My sister is missing, which is unusual, and my father is gone, which is not. My childhood home is shabby and smells of smoke, unchanged in the years since I left. The only difference is the thick layer of dust that marks my sister’s extended absence.

I sit by a window and wait for my father to return. He always returns, eventually. In my reflection, moonlight gleams against my silver hair. If anyone were to pass by, they might mistake me for a spirit. If they were to recognize me, it would cement the suspicion.

No one passes. A muck heap blocks my view of everything except the tall barricade that surrounds the town. The carefully constructed sheets of metal stretch toward heaven, a constant reminder of the restraints designed to keep us safe.

For the same reason, men lock their wives and daughters up at night. But the demons they so fear come at all hours and are never seen. A fence and locked door can’t change that.

A lanky man bumbles past the muck heap, tipsy. He trips over a downed pole, the thick wooden kind that once connected power lines. It’s been useless since before I was born.

I’m silent in the shadows as he stumbles inside. He carries more wrinkles and less hair than the last time I saw him. Work in the fields causes him to wear his years and then some. The scent of liquor is stronger than in my memories. He’s more than tipsy. Good.

His eyes skip over me. Pause. Turn back.

I step towards him and he backs into the wall. With a smile, I take another step. I never held this power in life. He pales. I loom over him, the monster he never thought he’d see again.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice trembles. “I did right by you, I don’t deserve no haunting.”

“Right by me?” The idea makes me laugh.

“He was supposed to protect you! It wasn’t my job no more.”

“You should’ve protected me from him,” I say. “He’s the only monster I ever met.”

“I saw his body. He died fighting to protect you.”

He died cowering from me, but my father would never believe it. “That’s not why I’m here. Where’s Miriam?”

“Married.”

My chest seizes. To hide the tremble in my fingers, I unsheathe a black dagger from my hip. “She’s too young.”

He winces. “The Church had to take action and change the rules. The demons have stolen too many women from around town. You among them.”

“You could have given her more time.” The Church manages the laws, but fathers manage their daughters. He’s always had a choice, even when he pretended not to.

“This guy’s a good one. He’ll protect and care for her better than I ever could.”

“Did she beg for more time?” I spit.

“She wasn’t like you. She wanted to marry.” He looks at his scuffed boots. “I shouldn’t have given you to that man. You deserved better, someone who could protect you. But your sister’s marriage is different.”

I squat, dagger extended. “You didn’t listen. I warned you and I begged you.”

“I thought I was doing what was best. The priest said–”

“You should have done better.” I hold my blade a hairsbreadth from his neck. Spirits can’t touch people, but I can. It would be so easy.

I stand. “Where is she?”

He babbles the directions. I leave him in his fear. By morning, he’ll believe the encounter a drunken dream. Fathers don’t believe their daughters capable of all that much, least of all something they could never do like overcoming death.

*     *     *
I wait across the street from a small house with a black roof and white walls, much like the one I lived in for the period between my wedding and death.

A man with a thick beard and heavy gut steps outside. A petite brunette clad in a loose cream dress follows. I stretch to see her face, but his body conceals her. He turns and she wraps him in an embrace. He presses a kiss to her hair and steps away.

It’s her.

I almost choke. Her stomach is round, protruding. Pregnant.

I could kill him. But that wouldn’t help Miriam in the long run, so I bite my cheek and maintain my composure until he’s out of sight and she’s inside.

I walk across the street, my hair hidden under a hood. I can almost pass for my past self. I knock on her door.

It creaks open and she’s there. A smile puffs her cheeks and forms a little dimple on the left, exactly as I remember. My throat tightens.

“Mir.”

Her face drops and she scrambles back inside. “Stay back!”

“Mir, it’s me. Evie.” I follow her into the dining room and shut the door.

“Evie is dead.”

“Not quite.”

She leans against a table. “The hormones. I’m hallucinating.”

“I’m not dead, not really,” I say. I’m not quite alive either. I don’t fit in among the living or dead anymore, but I don’t want her to know that.

