Isn’t it a little late to be studying? Spectra asked inside Beatrix’s head, her purple eyes glowing in the dark dorm room.


    “I couldn’t sleep,” Beatrix whispered.


    Spectra pressed a ghostly finger to her lips. Careful. Don''t want to wake up your friend, she cautioned, her gaze flicking to Autumn''s bed on the other side of the room. The scarecrow was buried under a pile of blankets, snoring softly.


    What are you reading? Spectra asked.


    Beatrix angled the book so Spectra could see. “It’s about Monster High’s history. Check it out.”


    Spectra drifted closer. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as she neared, her see-through form casting no shadow in the moonlight. What am I looking at? she asked Beatrix silently, peering at the faded text.


    "It''s a record of monster deaths around school," Beatrix explained. "There''s been tons of them over the years."


    Spectra titled her head, her purple hair defying gravity as it swirled around her face. Well, the school is very old. Things were different back then. Not as many safety measures...


    "I thought that at first too," Beatrix whispered. "But think about it. There used to be what, maybe one death every few decades? But now..."


    You''re right, Spectra murmured. There’s definitely been a spike.


    "And look at this," Beatrix said, her finger tapping a section of the map. "The book even includes animal deaths outside the grounds. It''s like there''s some kind of force field keeping Death away from Monster High." She paused. "Is that even possible?"


    Spectra''s eyes dimmed, their deep purple hue blending into the darkness of the dorm. In the shadows, her expression was unreadable.


    After a long silence, Spectra spoke. If a barrier like that existed, it''d make sense for a monster school to be built here. Maybe... maybe Monster High''s founders wanted to take advantage of this weird protection to keep students safe… Her voice trailed off.


    “You think the barrier was here before Monster High was built?” Beatrix asked.


    Just a hunch, Spectra replied, her voice oddly despondent as she drifted back slightly. Why is this gnawing at you so much?


    Beatrix traced the edges of the book in her hands. "Because I don''t think Bram and Vilhelm are behind the murders. I think someone else is involved,” Beatrix admitted.


    Hmm... Spectra said. Whoever this ''someone else'' is, they''ve certainly been busy lately.


    Spectra’s words made Beatrix’s stomach churn. She couldn''t ignore the fact that Grey was always skipping class and disappearing without explanation. During the MSS field trip, he''d slipped away from the human restaurant and vanished into the city alleys. Sure, he''d shown up later to save her at the nightclub, but where had he been before that? What if he was out hurting people that night?


    Spectra picked up on Beatrix''s unspoken thoughts, even though Beatrix hadn’t meant to share them.


    Seems like you''ve got a theory brewing, Spectra observed, her voice a soft whisper that caressed the inside of Beatrix''s skull. But there''s some conflict in you. You don''t want to betray your... ''friend.'' And yet, you don''t want more kids turning up in the forest.


    “It’s just…” Beatrix started, her voice strained, then stopped. “Hey, why’d you say ‘friend’ like that?”


    Because I know you see him differently, Spectra said, her floating chains and tattered dress shimmering.


    "What? No! Grey''s just—it’s not like that," Beatrix sputtered, cheeks flushing.


    Spectra gave Beatrix a sly smile. If you say so. But if you want to prove Grey’s innocence, you''re going to need proof. Why not hunt for evidence yourself? The spirit paused, then added, I can show you an easy way.


    Beatrix quietly set her textbook aside, eyeing the spirit warily. "Let me guess — you want to teach me a third magic trick."


    All good things come in threes, Spectra quipped.


    "Great," Beatrix said sarcastically. "I can''t wait to get in trouble because of you again. What monster ability do you want me to copy this time? Oh, and are you ever going to tell me why you''re such a witchcraft expert?"


    Spectra drifted around the room, her form weaving through the shadows. I told you, it’s amazing what you can pick up by observing creatures around you for 400 years.


    Beatrix''s eyes widened, her jaw dropping. "Four hun— You''ve been haunting this place for four centuries?" she asked, dumbfounded.


    A mere blink in the grand scheme of things. Now, more importantly, I have a special skill for you, Spectra continued, brushing off the subject of her age. It''s very discreet. Trust me.


    Beatrix scoffed, crossing her arms tightly, trying not to be interested despite how intriguing this sounded.


    Spectra''s eyes gleamed as she spoke, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Imagine seeing through walls, Beatrix. Imagine watching Grey''s every move without ever leaving the safety of your room. No more guessing, no more sleepless nights wondering…


    "How?" The word escaped Beatrix before she could stop it, curiosity betraying her once again.


    Step out of your body, Spectra said in a soft, enticing whisper. Just for a bit.


    The drowsiness that had been tugging at Beatrix vanished in an instant, replaced by a jolt of adrenaline. "Sorry, what?"


    You''re about to see the world as I do, Spectra purred, circling Beatrix. Leave your physical form behind, and you can go check on your ''friend'' whenever you’d like. I think I spotted him prowling near the school''s edge earlier. Fly over, keep an eye on him, and all your questions will be answered.


    Beatrix swallowed hard.


    “Hold on, why do I need your power when you''re right here? You''re a ghost all the time!" Beatrix whispered, throwing her hands up in exasperation.


    Hey, I''m a busy apparition. I can’t always help you snoop around, Spectra explained. I figured this skill might come in handy for you, since you’re so dead set on clearing Grey’s name. I can''t be everywhere at once, you know.


    Beatrix frowned. “Okay… but if I leave my body, won’t Grey see my soul floating around?”


    Not if you stay hidden, Spectra assured her. Trust me, when you''re not constrained by the physical world, it''s easy to stay out of sight. Just keep your distance from him. And don''t worry, it''s not like you''ll be a ghost forever. Your spirit will naturally return to your body after a few minutes.


    Beatrix let out a long sigh. Classic Spectra, always making magic sound like the answer to all her problems. Yet, Beatrix had to admit that Spectra''s schemes usually worked out. When things went south, it was because Beatrix messed up, not her.


