13. Skeletons in the Closet

Grey pinned Astar against the wall, his forearm pressing hard against the devil's throat. The impact shook several framed certificates off the wall, mementos of Astar's time at the Legions of Hell Military Institute, and they crashed to the floor.

"Whoa! Grey, we can talk this out!" Jackson exclaimed behind them.

Astar struggled against Grey's hold, his talons raking red lines across Grey's arm. "What conspiracy theory have you come up with this time?” Astar spat, his voice dripping with the special kind of venom he reserved for Grey.

"You're pulling the strings somehow. Sneaking around school. Starting fires." Grey pressed harder. "Hurting Beatrix."

Astar grunted at the increased pressure, but a smug grin spread across his face as he flashed his razor-sharp teeth mere inches from Grey's face. "Oh no, is that what's got you so worked up? Did I hold her hand too hard?"

The taunt hit its mark. Grey's grip faltered for a split second, and Astar seized the opening, swinging at Grey's face. Though Grey jerked back and threw up an arm to block him, the punch still grazed his shoulder.

Autumn was still huddled by the side of Astar's bed, her button eyes wide with fear as she watched the confrontation unfold. Beatrix quickly pulled her close, both of them retreating to linger near the door, out of the way.

With a forceful shove that sent papers flying from a nearby desk, Astar broke free of Grey's grip. He straightened his rumpled shirt collar, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.

"I know you were involved somehow," Grey accused. "There’s no way the fire in the woods was an accident."

"You need to get your creepy black eyes checked," Astar scoffed, rolling his shoulders to loosen them, "'cause you keep missing things, numbskull."

Grey lunged forward, his fist cutting through the air like a sledgehammer. But Astar evaded it with supernatural grace, using Grey's own momentum against him. The larger boy stumbled into a chair, sending it clattering across the floor.

“Grey! Astar’s not the problem!” Jackson shouted. “It was your kind out there!”

“Stay out of this, four eyes!” Astar snapped, as if he didn’t want Jackson to reveal what had happened in the forest.

Grey froze mid-motion, his black eyes widening. "My kind—"

But before Grey could process Jackson's words, Astar launched himself at him.

The devil unleashed a flurry of swift, relentless punches. Grey was forced on the defensive as Astar attempted to overwhelm him with sheer speed.

Astar seethed insults between attacks. "You really think—" A jab that Grey dodged. "—playing hero will prove anything?" A hook that barely grazed Grey's jaw. "You’ll always be a cheap copy of your pathetic dad."

Grey's superior strength made up for what he lacked in speed. He blocked blow after blow, his forearms absorbing the impact.

"All those military drills, and this is the best you can do?" Grey bit out.

That pissed Astar off. A lightning-fast strike slipped through, catching Grey in the ribs. Grey's breath hitched, but he didn't falter. Instead, he channeled the pain into a crushing blow that sent Astar skidding backward.

"Jackson! Watch out!" Autumn cried as Grey's follow-up swing nearly hit Jackson. Jackson stumbled back just in time, Grey's elbow whistling past his face.

Jackson retreated to where Autumn and Beatrix watched by the doorway, his fingers moving to his headphones. Beatrix caught Jackson’s wrist before he could flip the switch. She shook her head firmly — Holt's chaotic energy was the last thing they needed right now.

Meanwhile, Astar and Grey slammed into a side table. A lamp toppled and shattered, sending white shards across the floor like broken eggshells. If the fire wasn't still raging on the south side of campus — its orange glow visible through the window like a distant sunset — Beatrix was sure the entire boy's dorm would have come running to witness this fight.

The boys’ path of destruction continued as a waste basket tipped, spewing its contents everywhere. Amid the scattered protein bar wrappers and crumpled homework assignments, something caught Beatrix's eye — a small package, partially crushed but intact. The label read in stark black text: B. donna ingredient. Rapid shipping. New Salem Preparatory Academy.

Beatrix frowned at the strange package, distracted by it for a moment.

"Do something!" Autumn urged Beatrix, her cloth fingers digging into Beatrix's sleeve.

