“I’m listening,” Beatrix said, trying to sound tough from her spot on the ground.


    Bram''s face twisted into a mocking pout. “You shouldn’t have lied to Bloodgood about us.”


    “Lie?” Beatrix’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t lie about anything. I told Bloodgood exactly what I saw in New Salem.” She paused, then added defiantly, "Look, I didn''t mean to piss anyone off, I just didn''t want to die. I''m sure you can understand."


    A few paces behind Bram, Vilhelm let out a harsh laugh, leaning against a gnarled oak tree. "Gory was right," he said, a wicked gleam in his crimson eyes, “she’s a spirited one.”


    Bram ignored him, keeping his eyes on Beatrix as he stepped closer. "Didn''t your mother ever tell you lying is wrong?" he asked, his voice dripping with fake concern.


    “Hey, who knows if she even has a mom?” Vilhelm chimed in. “Aren’t witches raised by a bunch of devil-worshiping fan girls?”


    Bram snickered. “More like a bunch of devil-worshiping cat ladies. With her manners, she might as well have grown up in a barn.”


    Any other day, Beatrix might''ve laughed their insults off. Witch covens were pretty ridiculous, after all. But right now, trapped and terrified, she couldn''t see the humor in it.


    There was something off about how these boys talked — they spoke in a strange, old-fashioned way that didn''t match their youthful faces; a creepy reminder of what they really were: ancient predators stuck in teenage bodies, ready to attack at any moment. Beatrix felt her blood run cold as she realized just how screwed she was.


    Vilhelm pushed himself off from the tree and sauntered closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "Why were you stalking us at the Halloween party?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious.


    "What are they talking about?" Autumn piped up a few feet away, her brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to piece together the conversation.


    "They''re the vampires we caught feeding on those human girls!" Guillermo blurted out, making Bram and Vilhelm turn their chilling glares upon him. Trembling, Guillermo ducked behind Autumn. "Allegedly," Guillermo added in a small voice.


    Autumn looked seriously confused, her gaze darting between the vampires and Beatrix. "What girls?"


    Guillermo peeked out from behind the scarecrow. "Beatrix didn''t tell you?"


    "Nope… but I''m not surprised," Autumn huffed, crossing her arms. She glanced at Beatrix, clearly hurt. "Bea never tells me anything…"


    Bram snapped his fingers, drawing Beatrix''s attention back to him. “So, why’d you lie to Bloodgood, witch snitch?” he demanded. “Were you that desperate for attention? Feeling left out at school and wanted your moment in the spotlight?”


    “You''ve been a real pain this past month," Vilhelm added coldly, slowly circling Beatrix.


    Beatrix felt her fear giving way to anger, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.


    "Maybe you should’ve thought about that before killing innocent humans!" Beatrix snapped, "and monsters!"


    Bram and Vilhelm exchanged a bewildered look.


    “That’s right,” Beatrix said firmly, adrenaline pushing her to be bolder than she should have been. “I know what you did to Gilda Goldstag.”


    "Wait, you think we killed Gilda?" Bram snorted in disbelief.


    Beatrix maintained her glare, convinced.


    “Oh man, she’s serious!” Vilhelm wheezed. He doubled over laughing, like it was the funniest thing he''d ever heard.


    Bram''s smile faded fast. His eyes got dangerous as he leaned in close to Beatrix.


    "Well, if we really did what you''re accusing us of,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “then you''ve definitely messed with the wrong monsters.”


    “Bloodgood can’t save you out here, witch snitch,” Vilhelm said.


    The vampire boys advanced a step closer. Beatrix scrambled back.


    Suddenly, Autumn scooped up a rock and threw it with all her might, aiming at the boys’ heads. "Stop messing with her!" she yelled. The rock sailed through the air, only to land with a soft, anticlimactic thud a few inches from Vilhelm''s black dress shoes, missing its target by a wide margin. With a smirk, Vilhelm casually kicked the rock away, sending it skittering into the underbrush.


    "Nice throw," he sneered, taking another step towards Beatrix.


