Wolf's Bane
The first time my mother spoke to me from beyond the grave, my little sister was defying gravity.
“The nail that sticks out gets hammered down,” the disembodied voice of my dead mother noted inside my head just as a very real Kira called out: “Look, Mai! I’m flying!”
Jolting at Mama’s unexpected intrusion, I swiveled to take in my sister’s long legs scampering atop the six-foot high-wall at the edge of the cemetery. I usually didn’t pay much attention to Kira’s affinity for gymnastics in high places. But it wasn’t every day a long-dead Japanese woman tapped on the inside of my skull and demanded that I take notice.
So—“Careful!” I called just as Kira’s right foot touched down on a section of wall where the weight of the hillside had pushed the cinder blocks out at an angle,
