I still remember that fateful kiss. To this day it lingers on her lips. She doesn't even remember it, she can't. She's happy now. She passed on. I wish she could though. Sometimes that kiss is all I can think about, even though it has been seven years. Seven years since I let her go.

Thomas and Caramel keep telling me to get over it—to find someone else, but that will never work, not when I know that I can never love anyone as whole-heartedly as I loved, no still love, Anna. Even if she was dead when I met her, I know that she was the one.

After graduating from high school, I got out of Thunder Bay as fast as I could. There was no way I could stay there with all the memories I had of Anna, I could not be near her Victorian anymore, it killed me on the inside knowing that on the other side, Anna and I were happily ever after, no more ghosts, and definitely no more obeahman. Just us. If only life could've turned out that way…Caramel and Thomas got married not too long after high school and attended college together, and now they have a beautiful young daughter, Anja. After spending a few years traveling I've decided to settle down in Victoria.

It is haunted here, but not like Thunder Bay. The ghosts are silent and peaceful—laying asleep waiting for something to shake up their routines. A strange mist, a creak in the floor, a bump in the night, almost nothing here is powerful enough to cause a disturbance. Sometimes they do, not often. There are a few powerful ones just a ferry ride away. A building full of ghosts that are off their rockers, staying there would even leave the most stable person out of his mind.

As I leave my building, I see a flash of white, a swish of long, dark hair, which barely curls at the ends, and pale skin. Anna. It can't be. She's gone. This is a real girl, a living one. I try to shake the thought from my head as I watch the girl disappear around the corner.

On my way to the mainland I try not to think about how much different life would have been if Anna weren't a goddess of death, waiting to kill any person who chanced upon her house, if she had been a normal girl waiting for something to change in her life.

When I get off the ferry I focus. I have a job to do. 142 East 22nd Street. Home of Thomas Kosberg, a schizophrenic psychopath who, in December of 1965, laced milkshakes with sleeping pills, gave them to his family, and then hacked them all up with a double-bladed axe. His brother, Vincent, who was just an infant at the time was found still alive in his crib after surviving a strangulation attempt—talk about a Christmas miracle.

When I first arrive, all I can see is his family—fully intact, crying and pointing down the hall. I turn around and see him. He's young and tall with that glimmer of Bateman in his eyes. Wildly swinging his axe Kosberg runs towards me, oblivious to my athame. I plunge it into his stomach, not feeling at all sorry for hurting him. At first he looks confused and looks towards his family, wondering what this is all about, then as he fades away his eyes clear up, it all clicks and I see a remorse pass through his face.

Three hours later am back in Victoria, in a local sweet shop. Rumor has it that the owners still are making chocolate in the kitchen, in spite of having been put to rest. They seem like pleasant people: they stay out of everyone's business. And they make damn good chocolate.

Then I see her, the girl. The one from earlier. She's dressed all in white, save for a garnet pendant dangling from her long snowy neck. God, she has to be Anna, no other girl could be that enchanting…she looks just like she did when I left her with the other me.

"May I help you?"

"What? I'm sorry."

"No it's quite alright. I just figured you needed help. You've been looking at me with a helpless expression for quite some time though."

"Oh. I'm sorry. You look a lot like a girl I once knew."

"Haven't you heard? They always say that three people can exist with the same face, living parallel lives." Her small body trembles as she says this. "Would you like anything to eat sir?"

"Just a chocolate bar."

"I'll get that for you…ummm…I didn't catch your name?"

"It's Cas"

"Cas? That's a nice name!" She smiles and lights up the entire room with magic, the kind of magic that you rarely see in a girl. My heart feels like a flickering candle, a small amount of hope is the only oxygen keeping it lit.

CRASH!

Glass shatters in the kitchen. "KORLOV! That's the third jar you've broken this week. These chocolates can't be sold now. I should have never hired you. Stupid klutz."

I can hear her sobbing trying to apologize and clean up the mess. "Dammit Anna, you have a customer. Go serve him. Fucking idiot girl. Clean up your face while you are at it." I desperately wanted to punch that asshole, making a young girl cry. So what if she is clumsy? Is there really anything so wrong with that? Wait. Korlov. Anna. Her name is Anna Korlov. She comes out of the kitchen with a bag full of broken chocolates and my chocolate bar. Her cheeks are stained with salt, her eyelashes fluttering.

"Here's your chocolate bar, sir. I'm terribly sorry for the wait…"

"No problem at all—are you alright?"

She ignores my question. "That will be three dollars."

I rifle through my wallet and give her some extra money. "I think I will take that bag of chocolates as well for you."

"Thank you very much sir."

"No problem at all. Are you off work soon?"

"In about ten minutes, yes."

I contemplate the options, allow her to wait around and possibly get yelled at by her boss again, or ask her to leave early with me, where I think she will be safe.

"Would you like to leave early, Miss Korlov?"

"Yes please…"

I guide her out of the shop, taking her in the direction of my building. Hoping that she may tell me a few things about herself.