“A spirit then. It must be a spirit,” she murmurs.

“I’m not a spirit and I’m not a hallucination.” I meet her eyes, mirrors of my own, before her gaze flickers away. “Please Mir, I’m here to help you.”

She wraps her arms around her stomach. “You can’t be real. You were stolen away by demons. They found your husband–his body.” She shudders.

“It’s not what you think. The world isn’t what they say it is. It’s hard to explain, but”—I hold out my hand—“I can take you away.”

“I don’t want to leave,” she says.

My hand falls in the rift between us. “But we can go somewhere better, a sanctuary for women like you.” It’s a refuge for living women, protected by women like me. We ensure they’ll never suffer like we have. “We can go together.”

“Together? You’re gone.” She takes a deep breath. “Do you know what it’s like to be alone, with only a father who's never around? It’s hell on Earth. But my husband saved me. And now, well, I have other reasons too.”

The pitter-patter of little feet on a wooden floor comes from above. “Momma?”

“Yes, Jacob?” Miriam glares at me. I stare at my sister, a woman I no longer recognize, and stay silent.

“Can I have breakfast?”

“Sure, baby. I’ll get some breakfast, you get the books ready.” To me, she whispers, “You need to leave.”

“Please, Mir. You don’t have to stay. There’s a better life out there.” I go to touch her but stop short. She’s not ready to know what I am.

She shakes her head. “I have a life here.” She sets a plate on the table, knocking over a flashlight. I’ve only seen such a relic of our past in Church. I pick it up and shake it at her.

“It’s not worth it. Material possessions are nothing compared to the sisterhood that awaits you if you would just–”

She turns on me. “It’s not about that! I have people who depend on me now.”

“That can’t be your kid. I wasn’t gone that long.” I came back before her birthday. She shouldn’t have been married yet, but there’s no way she had a child.

“Maybe not by birth, but he’s mine as surely as this one.” She presses a hand to her stomach. “This may be difficult for you to comprehend, but I built a life that doesn’t revolve around you. Now, I don’t know what this is, spirit, hallucination, whatever, but you need to leave. I don’t need you.”

I spin on my heel and stomp outside. She doesn’t understand, but it’s only a matter of time. I’ll wait.

*     *     *
The next day, I watch over her house from a shadowy position in the alley. There’s a chill in the evening air when she meets her husband outside after work. She asks for an escort to her friend’s.

He wrinkles his brow. “No, this isn’t a good time.”

“You said that last night. I need to visit; she had an accident, and I want to deliver a meal.”

“I’m sorry my love, but I’m exhausted. Maybe tomorrow.”

My sister’s eyes catch on me for a beat before she’s swept inside.

*     *     *
From atop the neighbor’s roof, I watch through a window. My sister sleeps the day away, the pregnancy particularly troublesome. When I concentrate, I can hear each strained breath she takes.

The boy, Jacob, disturbs her every so often. She forces herself up once to set out toy blocks for him and again to make him eggs. The smell almost makes me gag. It’s been so long since I was able to eat anything.

When her husband returns, he hurries up the stairs. He interrupts her greeting. “Where’s dinner?”

“I’m sorry dear, I couldn’t manage it today. The baby–”

“Jacob is hungry. I don’t mind you blowing off some duties while you carry the baby, but dinner is the exception. It’s part of your marriage vow.” I clench my fist, nostrils flaring. How can she not see she would be better off far away from him?

Tears well in her eyes. He sits on the bed and cups her cheek. “I’m not trying to be harsh, my love. But I’ve been in the fields all day, I’m exhausted. I can’t come home just to fix dinner for Jacob. And really, dinner isn’t a complicated matter.”

My sister spots me through the window. She ducks her head and clambers out of bed.

*     *     *
There are other moments, moments of tenderness when he brings home flowers or takes Jacob out so she can rest or brushes the hair out of her face when he holds her close. She never notices me then.

Those are the moments she uses to convince herself she loves him. It’s what I did. But those moments never last. The flowers wilt. Jacob is returned to her care. He pushes her away when he’s had enough.

