Beatrix carefully guided Autumn down Monster High''s main hallway. "Almost there," she said, readjusting her grip on Autumn''s straw-filled arm. "How you holding up?"


    Autumn nodded, her stitched lips tight with determination as she shuffled along. "I''m okay... I just wish I could move faster."


    Beatrix glanced at the thick black seams crisscrossing Autumn''s torso and shoulder. That fall during last week''s casketball game had really done a number on her. Her injuries had been so bad that the cyborg nurse had benched her from fearleading for the rest of the month, which was driving Autumn crazy.


    At least she was slowly getting better. The magic that gave Autumn life was working overtime to heal her battered body, the fabric of her patchwork skin gradually knitting itself back up.


    But for now, her movements were still stiff and awkward as they made their way through the corridor. Every few steps, a pained little gasp escaped Autumn, making Beatrix wince.


    “You sure you''re good?" Beatrix asked.


    "Uh huh… I’m just... a little sore," Autumn said.


    Astar walked beside them, his wings folded against his back. "Can’t I fly you to the library? It''d be way faster.”


    Autumn shook her head stubbornly. “I can do this."


    "Come on Patches, there''s a bench right there," Astar pointed out. "Take a breather."


    "No way," Autumn insisted. "If I sit down now, I might not get up again. I''ve got too much studying to do."


    Beatrix raised an eyebrow, glancing at Astar. "Didn''t they cancel classes this week?"


    "Yeah, but that doesn''t mean I can slack off," Autumn said.


    Beatrix couldn''t help but snort. "Alright, bookworm. Library first, then I''ve gotta head to another MSS meeting."


    As they inched down the hallway, an eerie silence enveloped them.


    Classes had been canceled for an extra week after Henry Hunchback was found. Normally, an extended winter break would''ve had everyone celebrating, but the mood was anything but festive.


    The silence was broken only by hushed whispers and the occasional slamming of a locker, each sound making everyone jump. It was like the whole school was holding its breath, with one unspoken question lingering in the air: Who''s next?


    Sure, campus security — a team of gargoyles and enchanted suits of armor — were scouring the area where Henry was found for clues, but that did little to calm anyone''s nerves. Fear was written all over every monster''s face, from the youngest freshman to the most jaded senior. Beatrix saw it in the way werewolves traveled in tight-knit packs, their fur bristling and their ears laid flat; in how the vampire students huddled in dark corners, their red eyes glowing with suspicion at anyone who passed by.


    Beatrix couldn''t shake the image of Henry Hunchback lying face-down in the grass. But almost as unsettling was Grey’s odd behavior in the aftermath. The way he''d pulled her away from the crime scene, his grip on her arm being a little too tight. It all felt off. Why was he being so secretive?


    "So," Beatrix murmured to Astar, "any clue what went down with Henry?" She searched the devil''s face.


    Astar''s reply was annoyingly vague. "Nothing concrete yet. But I''m keeping my eyes open." His wings twitched against his back.


    Beatrix held back an eye roll. Some detective, she thought.


    "Well, this is my stop," Autumn said when they reached the library doors. "Thanks for walking me, guys.”


    "Astar,” Beatrix said, trying to sound casual, “could you stay with Autumn?"


    The request was partly out of concern for Autumn''s safety, but mostly to avoid another Astar-Grey clash at today’s MSS meeting. Their last confrontation had been painfully awkward, and she knew it would be tense if Astar showed up to MSS uninvited.


    Astar crossed his arms over his chest. "What’s the point of hanging around a scarecrow when I’ve got a perfectly good witch right here? No offense, Patches."


    Autumn smiled. "None taken. But Bea might be onto something. I could use a hand in there. What do you say, Astar? Wanna be my study buddy while she’s at her meeting?"


    "Hmm, tempting," Astar drawled, "but I’ve been dying to crash Bee’s little seminar. Might as well get some sensitivity training, since she thinks I’m such a brute."


    Autumn''s face fell, but Beatrix suspected it was feigned disappointment. "Oh, that''s too bad. I was going to do our History of the Undead homework, but... no biggie. Maybe next time."


    Astar perked up. "Hold up. You’re doing that mind-numbing essay that makes me want to gouge my eyes out?”


    Autumn nodded innocently. "Mhmm.”


    Beatrix hid a smirk behind her hand, impressed by Autumn''s acting skills. The scarecrow was trying to lure Astar away from her.


    Astar looked torn, obviously tempted by the chance to cheat off Autumn. He mulled it over, tapping a talon against his chin. After a moment of internal debate, he turned to Beatrix. "Change of plans, Bee. I''m ditching you for the library. I''ll catch you after your thing."


    Beatrix waved, relieved. "Counting on it."


    She watched as Astar held the heavy library door open for Autumn, and the pair disappeared inside.


    The timing couldn''t have been better. As soon as Astar and Autumn were out of sight, Beatrix spotted Grey down the hall. He was deep in conversation with Deuce, Clawd, and a few other boys. They were gathered together near a row of lockers, their heads bent close in hushed whispers.


    Beatrix quickly ducked behind a corner to eavesdrop.


    Deuce''s voice drifted over. "My mom was asking about your dad... what''s going on at Death Co.?"


    Grey''s response was harder to make out, but Beatrix picked up a few words: "... Preoccupied... went rogue..."


    The conversation abruptly stopped when Clawd growled, "Guys, we got company."


    "I got this," Grey muttered, and Beatrix heard his footsteps coming her way.


    He rounded the corner, his tall frame casting a shadow over her.


    "Oh, hey there," Beatrix said, her voice a touch too high. "Fancy bumping into you here." She cringed at how fake she sounded.


    “You know, I can see your soul from a mile away," Grey said, looking down at her, half amused, half annoyed.


