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“Tell me why you allow your daughter to be overmedicated.”
Her eyes widen. “What are you talking about?”
I lift her off her feet, making her gasp. “Why doesn’t Amethyst remember anything from before the age of ten?”
She shakes her head.
“Don’t give me that car accident bullshit.”
“Who are you?” she rasps.
“I’m the one asking the questions.”
Melonie flops about, her nails digging into my fingers, trying to pry them off her neck. Her eyes bulge, and her face darkens to a deep shade of purple. There’s more to Amethyst’s past than a simple car accident, and based on her mother’s level of stubbornness, what she’s hiding has to be big.
Amethyst’s footsteps thunder down the hallway, and she grabs at my arm. “Stop it. You’re killing her.”
“Stay out of this.”
“You can’t go around hurting people for fun,” she screams.
“Watch me.”
Sharp pain slices into my arm. My glare snaps to the source of the disturbance, and I find Amethyst holding a knife.
I release her mother’s neck, letting her crumple to the floor, and turn to glare at my naughty little ghost. “Why would you defend your long-time abuser?”
Amethyst backs away, using her little kitchen knife as a shield. “Get away from her.”
I flash her a grin. “Girls who attack their masters get punished.”
“T-Try it and I’ll carve out your eyes.”
Warmth fills my chest, and I suppress the urge to chuckle. I can’t mock my pretty little ghost’s attempts to be ferocious. It’s this kind of fire she’ll need to survive.
“You bastard,” screeches a voice from behind.
A weight lands on my back. It’s Melonie scaling me like a demented koala, trying to get me into a neck lock. Resisting the urge to throw her over my shoulder and onto the stairs, I slam us both backward into the wall.
“Stop!” Amethyst screams, charging at me with the knife.
“That’s not very nice, little ghost.” I grab her wrist and squeeze, making her drop her weapon. “But it’s a start. You need to activate that killer instinct all the time. Not just when someone’s life is under threat.”
Her gaze darts to the left, just as light footsteps disappear into the living room. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Melonie’s pathetic attempt to gather a weapon.
She’ll probably return in a few moments brandishing a liquor bottle to smash over my head. I’ll disarm her and continue the interrogation, but I’m more interested in reigniting her daughter’s violent urges.
“Well, I know you’re capable of far worse,” she says through panting breaths. “My mom might have her problems, but she doesn’t deserve your brand of sadism.”
A gust of wind blows in from behind, drawing my attention away from Amethyst. As I turn back toward the living room, she screams, “Mom, run!”
Shit.
Breaking into a run, I burst through the door to find Melonieescaping through the living room window. By the time I vault across the wooden floor, she’s already slithered out into the street.
I whirl around and charge back to the hallway. Amethyst is already racing out through the front door in her silk gown, chasing down her escaping mother and stopping her from disappearing into her vehicle. Mrs. Crowley jerks her arm away and sticks a finger into Amethyst’s face. The pair screech at each other like a pair of savage birds, filling the street with the sound of their chaos.
Neighbors from across the road stand in their doorways, watching the mother-daughter showdown. I skulk behind the door, debating whether I should rush out and scoop up my little ghost.
