The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

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.