    "What does that even mean?" Beatrix asked. She stood up, trying to regain some dignity.


    Ignoring her question, Grey turned back to the group of mansters. "You guys go ahead. I''m mentoring a seminar."


    "Since when did you become Mr. Social Butterfly?" Beatrix teased, wondering what the boys had been whispering about.


    Grey''s pitch-black eyes narrowed. "Wouldn''t you like to know, now that you''re Ms. Popular? That devil''s been following you around like a puppy. Seems like you two are getting pretty cozy."


    "No, he''s just…" Beatrix trailed off, not sure how to describe her relationship with Astar. Nemesis? Master? Frenemy? Nothing fit.


    A classroom door down the hall swung open, and Mr. Gore stuck his head out. “There you two are! You’re late!” he called.


    Beatrix and Grey exchanged a look before following Mr. Gore into the room.


    As they entered, Beatrix''s jaw dropped when she saw what was inside. Purple streamers cascaded from the ceiling, and a small chocolate cake sat on a nearby desk.


    "Surprise!" a chorus of voices shouted.


    Orion set off a confetti popper a little too close to Beatrix''s face. Colorful paper exploded, showering her in a rainbow of tiny pieces. Some got caught in her hair and eyelashes, making her blink rapidly.


    "Orion! Are you trying to take her eye out?!" Guillermo exclaimed as he brushed confetti off Beatrix''s shoulders.


    "I''ll take your eye out!" Orion growled back, though there was no real heat in his words.


    "Boys..." Johannah warned.


    Jackson stepped forward, holding a gift in his hands. "Happy birthday, Beatrix," he said with a shy smile. The present was wrapped in shiny purple paper with a silver bow on top.


    "This is for me?" Beatrix said, feeling a rush of excitement.


    But it quickly fizzled out when she remembered what birthday they were celebrating — she was turning sixteen. Great.


    Now that she was sixteen, she''d have to fight tooth and nail to avoid selling her soul after her short term contract with Astar. A sixteen-year-old witch holding onto her soul was unheard of in the witching world. She no longer had a good excuse to keep it.


    Even though she hadn’t said anything about it all day, Beatrix knew that Autumn and Astar had been aware.


    Pushing down her dread, Beatrix forced a smile and began tearing into the gift. Inside, she found a new cooking apron, the fabric soft beneath her fingers. The words “Witchin’ in the Kitchen” were written across the front in a swirling font that seemed to change colors when the light hit it.


    "Now you can ditch those gross lunch lady aprons," Johannah said. Her eyes gleamed as she added, "It was Grey''s idea."


    "Oh, really?" Beatrix smirked.


    Grey shrugged, trying to play it cool, but Beatrix could see the tips of his gray ears turning pink.


    "You guys... this is too much," she said, hugging the apron. "Seriously, thank you!"


    Soon, everyone was sitting down with slices of cake. The sound of chairs scraping across the floor filled the room as Mr. Gore prepared to start the lesson. He began sketching out diagrams of mer-people and krakens on the whiteboard.


    But then Jackson''s hand shot up. "Mr. Gore," he said, "I hate to be the one to bring this up, but... are we not going to talk about the... the third student?" He swallowed hard. "Should we expect to be sent home early this semester?"


    Mr. Gore''s pale face seemed to lose what little color it had left. He removed his glasses, polishing them on his tweed jacket as he gathered his thoughts.


    "The higher-ups have been talking about whether we''ll keep our doors open this year," Mr. Gore finally said, choosing his words carefully. He put his glasses back on his nose. "I wish I could give you a definitive answer… but the situation is still uncertain…"


    Orion, never one for subtlety, turned to Beatrix. "Isn''t your pet demon supposed to be fixing this mess?"


    "Astar’s been patrolling the perimeter every night," Beatrix replied. "He said he hasn’t found anything yet…" But as the words left her mouth, even she didn''t buy it.


    Beatrix heard Grey mutter something under his breath. She couldn''t make it out, but judging by the tension in his jaw and the way he gripped his plastic cake fork — which bent a little under the pressure — it was clear he wasn’t pleased.


    Mr. Gore steered things back to water monsters for the rest of class, droning on about mer-people politics and kraken hunting habits, quickly lulling everyone to sleep.


    Once he was done, they all held a moment of silence for Henry Hunchback.


    As the group filed out of the classroom, Beatrix looked around for Astar, expecting to see him waiting for her, but he was nowhere to be seen.


    Grey fell in step beside her. “We need to talk,” he said.


    ~ o ~ O ~ o ~


    Their destination was the far end of campus, past the Black Lagoon and near the perimeter fence that loomed against the twilight sky. Its iron bars stretched up, their tips gleaming dully in the fading light.


    Beatrix and Grey stopped behind the old gardening shed — the same spot where they’d spoken months ago.


    Grey started in immediately, his words spilling out like he couldn''t hold them back anymore.


    "Astar’s not really investigating the murders," he said. "He''s pretending to be a detective at night, when really he''s hanging out with ghouls on campus.”


    "Wait, what? How do you know that?"


    “The ghouls he’s hanging around won’t stop talking about it,” Grey said, curt.


    Beatrix frowned. "Hold on, why are you scolding me?"


    "Because he''s your familiar! He hasn’t done anything since he showed up here. If anything, he''s trying to keep the school from figuring things out!"


    "You do the exact same thing to me!” Beatrix fired back. “Like when you stopped me from seeing Henry at the crime scene!"


    "You''re mad I didn''t let you near a dead body?" Grey let out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his dark, closely shaven hair. "How can you not see it? Astar’s just wasting your time. He’s probably busy working on some shady plan, and we have no idea what it is. He’s got you wrapped up in a ‘test trial’ so he and his mom can control you.”