    This out-of-body thing would let her spy on Grey without him knowing. Which, honestly, sounded pretty great, because the thought of confronting Grey face-to-face about her suspicions made her want to crawl into a hole and never come out.


    She couldn''t picture him hurting her, but then again, maybe she didn''t have that great of an imagination.


    Beatrix paced her dimly lit room, mulling it over. She glanced at Spectra hovering near her dresser, bothered by how easily this spirit could talk her into using magic.


    But if Beatrix was being honest, Spectra''s offers were simply excuses for her to do what she really wanted deep down. No matter what her aunts said, or how much she pretended not to care about the dark arts, Beatrix knew she had the potential to be a great witch.


    Trying one more spell seemed worth it for something this important. Right?


    "Okay, fine. What do I have to do?" Beatrix asked, giving in.


    Lie back, Spectra instructed.


    Beatrix did as she was told. The mattress creaked softly as she settled onto it.


    Spectra drifted to Beatrix’s bedside. This would be easier if you had some belladonna.


    “Am I supposed to know what that is?” Beatrix asked.


    It’s a plant that slows your heartbeat, Spectra explained. Witches use it in potions to poison their foes. Potent stuff.


    Beatrix glanced up at Spectra, alarmed. “You want me to eat a poisonous plant?”


    Spectra wore a gentle smile.


    What do you think being a ghost is?


    "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Beatrix bolted upright, her sudden movement causing the bed springs to squeak. "I''m not letting you kill me!"


    "Bea?" Autumn mumbled, half-asleep. "What''s wrong?"


    "Nothing. Sorry, Autumn," Beatrix whispered quickly. "Go back to sleep."


    She held her breath until Autumn dozed off again, then turned back to Spectra.


    Don’t be silly, Spectra chided. You’d only need to chew half a belladonna leaf. Just enough to slow your heart rate briefly. It’s like a taste of death to help you maneuver like a ghost for a short amount of time. You''ll return to your body soon after.


    Beatrix relaxed slightly.


    But since you don''t have any, Spectra continued, we''ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. First things first, empty your mind of all thoughts. Let them drift away like leaves on a stream. Now, take two sharp breaths in, and one long, slow exhale. Focus on the rhythm of your breathing.


    Reluctantly, Beatrix lay back down on her bed and did as she was told. She closed her eyes and followed Spectra''s instructions, inhaling sharply twice through her nose, then releasing a long, controlled breath.


    The room was quiet again, save for Autumn''s gentle snoring and the faint whisper of wind outside the window. Cool night air filled Beatrix''s lungs, bringing with it an unexpected sense of serenity that settled over her like a blanket.


    Good. Be careful not to fall asleep, Spectra advised.


    Beatrix continued the breathwork, her eyes still closed. The darkness behind her eyelids seemed to stretch on forever, occasionally interrupted by swirling patterns of light she couldn''t explain.


    Time became fluid, minutes bleeding into what felt like hours. The familiar sounds of the dorm all faded away, replaced by a strange, hollow silence that seemed to press against her eardrums.


    Gradually, Beatrix slipped into a trance-like state. A peculiar tingling sensation spread through her body, as if a thousand bubbles were dancing just beneath her skin, making her feel both weightless and hyper-aware of every inch of herself.


    That tingling sensation is a good sign, Spectra said, picking up on Beatrix’s thoughts. Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.


    Next comes the hallucinatory stage. All mortals pass through it during the transition between wakefulness and sleep. Observe, but stay relaxed. Don''t move.


    Spectra''s tone grew softer, hypnotic. Be prepared — you might experience something like sleep paralysis. That''s normal. It means you''re on the right path. It will fade as soon as you fully relax.


    Beatrix was getting drowsy. And bored out of her mind. However, simultaneously, her body felt as if it were sinking into the bed, becoming one with the mattress.


    Spectra’s voice whispered in her head. Now, picture your spirit-self rising up from your physical one. Keep at it until you feel like you’re floating away.


    Beatrix''s head felt light from all the breathing. She was starting to think this whole thing might be a terrible idea. Doubt crept in, threatening to break her concentration.


    Suddenly, a peculiar sensation washed over her. It was as if she were drifting upward.


    Beatrix’s eyes shot open. The ceiling was rushing straight at her.


    Before she could process what was happening, Beatrix passed right through the ceiling into an upstairs dorm room. She caught fleeting glimpses of sleeping students in the room above.


    Then she was drifting upward again, through another ceiling. The walls of the building seemed to melt away around her.


    “Spectra!” Beatrix yelped, panicked. Her voice sounded alien and distant, as if echoing from the bottom of a deep well.


    She rose through the rafters into the dorm building''s attic, then, in the blink of an eye, she found herself looking at the bright, full moon, hanging impossibly large in the star-studded sky.


    You''re not paralyzed, Beatrix! Spectra''s voice boomed in her head. Move! You can do it!


    Beatrix tried to wiggle her fingers and toes, but felt nothing—no resistance, no sensation at all. She tried to reorient herself, to find some semblance of control, but it was like trying to grasp smoke.


    Spectra popped up beside her, her ghostly form more vibrant and alive than Beatrix had ever seen it. A purple, otherworldly light danced in Spectra''s eyes as she looked at her pupil with pride.


    “You''re overthinking it,” Spectra said, her voice crystal clear despite the whistling of the wind around them. “Stop trying to control it and just go. It''s mind over matter now. Think, and it will be.”


    Taking Spectra''s advice, Beatrix imagined herself floating upright, and just like that, it happened. She shifted and found herself hovering above the dorm rooftop, no longer adrift like a lost balloon in the night sky.


    “Holy… this is insane!” Beatrix exclaimed, looking down at herself in awe.


    Her hands appeared translucent and shimmered in the moonlight, and each strand of her dark hair floated around her face as if submerged in water. Beatrix started twirling and spinning around in the air, like she was navigating some kind of lucid dream.


    "It''s like I''m not even real!" Beatrix tried a clumsy pirouette in mid-air, laughing as she wobbled. "How do you even get used to this?"


