The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall (16 page)

B
ut I could walk through walls, right? So all I had to do was take two steps to the left and walk right out. Except when I tried, I was decisively bounced back.

By now, I knew enough about the spirit world and its weird nuances to figure that this had something to do with the salt. My sister’s intention, by blocking the doorway, was to capture the evil spirit in the room—but that probably locked all supernatural beings in—not just bad guys but regular ghosts, too.

I was stuck in the room with a monster.

I heard it shift and stretch under the bed. It let out a low, sustained growl—a warning sound that, under any other circumstances, would have convinced me to put a lot of distance between us.

Of course that wasn’t going to happen now.

“Stay down there,” I said. “Neither of us is going anywhere, so you might as well just keep away from me.”

But this thing—whatever it was—was not afraid. No amount of posturing or bluffing would make it fear me. It had teeth, claws, and an animalistic nature. Meanwhile, what was I? A defenseless ghost who was really good at … nothing.

And now I couldn’t even run away. Super.

A louder, longer growl came from beneath the bed.

Electric energy ran through me—the afterlife version of adrenaline. There was no way to get out of this fight, so I might as well psych myself up for it.

Before long, the creature crept out and crouched on the floor, staring right at me.

It bared its teeth, and its fathomless eyes turned to acid green.

First order of business,
I thought,
it’s going to rip me to shreds.

It seemed completely ridiculous to be three feet away from an open door yet totally trapped. If only there were some other way out of the room—

Well, there was the window.

Assuming I could even get out that way, there was still the fall to worry about. Ghosts could get injured. What if I broke my leg or my back or something? I shuddered at the idea of dragging myself around for the rest of eternity. I mean, last time I fell out one of these windows, I
died
.

But even that had to beat getting eaten … or whatever this thing was capable of doing to me.

Its whole body tensed, like it was about to attack.

You’re running out of time, Delia.

I tried to remain completely still, not making any tiny moves that might telegraph my intention. Instead, I stared into the creature’s horrible eyes and waited for the right moment to spring toward the window—by now, my only hope of escape.

As we stared at each other, its mouth opened to reveal its jagged teeth, and it emitted a low purring sound, almost a laugh. It enjoyed the fact that I was afraid.

Now!

In one motion, I lunged toward the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the creature rear up and pounce—but I expected to be well on my way to the grass below by the time it landed.

Except,
nope
.

I slammed into the window and barely managed to shove myself away before the creature landed in the spot where I’d been standing. With a frustrated yowl, it swung to look for me.

In desperation, I ran for the door again. Maybe somehow the rules of the game had changed, and I’d find a loophole. Maybe I wanted it more now (and believe me, I did).

Or maybe the creature would leap again—and this time not miss.

Which is exactly what happened. We crashed to the floor, a tangled mess of legs and arms. Its oily flesh was warm to the touch, and despite the fact that it seemed to be made of nothing but smoke, it had pure animal strength.

It pinned me down and snapped its jaws in my face—not biting, but getting close enough for me to wonder with every snap whether this would be the one that tore into my ghostly flesh, leaving me eternally disfigured.

Its glowing eyes seemed to suck the dim light from the room, and its breath smelled of rotting death.

All I could do was flail. And wait.

With the knowledge that I was trapped, it seemed to relax slightly, to pull back and enjoy watching me writhe and fight. Its wide mouth opened in a hideous grin, and a pleased hiss emerged from the depths of its belly.

I was so close to the door. So close to escape. But I would never make it.

As my hand groped the floor helplessly, my fingers suddenly brushed against something.

A recollection of the long-forgotten texture of paper sprang up from my memory.

I got an idea. One last idea. How close was I to the doorway? Could this possibly work? It didn’t matter. I had to try, because it was my only option.

Twisting my arm over my head, I shoved the piece of paper along the floor, then glanced up quickly to see if I was anywhere close to my target—

And I was—

So in one swift motion, I scooped the paper under the line of salt, and then flipped it upward over my head, aiming right for the creature’s face. A good-sized spray of salt went right into its mouth, down into the depths of its darkly translucent throat.

A beat of surprise appeared in its eyes. Then the surprise turned to wrath.

But before it could bite me, it reared back with a shriek, gagging and choking, raking at its throat with its clawed fingers. I watched in horror as it actually sank its talons into the swirling smoke of its neck. Darker black smoke leaked out of the puncture wounds.

I recognized that smoke. It was the same smoke that had curled down from my ceiling, crept across the room, and enveloped my body on the night I died.

I stood over the creature.
“What are you?”
I shouted.

When I reached down to grab it, to shake it, to force it to answer me, my fingers went right through it, as if it were made of … well, smoke.

The gagging stopped and it fell still onto the antique rug, at which point it occurred to me that a creature made of nothing but smoke might have no problem healing itself after being injured.

Time to go.

The hole I’d made in the salt blocking the doorway wasn’t big enough to actually pass through, but it
was
a hole, and that might be enough to break the seal around the room. I ran for the wall … and found myself standing in the hallway, a foot away from my sister.

Janie stared at Mom’s slightly opened door as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to go in. She cast an apprehensive glance back at her own room … and did a double take when she saw the gap in the salt line.

She tiptoed back over and lowered herself to inspect it. Then she quickly looked up and down the hall, as if something might be there with her—which I suppose I was.

What I really wanted her to do was to fix the line and trap the creature back inside.

I couldn’t see it, but I could hear its furious whining.

My sister sat and stared mutely at the salt. Finally, casting a questioning glance into the room, she reached down and gently spread it back into a complete line.

