every clue she uncovers reveals another layer of danger and intrigue, and the connection between them intensifies in ways Rowan cannot explain.
What started as a search for answers soon becomes a fight for something much more personal. The line between duty and desire begins to fade as Rowan finds herself falling for Emery in a way that defies reason. As Rowan delves deeper into the family’s dark rituals, she faces an impossible choice. With an ancient sacrifice looming, Rowan must decide how far she’s willing to go to save Emery -- not just as a memory, but as the woman she’s falling for. The more she learns, the more she realizes bringing Emery back may mean defying everything she believes about life, death, and the power of love. But is love between the living and the dead even possible?
"You can see me?" Emery asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
I nodded slowly, my mind racing. A flicker of panic crossed my face. "Am I dead? Have I somehow joined you on the other side?" My voice cracked, uncertainty flooding through me.
I watched as Emery knelt beside me, her hand landing gently on my arm in an attempt to comfort me. I froze, and she did, too, her eyes wide in surprise.
"I don’t know what is happening, or why you can see or hear me, and more curious, how I can touch you without my hand going through you," Emery said, her voice slower now, unsure. "But I don’t think you’re dead."
I couldn’t stop the question from coming out. "How do you know?" I asked, a rush of doubt and fear stirring inside me.
Without a word, Emery reached for my soaked sweater and tugged at the shoulder, pulling it aside to expose the bare skin. My breath caught in my throat, but I didn’t stop her. She looked at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re not marked," she said, her voice filled with something like relief.
I blinked at her, confused. "Marked?" I asked.
Emery hesitated for a moment before pulling back the sleeve of her own colorful sweater, the same sweater she wore in life, and now permanently in death. A dark marking covered her shoulder -- something black and intricate. A black rose, permanently inked into her skin. She showed it to me with an almost wistful look on her face.
"Everyone I’ve interacted with that’s dead ... they’ve had this marking. You don’t, so I don’t think you’re dead," she explained softly.
I looked at her shoulder, then back to mine, and the weight of her words sank in. "That’s ... comforting?" I said, unsure of what to feel.
“So, am I just crazy then?” I half-smiled, trying to make sense of this, trying to laugh through my own puzzlement.
Emery giggled, the sound light and sweet, even in death she had a gentle presence. "Now that’s a great question," she said with a bright smile. "But I’m not sure I have the answer to that."
“I don’t understand what is going on,” I said, the sound of defeat lingering on the words.
She looked me over for a moment before continuing, her voice a little more thoughtful. "The best I’ve got is that you almost drowned. I saw you, thought you were dead, and maybe you were for a minute, allowing me to interact with you. But then when you woke back up, you weren’t translucent like we are.”
I looked at her with mild confusion. "You’re not translucent," I replied.
Emery looked down at her hands, a cloud of uncertainty settling over her features. "This is actually new," she laughed lightly, though there’s a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. "I’m not sure why I’m appearing this way to you."
The questions continued to flood my mind. "Did you see who did this to me?"
She shook her head. "No. I didn’t see anyone. I just saw you in the water, but nobody was around."
A chill ran down my spine, and I looked at her, realizing how little we both knew. "Wait. Do you know what happened to you?" I asked, remembering the case.
She shook her head again, frustration creeping into her voice. "I truly don’t. I just know that I went out to the river, like I often did for some peace and quiet. Someone came up behind me, hit me over the head ... and I went out."
I froze. "That’s what happened to me, too," I said quietly, feeling the weight of the parallel between us.
Emery smiled grimly. "Except you didn’t die."
I swallowed hard. "Thanks to you," I said, my voice a little shaky.
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who are you, anyway? What do you know about me?"
I took a breath and told her, "My name is Rowan, and I’m investigating your murder."
"How long has it been? I have no concept of time anymore,” she told me, her voice filled with melancholy.
"Fifty years," I responded.
Her eyes widened even more. "Well, you aren’t very good at this, I guess," she says, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