    “I didn’t have a choice!” Beatrix snapped, stepping closer to Grey. “You’re acting like I stabbed you in the back. I thought we were partners in this, you big idiot!”


    They both went quiet. Dusk faded into night, softening the world around them into shades of blue and gray. Beyond the fence, trees stirred in a gentle breeze, their branches swaying against the sky. The iron bars of the fence seemed to stretch even taller in the growing darkness, but Beatrix could still make out the contours of Grey’s face, the depth of his eyes.


    "Big idiot?" Grey spoke up again, a teasing smirk cracking across his face.


    "Oh, shut up." Beatrix said, a laugh escaping her. "I was ready to fight you just now. But I don’t want you getting kicked out of school again."


    Beatrix paused. She hadn''t meant to bring that up. But now that it was out there... "Why were you suspended last year anyway?"


    Grey leaned against the shed. The old wood creaked beneath his weight. "I didn''t get suspended for fighting," he said, his voice low. "I thought most of my classes were useless, so I skipped. A lot."


    Then he added, "I only got into one fight last year — with this vampire, Valentine. He was picking on some ghouls, and I..." Grey trailed off, shrugging. "I hate seeing stronger creatures pick on vulnerable ones."


    "I should''ve known," Beatrix said, shaking her head knowingly. "You''re such a softie when it comes to monsters."


    Grey''s eyes met hers for a moment. "Got it from my dad," he admitted.


    Beatrix blinked, surprised. "Why does the Grim Reaper like monsters?"


    "Probably because he had a thing for Bloodgood a few centuries back," Grey said matter-of-factly. “She turned him down for some robot tinkerer. He''s still not over it.”


    Beatrix stared at him. "Bloodgood? And the Grim Reaper? That''s... pretty cute, actually."


    Grey''s face softened a bit. "Bloodgood''s a family friend," he said. "When she became headmistress, she talked me into going to Monster High ‘cause she and my dad wanted me to be exposed to monsters. I wasn''t into it at first, since being cool with monsters is controversial, but I’m following in my dad’s footsteps anyway."


    Beatrix leaned against the shed next to him. “What do you mean by that?”


    Grey glanced over at the iron fence. The moonlight shone in his dark eyes, making them look like polished onyx. "My dad… made some enemies when he created peace treaties with monsterkind."


    “Hm. Too bad I''m not a monster," Beatrix joked. "Those peace treaties might''ve forced you to be nice to me."


    "You should be grateful you''re mortal," Grey said quietly. "Even with the devil stuff, you''re human.”


    Beatrix frowned. "If I''m human," she began, "how’d you know I was a witch when we first met at Bloodgood’s office?"


    "Because I can see your soul," Grey said, reaching out to tap her collarbone gently. "Right here."


    "Huh?" Beatrix asked.


    Without warning, Grey placed a calloused hand on her collarbone. A small shiver ran through Beatrix at the contact.


    "I can see your soul glowing here," he said, his eyes not leaving hers. "Human souls look like little orbs of light, and they get brighter when it''s time to move on. Reapers are drawn to them… Like I’m meant to be in your orbit."


    Beatrix was sure Grey could feel her heart racing under his palm.


    "When I first saw you, your soul had a normal human glow, but there were hints of orangey-red at the edges,” Grey said. “That''s a sign it''s close to being claimed by a demon. The orange is even more noticeable now…" He paused, taking his hand off her. "Astar plans to claim your soul soon. I mean, it''s still yours for now, technically, but he''s called dibs on it. When you hand it over to him, red will take over the white light."


    Beatrix swallowed hard, eager to change the subject. She managed to ask, "So, uh, do human and monster souls look different?"


    "Monster souls look really dull. Their light is muted to Reapers,” he said. "I can barely even see that one over there," He pointed at the Black Lagoon, its dark waters mirroring the fading light and stars above.


    Beatrix squinted, as if that would somehow give her human eyes Reaper vision. "Where?" The lake looked as murky as ever to her.


    "There''s a monster in the lake," Grey said confidently.


    "Oh... that must be Levi, Lagoona''s friend," Beatrix realized. Then, struck by a sudden curiosity, she asked Grey, "Do you have a soul?"


    Before Grey could answer, a sharp crack echoed through the night — the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping.


    Beatrix whipped around. She scanned the treeline. The sound had come from the other side of the fence, in the forest that was growing creepier by the second, shadows deepening into an impenetrable wall of black.


    Beatrix found herself moving closer to the edge of campus. Her eyes were glued to the darkest part of the woods, searching for any hint of movement. She gripped the iron bars of the fence, the metal cold under her fingers as she leaned forward, peering into the gloom.


    There — a faint, shifting motion among the trees. Too far to see clearly, but definitely there. A suspect?


    "Grey!" Beatrix hissed urgently, her voice tight. "Quick, can you see a soul out there? Human or monster? Hurry, before they leave!"


    Grey didn''t speak.


    "What is it? What do you see?" Beatrix pressed, her whole body tense, ready to spring into action.


    Suddenly, Grey took hold of her shoulders, his grip firm but not painful. He pulled her back, away from the fence, putting himself between her and whatever was out there in the dark.


    "Don''t," he said, his voice low and filled with a fear that made Beatrix''s blood run cold.


    She tried to squirm out of his grip, but he held her in place, his fingers pressing into her shoulders. She twisted to look at him.


    Grey''s black eyes appeared hollow in the night, like twin voids that absorbed all light. His charcoal stare burrowed into her, intense and unsettling. He looked like he’d seen a ghost — or worse. Beatrix was perplexed. And terrified.


    Then, something in Grey''s pocket lit up, and his eyes reflected the light from a phone screen.


    He let go of Beatrix and pulled out his black iCoffin. The caller ID read: "B''s friend."