Late one night, they argue at the dining table. Their shutters are latched, but I can hear each word as though I were beside them.

“Your sister offered to care for him during the day. You can drop him off and pick him up on your way to the fields,” Miriam says.

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me. His care was part of your oath.”

“I can’t keep up his schooling. I’m struggling to even get out of bed in the morning to make him breakfast.”

“He’s my child. I won’t have my sister raise him,” her husband states, as though that should be the end of the discussion.

“He’s our child. And I’m telling you I need help.”

“I’d take care of him myself, but I’m out in the field every day breaking my back to provide everything for you.” Her husband paces, each step heavy on the floorboards. “I don’t get to spend the day at home with him, you do. The least you can do is raise him yourself instead of passing off the responsibility.”

“I–”

“You swore you could handle it,” he shouts.

Miriam storms away. A pot clangs as she grabs it and stalks outside, face tight. Our eyes meet. She spins and hurries away.

This is it. I dart after her.

She doesn’t slow until she reaches the well. Most streets have one so women can go without an escort. She slumps against the stone well, burying her head in her hands.

“Miriam,” I call. She tenses. “Mir.” She looks up. For once, her eyes don’t flicker away.

“What did I ever do to deserve your haunting?” she wails.

I take an unsteady step back. “This isn’t a–I’m not haunting you. I’m trying to protect you.”

Miriam hugs herself. “Are demons after me?”

“Demons aren’t the monsters. Men are. Your husband is.”

She shakes her head. “You’re wrong. He’s trying his best, it’s not easy for him.” After everything, she still can’t see. It’s my fault, for leaving her and forcing her to rely on a man for so long.

“You don’t have to pretend.” I crouch beside her. “I can take you away.”

“There’s nowhere better to go. I have a good husband; he doesn’t hit me like yours did.” I blink twice, stung. Her voice softens. “You need to leave me alone before your presence draws the demons.”

“There is a better place out there, one where you’ll get all the love and support you need. A refuge me and others like me protect.”

She bites her cheek. “Is it far?”

“It would be a journey, but I can get you there safely.”

“I don’t think I could do it. Certainly not with Jacob, he’s too young.”

“Well, it’s a refuge free of men. He wouldn’t be able to come. But–”

“He’s my son, I can’t just leave him,” she exclaims.

“He may seem sweet now, but one day he’ll become a man. A monster. Don’t throw your life away for him.”

“He’s a child, a sensitive one at that. He cried when a bird ran into our window and died. Being a boy doesn’t make him a monster.” She shakes her head with a half laugh. “This is ridiculous; you’re dead. Stop haunting me. I don’t need you.”

“You do need me.”

“You’ve always tried to mold me into a version of you. Even in death, you won’t let me live the way I please. I know you can’t understand, but I love Jacob and I won’t abandon him like you abandoned me.”

“But he’s not even really your kid!” Her nostrils flare and she looks away. I’ve lost her again and I could kick myself. “Mir, I only meant he’s not your responsibility. His father found a new mother for him quick enough in you, I’m sure he’ll find another. I’m sorry–” I lay my hand on her shoulder and she screams. She scrambles back over the broken pavement.

“You touched me! Dead people can’t touch the living!”

“I told you before, I’m not dead.”

She uses a trash can to haul herself to her feet. “What did the demons do to you?”

“Please Mir, I’m trying to help you.”

“Stay back!” Her face strains and she holds her stomach protectively. All I can do is watch as she scurries away, eyes on me until she’s around a corner.

My heart hammers. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Not every woman accepts our offer, but my sister can’t be among their numbers. She should know better. I knew better.

Yet I’m begging to help her and she won’t let me. She turns away the very thing I sought during my marriage. Two weeks after my wedding, I went to my father. He claimed I must have misread the situation. As if anyone could misread the bruises on my body.

I went to the Church next. After our larger societies collapsed, they were deigned our community’s father, our protector against demons. I believed in them.