    Spectra floated beside her, her eyes distant. "You don''t, really," she said softly. "That''s the thing about being ''out of body.'' You never quite... feel anything."


    Beatrix took a good look around. Dozens of different ghosts and specters glided through school buildings and over the grounds, passing through solid objects and walls like they were nothing. They all gave off a soft glow — some purple like Spectra, others light green, pink, blue, or teal. It was like someone had scattered a bunch of glow-in-the-dark sticks across campus.


    "Wow," Beatrix breathed, her eyes wide. "Where''d they all come from?"


    Without even thinking about it, she drifted closer to the Monster High bell tower, which looked even more gothic and imposing up close.


    As she got closer, she spotted a group of ghost teens hanging out in front of the clock’s giant ticking hands, chatting and laughing despite the late hour.


    "They''re from the other side. Limbo. Spirit world. Whatever you want to call it," Spectra called after her, then added urgently, "Don''t forget — you''ve only got a few minutes to find your ''friend'' before you''re drawn back to your body. I saw Grey hanging around the south end of school earlier. Go on, I’m right behind you.”


    Beatrix floated by the group of ghosts. Feeling unusually friendly in her spectral state, Beatrix gave them a little wave as she passed by. She couldn''t get over how awesome it felt to be totally free from any physical limitations — her mind was clear, her body wasn''t tired, and she didn’t feel any hint of hunger or thirst.


    "Hey there, boo-tiful," a green-hued ghost called out to her. Beatrix noticed spray paint bottles peeking out of his see-through satchel.


    Another ghost, decked out like a ''50s greaser with slicked-back hair and a leather jacket, chimed in. "Have we met before, dollface? I think I know ya from somewhere." His eyes, pinpricks of silvery light, seemed to peer right through her.


    Beatrix blinked, realizing she did recognize them from the creepateria — they were students who occasionally slipped through the veil to attend classes.


    "You might have seen me around…" Beatrix replied with a grin, but she trailed off, remembering why she was here. As cool as this was, she couldn''t waste time chatting. She needed to find Grey, fast.


    Glancing around, Beatrix realized Spectra had vanished. "Spectra?" she called out. The bell tower next to her chimed loudly, reminding her that time was ticking away. She had to find Grey before she had to return to her body.


    She willed herself forward, and suddenly she was zooming through the night. "Whoa!" she yelped, surprised by her speed. The world sped past her, a blur of moonlight and shadows.


    In mere moments, she reached the south side of school. Beatrix couldn''t believe it. What would''ve taken forever on foot had passed in seconds.


    As she approached the edge of campus, Beatrix spotted a familiar figure. She ducked behind one of the ornate gargoyles adorning the library''s roof, partially phasing halfway through the stone. From this vantage point, she peered down at the scene below.


    It was Grey, moving along the perimeter fence, scanning every inch of the woods beyond, his whole body tense and alert. There were no security guards around — the area was completely empty.


    Suddenly, Grey froze. He cocked his head, listening for something Beatrix couldn''t hear. She could’ve sworn there was a rustle in the trees past the fence — leaves moving, a flash of something darting between the shadows. Beatrix squinted, trying to see what had caught Grey''s attention.


    Then, without warning, Grey began to scale the fence with impressive agility. He was about to jump over and chase whatever was in the forest.


    But just as Grey reached the top, he stopped. Beatrix watched as another figure dropped out of the sky, landing on the fence next to him.


    From where she was hiding, Beatrix couldn''t make out much about the newcomer. They were mostly in shadow, away from the dim campus lights. But even in the darkness, there was no mistaking those massive wings against the night sky, or the horns on his head.


    Astar was perched on top of one of the fence spires, his wings unfurling slightly to keep balance. The moonlight caught the tips of his horns as he looked down at Grey, his yellow eyes piercing.


    Grey, startled by Astar showing up out of nowhere, stumbled back from the fence.


    Beatrix saw Astar''s mouth move, curling into what had to be a smug grin. She couldn''t hear what he was saying, but if she had to guess, he was probably taunting Grey.


    In one smooth motion, Astar leapt off the fence. He landed without a sound, barely even disturbing the grass. Grey, though, lunged forward with unexpected aggression. His hand shot out, grabbing Astar''s shirt collar so hard it made Beatrix flinch, the fabric bunching up in Grey''s fist.


    Astar''s eyes blazed as he hissed something too low for Beatrix to catch. He shoved Grey off with enough force to send the other boy back a few steps. Tension crackled between them as they fell into a heated, whispered argument. Beatrix leaned forward, straining to hear, until Astar''s yellow eyes snapped up, meeting her gaze for the briefest moment. Recognition flashed across his features before he quickly looked away, trying to pretend he hadn''t seen her.


    Then, to Beatrix''s horror, Grey noticed Astar''s look and followed it. His eyes traveled up to where Beatrix was hiding, and he stared straight at her. If Beatrix could feel her heart in this ghostly form, she was sure it would have dropped to her stomach.


    Of course the boys could see her.


    Grey had told her he could spot her orange-tinged soul a mile away.


    And Astar, bound to her as her familiar, seemed to sense her presence even without her body.


    Feeling like a total idiot and completely exposed, Beatrix did the only thing she could think of — she bolted. She slipped down through the library roof, praying they wouldn''t follow her. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered as she fled.


    Once inside, she hurtled through the dark library as fast as she could.


    A door flew open, followed by loud footsteps on the library’s marble floor.


    "Beatrix!" Grey''s voice rang out through the building, bouncing off the high ceiling.


    Beatrix was about to dart through the far wall, but she stopped. She turned to see Grey dashing toward her, weaving between the bookshelves, panicked.


    “What are you doing?” Grey shouted mid-run.


    Beatrix shot back, "What are you doing—”


    “Why are you out of your body?!”


    Beatrix was taken aback by his intensity. "Relax, I''m not dead," she reassured him. “My body’s waiting for me in my room.”