Right — Beatrix suddenly remembered she wasn't powerless here. Her eyes darted from the mysterious box back to the fight. She shouted: "Astar! I command you to stop!"

It worked. Astar stopped, his yellow eyes snapping to Beatrix. But then Grey’s fist connected with Astar's jaw in a brutal arc, sending the devil reeling.

With a snap of leathery wings, Astar launched himself to the ceiling. He wedged himself into a corner where walls met the roof, one hand clutching his swelling jaw, glaring down at Grey with murderous rage. "Cheap shot." Astar spat out along with a mouthful of golden blood. Like a spider, he used his limbs to hold himself in place up there.

"Thanks a lot, Bee!" Astar snarled from his perch. "Tell your boyfriend to back off and crawl back to his crypt!"

Heat rushed to Beatrix's face, blooming across her cheeks and up to her ears. "Hey! He's not—" she started to protest, but the words caught in her throat as Grey's intense gaze flicked her way.

Then Grey, still riding the wave of adrenaline, advanced toward Astar's corner, ready for round two.

A red pitchfork materialized in Astar's hand. Its prongs gleamed like fresh blood in the dim light. A thin stream of gold trickled from his nose, staining his shirt collar. "Try me, Reaper," he growled.

"Grey, stop!" Autumn pleaded. "You're going after the wrong person!"

Grey turned to the scarecrow, his fighting stance faltering. "What?"

"We saw two Reapers in the woods," Autumn explained. "We were looking for clues when they attacked us!"

“... That’s impossible,” Grey said, although he sounded unsure of himself. “No Reaper can defy my father. You must have seen something else. Maybe someone disguised as—"

“Reapers can’t defy your father, or they choose not to?” Beatrix asked.

"They wouldn't dare," Grey insisted.

Autumn took a bold step forward. “Maybe they're not as scared of your dad as you think. We all saw them, clear as day."

Grey's gaze went to Beatrix, searching her face. "You're sure?"

"100% sure," Beatrix replied without hesitation, holding his stare.

“And those Reapers were way quicker than you. Not as clunky on their feet,” Astar sneered at Grey from above. “Now get out of my room—”

“Astar, shut it,” Beatrix said.

Grey dragged a hand across his face, his eyes fixed on the floor. The fight seemed to drain out of him, replaced by something heavier.

The silence stretched on until Beatrix finally broke it. "You knew those Reapers were here already, didn't you?"

When Grey looked at her again, what she saw in his eyes made her chest tighten: guilt, raw and undeniable, swimming in those dark depths.

Astar descended from his perch with feline grace, landing softly on the balls of his feet. His jaw was swollen, golden blood still seeping from his nose. But the devil's earlier swagger had vanished. As Grey took center stage, Astar looked noticeably concerned.

Grey drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for a confession. "Remember last semester, when you joined MSS?" he asked Beatrix. "On your first day, I led the seminar.”

"Yeah… you taught us about how monsters cheat death," Beatrix said.

"I think that's why those Reapers are here." Grey said. "Death wants what it's owed… they want every monster soul at this school."

"But your dad made peace treaties with monsters..." Beatrix started. "I thought the treaties protected monster souls from being collected by Reapers.”

Grey ran a hand over his closely-shaved hair. "On paper, yeah. But a treaty is just a promise. Promises can be broken. Most Reapers follow my dad’s rules, but..." Grey began to pace, each step heavy.

He continued, "When my dad took over Death Co., three of his closest colleagues walked out on him. They couldn't stand his vision for the company when it came to handling the monster world. That betrayal nearly broke my dad. I heard things got ugly.” Grey stopped at the window, focused on the orange glow of the distant fire. "They weren't just his coworkers — they were like family to him. The four of them had worked together for centuries, collecting souls as one unit."

"You’re saying your dad's old friends are behind this?" Beatrix watched Grey's reflection in the window.

“Wait… there’s three Reapers out there?” Autumn squeaked.

"There was a massive rider who chased us down — is he one of them?" Jackson asked.

“That sounds like Viggo,” Grey sighed, placing his head in his hands. “... I should’ve known.”