“Please, I’m terrified of what he’ll do next,” I begged the priest in the pew beside me.

“Your husband comes from a good family. His only interest is in protecting you, he vowed as much on the Bible itself. Maybe you don’t understand what he needs from you.”

“No, that’s not–”

“I’m not blaming you if that’s the case. New marriages often go through a rocky phase, but you must push through.”

“That’s not the problem. If you would listen–”

“I hear you. But if you’re having issues with your husband, you need to speak to him about it privately. Not bring it to us.”

I rolled up my billowing sleeve to present the bruises on my forearms.

The priest clucked his tongue. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs to listen.”

My cheeks heated. This was the same man who slipped my sister and me sugar cubes when we helped clean up after service as children. I hurried from the Church, shamed and hopeless.

If Miriam won’t accept my help, despite all her husband has done, I don’t know what to do. I need my Sisters.

*     *     *
The sanctuary built into a valley is lit by bonfires and torches at all hours. From the top of one of the towers surrounding it, I watch living women roam the streets. No man can sneak up on them. No man can hurt them. Under our protection, they are safe.

“Evie?” a warm voice calls. I turn and greet one of my oldest sisters, the one who saved me. Rebecca. A grin crinkles her nose while her wild silver curls bounce down her back. She embraces me like I’ve been gone for years. “You’re safe.”

“And a failure,” I return. She narrows her eyes. Self-hatred benefits men. “Well, I was unsuccessful.”

She holds me at arm's length. “You must be patient. Some women need more time.”

“I gave her time, but she has a kid.”

Rebecca’s lips tighten. “A boy?”

“Yes.”

“Mothers of men are less likely to accept our invitations.”

“You must have experience with this. What can I do to change her mind?”

“Nothing. We can’t force them to see things our way and every woman must come of her own will or we risk everything we’ve built.”

“I abandoned her once when I died and I won’t do it again. Her husband is terrible, she just doesn’t seem to care. We can’t make an exception for her child, just until he’s older?”

She narrows her eyes. “We cannot compromise our sanctuary for the benefit of one.”

I lower my gaze. “I know. But there has to be something I can do.”

She brushes hair from my eyes. “I’m sorry, Evie. But sometimes we can’t save them.”

“I can’t accept that. If you won’t help me, I’ll ask the Queen of Shadows.”

Rebecca pales. “You can’t.”

“You can’t stop me,” I say. She flinches and I soften. “I’ve heard the stories. I won’t let her take advantage of me.”

“You don’t understand.”

“And you do?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Have you heard of the maiden who begged the Queen of Shadows to save her family?” I nod. It’s a tale dating back almost a century, to the origin of our kind. “She didn’t see any choice, society was crumbling around her. But the Queen took something the maiden can never get back. Her humanity, and with it any connection to her family. They never looked at her the same, even as she led them to safety. She is doomed to an eternal half-life, bringing peace she cannot have to others.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“That’s not enough. She may grant your wish, but will warp it. Make it into something you’ll regret.” Rebecca cups my cheek. “Don’t repeat her mistakes. My mistakes.”

I meet her silver eyes, watery and strained. I never knew. She isn’t just one of the oldest, she is the oldest. The reason any of us exist as we do. “I won’t,” I whisper.

“You have other options.”

I nod, but she’s wrong. The Queen of Shadows is my last chance to save Miriam.

*     *     *
I slip away the next day. I meant what I said, I won’t make Rebecca’s mistakes. I’ll be careful. But I will not give up on my sister.

The Queen of Shadows resides in Inaba, the realm between the living and dead. Time and space work differently here, and I’ve only ever passed through for a few seconds when traveling. I walk through the halls of a castle constructed from her mind in silence, the sounds of my steps swallowed by shadows.

In the belly of the castle, I step into a throne room. The air chills my skin. I rub the goosebumps from my arms and address the woman made of shadows atop her throne.

“Queen of Shadows. I come before you in a time of great need.”

She frowns. “What realm do you hail from?”

“I am a creature of Inaba, like you, but reside in the realm of the living. I am what they have christened a demon.”