    Grey skidded to a stop in front of her, chest heaving. In the dim light, Beatrix could see the wild look in his eyes. "No!" Grey''s voice rose, raw. "You can''t just leave it empty!”


    "It''s fine, I can leave it for a bit," Beatrix said. She drifted backward, away from him, passing through a table.


    “No! You can’t! You need to go back now!"This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    “I don''t—"


    "Just go!" Grey shouted, making Beatrix jump.


    Despite her confusion and fear, she took off as quickly as she could. Some part of her still trusted Grey enough to know something was seriously wrong.


    So much for Spectra''s plan, she thought bitterly as she flew across campus, resenting the ghost for ditching her as she phased through wall after wall. She raced down the familiar hallways of her dorm building and up to the fifth floor, desperate to reunite with her body.


    Bursting into her room, she saw Autumn, still out cold in bed, snoring softly. But there, at Beatrix’s own bed, Spectra hovered strangely over her empty form.


    Beatrix’s body jerked back and forth unnaturally, like a puppet controlled by a demented puppeteer. Her head lolled side to side on her pillow, the bed sheets rustling as her lifeless feet twitched beneath them.


    It almost looked like Spectra was attempting to enter her body.


    "Hey!” Beatrix yelled. “That''s mine, back off!"


    Autumn sprung awake. Beatrix''s ghostly voice must have stirred her from her dreams, reaching her on some subconscious level. "Bea?" Autumn whispered, looking at Beatrix''s body. "Bea!" Autumn scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over her tangled sheets.


    She rushed to Beatrix''s side, shaking her shoulders. "Wake up!”


    Beatrix watched, helpless, as her body thrashed. To Autumn, it must have looked like some kind of seizure, since Autumn couldn’t see her or Spectra.


    Spectra recoiled, annoyed at Beatrix''s return, her form flickering and wavering like a candle flame. As Spectra released her hold and pulled away, Beatrix slammed into her body with a jolt, like opposite magnets clicking together.


    Beatrix gasped, eyes flying open. She blinked rapidly, every nerve ending lighting up, her senses flooding back like she’d been dunked in ice water. Sweat plastered her t-shirt to her back and her heart was pounding like she''d just run a mile.


    Autumn was still gripping her shoulders, leaning over her. "You had a bad dream. Are you okay?"


    Beatrix sat up, the tingly sensation fading, as if the ghostly encounter was just a distant memory. She squinted into the darkness of their dorm room, searching for Spectra. But the spirit was gone.


    ~ o ~ O ~ o ~


    The next day, Beatrix stood in front of a giant pot of meat and vegetable stew, stirring something the other lunch ladies called "ghoulash.” It was halfway through lunch, and the clamor of hungry students echoed beyond the kitchen doors.


    "How''s the extra batch coming, ‘Trix?" Marsha hollered from around the corner. "These kids are acting like we''ve been starving ''em!"


    “It’s almost ready!” Beatrix shouted over her shoulder.


    As she reached for more herbs, Beatrix snuck a glance at Jackson and Autumn. They were huddled behind the refrigerators next to her, out of sight from the other lunch ladies. Not exactly the best place for a secret meeting, but it beat talking out in the open.


    Beatrix had already filled them in on her astral projection experience, Grey chasing her down, and Spectra''s creepy possession attempt.


    "So," Jackson whispered, his lanky frame awkwardly folded as he crouched next to Autumn. "Did Grey show up at your dorm after you got back to your body?"


    Autumn answered for Beatrix. "No, but he tried to," she murmured. "He blew up my phone a million times trying to check on Bea. I told him she was sick and needed space.”


    Beatrix stirred the ghoulash mechanically, her mind elsewhere.


    Now that Jackson and Autumn knew everything — including Spectra’s involvement in her witchcraft antics over the past year — she didn''t feel so alone anymore. At least she had friends on her side, especially now that trusting Spectra was off the table.


    "Grey''s gotta be wondering about your out-of-body thing, right?" Jackson whispered, his eyes darting around the kitchen to make sure no one was eavesdropping on them. "I mean, he literally saw you spying on him. Did he say anything?"


    Beatrix paused, her spoon hovering over the bubbling pot of ghoulash. "Not yet," she said with a sigh. "I''ve been avoiding him all day. I didn''t even walk Autumn to her classes so he couldn''t corner me in the halls. I''ve just been hiding out in the creepateria."


    As she spoke, her eyes flicked to a plastic cup on a nearby counter. It was filled with clear liquid, looking innocent enough among the kitchen clutter. "It actually gave me time to... prepare a few things," she said.


    Jackson''s eyes followed Beatrix''s, his brow furrowing. "What''s in the cup?" he asked.


    "Nothing," Beatrix said, turning back to the ghoulash.


    "What are you gonna tell Grey when he finally corners you?" Autumn asked, steering the conversation back on track.


    "I have no idea,” Beatrix said. “I''m just glad Spectra hasn''t shown her face again. She only seems to show up when I''m alone."


    "How did she manage to get you out of your body, anyway?" Jackson asked.


    Beatrix shrugged. "Through breathing.”


    Jackson blinked, clearly lost.


    Autumn jumped in. "Bea''s kind of a natural when it comes to magic," she explained. "It’s in her blood. She comes from a long line of witches, so when she really focuses, she can pull off some pretty wild stuff.”


    "Yeah, when I actually know what I''m doing," Beatrix muttered. "My aunts were pretty stingy with the witchcraft lessons over the years."


    "I still can''t believe Spectra tried to possess you," Autumn whispered.


    Jackson dug through his bag, fishing out his battered notebook and pencil. "What was it like?" he asked, flipping to a blank page. "Being a ghost, I mean. How''d it feel?"


    “I… I don’t know. Part of me felt so free, but also... empty?" Beatrix shivered. "I just know I never want to go through that again."


    “But why did she want to possess you?" Autumn asked.


    Beatrix ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, so, Greta — you know, that old lunch lady?  Last semester she told me some spirits get desperate for a body. Like, they''ll do anything to feel alive again.”