    Despite their playful facade, another emotion brimmed under the surface: impatience. They were looking at Beatrix like she was nothing more than a blood bag, eager to drain her dry and discard her lifeless body before she could even scream.


    Bram''s lips curled into a cruel smile. "Sorry, scarecrow. There won''t be anything left of your witch friend once we''re done with her," Bram taunted. “Don''t worry, we''ll make it quick…”


    Beatrix was struck with horror. The surrounding trees, which had seemed so close before, now felt miles away. Escaping into the woods was impossible now.


    Even if she tried to make a break for it, she knew vampires were faster than all other supernatural creatures, except—


    As if on cue, a shudder ran through Beatrix''s body, shaking her from the inside out. It spread from her head to her chest, reaching deep into her bones. Her jaw trembled, not from the cold, but from a sickening sensation rising within her.


    Each fingertip and toe tingled with an electric intensity. Blood rushed in her ears, momentarily numbing her senses before bringing them back into hyper-focus. The world around her shifted, colors becoming more vivid, scents more potent.


    Her vision sharpened dramatically, capturing every individual pine needles strewn across the forest floor. The vampires'' pale skin — once alluring — now appeared corpse-like in her heightened sight. Bram and Vilhelm''s faces transformed before her eyes, taking on a grotesque, zombie-like appearance. Every whiff of her nostrils brought a wave of revulsion, their scent a nauseating mix of decay and stagnant blood.


    In that moment, Beatrix grasped why Orion and most werewolves loathed these undead creatures. The revulsion was visceral, primal.


    Everything was happening too fast. She could hear every anxious breath from Guillermo, the sound of Autumn tugging at her seams in excruciating detail. And a terrifying thought sliced through her panic: what if I didn’t eat enough wolfsbane?


    Her hands shook violently as she fumbled for more leaves in her pocket, but her hands spasmed uncontrollably. The hairs on her arms and legs stood on end, waves of nerves coursing through her body like an intensified flu.


    She felt on the verge of vomiting, but she fought the urge. She couldn’t expel the ingredients giving her this temporary werewolf strength.


    Voices swirled around her, indistinct and distorted.


    Beatrix forced her eyes open to see Bram lunging towards her, closing in, sharp nails poised to strike. But to Beatrix’s surprise and amazement, Bram was moving at her in slow motion, giving her an opportunity to spring up and react.


    Acting on pure instinct, she grabbed Bram''s forearm and, with a surge of strength that shocked even her, forcefully flung him away.


    A loud crash echoed through the night, followed by a scream—Gory’s scream?—and startled shouts from inside Draculaura’s house.


    Beatrix whirled around. One of the kitchen windows was completely shattered, glass shards glittering on the back porch. She’d sent Bram straight through the window.


    Before she could process what she''d done, an iron grip closed around her throat. Vilhelm slammed her against a tree, the back of her head colliding with the trunk. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Her werewolf strength was fading rapidly, the remaining trace of venom the only thing allowing her to endure the brutal impact.


    Beatrix clawed desperately at Vilhelm''s arm, but he didn''t even flinch. His sharp nails, filed to points, dug into her neck, causing blood to trickle down to her collarbone. His grip—solid like concrete—tightened mercilessly around her throat.


    Just as black spots began to dance at the edges of her vision, Beatrix noticed a sudden change in Vilhelm''s expression. His eyes lost focus, the murderous intent fading away, and his jaw relaxed, no longer clenched in anger. His blood-red gaze grew distant and unfocused, as if he were looking through her rather than at her.


    Something crossed Beatrix''s fuzzy mind: Vilhelm''s glazed expression reminded her a lot of how Manny the minotaur looked after Operetta sang him a lullaby in the screamatorium.


    That was the last thought Beatrix had before the world went black.


    ~ o ~ O ~ o ~


    “Bea? Bea!”


    Beatrix felt the gentle touch of soft hands on her cheek, unmistakably Autumn''s, trying to prevent her from slipping back into unconsciousness.


    Beatrix''s eyes fluttered open as she gasped for air, her lungs burning as they fought to restore the blood flow to her head.


    "Thank goodness," Autumn cried, relief evident in her voice. Autumn and Guillermo''s worried faces swam into focus above her.