“It’s because of me that you flit between realms as easily as birds move through the sky, yet it’s been years since your kind deigned to visit.” She leans forward. “Did you know that?”

I swallow. “I’ve heard the story.”

“The way they tell it, I’m a monster. Yet here you are.”

“As I said, I am in great need. My sister must see the truth of men and their world.”

“I cannot control minds.”

“I don’t expect you to. Just make her see the truth.”

“Like you see?”

“Yes.”

“I make no guarantees, but all women should be given the chance to see, no matter how painful.” She runs a finger along her chin. “I can influence a situation so her husband will freely show where his true loyalties lie. However, the final choice will be hers, not yours.”

“It will have to be enough.” I pause, remembering Rebecca’s warnings. “The men, they won’t be hurt, will they? She won’t forgive me if they are.”

“No, of course not. They will be quite alright.”

“Good. She’ll be better off in our sanctuary; she just needs a little encouragement.”

“Then the deal is done. You’ll be summoned when she’s ready.”

This will save her. She’ll understand, in the end.

*     *     *
There was a time I didn’t understand. When the priest told me I was to blame, I tried to believe him. He was wiser than me and the truth is supposed to hurt. Besides, I believed there were reasons to need a man, protection from demons chief among them. So many women went missing. But as it turned out, the biggest danger was my husband.

I was setting out dinner, potato soup, when he stomped into the house. That wasn’t unusual. But when he stepped into the kitchen, face red and hands fisted at his side, I knew it would be bad.

“You embarrassed me,” he shouted.

“I don’t–”

“John, you went to John.” The priest. Had he believed me after all? “He told me you’re spreading unsavory rumors. About me.”

“I wasn’t–I just–”

In two steps, he grabbed me and pushed me against the wall. My head hit with a resounding crack. His hot breath smelled of alcohol. “You disrespected me publicly. Now they think I can’t even control my own wife, which means I’m not getting a position at the Church.” He slammed a hand above my head. “I deserve a well-mannered woman and instead, I ended up with you. I ought to feed you to the demons myself and try again.”

I raised my arms around my head. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t happen again.” His eyes flashed. “This time, you’ll learn.”

I’d learned how to survive the beatings. Stay silent, don’t fight back, and eventually, they would stop. He’d apologize in the morning, maybe bring home flowers. This time was different.

When his fingers wrapped around my neck, I knew he would kill me. I kicked and tried to scream, but his legs pinned me to the ground and his hand kept me silent. With tear-stricken eyes, I begged him to let go. He didn’t. My lungs emptied and my heart stopped.

And started again. I gulped air. My husband scrambled away, cursing. My veins warmed as a beautiful woman with long silver curls stepped into the room. My savior, summoned by my death.

“What is this?” my husband snarled.

The woman ignored him as she glided forward, stopped, and swooped over me. The warmth in my veins became fire.

The woman pressed the hilt of a black dagger against my palm and whispered, “Take your vengeance and become one of us. A life for a life.”

I took the dagger. I weighed it as I’d often seen men do with hunting knives. It felt like an extension of myself. My husband trembled. I didn’t hesitate.

*     *     *
Atop the tower, I stand guard with Rebecca. A nearby bakery puffs out the scent of sugar and flour. Women parade through the streets in groups, laughing and waving at each other.

“Do you ever wish you were down there?” I ask.

“Our lack of life disturbs the living. It wouldn’t be the same if we were,” Rebecca says.

“That’s not what I meant.”

She considers. “It can be difficult to watch them sometimes, knowing we can never be a part of it.”

“They look so happy. I want my sister to be happy, even if we can’t be.”

“You can’t make her want what you want.”

“I just want what’s best for her, and living in that town isn’t it.” I shudder.

“It wasn’t right for you. Do you know for certain it isn’t right for her?”

There’s a gentle tug in my chest. Miriam. Without a word, I follow the tug, passing into Inaba and out, back into the realm of the living in seconds. I step into a dimly lit room that smells of dried blood and feces. A figure rocks in a chair in the corner, and another lays unmoving and uncovered on the bed. Miriam. I freeze in the shadows. This isn’t supposed to happen.

