Mrs. Undercover Now

“I knew you’d come,” a voice slithered from the shadows. The Serpent stepped out. He was thin, elegant, wearing the uniform of a substitute teacher. “I never believed you were dead, Eleanor. Domestic bliss is a far more creative punishment.”

Brenda raised an eyebrow. “Glitter glue?” Mrs. Undercover

Ellie didn’t flinch. She’d learned that fear was a scent, and predators could smell it. Instead, she pulled a small object from her pocket—a juice box. “I knew you’d come,” a voice slithered from

“It’s not a punishment,” Ellie said, circling him. “It’s a choice.” “I knew you’d come

She smiled. And for the first time in a decade, she didn’t feel like a ghost. She felt like a woman who had saved the world between soccer practice and bedtime.