Date Published: January 23, 2026
Amanda Fortune never expected to be left in the lake, but after her murder and subsequent dumping, that’s exactly where she is. She’s become an urban legend, her ghost seen only by a very few. She longs to have a second chance at life, but that’s not possible when you’re dead. Is it?
With the right circumstances, anything is possible.
Sawyer Gibson doesn’t know what he’s meant to do in life. He has abilities to read the Fates, but his talents aren’t needed in the town of Eerie. Everyone here has magic. He’s nothing special. But Aunt Chloe is dying, and she knows more than Sawyer ever thought possible. Amanda is — was — her best friend. So Aunt Chloe sends Sawyer on a chase to find Amanda’s killer.
But Amanda’s a myth. A ghost. And ghosts can’t be seen, right?
The moment Sawyer lays eyes on Amanda, he’s smitten. There’s the tiny problem of her being a ghost… but that detail won’t stop Sawyer, even if someone else thinks it will.
Amanda wandered the woods along the north end of the lake. She didn’t have much else to do. Campers were around, scattered about the grassy area, and even a few picnickers, but none of them could see her. She hated this existence. She had no one to talk to, no one to spend time with. She missed the simple interaction of being with other people.
But those were the things Claude had taken from her. He’d ruined her life, but he’d also robbed her of her future. She should hate him. Should be burning with the hottest, nuclear anger toward him.
She could be, but why? Would it bring her life back?
No.
She might as well focus on anything else but the past.
Something rustled in the woods and for a moment, she ignored the sound. Everything in the woods made noise. Animals, the wind, water… it all created disturbance. But this one was different. A shiver ran the length of her spine. She hadn’t felt this way since that night.
She ducked behind a tree, knowing she’d never be seen, but wanting a private vantage point to locate the noise.
A hooded figure strode through the trees to the edge of the water.
The shiver increased when the figure leaned over and touched the rippled surface of the lake. She knew that hand and recognized the shark tattoo. Didn’t have to see the rest of the person to know who stood there — Claude.
She froze, not wanting him to know she could see him. Could he see her? He hadn’t for the last fifty years, but that didn’t matter. He churned her stomach. She clutched the tree bark. The sooner he left, the better.
“She’s dying,” Claude said. “The last one to know what happened is dying. I can’t steal her magic, too, but I can rejoice in her going. My secret went with you to the grave, but she figured some of it out. No one else did. I’d silence her, but I can’t do that. Can’t kill anyone.”
He couldn’t kill this person, but he’d murdered her! What a jerk. Amanda trembled, despite her best efforts to stay still.
“Won’t be long now. She’ll be gone and any last chance of anyone knowing will be gone. The cops didn’t catch me. No one believed I could do it,” Claude said. “They wouldn’t have understood. I needed your magic. I needed to own you. You’d never have used that magic properly, but I could. We were expected to be together because you had to give yourself to me. It always had to end with your magic being mine.”
She wanted to scream. He’d never loved her. Couldn’t. Not when he wanted to destroy her.
“But now it’ll be our secret. You gave me what I needed and you’re where you were always meant to be.” He patted the water. “Always.”
He stood, then adjusted the sweatshirt, keeping his face hidden. He turned away from her vantage point and shuffled back through the woods.
Every cell in her existence screamed to keep away from him, but she followed. What else could he do to her? Kill her a second time? Was that even possible?
She navigated through the trees to the edge of the woods. She hadn’t gone this far in so long. There hadn’t been much reason. Now there was. She had to see where he was going and what in the name of Hera he was doing now that he’d come to haunt her.
Claude stopped at the larger picnic area in the park. A man sat alone at one of the tables and flipped through a book while holding a tablet. The guy seemed completely lost in thought.
Claude, now well over seventy years old but still the bully, shoved the book off the table and laughed. “Stop looking for the Lady of the Lake. She doesn’t exist,” he snapped and barely broke stride.
Amanda stopped short. The Lady of the Lake? There was someone else here? A kindred spirit? She had to find this lady and meet her. Maybe this other woman would know how to get away from the damn water.
“Thanks, ass,” the man said and picked up his book. “Dick.”
She wanted to find the Lady but was also intrigued by this man. She inched closer.
A child, running with a plastic disc turned just as she passed Amanda and her eyes widened. “Momma!”
Amanda paused. She wondered what had spooked the child. She ducked behind a tree and listened for the little girl and parent.
“Momma, I saw the Lady,” the girl said. “Right there.”