    A sudden scuff of shoes on linoleum made them all freeze. Jackson and Autumn pressed themselves against the fridges to hide.


    Greta, the elderly goblin Beatrix had just mentioned, shuffled into view. Her rheumy eyes fixed on Beatrix. "Someone''s asking for you," she croaked. "Tall boy, dark eyes. Says it''s important."


    Beatrix''s stomach dropped. "Oh, uh... thanks, Greta. Could you maybe tell him I''m swamped back here? Don''t wanna fall behind, you know?"


    Greta''s lips twitched, revealing a flash of yellowed, jagged teeth. "I see... yes, you wouldn''t want… any more distractions..." Her gaze slid to where Autumn''s foot poked out from behind the fridges.


    Embarrassed at getting caught, Beatrix leaned in close to the old goblin, dropping her voice. "Greta, please. Don''t let Grey come back here.”


    Greta peered up at Beatrix, her stooped back making her a few inches shorter. For a moment, sympathy gleamed in her clouded eyes. "Alright," she said. "I''ll tell ''im you''re busy."


    Beatrix waited until Greta''s footsteps faded before turning back to Autumn and Jackson. "Anyway, that''s not why I brought you guys back here. Last night, I saw Grey heading into the woods. He spotted something." She glanced between her friends, searching their faces. "I don''t know what he saw, but if I check that area, I might find a clue."


    “You want to hop the fence?” Autumn squeaked.


    "No, hopping it is too risky,” Beatrix said. “There''s spikes at the top, and I''m not strong enough to climb over them. I was hoping you guys might have some ideas on how I can get past the fence without anyone noticing."


    Jackson and Autumn exchanged a worried look.


    "Come on, don''t be scaredy cats," Beatrix urged, eyeing the kitchen clock. "I want to check that spot while everyone''s still in the creepateria. I don''t have much time."


    "Is it really worth the risk?” Jackson asked. "What if Grey just heard a squirrel or something?"


    "No way. He definitely saw something out there," Beatrix insisted. "Look, we need another lead since my ''spying on Grey as a ghost'' plan crashed and burned."


    Jackson tapped his pencil against his notebook, brainstorming. "What if... instead of going over the fence, you went through it? Find a weak spot in the fence and sneak through."


    Beatrix chewed her lip, considering Jackson''s idea. “... Even if I find a weak spot in the fence, I''m not strong enough to bend an iron bar, even with your help.” She glanced at her friends’ scrawny frames. “No offense.”


    "Hey!" Autumn protested, puffing out her chest and flexing a straw-filled bicep. "I''ve been working out!"


    “Right…” Beatrix snorted, then nodded towards the stove. "Hey, keep an eye on the ghoulash for a sec. Don’t let it bubble over.”


    Beatrix slipped away from the kitchen to peek into the bustling lunchroom. She scanned the lunch line, relieved to find no sign of Grey. It seemed Greta had kept her word about keeping him out of the kitchen.


    Her eyes swept around the room until she spotted the Reaper boy at a far table. He was trapped in what appeared to be a one-sided conversation with Heath Burns, the notoriously chatty fire elemental. Heath''s flaming hair danced wildly as he talked, sending sparks flying through the air. Grey, on the other hand, looked bored out of his skull, managing only the occasional nod as Heath rambled on.


    Beatrix felt a rush of adrenaline. With Grey distracted, this was her chance to scope out the woods unnoticed. But she knew she''d need help — a devil''s help.


    Returning to the stovetop, Beatrix resumed stirring her ghoulash and overheard Jackson and Autumn quietly chatting.


    "Did you hear prom might get canceled this year?" Autumn asked.


    Jackson replied absentmindedly, "Really? That sucks. Orion was going to ask Howleen."


    Autumn stilled. “Howleen? Clawdeen’s little sister?”


    Jackson''s eyes went wide behind his glasses, realization dawning on his face. "Oh no. Orion’s gonna kill me," he groaned. "Please don''t tell the other fearleaders."


    Autumn’s stitched lips turned up into a mischievous smile. "I promise I won''t—on one condition. If prom ends up happening, you have to ask Frankie to go with you."


    Jackson''s face went red as a tomato, the blush creeping up to the tips of his ears. "W-what?" he stammered.


    "She''s been dying for you to ask her," Autumn pressed, clearly enjoying Jackson''s discomfort.


    "She has? I, uh..."


    As their conversation continued, Beatrix held out her right hand, palm up, and began tracing the summoning sigil Astar had shown her—a small square with a few extending lines—across her palm.


    As soon as she''d finished tracing the shape, the air crackled. Astar''s booming voice filled the room.


    "—and then I had that punk demon in a headlock, like this—whoah!"


    Beatrix turned to find Astar stumbling next to her, trying to regain his footing. His eyes darted around in confusion, having been pulled mid-boast from somewhere else on campus.


    "That was easy," Beatrix said, feeling a lingering tingle where she''d drawn the symbol.


    "Astar!" Autumn whispered. "Where''d you come from?"


    The devil looked at Autumn, Jackson, and then Beatrix, a sharp-toothed grin spreading across his face.


    "You know, I usually hate being interrupted," Astar drawled, "but how can I complain when my little Bee''s summoning me?"


    Beatrix grabbed the devil by the arm and pulled him towards the fridges. "Hey, you’re not supposed to be back here, so keep it down,” she said.


    Astar tucked in his leathery wings and squatted down beside Jackson and Autumn. "Hey, Patches," he said to Autumn, then nodded at Jackson. "Four-eyes."


    Jackson bristled, pushing up his glasses with an indignant huff.


    "So, Bee Bee, what can I do for you?” Astar asked. “Need some devilishly handsome company? Got another attic to clean? … Or maybe you''re dying to try out another spell?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.


    He spun back to Autumn and Jackson. "Oh man, you should''ve seen what Bee did last night. She missed me so much she turned herself into a ghost and stalked me—”


    "They already know," Beatrix interrupted, not bothering to hide her eye roll at his version of last night’s events.


