The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

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 someone. “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?”