“Vy-go?” Jackson repeated the horseman’s name, the foreign syllables awkward on his tongue.

“His name means ‘Battle’ in ancient Norse,” Grey explained. “He’s always had a thing for the souls of fallen men on battlefields. In the early days, humans called him ‘Warrior’ in their legends. Sometimes just 'War.'"

"War..." Beatrix muttered to herself, the nickname striking a chord somewhere in her memory. Where had she heard it before?

The poem from Ghoulia's textbook surfaced in her mind: Dark horsemen riding... Plague, Famine, and War... settling a score.

“That second Reaper we saw, the thin one in the tattered robes — who was he?" Beatrix asked Grey.

"Sounds like Mahlon," Grey said.

“Does Mahlon have a creepy nickname too?”

“Mahlon means 'sick' or 'disease' in Hebrew, I think.”

Beatrix stilled. Plague.

"You really know your languages," Jackson said, impressed.

“I’ve heard the stories a thousand times. It’s impossible to forget their names,” Grey replied grimly.

"And the third one?" Beatrix asked, though she dreaded the answer. "What's his name?"

“Cassius.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s Latin for ‘empty,’” Grey answered, looking puzzled as to why Beatrix wanted to know so badly. "Why?"

Beatrix barely heard his question, her mind racing. ‘Empty.’ That’s got to be Famine, she thought. The poem's words were burned into her mind: Plague, Famine, and War... seek to settle a score…

"The three horsemen…" she said, looking up at Grey. “…they're here for revenge, aren't they? Against the Grim Reaper?"

Grey's jaw tightened. "They saw my father's plan as blasphemy. Peace with supernatural creatures? Making deals with the undead?" He shook his head. "They saw it as an insult to Death itself. Called Monster High an abomination."

He began pacing again, agitated. "That's why my dad sent me here. Since I'm not ordained as a Reaper yet, I can walk these grounds freely. My dad wanted me to see what he saw — that monsters aren't what those three think they are. Most monsters didn't choose this existence. They're just trying to live their undead lives in peace."

"If you ask me, the monsters here are a little too peaceful," Astar muttered.

“Are you saying you knew those three Reapers were behind the murders this whole time?” Autumn asked Grey.

Grey's shoulders slumped. "No... not at first. I mean, I saw things, someone following the MSS group during our field trip last semester, shadows in the forest, but I couldn't be sure. He drew in a breath. "Not until the night I was with Beatrix behind the gardening shed.”

“What do you mean?” Beatrix asked.

"That night, when you spotted something in the woods..." Grey's black eyes found hers. "I stopped you because I saw a dark figure out there… without a soul's glow in their chest. Only Reapers lack that inner light."

"And you kept it to yourself?" Autumn's voice cracked with anger. "You should have gone straight to Bloodgood the moment you suspected your dad’s old friends!”

"I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me," Grey said, but guilt shadowed his features. “... I wanted to believe I was wrong… Viggo, Mahlon, Cassius — they've been ghosts in my family's history for so long. I've never even met them. If I raised a false alarm about rogue Reapers, it would turn the monster world on its head. I needed to make sure it was them."

"That's why you were always first at every crime scene," Autumn pressed, her button eyes flashing. "All this time, you knew more than you let on." Her resentment was clear, especially after watching Grey attack Astar. Beatrix touched her friend's arm, caught between wanting to calm Autumn's anger and understanding it.

"I wanted to help Bloodgood keep things under control," Grey admitted. "She's put everything into this school. I didn't want Monster High to fall apart under her.”

Autumn jerked away from Beatrix's touch. "Monsters are dying, Grey. Real monsters with real families. But I guess Bloodgood's reputation matters more than their lives?"

"You know that’s not what I meant," Grey shot back.

Jackson cleared his throat to diffuse the tension, stepping between them. "What I don't understand is why these Reapers are targeting the school this year. Think about it, Monster High has been around for centuries. So why are they targeting monsters right now, of all times? There has to be a reason.”

Grey turned to Jackson. "I don’t know why. That's what doesn't add up. They can't enter school grounds, but they've been waiting out there for months, picking monsters off one by one. It's like they're waiting for something.”