    The buzzing in Beatrix’s bones had disappeared entirely, replaced by a heavy, weighted sensation that made her body feel like a sack of bricks. Slumped against the tree where she’d been thrown, she saw Vilhelm collapsed on the ground next to her. He appeared as if he had simply dozed off during their fight—if it could even be called a fight.


    Immediately, Beatrix knew she would have met her demise if Vilhelm hadn''t fallen into that strange trance. At first, she''d thought that during their struggle, she''d managed to strike him and knock him out.


    However, Beatrix''s attention was quickly drawn to Draculaura, who stood nearby. Draculaura''s eyes were unnaturally wide, fixated on Vilhelm''s sleeping form with an eerie, hypnotic intensity.


    "Look," Guillermo whispered, crouching down in front of Beatrix. He nodded towards Draculaura. "That''s how she did it. I… I didn''t want to tell her about your weird sleeping potion, but she made me…"


    Mind control? Beatrix thought. Like what Operetta and mermaids can do, but stronger? She was too exhausted to figure it out now.


    Glancing around, Beatrix noticed all the other vampires had vanished. Bram, Gory, and their friends must have fled to avoid falling under Draculaura''s trance.


    Beatrix tried to lift herself up, but her body wouldn’t cooperate, and she sank back against the tree. She stared up at the stars peeking through the tips of the surrounding pines. The world still felt off-kilter as she struggled to process everything that had just happened.


    Suddenly, Frankie’s strong green arms scooped her up effortlessly. Beatrix looked up at the tall girl carrying her, and couldn''t help but laugh inwardly at how ridiculous she must look – like an oversized baby being cradled.


    Frankie gently set Beatrix down on Draculaura’s porch, and immediately the other Fearleading ghouls swarmed around her, bombarding her with questions.


    "Did you really throw Bram?" Frankie Stein asked, her mismatched eyes sparkling, amazed.


    "How did you do that?" Iris Clops asked.


    "No way, that''s impossible,” Toralei scoffed. “You’re just a normie.”


    "That window’s goin’ to cost a pretty penny to replace!” Scarah Screams fretted. “You best hope Dracula doesn''t catch wind of this mess!"


    Abbey pressed an icy hand to Beatrix''s collarbone. Her frigid touch was refreshing, and helped clear Beatrix’s head a bit. Meanwhile, Ghoulia shuffled over with a damp pink washcloth from Draculaura''s kitchen. With gentle pressure, she applied it to Beatrix''s wound to stop the bleeding and wipe away the dirt on her neck.


    Venus leaned in, plucking a purple leaf from Beatrix''s cheek. "Is this... wolfsbane?"


    "That was incredible, Trixie!” Frankie said, oblivious to Venus’s comment. “You were so strong, like... like..."


    "Like a wolf," Clawdeen finished, wrinkling her nose. "I can smell it on you. But... it''s fading.” She tilted her head. “What''s going on? Did you get bit? Why didn''t you transform?"


    "Hey, thank ghoulness she didn’t transform. We don’t need another mutt around here. The wet dog smell is bad enough already,” Toralei smirked and flicked her tail, unable to resist taking a jab.


    Clawdeen''s ears flattened and responded with a low growl.


    "Look, the witch has bite marks,” Abbey observed, taking her cold hand off Beatrix.


    Beatrix tensed. The nail marks on her neck, courtesy of Vilhelm, might have resembled a wolf bite. But how could Beatrix explain she hadn''t been bitten—that she’d actually ingested Clawdeen''s saliva from a punch cup? She hadn''t planned on having to reveal the unorthodox form of witchcraft she''d used.


    Thankfully, everyone’s questions came to an abrupt halt as Cleo parted the fearleaders like the Red Sea. Ghoulia shuffled aside to make room as Cleo carefully unwrapped a piece of shimmering golden fabric from her pinky finger and palm.


    Without a word, Cleo began wrapping the gold fabric around Beatrix''s neck.


    "Cleo—" Beatrix started, but was quickly cut off.


    "Zip it," Cleo commanded. "Keep it on overnight and give it back to me tomorrow morning. My skin dries out like the Sahara without it."


