The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

The flames had begun to wrap themselves around Janie’s legs, like a mummy’s bandages. What’s more, they’d begun to wind up my legs, too—trapping me just as effectively as my sister.

 

My sister let out a scream and tried to slap the tendrils away, but it didn’t work.

 

“Delia?” she cried. “Are you still here?”

 

“Of course I am,” I said.

 

From the darkness came a succession of pitiful sniffles. Then one big sniffle. “Don’t panic,” Janie whispered to herself, a hint of steel in her voice. “Just don’t panic.”

 

I was overcome with love and admiration for my brave little warrior of a sister. Maybe I’d have been nicer to her, all those years ago, if I’d known that a fighter’s spirit resided inside her. I should have encouraged her, nurtured her, tried to bring out her hidden strength—instead of looking down on her for being different from the rest of us.

 

But she’d become this person on her own—and maybe, in some weird way, it had been my death that brought those qualities to life.

 

“Wait!” Janie said, her voice alive with hope. “Maybe I can … how did it go? By the authority of nature … by the forces of—um, creation. By righteousness and … and … Aw, shoot.”

 

I held my breath.

 

“The power of good!” she burst out. “Through the power of good, I bind you, I bind you, I—mmph.”

 

Before she could finish speaking the incantation, the flames had wound all the way up to her mouth, high enough to gag her, holding her words in.

 

She struggled and grunted, but it was impossible. She couldn’t speak. I wondered for how long she’d even be able to breathe.

 

Could I do it?

 

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember the words. The supple fingers of flame reached my waist, and I knew I was almost out of time.

 

I had to go for it.

 

“By-the-authority-of-nature-by-the-forces-of-creation-by-righteousness-and-through-the-power-of-good—” The flames raced up my body now, trying to reach my mouth, so I spat the words out as fast as I could—“IbindyouIbindyouIbindyou!”

 

It worked.

 

Janie gulped in a huge breath of air as the flames fell away from her mouth. “I bind you!” she yelled.

 

“It’s cool,” I said. “I took care of it.”

 

Reaching down, I found I could peel the flames off my body as if they were strips of pantyhose. Then I reached over and pulled off the ones from Janie’s legs, too. She realized what was happening and started to help.

 

“You’re still here,” she said softly. “I knew you’d stay.”

 

“Like I’d leave you,” I said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

She was already climbing out. I followed her, and then we both stood staring back into the yawning darkness. The dark fire was subdued for the moment, but it still burned—and I was positive it was struggling and fighting to break free of the spell, just as the shadow creature had.

 

“We totally failed,” I said. “Awesome.”

 

“We’re going to figure it out,” Janie said.

 

Suddenly, the silence of the room was interrupted by a thwack thwack thwack sound coming from the stairs.

 

My sister took a few tentative steps closer, to see if someone was there. I hurried ahead of her, in case we’d been joined by someone unpleasant.

 

But there was no one—just a book, lying haphazardly on the floor after apparently being bowled down the steps.

 

As I walked over and looked at its shiny silver spine, I heard a pair of high-pitched giggles from the hallway.

 

It was The Selected Works of Lord Percival Lindley 1757–1789.

 

Unbelievable. They’d actually helped for once.

 

“Thank you, Rosie and Posie!” I called.

 

Janie reached carefully for the book and flipped it over in one swift motion, her eyes already searching the page.

 

It had fallen open to the black fire poem.

 

“Read it,” I said. “Please, read this page.”

 

But my sister made a move to turn the page. Summoning all my strength, I reached down and pinned the paper in place so she couldn’t do it.

 

For a confused moment, she tried again. Then she understood.

 

She leaned over the page and began to silently read. A moment later, she inhaled a little “ah!” sound, and I knew she’d found the poem. After reading it over, she sat up. “I get the dark fire, but the ‘blood of light’? What’s the ‘blood of light’?”

 

She reread the poem.

 

“It’s about innocence,” she said out loud. “It’s supposed to be the blood of an innocent person. And you thought I could be the innocent person …”

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” I said. “Smart girl. So, so smart.”

 

But Janie slumped over, pressing her hand over her eyes. Then she swallowed hard and looked up.

 

“I’m sorry, Delia,” she said. “I would do it, but it wouldn’t work. I’m not—innocent.”