Chapter One

A chill breeze snaked around Miranda Hollander’s bare legs as she lay in bed. Outside her bedroom window, a fierce winter storm ravaged Long Island’s north shore, covering it with a glistening white blanket of snow. The large crystal flakes swirled and danced in the wind, melting as they landed against the windowpane, forming a hazy barrier between her and the world outside.

A cruel world.

Miranda shuddered as the icy breeze crept up her legs. Reaching for the covers, she wrapped them around her body, her movements jerky and restless. She turned on her side, settling her head against the pillow. Soon, her breathing grew deep and even, her mind drifting into darkness, a haven of dream-filled slumber. The comforter slid from her shoulder, inching down her arm, trailing over her hip and legs.

Miranda jerked it back up, tucking it around her shoulders again, her brows knit into a frown as she tugged on the edge of the coverlet.

A minute went by; then another. Miranda’s mind slid into a sleepy, hazy paradise.  She stood on an open field, the fresh fragrance of the newly mown grass drifting by her nose. Delighting in the smell, she lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun and noticed a small boy in the distance. He ran toward her, laughing as his tiny legs ate up the ground beneath him. Joy bubbled up inside her as she ran to meet him; her arms open wide.

She longed to gather him close, to cuddle him, to run her fingers through his soft shiny hair, to sing him a lullaby.

But the more she ran, the further he drifted away. Her frustrated cry matched the wind’s fierce howl outside her window. The wail tore through her, the pain of loss and heartache like a knife, piercing her fragile emotional curtain. She tugged the covers around her in an attempt to warm her body, her mind drifting back into sleep’s haven.

The mattress dipped beside her, then icy fingers danced across her cheeks and nose. Miranda reached for the coverlet, patting the mattress on either side of her legs, only to discover that her warm covering had disappeared.

Miranda jerked awake, focusing on the figure next to her. A woman, dressed in a long white gown sat on the edge of her bed.

Miranda lifted her head from her pillow. “Serena?”

No answer.

Outside, a cloud drifted away from the moon. Soft light glowed through the icy fog lining the windowpane, allowing Miranda to see the outline of the woman’s face, shrouded by a thin, tattered veil.

“Serena, why are you dressed like that?” Miranda blinked once, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

The veiled woman remained seated on the edge of the bed, a bouquet of white roses in her hands.

Strange.

“What’s with the flowers?” Miranda asked.

The pale blossoms radiated an eerie glow, as a blue-white light seemed to emanate from the center of each wilted petal.

Miranda leaned forward and touched her friend’s arm, her heart racing as she watched her hand glide through Serena’s forearm, connecting with nothing but icy air.

Miranda’s eyes widened when Serena’s fingers touched her hand but all Miranda felt was the bone-chilling cold.

Serena leaned down, her face level with Miranda’s. Her frigid breath swirled across Miranda’s cheek; its chill sending shivers down her spine.

“Are you sick?” Miranda whispered.

“Miraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanda....”

Her name drifted through the darkened bedroom, echoing in every corner. The hair on the back of Miranda’s neck rose, followed by small bumps that lined her arms. Her skin prickled in response.

“Miraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanda…”

“Serena, stop it! You’re frightening me.” Miranda sat up, wrenching her hand from the icy cold surrounding it.

She pulled the covers up to her chin, her back pressing against the headboard, her body trembling.

Serena snatched the covers away, exposing Miranda to the cold air.

“He’s coming, Miranda.”

Miranda’s body shook violently. It didn’t sound like her friend at all. Who was this woman? Miranda looked around for something, anything she could use to defend herself against this stranger…this intruder. She reached over and grabbed the water pitcher on her nightstand, hurling it straight at the woman’s head.

It sailed through her, landing on the carpet at the end of the bed. Miranda opened her mouth to scream when the strange woman spoke again in that low, monotone voice.

“He’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Miranda whispered, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat; it burned as it made its way back down to her stomach. The police never caught Jordan’s murderer. Is that who the woman spoke of?

Miranda’s breath escaped her lungs, forming small white puffs in the air around her. She trembled as the cold permeated every pore, its icy fingers digging into her tender flesh.

Her bedroom door opened, the wood creaking against the hinges. Then a familiar voice from childhood touched her ears.

“Miranda, are you okay?”

Her eyes flew to the doorway where the lone figure of a woman stood, a candle in her hand.

Serena!

Miranda’s eyes widened as the bed dipped once more. The strange woman rose to her feet, her tattered veil brushing Miranda’s cheek as she swirled before her, vanishing into thin air.

Miranda heard a scream, a loud piercing wail, only to realize it came from her.