    Beatrix didn''t feel any different with the wrapping on. Still, she was touched by Cleo’s unexpected act of kindness. However, the tender moment was interrupted by a roar of thunder that echoed across the mountainside.


    The ghouls looked up, bracing for rain, but the sound wasn’t coming from the sky — it was rapidly approaching through the dense woods.


    A powerful engine rumbled, growing louder and louder. Suddenly, a sleek black motorcycle burst from the treeline, its headlight slicing through the gloom. It tore down the tree-lined road towards Draculaura''s house, tires screeching as the rider expertly brought it to a halt in the driveway, leaving twin streaks of rubber on the pavement.


    The motorcyclist''s broad shoulders and muscular frame was apparent, even beneath his battered leather jacket. He yanked off his helmet, revealing pitch-black eyes and gray skin.


    Hushed whispers rippled through the crowd of fearleaders.


    “Is that…”


    “What’s he doing here?”Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Grey dismounted swiftly, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel as he strode towards the group.


    "I left as soon as I saw your text,” Grey said, his voice tight with worry as he caught his breath. Towering above the others, his dark eyes swept Draculaura’s backyard. His gaze settled on Draculaura, who was still exerting her mind control over Vilhelm.


    “I should’ve been here sooner,” Grey admitted, guilt racking his gruff voice. “You’re hurt.”


    He knelt in front of Beatrix, his large frame filling her vision, blocking out everything else. His black eyes locked onto her neck, and with surprising gentleness, his calloused hands moved to assess her wounds, his touch sending an unexpected surge of heat to Beatrix''s face.


    Flustered by her body''s reaction, Beatrix forced a grin. "I''m fine," she said. "I was wondering what took you so long. What happened to keeping an eye on me, Death Lord?"


    But Grey wasn''t in a bantering mood. His hand dropped to the staff he always kept secured at his belt, his whole body tense. "I was in the forest on the other side of campus," he said, tone clipped.


    Before Beatrix could ask why, Grey anticipated her question.


    “Another student was found in the woods."


    ~ o ~ O ~ o ~


    The massive doors of the screamatorium loomed before Beatrix.


    What had started as a simple school board trial had escalated into an emergency town hall, or a PTA meeting gone wild.


    The moment news broke about the incident at Draculaura''s house, hell had broken loose. Rumors of Beatrix’s face-off with the vamps and her mysterious surge of werewolf strength had spread through the school like wildfire.


    And as if that wasn''t enough, another student''s death had just been confirmed.


    Now, behind those imposing doors, every monster imaginable awaited her.


    Beatrix would’ve done almost anything to avoid going in. She’d gladly trim a cyclops’s toenails, or dive headfirst into the murky depths of the Black Lagoon and let Levi—Lagoona’s lake dweller “friend”—swallow her whole. Hells, she’d even square off against Bram and Vilhelm again, assuming she had another dose of werewolf venom.


    Anything to avoid the judgment waiting on the other side of those doors.


    Well… anything except going back to my aunts’ farm, Beatrix reminded herself.


    That’s why she had to walk through those doors. Otherwise, she’d be on a one-way train ride home to endure her aunts’ squawking for the rest of her days, with no choice but to sign her soul away.


    A touch on her shoulder brought Beatrix back to the present.


    She tilted her head to meet Grey''s gaze as they stood in a hidden side hallway — a secret entrance to the screamatorium she hadn''t known existed until this evening. Grey had suggested taking this route to avoid drawing any attention before the meeting began. She silently thanked the hells she wasn''t going in there alone.


    “Stay near me,” Grey instructed, quietly easing open one of the heavy doors. A sliver of the dimly lit screamatorium beyond came into view. As Grey stepped inside, his broad frame blocked most of Beatrix''s line of sight. She followed closely behind, practically clinging to his shadow.


    Grey guided her to a pair of vacant seats in a far back row. Beatrix took in the dizzying array of creatures before them. Nearly every Monster High kid had brought their families along for this trial. Beatrix already found the regular students at Monster High intimidating, but their parents were on a whole other level of freaky.


