Who was she? He gulped. “You need a robe. Come in.”

“Why? Don’t like the way I look?” She slithered her lithe body, wind lifting her hair. There hadn’t been a breeze during his entire sticky run. Now every leaf in his yard stirred and his mom’s curls bounced.

“Did you know Chloe was cooking?”

“She said I could!” Chloe whined.

“Oh, I just love the smell of burned meat. Don’t you?” Mom tilted her head, nostrils flaring above exposed teeth.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, carefully choosing his words. “You’re acting…strange.”

“Am I, little pet?” She never called him that. “Tell me, how should I act?” She snapped her teeth together in three quick chomps.

“For the love of God, Ma, what is up with you?”

“Love?” She laughed, only it wasn’t her laugh. This was deep and rough. “Love is pathetic. It’s weak. I bring you strength. I ease your suffering. I will resurrect your mind. Join me!”

She was making no sense. She’d been babbling nonsense like this for almost two weeks. At first, he thought it was self-help lingo; then she started spouting it in her sleep.

Behind her, the wind picked up, sending a plastic bag dancing about their yard with spinning emerald leaves. Next door, a German shepherd barreled at their wooden fence, rattling it with his heavy paws. His black muzzle growled, his dark eyes pointed at his mother like he’d never seen her before. She pet him almost every day. It hopped on hind legs, his bark growing vicious.

Mom laughed, cackles rising with a sound that wasn’t hers. Instinctively, Max nudged Chloe behind him.

“Why don’t you go watch TV. I’ll make you a sandwich,” he whispered, trying to sound normal, but his voice was shaking. “You want bananas with your peanut butter? Or jelly?”

“Jelly,” she croaked, seeming unable to move. Max placed a clammy palm on her shoulder and pried himself from the spot where he’d been rooted. He guided Chloe toward the living room. “What’s wrong with Mommy?” Chloe mumbled in a nearly inaudible whisper.

Max had no answer. Still, he parted his lips to respond, but—

“Oh, my little pets, Mommy’s never been better.”

That voice. What was wrong with her voice?

Woodenly, Max turned to see Mom hovering in the screen door, silhouetted by the sunset, ochre light emanating around her frame, gleaming through the sheer white fabric of her fluttering gown. “The pain is gone, little pets. I have been rewarded. And soon, I will take away your pain too, take away everyone’s pain.”

Max dug his fingers into Chloe’s collarbone. “Go to your room,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

“But—”

“Go.” Max pushed her toward the narrow hall, and Chloe ran, bare feet squeaking on the floorboards.

As soon as she was out of view, Max swiveled back to the figure glowing in the doorway.

Her cheeks were pushed too high and her eyes offered a challenge. Come, boy, come to Mommy. You’re not afraid, are you?