She peeked out from her hiding spot long enough to look for the Lady. She didn’t see anyone.
“You’re imagining things,” the mother said. “The Lady of the Lake is a story made up to scare kids.”
Amanda bit back a groan. That was a downer. A fib for kids…
The man looked up from his book. “It’s not a story,” he replied. He closed the book and picked up the tablet. “Actually, it’s considered an urban legend, but there’s fact behind the legend.”
The mother rolled her eyes. “Don’t butt in and scare my kid. She’ll have nightmares because of you.”
“But Mom, I saw her,” the little girl said. “She had dark hair, blue skin and was pretty.”
Amanda ducked back behind the tree. She really had to find this woman. Any company would be better than none.
The woman and her child left the picnic area and when Amanda emerged from her spot, she stepped right into the man’s path. If she’d had breath, it would’ve stopped or clogged in her throat.
He was a beautiful man. Young — compared to her — and handsome. With dark hair, dark eyes and a studious look to him. The long-sleeved shirt accentuated his thin frame and the glasses gave him an air of sophistication. He didn’t walk with a swagger, but instead a quiet confidence.
“Oh, my,” she gasped. “Wow.”
“Excuse me?” He met her gaze. “What did you say?”
She froze. He’d heard her? “I’m sorry?”
He cocked his head. “Where are you?”
So he couldn’t see her? Good. She faded into the woods, rushing to the north end, to her safe haven. No one had seen her there in years — if ever — and no one would see her now.
“I know I heard you.” The man drifted through the woods. “Please, don’t hide from me.”
She had no choice. No one else had believed she was there and this guy might be looking for the Lady of the Lake. She wasn’t that Lady. She was nobody.
She glanced back and noticed the man. He’d bent over and rested his hands on his knees. He puffed as if he were trying to keep up with her. His bag slid forward and dangled along his side.
“I’ve done the research. I know the story. You’re here. I can feel you.” He stood upright but kept puffing. “She wouldn’t lie to me. She led me here. Told me where I should find you. Told me to find you. I need to do this for her.”
She balled her hands. “Who?” She snapped her mouth shut. She’d wanted to stay hidden, but her curiosity would get her into trouble again.
He sank onto one of the rocks at the edge of the water. “I hear you. Where are you?”
“I can’t show you.”
“Please?”
“No.” If she could have this conversation with him, then something was different about him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know you. Can’t trust you.” It was the truth. Others claimed to be looking for her, but they hadn’t found her. Not the detectives, the amateur sleuths, or anyone else.
“You can,” he said. He scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, then sighed. “When I was a little boy, my aunt told me about her friend, Amanda. She said her friend was a lovely person and so sweet, but she disappeared. For the rest of her life, my Aunt Chloe wanted to know what happened to her friend.”
“Chloe?” She didn’t venture closer, but the mere mention of the name pricked her curiosity again.
“My mother’s sister. Do you know Chloe? Or Marie, my mother?” he asked. “My mother died five years ago, but Chloe held on. Her magic is fading.”
“No,” she whispered. Chloe had the strongest magic. She should be just fine.
“She told me you liked being here. She said this was your favorite place and you’d spend hours among the trees and around the water, existing in nature. She said you might have even been part woodland nymph because you were here so much. She loved the nights you’d go dancing together, and the days spent talking and mixing spells,” he said. “She said she was never the same after you disappeared.”
“No?” She couldn’t be excited. Not yet. She needed some detail only the true Chloe would know. Something only she could tell this man. “I can’t trust you.”
“I know you can’t.” He sighed again. “Why would you?”
The last man she’d thought she could trust had murdered her.
“She knew about the abuse and that you wanted to get away. She was trying to figure out a plan to get you out of that house without him knowing. To this day, she deals with the guilt of not working fast enough. You deserved better.”
She emerged from behind the tree. “What did he steal from me?” If he knew this, then he’d spoken to Chloe. Only her best friend would remember she never let go of her locket.
“Besides your magic? He stole your necklace,” the man said. “It was your favorite piece of jewelry.”
“Why?” She held onto the tree for stability, even if her legs weren’t holding her up.
“Because it came from your mother and was one of the few things you had to remember her by.”
If she’d been standing on her feet, she would’ve collapsed. “Who are you?”
“Sawyer Gibson.” He stood and held out his hand. “I don’t know where you are, but I hear you and I want to see you. I want to help you.”
About the Author
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
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