only stared, his drink never far from his lips. When at last someone spoke, it was she: ‘I missed you, Father. I couldn’t bear another day without the sight of you, so I had to come back.’
“The sound of her sweet words startled him. Until that moment, he had thought of her as a mirage, but the voice made her real to him. He tried to stand up, nearly fell to the floor in the attempt, then collapsed back into the soft leather of the armchair with a grunt-filled laugh. ‘My daughter! My beautiful daughter! You have come home to see me!’
“His words were slurred, but she understood him well enough, and a smile graced her ruby lips.
“The blood from the previous night’s kills had vanished, her dress again the purest white, unblemished by death. She was truly a vision. Her flowing blond hair waved in the breeze, the moonlight shone brilliantly on her otherwise waxy skin. Her teeth were as white as her gown. And her eyes glowed. When she spoke again, her father looked up, his eyes bloodshot. ‘Father, it has been so long. And it is so cold and lonely out here. May I come in and warm myself by your fire?’
“Her father must have sensed something was amiss for even in his drunken state her request gave him pause. Studying her as she stood at the threshold of his ill-gotten house, he took another drink of aqua vitae, then replied, ‘Why can you not come in, then? Who is stopping you?’
“She remained at the door, looking in, but did not venture closer. It was then that he noticed something bizarre; even though her dress and hair moved with the breeze, the branches of the tree a few feet behind her did not. It was as if the air found purchase with her and nothing else. He again raised his glass to his lips, but this time he did not drink. Fear began to grow within his breast, and the haze brought on by the alcohol was little match for it. ‘My daughter is dead,’ he spat. ‘She cast herself down upon the rocks rather than service her husband as any good wife should. She is a disgrace upon this family. You are a disgrace upon this family. And you are not welcome here, whatever you may be.’
“His daughter stood there, unable to enter, the look of love upon her face transforming to one of hate, her eyes taking on the red of flaming embers. ‘If you will not welcome me in, I will wait out here for you. I have nothing but time.’
“‘I am a patient man, my daughter, with no reason to leave.’
“And he did not leave. He remained in that house; food was brought to him. And he dared not venture out even when he realized she only came during the hours of night. When daylight came, and she was nowhere to be seen, he supposed it was a trick to lure him outside.
“They continued this game for a full month. Each night he would open his front door and sit himself in front of the fire and wait for her, but he would never invite her in. They would speak only through the open door as he drank and cursed her in death with as much contempt as he had held for her in life. On the thirty-first night, something changed, and she did not appear. He opened the door as he always did and stared out into the night, but she never came. In the morning, he learned why: She had killed the boy who had been delivering food to him. His body was discovered in the middle of the street, drained of all blood.
“Still unwilling to leave the house even in daylight hours, her father shouted from his doorstep, ‘A gold piece to anyone who brings me food!’ A local farmer heard him in passing and agreed to the proposition. He went to the market, retrieved a bushel of fruit and vegetables, and returned with it not an hour later. The father promptly paid the farmer and instructed him to return every two days with the same produce, and the farmer happily agreed. He did not return, though; that night, the daughter killed the farmer, his wife, both their children, and