    Rows upon rows of seats stretched out, packed with monsters of every conceivable shape and size. The main floor teemed with activity, while the second-story balconies groaned under the weight of even more spectators. In the cavernous screamatorium, hulking werewolf parents sat beside flickering ghosts, while tentacles and talons waved wildly as heated discussions erupted across the crowd.


    As she followed Grey, Beatrix noticed Deuce a few rows ahead. His mom, Medusa, sat beside him, her serpent tail flicking angrily between seats. On Deuce’s other side sat Cleo, her fingers intertwined with his. Earlier that morning, Beatrix had returned Cleo’s wrappings and discovered that Cleo’s bandages weren’t just for show. The red nail marks left by Vilhlem’s chokehold had faded overnight thanks to the enchanted cloth. It was no wonder the centuries-old mummy always looked so flawless.


    As Beatrix glanced at Cleo, she wondered where the rest of the de Nile family was. Were they all mummified like Cleo?


    Beatrix and Grey settled into their seats, their all-black outfits helping them blend into the shadows that cloaked the far edges of the screamatorium. From here, they had a clear view of Headmistress Bloodgood on stage, who was struggling to maintain composure as angry voices bombarded her.


    A hulking troll roared, "Now there’s two Monster High students found dead this semester! What’s going on?”


    "What''s the administration doing to keep our kids safe?" a harpy demanded.


    From an upper balcony, a banshee shrieked, forcing nearby spectators to cover their ears, "Get rid of the vampires! They''re nothing but trouble!"


    A pale vampire lord stood. "You can’t blame our boys without evidence! If there''s going to be such prejudice against our kind, we''ll pull our children out of school ourselves!"


    "Oh, please!" a werewolf dad scoffed. "Vampires get so many special privileges here, you''d never leave!"


    Another vampire hissed, baring her fangs. "The witch''s accusations are baseless. Bram and Vilhelm aren''t responsible for any deaths!"


    The arguments intensified, voices overlapping:


    “So two students just dropped dead out of nowhere?”


    "Why did a bunch of bloodsuckers go after the fearleading squad?"


    "They were just trying to talk to the witch!"


    "That witch doesn''t belong at Monster High! Bram and Vilhelm were getting rid of a threat! She’s probably the one who’s killing our students!”


    “We don’t even know if those students were murdered! The school''s not telling us anything! How could the headmistress let this happen?"


    "I''ll tell you why! That devil-worshiper charmed Bloodgood so she could get to our kids!"


    Bloodgood gripped the podium, trying in vain to regain some semblance of order as the theories and accusations swelled.


    One thing was certain: another student—a werewolf named "Brocko"—had been found in the woods. And just like Gilda Goldstag, no one knew his cause of death.


    In the front rows, the werewolf pack huddled together, mourning. Even Orion, who was usually the odd wolf out, had joined his packmates in their grief.


    Beatrix''s gaze drifted to the Wolf siblings. Clawd and Clawdeen were a mess. Clawdeen’s face was buried in her hands, and beside her, Draculaura was doing her best to comfort Clawd, rubbing his back in slow circles. But even Draculaura looked rough. Those bags under her eyes were new, and Beatrix swore the vampire girl was even paler than usual.


    Draculaura had recently confided in Beatrix that her “vegetarian” lifestyle had its drawbacks. Although she’d inherited the mind control ability from her father, her animal blood diet limited her power. Consequently, the ability came with a taxing physical cost, demanding days of recovery afterwards. The night Draculaura had subdued Vilhelm had left her drained.


    Letting out a sigh, Beatrix scanned the room again and spotted Autumn sitting with Frankie and the other fearleaders in the middle of the assembly. Although Beatrix and Autumn had agreed to put their fight on hold with everything else going on, Beatrix still felt a rift between them, making her feel more alone than ever in the crowded room.


    Beatrix felt Grey place his hand over hers. His focus was still on the stage where Bloodgood struggled against the crowd, but his hand completely enveloped hers. The simple gesture helped steady Beatrix.


    Monster shouts filled the room, debating her fate, until a commanding voice cut through the commotion: “Be still!”