    Grey handed it over without a word.


    "Autumn?" Beatrix frantically answered.


    "Bea! Astar and I lost track of time in the library! Where’d you go?" Autumn''s worried voice came through the phone. “Astar just flew off to find you.”


    Beatrix stepped out from behind the gardening shed. She looked up and spotted a wide set of devil wings in the night sky, circling the Monster High bell tower. For once, the sight of Astar didn''t annoy her. It was actually a relief.


    "On my way," Beatrix said before hanging up.


    She turned back to Grey, who stood rigid, concentrated on the woods.


    “I don''t know what your problem is,” she told him, “but you’re right — Astar’s dragging his feet. At this rate, another body will turn up before we get any answers.”


    That got Grey''s attention. His gaze snapped to her.


    Beatrix sighed, “So if you''re not going to help me figure out what’s going on, I''ll do it on my own. Thanks for the birthday present."


    Without waiting for a response, she took off into the night, clutching her gift tightly as she headed toward the flying devil. She could feel Grey''s eyes watching her, but she didn''t look back.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ~ o ~ O ~ o ~


    “I told you Grey was bad news,” Autumn said, her knitting needles clicking softly as she worked on a black scarf.


    Beatrix lay sprawled on her bed as morning light streamed through their dorm room window, staring up at the ceiling. "I don’t get it. One minute Grey’s ranting about how Astar’s screwing up the murder investigation, and the next he’s freaking out because I’m trying to find a suspect."


    Autumn looked up from her knitting, perched on her own bed across the room. "Grey said Astar''s messing up the investigation? But he’s out patrolling every night."


    Beatrix rolled onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow. "According to Grey, that''s bull. Apparently Astar''s been hanging out with some ghouls instead."


    Autumn''s needles stilled mid-stitch. "Astar''s… going out with ghouls?" Her posture deflated.


    "Yeah, so we can''t trust Astar or Grey!” Beatrix insisted, sitting up. “We''re gonna have to solve this on our own.”


    "... And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Autumn asked skeptically.


    Beatrix''s determination faltered for a moment. She chewed her lip, thinking. "I... haven''t worked that part out yet. Maybe I could start sneaking out at night to check things out at the perimeter? Or..."


    "No way," Autumn interrupted, her button eyes wide with alarm. "Way too dangerous."


    Beatrix flopped back onto her bed with a groan, her dark hair fanning out on the pillow. "Fine. Then... I don''t know. You''re the smart one. Any bright ideas?"


    Autumn set her knitting aside, hesitating. "What about... magic?"


    "What did you say?" Beatrix''s head snapped up, surprised.


    "You pulled off some pretty impressive spells last semester,” Autumn reasoned, fidgeting with a loose thread on her arm. "If you''re going all detective mode, maybe magic could help you find the killer. Or at least keep you safe while you''re poking around."


    Beatrix sat up, incredulous. "Magic? Seriously? After all that drama with the school board last semester?


    "Well… when you were in MSS yesterday, I was talking to Astar in the library…" Autumn said. “... and I told him I wished my body could heal faster. He suggested you could try a healing spell on me. He even offered to help if... you know, if you were up for it."


    "He shouldn’t have talked to you about that," Beatrix said, bristling at the thought of Astar trying to influence her through Autumn.


    "I''ve been thinking about it though," Autumn persisted. "I mean, given everything that''s going on, maybe using a little magic here and there wouldn''t be such a bad idea after all."


    "No. Just... no. I''m done with spells at Monster High. End of story."


    Autumn leaned forward, earnest. "But Bea, if you''re not gonna rely on Astar, you need to find some way to protect yourself."


    "Autumn! Stop letting Astar get in your head, okay?"


    Besides, even if Beatrix wanted to use magic again — which she absolutely didn''t — it''s not like she could do it effectively on her own. Spectra had been her teacher, and she hadn''t seen the spirit for months.


    A sudden THWACK against their dorm window made both girls nearly jump out of their skin.


    “Good morning!” Astar''s annoyingly cheerful voice rang out. Through the frosted glass, they could make out his grinning face, those two sharp red horns jutting out from his tousled mess of black hair, as he clung to the outside their fifth-floor window.


    Autumn sprang out of bed and opened the window.


    Astar swung his legs over the sill, leaned in with a devilish smirk that made Beatrix want to punch him. "Ready, ragdoll?" he asked Autumn.


    “For what?” Beatrix asked.


    Autumn suppressed an embarrassed smile. "I talked to Astar about ways to speed up my recovery and how to get a little bit sturdier. So, I’m starting to train with him today..."


    "Autumn needs to toughen up if she ever wants to get back to fearleading," Astar said, examining his talons. "I, being the generous demon I am, offered my superior expertise.”


    "Autumn! Are you coming?" Frankie''s voice shouted from outside.


    Beatrix pushed past Astar to look out the window. Down below, she saw Frankie, Toralei, and Abbey dressed in running gear. Frankie''s bolts sparked with excitement, Toralei''s tail swished back and forth impatiently, and Abbey''s icy skin glittered in the morning sun, making Beatrix squint.


    "Just a sec!" Autumn called back, rushing to her closet to change. "Astar, turn around!”


    Astar made a show of turning away as Autumn slipped out of her pajama top.


    Beatrix glared at him, arms crossed. "What are you up to? Building yourself a little army?"


    Astar shrugged. "The ladies saw me working out around campus. They wanted in on this.” He gestured to his admittedly well-toned body. "And I never turn away eager pupils."


    Beatrix raised a brow. "Autumn’s really exercising with you?”


    "Relax, it''s just a light jog," Astar said. “I''m not about to make your precious scarecrow rip herself in half again. Hells below, monsters are so fragile these days. Just look at that sorry excuse for a creature."