She takes a breath, brought to a half-alive state in my presence. Blood, there’s so much blood. It coats the bed, it coats her. It spots the newborn baby cradled in her husband’s arms. Miriam prods a gaping wound in her stomach.

My stomach curls. Is this what the Queen of Shadows wrought? A birth with only one survivor? I wanted her to be happy, to live for herself like I no longer can, not join me like this. This is too high a cost for her to see the truth of men.

Her husband bolts up. “Mir?”

She blinks at him. “The baby?”

“Healthy,” he says. She reaches up. Slack-jawed, he tucks the baby into her arms and tucks a blanket around her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mir.”

Miriam cradles the baby against her chest, cheek pressed to their fuzzy hair. “Why?”

I can fix this. She can still join me. I step into view. “He killed you.”

She stares at him with wide eyes. He tugs at his collar. “The doctor, he did his best, but we couldn’t save both of you.”

“You chose the baby over her.” I take her hand, so small. “I died at the hand of my husband, too. But you don’t have to stay dead.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” I press the handle of a fresh black dagger into her palm. “Take your vengeance and become one of us. A life for a life.”

She pinches the hilt between her fingers. “Excuse me?”

“Kill him or you’ll die.” I glare at her husband. “I’m sorry Mir, but it’s the only way. You deserve to live.” A half-life is better than no life.

“Momma?” Jacob peers in through the doorway, wild blond curls falling in his eyes.

“Jacob, baby.” She drops the dagger and reaches for him. I scoop the dagger up as he climbs into the bed beside her and peers at the baby. Miriam smiles at them and pulls them close. “Meet your little brother.”

Jacob giggles and presses a kiss to the baby’s head. He pretends to gag. “He stinks!”

Miriam’s smile drops, and she holds the children a little tighter. “It’s not him. I don’t think I have much time left.”

Jacob stares up at her. “You leave?”

“Remember the bird that flew into the window?”

Jacob nods, serious. “Birdy in a forever sleep.”

“I think momma’s going to forever sleep.”

“No!” His tiny hands fist in her hair. Her husband and I can only stare. “Momma can’t. Momma can’t go away.”

She presses her nose to his head. “I don’t want to, baby.” She stares at the knife in my hand. “What happens if I … take revenge?”

“You’ll become like me. You’ll live. It’ll be a good life,” I insist.

“Can I stay with my children?”

My heart thuds. “No.”

“Can I bring them with me?”

“No.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Jacob, I love you. Don’t ever stop being kind. And look after your brother. He’s going to need you to teach him how to be kind, too.” To her husband, she says, “Take care of them. Raise them well.” He pales and nods.

I shove the dagger at her. “Mir, you can’t let your life go to waste.”

“I won’t leave my children parentless.”

“They’re men. They’ll be monsters one day, and then what will you have died for?” My voice breaks.

“They're children, not monsters. They can be anything.” Her eyes glisten.

She’s not going to do it. I’ve doomed her by trusting the Queen of Shadows. She has to do it. I grab her shoulders. “Please, I need you.”

“I’m sorry, Evie. But I believe in my children.” She falls against the bed, as dead as when I arrived.

“Momma,” Jacob wails. “Don’t sleep!”

I glare at her husband. “Do you understand what you've done? I ought to kill you.” I stalk towards him.

Wet-eyed, he says, “I love her.” I pause. He may have been a cause, but so was I. So desperate for her to have everything I can’t, I didn’t listen to what she wanted. I glance back at her body.

Jacob sobs against her chest. The baby cries. Miriam’s arms are still wrapped around them. Her children and her wishes are all that’s left.

“I’ll spare you because that’s what she wanted. But if you step out of line, if you don’t do right by her memory, I will return,” I say.

He blinks against tears and nods.

“Raise those boys to do better, and you won’t see me again. Prove her right about them.” I hope she’s right.