    Astar''s expression turned thoughtful. "So you’re getting back into witchcraft, then? Good. Was starting to worry you''d given it up." He paused, studying her. "By the way, tell me, how have you been liking old magic?"


    "What old magic? What are you talking about?" Beatrix asked.


    “That little trick you''ve been practicing — mimicking monsters — it''s an ancient technique,” Astar said. “A few centuries ago, witches used to draw on monster abilities all the time. Think about it: monsters exist because black magic flows through their veins. That''s why mimicking their abilities comes so naturally to you — they''re an extension of your own magic, your power given form. The old covens understood this so well, they would create new monsters just to amplify their strength.”


    As Astar explained, Jackson’s pencil flew across his notebook, taking down every word. Astar noticed and leaned over Jackson''s shoulder to see what he was writing. "Taking notes for your mad science collection, four-eyes?"


    "It''s for research purposes," Jackson mumbled, pushing up his glasses.


    While Astar was distracted, Beatrix quietly ladled a portion of steaming ghoulash into a bowl, then picked up the innocent-looking plastic cup she’d set aside and poured its clear liquid contents into the broth.


    She gave the bowl a stir, the metal spoon clinking against the sides. "It’s funny that you mention monster abilities," Beatrix said, keeping her tone casual, “because that''s exactly why I summoned you here today."


    Astar perked up.


    Beatrix shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I need to know if there''s any magic that could help me bend metal."


    She hesitated for a second. How suspicious did that sound?


    Her mind raced for an excuse — anything to avoid revealing her true plan of breaking through the iron fence to sneak into the woods for a few minutes. Her eyes landed on a nearby food prep table, its stainless steel surface warped by a dent in the metal. Perfect.


    "See that?" she said, nodding toward the dented table. "The kitchen equipment here is all messed up, and replacing it would cost a fortune. I figured if I could just..." She mimed bending something back into place. "But I need a lot more strength to do it — and I don’t want to turn into a werewolf or anything," she added quickly. "There’s got to be a way to get that kind of strength without growing fur and fangs, right? Any idea what kind of monster I could copy to bend metal?"


    Astar sat cross-legged on the black and white checkered floor, propping his chin on his knuckles as he thought it over.


    “What about mind control?” Beatrix ventured. “Draculaura and her dad can make people do whatever they want with a single thought. Maybe something like that could help me bend objects with my mind?”


    “Mind control''s definitely out,” Astar said firmly, shaking his head. “Way too advanced for you. Unless you want to inject vampire venom into yourself and risk becoming immortal.”


    Beatrix fell quiet. Her mind wandered to Heath Burns, remembering the way the flames danced across his head.


    "What about fire?" she asked. "I mean, to bend metal, you need crazy high temperatures, right? Heath manipulates fire like it''s nothing.”


    "Hmm..." Astar tapped his chin. “Heath''s a fire elemental — a humanoid made of living fire.” A smile played across his face. "Fire elementals are usually conjured up by really powerful sorcerers… But lucky for you, fire is my specialty."


    "Okay, what ingredients do we need?" Beatrix said eagerly. "The closest witchy technique I can think of to replicate Heath''s ability would be... maybe a pyrokinesis potion? My aunts make these powerful fire-control potions using eye of newt and dragon''s breath flowers, but I don''t have any of that stuff here."


    "I''ve got something better in mind," Astar said, pushing himself off the floor. He strode over to Beatrix and yanked open the oven next to her, making her jump at the ear-splitting screech of the door’s rusted hinges.


    "Astar! Keep it down—" Beatrix started, but stopped as she watched him reach into the oven''s depths. He was gathering the black powder from the bottom, scooping up years of accumulated ash from countless burned meals.


    When he straightened and turned back to her, there was something sacred in the way he cradled the ash in his palms. "Give me your hands," he instructed. Beatrix hesitated for a moment before extending them. He began smearing the ash across both of her palms, leaving midnight-black streaks that reminded her of spilled ink.


    With methodical precision, he traced sharp, angular symbols on her hands. Beatrix didn’t recognize these runes.


    “Ashes are a powerful tool for spellwork,” Astar said, “and these marks will let you channel hellfire. Everything and everyone else will feel the burn — but you won’t.”


    He scanned the shelf of vegetable oils above the stove, bottles gleaming like amber in the kitchen light. He selected a dusty bottle of olive oil and drizzled it over Beatrix''s ash-covered hands, his taloned fingers rubbing the liquid into the grooves of the rune symbols until they glistened.


    “Why olive oil?” Beatrix asked, shuddering as the slimy mixture squished between her fingers.


    "Any oil can become anointed oil if you want it enough," Astar said. "And having a devil around to make it unholy certainly doesn''t hurt." He winked at her, then clapped his hands together. "Now, rub your palms — harder than that. I want to see smoke."


    Beatrix complied, working the gritty paste between her hands.


    "Set your intention," Astar ordered, prowling around her in a slow circle. "See the flame in your mind''s eye, right in the center of your palms. Let those ashes sink deep into your skin."


    She picked up speed, hands sliding faster and faster until her arms ached. The runes began to prickle at her skin.


    The minutes dragged by. The oil worked its way under her fingernails, staining them black as if she''d been digging through charcoal. Her shoulders burned from the repetitive motion. Sweat beaded on her forehead.


    From the corner of her eye, she saw Jackson and Autumn inch backward until their backs pressed against the far wall. Smart move — this felt like an explosion waiting to happen.


    "Concentrate, Bee!" Astar''s voice cracked like a whip. "Strong mind, strong magic — hold onto it!"


    The first spark came without warning. A sharp pop from her left hand made her jump, followed by another from her right. The centers of her palms began to sizzle, the sound building like kindling catching flame.


    “Look! I’m doing it!”


    When she pulled her hands apart, they glowed like embers. The runes Astar had sketched now blazed against her skin, each line a burning thread of light. She waited for pain, for scorching heat, but felt nothing. The orangey-red light pulsed in time with her heartbeat, making the air shimmer and dance above her hands.