"That barrier…" Beatrix said slowly. "Grey, do you know anything else about it?”

Grey's hand drifted to the glass orb that hung at the end of his chain necklace, turning it absentmindedly. “No. No one does. It's been here for centuries. My dad says it's one of Death's biggest mysteries.” Grey’s gaze wandered to the misty mountain peaks visible through the window. "The founders who built Monster High chose this mountain because of it. They knew gathering so many young monsters in one place was risky, so they wanted that protection from death in case my dad’s peace treaties failed."

The hostility that had dominated the room began to dissolve.

All this time Beatrix had been focused on Bram and Vilhelm terrorizing normies in New Salem, when something else had been stalking Monster High. The Reapers had been there all along, ancient and patient, watching them like hawks.

"We need to tell Bloodgood," Autumn said. "Right now."

Astar collapsed onto his bed with a dramatic groan, springs creaking beneath him. "Before anyone goes anywhere—" He prodded his swelling eye, shooting Grey a pointed glare. "He owes me an apology.”

Grey looked around at the wreckage of Astar's room. "I'm… sorry for coming after you," he said stiffly, the apology not coming easily to him.

"We're just glad you're not a murderer," Jackson said, giving a nervous laugh.

Grey arched a brow. "Is that why you've all been acting so weird lately?"

Jackson nodded hesitantly. "We didn't know who else could've made those marks on the bodies... and you’re the only one here with a scythe."

Grey's fingers found the glass orb dangling from his necklace. He held it up for Jackson to see. "This is where Reapers store the souls we collect. Look — mine is empty. I'm not holding onto Gilda, Brocko, or Henry."

He turned to Beatrix, his expression pained. "Did you think it was me too?"

“I…” Beatrix didn’t want to admit it, but her silence was damning enough. The hurt that flashed across Grey's face made her wish she could take it back. "Grey, I'm sorry, it's just with everything that's been happening…"

"I was trying to help," Grey said quietly. "I thought if I could just figure out what was happening before anyone else got hurt..."

As they spoke, Autumn went to check on Astar's injuries, muttering something about ice packs. Grey moved closer to Beatrix. "There's something else you need to know,” he said to her. "With those three horsemen here... every monster in this school... their souls are in danger."

Beatrix leaned in. "Why?"

“They’ll all be damned.”

Beatrix’s eyes went wide.

That strange poem came rushing back with horrifying clarity:

Plague, Famine, and War

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

seek to settle a score.

Monsters can’t hide

when the dark horsemen ride.

Their souls will burn once more.

"I can't condemn all the monsters here to eternal hellfire just because they're undead," Grey went on. "It's not right. Most monsters never chose this existence — why should they suffer forever for something forced on them? That's why my father fights so hard to protect them."

"When monsters die, they..." Beatrix couldn't finish the sentence. Their souls will burn… Every monster at Monster High — her friends, Autumn — were they all destined to spend eternity in…

Grey stepped closer, the floorboards creaking beneath him as he tried to catch her distant gaze. “Beatrix?” That's when he noticed her hands. Alarm filled his face and he reached out and took her right hand in his. Beatrix winced but didn't pull away as his calloused fingers carefully examined her wrist.

"What happened?" he asked softly, touching the angry red marks blooming across her skin.

"I'm fine," Beatrix said. "I'll ask Lagoona for some lotion, she has gallons of the stuff. Only downside is I'll smell like a fishing pier for a week." The joke fell flat, her thoughts continuing to spiral. Their souls will burn… Their souls will burn…

"Hang on…” Grey looked up at her. “Did you start that forest fire?" When Beatrix wouldn't meet his eyes, he let out an exasperated groan. "Let me guess: magic? Again? You're lucky the whole mountain didn't go up in flames. And while we're at it, want to explain why I saw your spirit floating around campus the other night?"

The sharp trill of a phone interrupted them. Grey released Beatrix's hand to pull his black iCoffin from his jacket. He stared at the screen, confused. "Uh..."

He glanced at Autumn.