    He nodded outside towards Jackson Jekyll, who had approached the group of ghouls below, clutching a notebook. The poor guy''s face was redder than a tomato as he stammered something to Frankie.


    "Yo, four-eyes! If you''re not working out those noodle arms with us, then scram!" Astar taunted.


    Beatrix elbowed Astar aside. “Ignore him, Jackson! He’s got a God complex!”


    “Ha! God wishes!” Astar elbowed back, then turned to Beatrix. "Stop being a stick in the mud. You''re missing out on all the cool stuff I could teach you. I''ve got street smarts from the fifth circle that''d make your head spin — the best circle, hands down."


    "I don''t see what the big deal is. It''s only the fifth circle," Beatrix needled. "Couldn’t I have gotten a devil from at least the sixth?"


    Her jab hit its mark. Astar''s face twisted, his pride wounded.


    "Only the fifth circle?!" he squawked. "You don''t know jack about what I can do! You haven''t even asked how to summon me!”


    Astar grabbed Beatrix’s hand. His skin was unnaturally warm. "Pay attention," he growled, running the tip of his talon across her palm. It left a faint red line as he sketched out a small square with a few lines branching off. "Draw this symbol on your right palm, and I''ll be there when you need me."


    "All set!" Autumn bounced over, decked out in running shorts and an orange tank top covered in pumpkins. Her usual twin straw braids had been replaced by a single plait swinging behind her.


    Without warning, Astar scooped Autumn up into his arms. Beatrix''s heart leapt as she watched the devil casually step out the window with Autumn in tow. Beatrix’s protest died in her throat as Astar glided down, five stories, and gently set down Autumn on the grass.


    "Trixie!” Frankie shouted, her mismatched eyes bright. “Jackson wants to talk to you!"


    Beatrix looked down to see Jackson peeking up at her, fidgeting nervously at the edge of the group. His fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on the spine of his notebook.


    Astar herded the ghouls into some semblance of a formation. "Let''s move, ladies!" With that, he took off at a jog, the others scrambling to keep up. Autumn trailed behind, already straining as she struggled to match their pace.


    Sighing, Beatrix threw on a black denim jacket and headed outside to meet Jackson. The grass crunched beneath her sneakers, coated in a light frost.


    "What''s up?" she asked, eyeing the battered notebook in Jackson''s white-knuckled grip. "Everything okay?"


    Jackson''s eyes darted around, paranoid, before he cracked open the notebook. It was a chaotic mess — loose papers crammed between pages, scribbled notes that were barely legible, and a ton of rough sketches of various monsters.


    "I... I didn''t know who else to go to," he whispered. "I couldn''t tell Guillermo or Orion. They can’t keep a secret."


    With trembling fingers, Jackson flipped to a page labeled "Henry" in jagged letters.


    Beatrix felt her blood run cold. "Henry Hunchback?" she breathed.


    Jackson nodded, swallowing hard. "I saw his body after Grey dragged you away from the crime scene. I managed to get close right before security taped everything off."


    He turned to a crude sketch that made Beatrix''s stomach lurch. It was Henry''s body, sprawled in the grass, rendered in unforgiving detail.


    "Hells, Jackson," Beatrix hissed, looking away. "Why would you draw that?"


    "I had to. It was stuck in my head," Jackson said. "And the more I thought about it, the weirder it all seemed. Henry had no clear cause of death. At first, I thought he might’ve died from vampire bites, blood draining, but vampires usually target the neck or wrist arteries, and there were no marks there."


    Jackson jabbed a finger at his sketch. “I did notice this."


    Beatrix''s eyes landed on a faint line Jackson had drawn across Henry''s back. She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the frost. Beatrix hadn''t noticed any strange slash like that on Henry, but Grey had pulled her away from the body so fast...


    "Did someone cut him?" Beatrix asked.


    Jackson shook his head. "That''s the thing. It didn''t break the skin. Henry and I had gym together, and I never saw that mark on him in the locker room. It looked like a pale, super precise slice.”


    Beatrix was baffled. "But his body was intact. How could that have killed him?"


    "That''s why I came to you," Jackson said, desperation creeping into his voice. "I was wondering if this resembles any witchcraft you know. Because it''s not a typical weapon."


    Beatrix wracked her brain, trying to recall any of her aunts'' spells that might leave a mark like that to take someone’s life. Nothing came to mind. "I don''t think it''s magic," she said slowly.


    "I was afraid you''d say that," Jackson murmured, shoulders slumping. “I''ve got another theory, but... you have to swear you won''t tell anyone. Not a soul."


    “Promise. Witch’s honor.” Beatrix said.


    Jackson took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Okay. So, this mark... it looks like a swift, ghostly slash across his body. Almost like it was made by some kind of... I don''t know, spiritual weapon or something. I''m not even sure if that''s possible, but look—" His finger traced the faint line in his sketch. "See how it curves up slightly at both ends? It resembles a single-edged blade with a curved edge. The first thing that popped into my head was... a scythe."


    "A scythe?" Beatrix echoed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Who would be swinging a scythe around campus?"


    Jackson''s eyes met hers. "There''s only one kind of being that uses scythes as their go-to weapon."


    Jackson turned his notebook to the next page. A crudely drawn skull and crossbones stared back at them, its empty sockets boring into Beatrix.


    Death.


    Beatrix couldn’t tear her eyes away from the drawing. Her body had gone completely numb.


    Jackson must have been worried about the look on Beatrix’s face, because he started backpedaling. "I-it''s only a theory. It could be nothing. Maybe Henry scratched himself on a branch, or an animal attacked him…”


    "Thanks," Beatrix managed to croak out, her voice sounding distant and hollow to her own ears. "For telling me, I mean."