    Astar beamed, proud of his work. “Now that’s how it’s done.” He reached out, passing his hand through the waves of heat rising from her palms. Like a chef testing his work, he nodded with quiet satisfaction. "You''ve got about an hour before the heat fades. Until then, you can shape and meld the flames however you want."


    "Can I shoot fire?" Beatrix asked, flexing her fingers experimentally.


    “Hell yeah you can,” Astar said.


    “And can I cool my hands down before the hour’s up? I won’t need the power for long,” she said.


    "Just press your palms to the earth." Astar demonstrated on the counter, spreading his hands flat. "It''ll discharge the energy. But steer clear of dry grass and leaves, or you’ll torch the whole mountainside." He nodded at her hands. "When the color is gone, the heat will be too."


    Astar looked over the moon as he added, "You know, with enough practice, you could start creating fire elementals like Heath!”


    "Let''s save that lesson for another day," Beatrix said. "Right now, I need to fix this kitchen equipment. Oh, but first—could you taste test the ghoulash for me, Astar? I’d do it myself, but…” She lifted her glowing hands with an apologetic smile.


    The mention of food snapped Astar to attention. His nose twitched at the aroma of paprika and meat wafting from the pot. Like a moth to flame, he drifted toward the stove, already reaching for the serving spoon. “Don’t mind if I do…” he said.


    "Wait!" Beatrix took a step forward. "Not from there—I set some aside for you." She pointed to the bowl sitting apart on the counter.


    Astar redirected his attention without missing a beat and scarfed down the small serving of ghoulash in two seconds flat.


    “Well?” Beatrix asked.


    Astar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tastes wicked, but..." He paused, tilting his head as if trying to place something. “... a little watery…”


    “Oh, I tried something new with the recipe,” Beatrix said, stepping closer until her lips were near Astar''s ear. Instead of elaborating, Beatrix lowered her voice and sang a line of the mermaid song she’d used on Mr. Gore and Johannah in Downtown New Salem.


    As the melody left her lips, Astar’s upper body abruptly slumped down. His head dropped forward, and the bowl slipped from his loosening fingers, clattering to the ground and spinning in lazy circles on the tile. His legs wobbled, and he began to sway, his yellow eyes growing distant, unfocused.


    Autumn gasped.


    Beatrix instinctively reached out to him, but yanked her hands back before she could grab him. "My hands—they''re hot!" she hissed. "Someone catch him!"


    Autumn and Jackson scrambled forward and caught Astar awkwardly between them, grunting with effort as they lowered him to the ground.


    “What’s wrong with him?” Autumn whimpered, her stitched features tight with worry, a few pieces of hay falling loose from her sleeve as she cradled Astar’s head.


    "Don''t worry," Beatrix whispered. "He''s just sleeping."


    “Don’t tell me you…” Autumn began.


    “You used a sleeping elixir. Like during the field trip,” Jackson realized. “When did you…”


    “I made a dose this morning and mixed it into his serving of ghoulash. I needed him to eat it before pairing it with a mermaid song,” Beatrix said.


    She’d been gambling with that move — the chances of success were fifty-fifty, at best. She’d assumed that Astar might be immune to witchcraft, but now she knew: in his current form, potions could affect him.


    The real question was how long it would last. Mr. Gore and Johannah had been out for about five hours when she''d used it on them, but a devil? That was uncharted territory. Watching Astar''s chest rise and fall in a peaceful rhythm, she had a feeling they were working with a much shorter window.


    "We need to move!" Beatrix whispered, already backing toward the kitchen''s employee exit. "He could wake up any—"


    She froze. There, next to the hulking dishwasher, stood Greta, watching them with unblinking eyes.


    Please don''t rat on us, Greta, Beatrix thought. Please, please, please.


    She held her breath, waiting for the old goblin lunch lady to react. But Greta didn’t move, and didn’t look like she planned to. So, taking her chance, Beatrix nudged open the exit door with her elbow, careful to avoid touching anything with her scalding hands. The brisk winter air hit her hard as she hurried across the back lawn behind the creepateria, dead leaves crunching beneath her feet as she made a beeline for the south side of campus.


    “Astar’s gonna be mad when he wakes up!” Jackson wheezed behind her, struggling to keep pace. "What''re we supposed to tell him?"


    "That he slipped and hit his head!" Beatrix called back, not slowing down.


    "Are you kidding me?" Autumn''s voice cracked with distress. "Why would you knock him out, Bea? That was so messed up!"


    "Because he would''ve stopped us from checking the woods!"


    "You don''t know that!" Autumn''s footsteps faltered. "He''s our friend!"


    "No he’s not! He stopped Grey from getting over the fence last night!" Beatrix''s voice rose sharply. "I''m not letting him get in our way!"


    "We could''ve just told him what was going on! He would''ve helped us!"


    Beatrix whirled around so fast Autumn nearly crashed into her. "I. Don''t. Trust. Him."


    “He’s not a bad guy!” Autumn argued.


    “Pfft, yeah,” Beatrix scoffed, “the demon isn’t a bad guy!”


    “Guys!” Jackson interrupted. “Someone’s coming!”


    The trio ducked behind the library building. The courtyard was mostly empty, except for a hulking gargoyle guard making his rounds near the casketball courts. He was blocking their path to the perimeter fence.


    Luckily, a commotion on the blacktop caught the guard''s attention. Beatrix spotted Orion surrounded by a ring of junior and senior werewolves, their mocking laughter carrying across the yard as he tried to square off against Clawd.


    Clawd watched Orion with the kind of expression someone might give a yapping chihuahua. His golden eyes gleamed with restrained laughter as he crossed his muscular arms over his varsity jacket.


    “Isn’t Orion trying to date Howleen?” Autumn nudged Jackson, raising a brow. “Harassing her brother’s an interesting strategy…”


    “Yeah, well, nobody said he was smart,” Jackson sighed.