"What?" Autumn asked, shifting on Astar's bed.

“You’re calling me.”

Beatrix snapped back to the present.

Autumn frowned. "No I'm not..."

"Your phone!" Beatrix exclaimed. "You dropped it in the forest when we were escaping.”

"The firefighters must have found it," Jackson blurted out, gripped by anxiety. "They're going to report us before we can explain what happened! That's it — we're done for! Do you have any idea what starting a forest fire means? We could get expelled, get sued by the school—”

"Why would they call Grey though?" Autumn asked, eyeing the Reaper.

Ignoring the back and forth, Grey answered his iCoffin, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

No answer came.

Astar watched from his bed, his face bruised and swelling, his expression unreadable.

Then came a sound — a faint shuffling, the rustle of leaves in the background.

"Is someone there?" Grey's voice stayed controlled, but Beatrix saw how his fingers tightened around the phone.

“Ah. It is you.” The male voice that crackled through the speaker was impossibly deep, as if it echoed from the bottom of a well. It sounded wrong — otherworldly in a way that made the hair on the back of Beatrix's neck stand up.

The silence lingered for a moment.

"Say farewell to your friends," the voice rumbled. "Their hour of reckoning is near."

The line went dead with a harsh click.

Beatrix stared at Grey as he clutched his black iCoffin, his eyes reflecting the darkness of the now black screen.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

“Grey! Hang on!” Autumn called, her voice bouncing off the walls of the boy’s dormitory hallway as the rest of the group struggled to keep up with him.

Astar lagged behind, his crimson wings folded tight against his back, looking agitated that everyone was following Grey’s lead. Autumn twisted around to look at the devil. "Hurry!" she urged. With an exaggerated eye roll, Astar broke into a half-hearted jog, his shoes scuffing against the floor as he caught up.

Beatrix followed Grey down the spiral staircase of the boy’s dorm, the poem still looping in her mind, pounding against her skull: Their souls will burn once more… Their souls…

The weight of it pressed down on her, making each step down the stairs more demanding than it should’ve been.

Grey thumbed through his black iCoffin. He tapped on “B’s friend” in his contacts, redialing the number that had sent them all racing from Astar’s dorm room. The phone rang once, twice, three times.

Instead of an answer, Autumn’s chirpy voicemail kicked in: “Hi there! It’s Autumn Patches! Sorry I missed you, I’m probably busy studying or gardening—Frankie! Shhh I’m trying to record my voicemail—” Grey's thumb hit the end call button before trying again. Once more: "Hi there! It's Autumn Patches—"

“Which horseman was on the phone?” Jackson asked, sweat plastering his black and blond streaked hair to his forehead.

“Cassius,” Grey responded gravely.

Beatrix’s head was swimming. Her whole body was heavy with exhaustion — from the mad flight through the woods, choking on the smoke of the wildfire, from the realization that everyone she cared about in this school was doomed to spend eternity in the hell Astar had crawled out of.

Suddenly, Beatrix’s foot slipped, missing a step, and she started to fall forward — only to be caught by a strong arm around her waist. Astar. He held her effortlessly, his swollen face and piercing yellow eyes an inch from hers. "Careful," he murmured.

Beatrix shrugged him off and righted herself. “Thanks,” she said flatly.

Grey lifted his iCoffin to his ear and dialed Autumn’s phone another time, only to be met with her voicemail again. He stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairwell to face the group scrambling after him. The emergency exit sign above cast a red glow over them all.

“If Cassius would pick up, I could try talking to him and the other two, try to reason with them, walk them off the ledge. Get my dad on the line somehow. I don’t know…” The uncertainty in Grey’s voice was more frightening than any monster Beatrix had ever encountered in these halls.

Beatrix stepped forward, fighting her dizziness. She gripped the banister, hoping the others couldn't see how much effort it took to hold herself steady. "Cassius isn’t gonna call you back," she said, “so we need to find Bloodgood and tell her everything we know, like Autumn said."