    The immediate quiet that followed was so abrupt, it left a ringing emptiness in its wake. Beatrix felt her own tongue freeze in her mouth, and all around her, every monster had fallen silent in perfect unison, like someone had hit a mute button on the whole room.


    Slowly, Beatrix raised her eyes to see where that voice had come. There, on one of the second-floor balconies, stood a figure that practically oozed authority. This monster''s eyes glowed with a burning, otherworldly intensity — the same kind of intensity she’d seen when Draculaura had entranced Vilhelm.


    Dracula.


    With inhuman grace, Dracula descended from the balcony. He didn''t really fall, he floated, his long cape billowing behind him like the wings of a bat. What should’ve been a bone-shattering drop was, for him, as effortless as stepping down a single stair.


    "This madness must end," Dracula declared as he glided down the center aisle. “Look at yourselves. Everyone''s losing their heads, and for what? A bit of youthful mischief?”


    Parents and students cleared a path for him as he passed, their movements eerily synchronized. Beatrix found herself fascinated by his casual display of mind control, by how easily he controlled everyone without saying a word. It made Operetta’s lullaby and the mermaid''s song seem like kid stuff.


    "Come now," Dracula said, sounding amused. "Young monsters, regardless of the era, will be young monsters. It was the first time our offspring were allowed off campus this semester. Are they not allowed a bit of fun?”


    Dracula’s piercing gaze swept the room, daring anyone to challenge him. When no one did, he nodded, satisfied. "I propose a simple resolution. Have the Devein and Radescu families issue a formal apology for the damage inflicted upon my daughter''s property. Then we can consider this matter closed."


    But a banshee with an Irish accent wasn''t having it. "Now, hold on just a second," she said sharply. “We all know it was you vampires who pushed to get that campus ban lifted so quickly. The ban was put in place after poor Gilda died in those woods, to keep our kids safe, but you lot couldn''t stand it, could you? You always get your way, and look where it''s got us! More students are dying! You can’t just shirk responsibility and act like nothin'' happened!"


    Dracula’s red eyes bore dangerously into the banshee woman. “I don’t like what you’re suggesting, madam,” he said. “We don''t have all the facts yet. It’s unwise to make such hasty accusations.”


    The banshee woman wilted under the weight of Dracula''s stare. She lowered her head.


    Dracula shifted his stare to Bloodgood on the stage. "Tell me, Headmistress," he said, "did you really think you could keep our offspring locked up on campus all year because of some... random incident in the woods?"


    Draculaura rose from her seat, placing a hand on Clawd’s shoulder to steady herself. “Dad! Stop it! It wasn’t random!” She swayed slightly, looking ill.


    “Not now, ‘laura,” Dracula said.


    But Draculaura ignored him, her voice growing stronger. “Bram and Vilhelm’s parents are on the vampiric council and throw tons of money at the school,” she said. “That''s the real reason why they got off so easily after what they did to those human girls. These murders prove that the vampire elite can do whatever they want here!”


    Dracula regarded his daughter with an unsettling calmness. "Innocent until proven guilty, my little bat," he said smoothly. Beatrix realized Draculaura was probably the only one who could talk back to her father and remain unscathed.


    Turning back to the second-floor balconies, Dracula called out, "Bram Devein, Vilhelm Radescu. Why don''t you tell us your side of the story? What exactly were your intentions when you confronted the witch that night?”


    Bram and Vilhelm stood up. Bram''s arm was in a sling and Vilhelm was covered in bruises. Even though vampire injuries healed quickly, the wounds still made Beatrix look pretty ruthless.


    Beatrix stifled a cackle. Grey glanced over.


    “I did a number on them, huh?” Beatrix whispered, unable to hide her satisfaction.


    Grey pressed a finger to his lips, but he was suppressing a grin too.


    "We didn’t want to harm the witch, just frighten her. We only wanted to protect our school,” Bram said to the crowd. His words came out rehearsed, as if he''d practiced them countless times.


    "We’re not murderers,” Vilhelm added. “The witch is the one you should be questioning. She''s already made up a story about us draining humans in New Salem—why would you believe her now? She’s trying to cover up her own evil deeds!"