    The gargoyle guard jogged over with heavy footfalls, stepping in just as Orion was about to unleash his fury on Clawd. As the guard’s massive form blocked their view of the brewing fight, Beatrix seized her chance, sprinting toward the section of fence Grey had tried to scale.


    The perimeter fence towered at least six feet above Beatrix’s head. From this angle, she was impressed that Grey had almost climbed it on sheer strength alone.


    She heard Jackson and Autumn catching up, huffing and puffing as the grass crunched under their feet. Beatrix examined the fence closely but didn’t spot any weak points—each bar was as thick as her wrist, the metal rigid and unyielding.


    "There''s no way through," Jackson muttered, running his hands along the bars. "We should try another—"


    "Keep watch," Beatrix said, giving a final glance around to make sure the coast was clear. Then, she placed her palms on the iron beam closest to her.


    At first, nothing happened.


    But gradually the intense heat from her hands began to work its magic — the beam’s surface shifted from dull black to an angry red, then orange, and finally a blazing yellow-white. The iron groaned in protest as it expanded, and small wisps of smoke wisped up where her palms met the iron.


    Gripping the superheated metal, Beatrix pulled. The beam gave way like warm wax, bending to her immediately.


    "Little more to the left," Autumn whispered. "You just need enough space to slip through."


    Beatrix effortlessly bent the beam to the side until she had a space wide enough for her frame. She released it and waited for it to contract and cool down, watching as the yellow glow faded back to charred black.


    Jackson reached out tentatively, tapping the warped iron with his fingertip. “Still warm, but you’re good,” he said.


    Taking a deep breath, Beatrix turned sideways and squeezed through. As she stepped into the shadows, fallen leaves and damp earth squished beneath her sneakers.


    “I’ll be quick,” Beatrix whispered through the fence.


    “It’s too dangerous alone,” Autumn insisted. “You need us with you.”


    "She''s right," Jackson said, fidgeting with the headphones around his neck. "Every victim was by themselves. There''s safety in numbers. And if that security guard spots me and Autumn near the fence, he''ll know something''s up. We need to stick together."


    Beatrix sighed, relenting. Every second counted, and she had to admit, Autumn and Jackson''s logic was sound. She stepped aside, letting them slip through after her.


    Once they were all on the other side, Beatrix gripped the lopsided iron bar, waited for it to heat up again, and eased it back into place. This way, if the guard passed by, nothing would seem out of the ordinary.


    The forest closed in around them. Twisted branches and moss-draped trunks forced them to duck and weave through the untamed wilderness. This wasn''t like the worn-in path she''d taken to Draculaura''s house with Venus and Clawdeen — the woods along the southern school perimeter were untouched.


    Beatrix tried to walk in a straight line from their entry point in the fence as she led the group. Autumn followed closely behind her, with Jackson bringing up the rear. They pressed deeper into the woods, the fence becoming less and less visible through the layers of trees.


    Beatrix’s gaze swept from trunk to trunk, looking for a scythe mark like the one carved into Henry Hunchback, her eyes trailing over every knot and groove in the bark. So far, nothing stood out.


    "Anyone see anything weird?" Beatrix whispered.


    They stopped, falling into a triangle formation as they each looked out in a different direction. Nothing seemed out of place — no sign of trouble, nothing unusual that might have drawn Grey’s attention. The forest simply stood around them with silent indifference.


    "Wait — look at that." Autumn pointed a few yards ahead.


    In a small clearing, there was a patch of barren earth without any greenery. Not even weeds dared to grow there.


    The three of them moved closer. Faint U-shaped marks could be seen in the dirt.


    “Hooves?” Beatrix wondered aloud.


    Then she heard something. Something faint, distant in the forest.


    Thump-a-thump.


    It was familiar, vibrating through the soil beneath their feet.


    Thump-a-thump.


    The sound tugged at a memory of her last trek through these woods with Clawdeen and Venus. Just like back then, the animals and birds had fallen silent. No squirrels twittering in the branches above. No ravens cawing harshly. The forest was holding its breath.


    Thump-a-thump.


    The rhythmic noise sounded far off, but each beat seemed to be bringing it closer. Beatrix tiptoed ahead. She needed to pin the sound''s source, needed to understand what had lured Grey out here that night.


    Every few steps, Beatrix glanced back through the dense foliage to make sure she could still see the perimeter fence through the branches. She couldn’t let them get lost.


    A gap between Beatrix and the others grew as she stepped over jagged rocks slick with moss and dew, passing through a line of trees and entering another clearing. A steep hill sloped down before her, revealing another layer of forest below.


    The blanket of trees stretched out until it met the rugged cliff of the New Salem mountainside. A thick mist lingered in the air, not the morning fog that sometimes cloaked Monster High''s grounds, but swirling tendrils of white that curled around tree trunks and slithered across the ground like searching fingers. The winter sky loomed overhead, a cold and muted blue.


    Beatrix surveyed the silent pines, their needles frozen in the still air. The forest remained eerily quiet.


    Thump-a-thump.


    Beatrix’s eyes snapped to a tree that stirred below. Its leaves rustled, as if something had brushed past.


    Then Beatrix saw it. A great black shadow between the pines.


    The first thing Beatrix noticed was the horse, its hooves thudding against the frozen earth, its coat darker than the deepest night. Steam curled from its nostrils in thick plumes.


    The next thing Beatrix noticed was its rider — a figure cloaked in robes that devoured what little light remained in the forest. Although the figure had a human shape, the longer Beatrix stared, the more it resembled a shadow more than a person. It was as if someone had stretched and distorted a silhouette, with its limbs stretched too long, shoulders too broad, its robes rippling in the dead-still air.


    The figure''s leather gloves squeezed the reins in one hand, and with the other gripped a long wooden staff.


    Beatrix''s heart nearly stopped. She knew what that was.


    It wasn’t a staff. It was a scythe… with an invisible spiritual blade she couldn’t see with mortal eyes.


    And that horseman looked ready to use it.