“Good girl,” I said, letting my hand fall to her shoulder in relief. A moment later, the sensation reached my brain—the feeling of actually having touched my sister’s shoulder.

She jerked away in a panic. Then she reached up and frantically rubbed her shoulder, her eyes searching the hallway again.

I looked down at my hands.

I was going to have to be more careful.

After another few seconds of looking around anxiously, Janie went to the far corner of the hall and sat down with her knees pulled into her chest. Her breaths were shaky. I didn’t blame her.

“Come on,” I said, sliding to the floor next to her. “Just go get Mom. Tell her what happened. Tell her you want to leave.”

But my sister set her jaw, laid her head on her knees, and leaned her whole body against the wall.

“All right,” I said. “Have it your way. Makes no difference to me.”

But the truth is, it did make a difference. It meant everything in the world to me just to have the chance to stretch out, like a cat, on the floor in front of her—between her and anything else that might be tempted to come down the hallway. Even if she never knew I was here, a selfish part of me wanted to drink in every moment of her presence. And Mom’s.

Because I knew it wouldn’t last. And I knew it shouldn’t.

But for one night, I could be close to them again. Couldn’t I?

*  *  *

A crisp British voice, accompanied by the sound of jingle bells, cut through the tranquil hall. “Delia, what are you doing? Why is she sleeping out here?”

I’d been too focused on my sister’s uneven breaths to hear Eliza’s approach. Some bodyguard I’d make.

Pale dawn light spilled through the window. I got to my feet, feeling acutely the contrast between Eliza’s flawless appearance and my chronic disheveledness. “There was something in her room.”

“What kind of something?” Eliza glanced down the hall.

“Some sort of … shadow monster,” I said. “It’s blocked in with salt.”

“A shadow monster?” Eliza’s eyes went wide. “You saw it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It almost got me, but I threw some salt on it and escaped.”

“Impossible.” Eliza’s eyes grew even wider.

“But I did,” I said. “And by the way, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

She ignored the pointed comment and stared out the window, clearly lost in thought. “You can manipulate salt … It must have something to do with the fact that you can go outside.”

I shrugged. “What was it, though? It’s not like us.”

Eliza let out a surprised snort of laughter, like I was the dumbest dead person she’d ever met. “I should say not! We’re
ghosts
.”

“And that thing is … ?”

“It’s … a shadow,” she said. “I don’t really know how to define it. But it’s evil.”

“Okay,” I said. “And no one was going to warn me about it?”

“We haven’t seen one in years.”

“How many years?” I asked sharply.

“Four.” She cleared her throat and had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “They tend to come out when the living are here.”

“Like me,” I said.

“And Cordelia,” she said. “There was a rather nasty one around shortly before she died. I don’t know how she avoided it, honestly.”

“But Nic was here. And Landon. And there were ghost hunters,” I said. “They were alive. Did you see any of the—shadows then?”

“No,” Eliza said, shaking her head. “But … it’s more accurate to say they come out when they’re after something.”

Or some
one
. “You mean they hunt.”

Her shoulders made a stiff, helpless up-and-down movement—even the way she shrugged was prim. “That’s a very melodramatic way to look at it, but I suppose you could say so.”

I felt the edge of my hairline grow damp with beads of phantom sweat. When I spoke, I tried to contain the frustration in my voice. “So you knew these things were here, and you never said anything?”

“What would have been the use?” She turned away and smoothed her hair uncomfortably. “You know now, don’t you?”

I folded my arms in front of my chest and stared at her, put off by her evasiveness. “And you’re okay with it? Living here among those things?”

“They leave us alone,” she said, “and we leave them alone.”

“They didn’t leave me alone,” I said. “Or Janie.”

She dropped the attitude and regarded me with genuine concern. “What was it doing to her?”

“It was tying her to the bed. It’s probably the same thing that tied her to the bed the day I died.”

Eliza bit her lip. “I doubt it would have actually hurt her, though. Whereas it could have shredded
you
like a roast chicken. Do be careful if you see another one. You say you’ve injured it?”

“I think so. But where did it
come
from?”

“We never figured it out. I saw one in the basement once, and I’ve heard rumors that one lives on the third floor. Florence told me that Maria was a perfectly normal little girl—I mean,
dead
, of course, but normal—until she had a run-in with one of those.”

Before I could ask anything else, a bloodcurdling, inhuman screech filled the hallway, and almost at once my nose filled with a scent like a pile of three-week-old dead fish.

We ran back to my sister’s room. Eliza crouched low to the ground and peered inside. After a moment, she sat up, startled. “Well,” she said. “You needn’t worry about it bothering Jane. It’s died. You’ve killed it.”

I sat in stunned silence.

“Good riddance.” Eliza stood and folded her arms in front of her chest. “Your sister will be safe in this room now—once the smell goes away.”

I knelt and looked inside. The dark, still body seemed to be growing fainter.

“To business, then, since that’s settled,” Eliza said. “I think it’s time you, Florence, and I talk. Form a concrete plan to get your family out of here … before something bad happens.”

Something
bad
. Because having to fight my way out of being trapped in a tiny room with a vicious, formless creature was apparently just another day at the office.

I sighed. “Okay. Let’s go talk to Florence.”

*  *  *

Florence and I sat on the couch in the lobby, while Eliza paced before us like a military tactician. “All right,” she said. “How long do they plan to stay? Do we make an active plan to chase them away, or simply try to keep them safe until they go?”