    "What should we do?" Jackson whispered.


    "We... we need more information," Beatrix said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth, “... before we do anything."


    "Beatrix? Are you going to be okay? You''re looking kinda... well, green,” Jackson said, shutting his notebook.


    Beatrix''s legs felt like jelly as she walked back towards her dorm. "I just... I need to think," she mumbled. Without waiting for a response, she bolted.


    The spiral staircase of the East dorm seemed to stretch endlessly as Beatrix raced up, her mind a whirlwind of terrifying possibilities. Her only coherent thought was a desperate need to be alone.


    As she climbed to the third floor, voices echoed from above. Some monsters were entering the stairwell above her. Panic surged through Beatrix — she didn’t want anyone to see her right now. She lurched out onto the second floor landing, her breath coming in ragged gasps.


    The hallway was mercifully empty, with most of this floor’s doors shut tight. Beatrix slumped against the wall, trying to muffle her frantic breathing. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the whole building could’ve heard it.


    The voices in the stairwell faded as the ghouls descended, oblivious to Beatrix''s presence, then they were gone. Beatrix didn’t move from her spot against the wall, her mind reeling.


    She swore she could still feel Grey''s hand resting on her collarbone, the memory of last night behind the gardening shed making her skin prickle… when he’d told her how bright her human soul was. The ache in Beatrix’s chest threatened to drag her to the floor; she fought against it, barely holding herself together. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously.


    She’d been so thrown by Jackson’s theory, so blindsided by the idea that Grey could be involved in the murders. It was all so confusing.


    In her mind, there were two Greys:


    One was caring, supportive. The Grey who had stood by her side at the school board trial, his hand a comforting anchor in hers. Who remembered her birthday, who usually found her antics funny, even if he disagreed with them.


    But the other Grey… The one whose eyes had flashed with pure hatred when he first discovered she was a witch. Who''d scared her half to death by the perimeter fence last night. Who''d been ready to strike down a vampire during the MSS trip without hesitation.


    The memory of the nightclub surfaced, bringing with it the image of Grey''s staff. It was always on his belt loop, like an extension of himself, and he’d been prepared to use it when he was confronting Bram on the dance floor.


    But scythes have blades at the end of them, Beatrix thought desperately. And Grey''s staff doesn''t have one.


    But what if Jackson was right... what if that staff had some kind of spirit blade attached to it? Something invisible to human eyes? It would explain why monsters feared Grey''s weapon so much.


    The sound of footsteps jolted Beatrix from her spiraling thoughts. She ducked her head, praying whoever was walking into the hall wouldn''t notice her distraught state.


    A low groan reached Beatrix’s ears.


    Beatrix risked a glance up. Ghoulia Yelps shuffled towards her, a pencil tucked behind one ear. The zombie''s brow was furrowed in what might have been concern.


    Ghoulia groaned again, this one questioning.


    “Oh, hey,” Beatrix managed. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little, uh, sick.”


    Ghoula stood there, her cloudy eyes studying Beatrix. Something about the way the zombie slowly blinked at her was oddly comforting.


    Ghoulia began to shuffle back towards her dorm. She paused, looking back with another low groan. An invitation. On shaky legs, Beatrix followed.


    Ghoulia''s room was a bibliophile''s dream (or nightmare). Books covered nearly every available surface, stacked precariously on shelves, desks, and even the floor.


    "Dang, Ghoulia. You''ve got a whole freakin'' library in here," Beatrix marveled, her fingers trailing across the novels crowding Ghoulia''s desk. Some gleamed with that new-book sheen, while others were weathered relics, their covers faded and cracked with age.


    A few medical books lay open on Ghoulia''s bed, displaying gruesome diagrams of brain surgery procedures. Beatrix suppressed a shudder.


    Ghoulia pointed a crooked finger at a ratty armchair tucked in the corner. The message was clear: Sit.


    Once Beatrix had settled into the chair''s sagging cushions, Ghoulia shuffled over with a steaming mug of tea. The scent of chamomile wafted up.


    Beatrix blinked in surprise. She knew from working in the creepateria that zombies didn''t exactly consume normal food and drink. The idea that Ghoulia kept tea on hand just for visitors was touching.


    "Oh, you really didn''t have to—" Beatrix started, but Ghoulia cut her off with a groan.


    So Beatrix leaned back, sipping her tea while Ghoulia returned to her gory medical texts. The silence should have been awkward, but instead it was soothing.


    Beatrix’s mind wandered back to Henry''s mysterious mark. She hesitated, warring with herself. Talking about it felt dangerous, but the need for answers gnawed at her.


    "Ghoulia," Beatrix began, "Autumn''s working on a class project about… injuries. I was wondering if you had any books on a certain type of wound."


    Ghoulia''s droopy blue eyes fixed on her with unnerving intensity.


    "Um, scientifically speaking... is there such a thing as a ''spirit weapon''? Like, I don''t know, a ghostly sword or something?" Beatrix asked.


    Ghoulia''s brow furrowed. She rose with agonizing slowness, scanning her overstuffed shelves. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled out a book titled "The Ghostly Realm."


    With painstaking care, Ghoulia flipped through the pages with her bony fingers, finally settling on a section about poltergeists. Her bluish nail tapped a paragraph insistently.


    Beatrix leaned in, reading aloud:


    "Many mistakenly believe that ghosts and poltergeists are the same, but there''s a crucial difference: poltergeists can interact with physical objects, while ghosts cannot. As a result, poltergeists may cause harm in the physical world, whereas ghosts lack this ability."


    Beatrix paused. "Ghoulia, could a poltergeist use some kind of spirit weapon to hurt someone?"


    Ghoulia''s face scrunched up in concentration. After a long moment, she shook her head no.