    A blonde vampire, undoubtedly Bram’s mom, chimed in, "Why are you pointing fingers at my sweet baby boy when there’s a vicious sorceress in our midst?"


    Grey shifted uneasily in his seat, his hand moving to his concealed weapon at his hip. He looked ready to spring into action if things escalated. She knew they were both thinking the same thing — it was only a matter of time before someone spotted her.


    The room grew rowdy again as other parents joined in. A skeleton in the back rattled loudly as he shouted, “This is ridiculous! Normies don''t belong here! Monster High is for monsters, not witches!"


    “Oh yeah?" a gargoyle countered. "Then why does Draculaura get to keep a human servant on campus?” Beatrix hadn''t expected Guillermo to be brought into this.


    "My daughter''s familiar is not the issue here," Dracula snapped. "My little bat is entitled to whatever she needs."


    Though no one spoke against Dracula, Beatrix could feel the resentment simmering in the crowd.


    Dracula continued, growing exasperated, "Besides, vampires don''t even drink monster blood. How could one of us be behind these attacks?"


    A chorus of agreement rose from the assembled monsters. "He’s right! The witch is our only suspect!”


    "Get rid of her!" someone cried.


    Beatrix held her breath, pressing herself further into the shadows. She could feel the weight of a hundred monstrous gazes sweeping the room, searching for her.


    Given the evidence, it should have been obvious Bram and Vilhelm were responsible for Gilda and Brocko’s deaths. Yet, Beatrix was trapped in a room with a bunch of ancient overpowered snobs who all had their own agendas. And she was about to be their scapegoat.


    Grey’s hand still held hers. He squeezed it firmly, a silent signal for her to calm down.


    "Where is the witch anyway? She should be facing us, confessing to what she''s done!" a multi-headed hydra demanded, each of its heads nodding in agreement with itself.


    "In all the nine hells…" Beatrix mumbled, her frustration finally boiling over. The direction this meeting had taken was pushing her beyond her limits.


    So Beatrix blurted out, "Fine!"


    Beatrix’s outburst startled those sitting nearby, drawing all eyes to her. Gasps and hisses of surprise rippled through the crowd.


    Slipping her hand from Grey''s grip, Beatrix strode towards the front of the screamatorium, nimbly jumping to avoid Medusa''s swishing snake tail. As she reached the stage, she declared, "I''m innocent. But I do have a few things to explain."


    Headmistress Bloodgood frowned. "Ms. Ravenwood, wait a moment—"


    But Beatrix pressed on, "It’s true, I cast some spells. But they were quick, basically harmless, and one was in self-defense."


    “See? The sorceress admits it!” someone shrieked.


    "How do we know Bram and Vilhelm attacked her at all? She has no proof!" came another skeptical voice.


    Beatrix reached for her neck, ready to show her wounds, only to remember they''d vanished thanks to Cleo''s wrapping. A surge of anger flashed through her. Did Cleo heal me to get rid of the evidence?


    Bloodgood stepped forward, raising her hands to quiet the crowd. With a measured tone, she began, "I think it''s time I addressed why Ms. Ravenwood is here."


    The headmistress let the murmurs die down before continuing. "As you all know, Monster High has always prided itself on being a sanctuary for all kinds of paranormal beings. Recently, the school board decided it was time to extend that inclusivity to magic-users as well."


    She gestured towards Beatrix. "That’s why Ms. Ravenwood was carefully chosen to join our faculty, as the first step in this integration process."


    Bloodgood''s expression grew somber as she added, "However, given the... unfortunate events of late, the board has decided to delay this initiative indefinitely and seek a more... suitable candidate in the future.


    The headmistress''s words made Beatrix’s stomach drop. I’m being sent home.


    "Good riddance!" someone shouted.


    In the commotion, a timid voice rose. "Headmistress?"


    "Yes, Ms. Patches?" Bloodgood said.


    Autumn’s hand was raised studiously, as if she were in a classroom. When Bloodgood acknowledged her, she stood.


    "Bea—I mean, Beatrix has definitely broken some rules," Autumn began, her voice shaky. "And yeah, that sleeping potion thing on the field trip was bad. But..." She took a deep breath, gathering courage. "What happened at Draculaura''s house was in self-defense. It''s right there in the student handbook, regulation 6.06. You can''t expel someone for defending themselves against a stronger monster’s attack."


