the spirit changed form and faced him. This ghost was harder to see. She was a woman in an old-fashioned black velvet dress with a matching hat. She wore a string of pearls and white gloves, and her dark hair was tied back. Nico stopped in his tracks. “No . . .” “My son,” the ghost said. “I died when you were so young. I haunt the world in grief, wondering about you and your sister.” “Mama?”
Melinoe