    The zombie turned to a different chapter: "Death and the Collection of Souls." She scanned the text rapidly, her pencil scratching as she underlined key passages.


    Beatrix’s eyes raced over the marked sections:


    "Monsters and spirits trapped in limbo often hide from Death… However, spirits who are ready to move on can easily be guided to the afterlife if they approach a Reaper… To collect these souls, Reapers use a special tool..." Beatrix’s voice broke as she blurted out the final words, "...a spiritual scythe blade!"


    She looked at Ghoulia. "A Reaper''s scythe — it can take a monster''s soul just like that? With one swing?"


    Ghoulia''s slow nod felt like a death sentence.


    The zombie reached for another book, this one so ancient Beatrix half-expected it to crumble at a touch. Ghoulia blew off a thick layer of dust, revealing the title: "A Monster''s History of New Salem."


    She flipped to a chapter titled "Mortality at New Salem Preparatory Academy." Beatrix''s eyes darted across the page, certain phrases jumping out at her:


    New Salem Preparatory Academy, often referred to as ''Monster High'' … largest monster school in history … Never before have so many monsters congregated in one place…


    Supernatural scholars have observed a phenomenon related to the land on which the academy was built…


    A faded map of the campus caught Beatrix’s eye. Apart from the number of student dorms, the school looked the same — the academic buildings, the bell tower, and the sports fields were all in the same places; the Black Lagoon still hugged the perimeter fence.


    Beneath the map, a passage made Beatrix pause:


    For centuries, Death entities have claimed they cannot enter the academy… Historians speculate that the act of collecting souls, whether from humans or monsters, is not possible on this piece of land in the Oregon mountains…


    Death appears to be rendered powerless here, shut out from the premises for reasons that remain shrouded in mystery... Evidence suggests the presence of a metaphysical barrier preventing Death entities from gaining entry...


    Beatrix looked up. “A barrier is keeping Death out of Monster High? How is that even possible?”


    Ghoulia''s bony finger tapped insistently on a single word in the textbook: Speculation.


    "Okay, but... if that’s true, then how is Grey here?"


    Ghoulia''s pencil scratched across the margin, her handwriting a spidery scrawl: Grey''s a Reaper-in-training. Not officially part of his dad''s company, Death Co. Might be a loophole.


    “How do you know that?” Beatrix asked.


    Ghoulia''s pencil moved again:


    Grey doesn’t have a Reaper robe or steed yet.


    "Steed?" Beatrix''s eyebrows shot up. "Like, a horse?"


    Ghoulia nodded, adding: Reapers collect souls on horseback. Old school tradition.


    Beatrix snorted at the mental image of Grey trotting around campus on a horse.


    “So Grey can be here ‘cause he''s not a full-on Reaper yet, huh?” Beatrix muttered, thinking out loud. “Kinda like how I got into Monster High because I’m a ''witch-in-training.’"


    She let out a dry laugh as the irony hit her.


    All those judgmental looks Grey had given her, the not-so-subtle digs as he acted all high and mighty about being a ''real monster''... when he was basically in the same boat as her. Neither of them quite fit the Monster High mold.


    But her amusement didn’t last long as reality came crashing back. "Hold on," Beatrix said, her anxiety returning, "can trainee Reapers use scythes?"


    Ghoulia''s response was quick and clear: They can, but no Reapers — official or trainee — are able to use scythes on campus. Their spirit blades don''t work.


    "Because of the... mystical barrier thing?" Beatrix asked, eyeing the old book skeptically. "And you’re sure that''s not just some urban legend?"


    Ghoulia groaned. The zombie was sure.


    Beatrix felt relieved. Even though the barrier thing didn''t really make sense — like, how could a force field only stop scythes? — and trusting some random old book felt weird, Beatrix was looking for any reason to believe Grey wasn''t the killer.


    However, Ghoulia then wrote something else:


    BTW — trainees like Grey can''t take souls to the afterlife like official Reapers, but they can sever souls from bodies and hold onto them.


    "Where would a trainee even keep a soul?" Beatrix asked. If she could prove that Grey didn''t have Gilda, Brocko, and Henry''s souls, that would definitely prove he was innocent.


    Surprisingly, Ghoulia slowly shrugged. It was rare to see the zombie stumped by a question. After thinking for a moment, Ghoulia wrote: Maybe some kind of capsule? Not sure.


    Ghoulia tucked her pencil back behind her ear with an apologetic look, then held out the textbook to Beatrix.


    "You''re letting me borrow this?” Beatrix gingerly took the book. “Thank you." Then, Beatrix added awkwardly, "And, uh, thanks for helping with... Autumn''s science thing."


    She winced at how fake it sounded.


    Ghoulia clearly wasn’t buying the excuse, but instead of calling Beatrix out, she just gave a lopsided, knowing smile.


    ~ o ~ O ~ o ~


    Back in her dorm, Beatrix sat on her bed, letting the afternoon slip by as she pored over the passages Ghoulia had shown her.


    The musty scent of old paper filled her nose with each flip of the textbook’s pages. As Beatrix turned to a new chapter, something fluttered out. A small, folded piece of paper landed in her lap.


    Curious, Beatrix carefully unfolded the yellowed paper, its edges frayed and torn. Inside was a handwritten poem, the ink faded but still legible:


    Plague, Famine, and War


    seek to settle a score.


    Monsters can’t hide


    when the dark horsemen ride.


    Their souls will burn once more.


    “What the…” Beatrix muttered, reading the creepy words again.


    Suddenly, she heard wings flapping outside her window. Beatrix shoved the scrap of paper back in the book, laid down, and yanked her blanket up over her face. She wasn''t in the mood to deal with Astar after the morning she''d had, so she squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep.