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Autumn pressed on, “Blaming Beatrix for everything isn’t fair. I''m telling you, she’s not responsible for Gilda Goldstag and Brock Barker''s deaths. Beatrix is always working, juggling multiple jobs as a lunch lady, a janitor, and my emotional support aid. She doesn''t have the time to terrorize students in the woods."


    Autumn''s button eyes met Beatrix''s. "I grew up with her. I know her better than anyone. She''s not capable of this."


    To Beatrix''s surprise, Johannah and Mr. Gore also came to her defense.


    “I want to say something too,” Johannah said. “Beatrix has never missed a single MSS seminar, not one, and I''ve seen firsthand how sorry she is for her past actions. She’s really become one of us."


    Mr. Gore cleared his throat and followed suit. "I''ll be the first to admit I had reservations about Ms. Ravenwood. Her actions during the field trip were... troubling, to say the least. But I''ve observed her closely since then. Her attempt to help Jackson, misguided as it was, showed a genuine concern for others. In our interactions, I''ve seen a young woman earnestly trying to understand and connect with monsters. The murderous acts we''re accusing her of... they simply don''t align with the witch I''ve come to know."


    Beatrix felt a wave of relief wash over her, touched by this unexpected support, but Dracula’s cold voice cut in.


    "Pretty words," he sneered, "but they mean nothing if she can practice witchcraft. For all we know, she could be using curses to manipulate those speaking in her favor."


    Then, Dracula looked just beyond Beatrix''s shoulder. The sudden shift in Dracula''s attention caught Beatrix off guard. Confused, she turned, following his line of sight. There, standing a few feet behind her, was Grey. He had silently followed her to the front of the screamatorium, standing guard.


    Dracula addressed Grey. "Why are you protecting this witch?” he asked. “She''s allied with your adversaries. Surely you don''t want a pawn of those dark rulers here. Your father would be disappointed."


    Beatrix’s mind reeled. Why would the Grim Reaper disapprove of me? she wondered. And… Grey’s ‘adversaries’? What’s he talking about?


    She glanced at Grey. Grey didn''t reply, but Beatrix caught the slight furrow of his brows. Dracula had struck a nerve.


    “I hope you aren’t referring to us, Drac,” a sultry voice said from the back of the screamatorium


    Expansive red wings unfurled, accompanied by multiple pairs of sharp horns jutting from a group of newcomers'' foreheads.


    Beatrix''s eyes widened in recognition as she gazed at the striking red woman leading the group. It took her a moment to place the face, but then it clicked — she''d seen this woman featured in the latest issue of Maleficium Monthly: Cassia the Conniving, the demon duchess of the fifth circle of hell.


    Beatrix had never seen a devil in person before.


    Well, technically, devils lacked physical bodies. They were destined to never inhabit human forms on earth, so what she saw before her were merely projections, illusions of flesh and bone. That''s where witches came in—they bridged the gap between demonic will and physical existence.


    Yet, despite this knowledge, the devils looked as real and solid as anyone else in the room. They appeared to interact tangibly with the floor, their sleek black attire exuding a regal sophistication that absorbed the very light around them.


    Cassia the Conniving was breathtaking: tall, statuesque, with glowing yellow irises that seemed to pierce right through you. Where Dracula inspired fear, Cassia evoked a different reaction—awe, like a living work of art.


    Grey moved swiftly, positioning himself protectively in front of Beatrix against the devil posse.


    "Your Grace," Bloodgood addressed Cassia with a bow, her surprise evident. Beatrix sensed the headmistress was as unprepared for this encounter as she was.


    Cassia''s voice was honey-smooth as she spoke, her words carrying effortlessly across the room. "My little birds told me a witch was on trial today. We thought we’d stop by to observe the proceedings." The devil woman gave Beatrix a charming smile that revealed a glint of sharp teeth.


    "I have a solution to your dilemma," Cassia continued, her smile turning sly. "An offer you can''t refuse. Literally."