    The window squeaked open, letting in a gust of cold air. There was a soft thud as someone landed on the carpet. Then came Astar''s voice:


    "Hey, I was thinking we could—"


    "Shh!" Autumn cut him off. "She’s sleeping."


    The room went quiet. Beatrix could practically feel Astar''s eyes on her, probably checking if she was really asleep.


    "Well, then…” Astar finally said, now hushed, “Guess I better leave.”


    "I guess so," Autumn whispered back, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "See you tomorrow?"


    "Tomorrow can''t come soon enough, Patches," Astar flirted.


    "Oh, zip it," Autumn giggled softly. There was a muffled noise — probably Autumn giving him a playful smack on his arm.


    Oh brother, Beatrix grimaced under the bed sheets.


    Autumn''s voice dropped even lower. Beatrix had to strain to hear her next words. “Hey, about what you said earlier... why isn''t the school sending everyone home early this semester? Is it because of you?"


    Astar murmured back, “I''m a demon with a powerful devil dynasty behind me. The school wouldn''t dare shut down when someone like me wants to stay. They know better than to cross us."


    "But it''s not safe here anymore," Autumn protested. "Some of my classmates are already leaving because of the… incidents. Everyone’s so scared. If you can''t figure out who''s behind this soon, Bea and I might go home early too."


    Astar sounded surprised. "Why would you do that? I''m here to protect you."


    There was a pause before Autumn spoke again. "Protect me?" she asked. "You mean Bea."


    "Both of you," Astar insisted.


    An excruciatingly charged silence fell, making Beatrix wish she hadn''t pretended to be asleep. Being the third wheel in this — whatever the heck this was — was a new kind of torture.


    Autumn cleared her throat quietly. "You should probably go," she said. "I don''t want to wake Bea."


    There was a faint whoosh of air, and the curtains rustled. Astar had flown off.


    Beatrix remained perfectly still. She listened to Autumn moving around the room, drawers opening and closing, the soft pad of her feet on the floor.


    The stress of the day was catching up with Beatrix, and soon she started to doze off — for real this time. Eventually, she drifted into a deep, restless sleep beneath the covers...


    ~ o ~ O ~ o ~


    Beatrix jolted up in bed, her body covered in cold sweat. Gruesome scenes of the recent murders had invaded her dreams, replaying in a relentless, nightmarish loop that left her nauseated and terrified.


    Her dorm was enveloped in darkness, the familiar shapes of furniture — her desk, Autumn’s vanity, her wardrobe — were transformed into looming, menacing shadows. The only sound was Autumn''s soft snores from the bed across the room.


    Beatrix''s eyes darted to the digital clock on her nightstand. Its glowing red numbers pierced the darkness: 1:03 a.m. She''d slept for far too long, and now had a pounding headache. Each throb felt like a hammer striking her skull.


    Beatrix reached for Ghoulia’s textbook, got out of bed, and moved to the dorm window. With a soft rustle, she pushed aside the curtain, letting a shaft of silvery moonlight spill across the textbook’s pages.


    Beatrix turned to the book’s detailed map of Monster High and its surroundings again. Her fingers touched the familiar outlines of the school''s buildings and paths. The school grounds were shaded in a light tone, while the surrounding woods and mountains beyond were much darker, as if fading into an ominous unknown.


    As her gaze wandered over the map, Beatrix noticed something she''d overlooked before. Multiple spots in the darkness of the surrounding woods were marked with small symbols. She read over a legend at the bottom of the page.


    Each symbol on the map represented a monster death reported over the span of almost two centuries. With growing horror, Beatrix counted just over two dozen dead monsters discovered around the school’s borders.


    An ogre professor, who had taught at Monster High between 1692 and 1706, was found deceased in the northern hills.


    A Monster High student, a chupacabra, had disappeared without a trace a mile away from the Black Lagoon.


    And oddly, even some animal deaths were noted, like a dead fox in a cave 40 feet from the school border, and a small family of birds found on a cliffside in 1788.


    But what really struck Beatrix was the glaring absence of death within Monster High''s boundaries. The lighter area of the map, representing the school grounds, ended precisely at the perimeter fence. Beyond that, the deaths began.


    Not a single reported incident inside the school. Not even a single animal.


    Which wouldn’t seem strange if so many monsters hadn’t died nearby.


    A realization dawned on Beatrix. This year''s victims followed the exact same pattern:


    Gilda had been discovered in a tree grove beyond the perimeter.


    Brocko in the distant woods on the opposite side of the campus.


    Henry mere feet from the border fence. Beatrix imagined him reaching desperately for the safety of the school grounds, only to fall short in his final moments.


    If there really was some kind of mystical barrier keeping Death at bay, one that stopped exactly at Monster High''s perimeter as the map suggested, the woods would create the perfect hunting ground for Death. A scythe-wielding Reaper could descend upon unsuspecting victims like Gilda, Brocko, and Henry the second they stepped outside the protected zone.


    Even a Reaper in training like Grey.


    Beatrix was desperate to return to Ghoulia’s room, her unanswered questions driving her mad. But if she pressed Ghoulia about Reapers, mysterious barriers, and monster deaths, then Beatrix would basically be confessing that she thought Grey was the murderer.


    Beatrix recoiled from the thought. She didn''t want to commit to that idea. She couldn’t bear it.


    The night pressed in on her. Beatrix felt like she was drowning in a sea of dark possibilities, grasping for some crucial detail she must be missing.


    Nightmare? a familiar voice sounded in Beatrix’s head, startling her.


    “Spectra?” Beatrix croaked, her voice hoarse from sleep. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes as she turned away from the moonlit window.


    The purple spirit emerged from the darkness, hovering at the foot of her bed.


    It’s been a while.