Grey was already pulling out his iCoffin, thumbing through his contacts. The ring echoed in the stairwell, once, twice, three times. Then: “You have reached Nora Bloodgood. I am currently unavailable—”

Grey cursed under his breath and ended the call.

“She’s probably tied up with the fire,” Grey muttered, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

Jackson whispered to Beatrix, “He has Bloodgood’s number?”

“She’s a family friend,” Beatrix whispered back. She turned her attention back to Grey. “You need to call your dad, then.”

“I will, on my way to Bloodgood,” Grey replied. “I bet she’s with the fire rescue team on the south side of campus.” They emerged from the shadowed stairwell into the late afternoon. The air outside was thick with smoke and the smell of burnt wood, making Beatrix's eyes water.

Across the broad yard in front of the boy’s dorm, where the perfectly manicured grass was now dusted with a fine layer of ash, Clawd stood with his arm around Clawdeen’s shoulders beneath a lone oak tree. Clawdeen was curled into herself, face hidden in the ruffled collar of Draculaura’s lacy pink blouse as the vampire held her close. A few steps away, Frankie’s blue and green eyes were wide with worry.

Autumn took off at a run toward them, calling Clawdeen’s name.

As the group approached, Frankie darted to Jackson, her green arms flying around him. He stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, then returned the hug, burying his face in her black-and-white hair.

“Where have you been?" Frankie pulled back, her mismatched eyes scanning his face. "I was worried sick when you weren't in the creepateria." She wrinkled her nose. "Um, why are you so dirty?”

Jackson opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure how much he should tell her.

Clawdeen sniffled and raised her head, the fur beneath her golden eyes damp with tears. Draculaura stepped aside as Autumn moved in and enveloped Clawdeen in a tight hug.

“Is Clawdeen okay?” Beatrix asked Draculaura.

Draculaura’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Another body was found," she said, not even attempting to sugarcoat it, “in the middle of the forest fire. It was a gargoyle security guard named Pierre.”

"My pack saw him head into the woods," Clawd added. "We were on the casketball courts when the fire started. He told us to stay put while he checked it out. We saw him climb the fence, but he never came back.”

They were talking about the security guard Beatrix had snuck past just hours ago at lunch.

Their souls will burn once more. Their souls will burn once more. Their souls will burn…

"Do you think he got burned out there?" Frankie asked.

“Come on, gargoyles are made of stone," Clawd said. "Fire can’t hurt him like that."

Clawdeen’s eyes flashed. “I can’t believe this nightmare is still going on,” she snarled. “It’s what happened to Brocko all over again. No one knew what happened to him either. When’s this gonna end?”

Seeing Clawdeen in such a state felt like a punch to Beatrix’s gut. Autumn hugged Clawdeen even tighter.

Clawdeen suddenly pulled back, noticing the scarecrow’s collarbone. “What happened to you?” the werewolf asked, referring to the burn mark on Autumn’s canvas skin where she’d gotten seared in the woods.

Autumn glanced back at Beatrix, silently questioning how much to share about what happened in the forest. Beatrix looked to Grey, who gave a single nod. It was time. They needed to know the truth.

Grey addressed the assembled group. "We know who’s behind the murders.”

Clawd's arm tightened around Clawdeen's shoulders. "What, man?"

"Reapers," Grey told Clawd. "The same ones I told you and Deuce about. The ones my father has been trying to track down ever since they went rogue. I had my suspicions about them, but now I know for sure they’re the ones doing this."

Draculaura gasped, a dainty hand flying to her mouth. "Did they start the fire?" she asked. "What do they want?"

Beatrix zoned out. Their souls will burn once more… Their souls will burn… burn… They’re all… Autumn…

"I don't have time to explain everything now," Grey said, already turning to leave. "I need to find Bloodgood and tell her what’s going on. Jackson, Autumn — fill them in. The death barrier, the horsemen, all of it." His jet black eyes cut to Beatrix. "You, come with me."

Beatrix took a step forward, but her knees wobbled traitorously beneath her. Hands closed around her arms, keeping her upright — it was Astar, again.

"Bea?" Autumn asked, concerned.

“Sorry, I’m just…” Beatrix swayed slightly. “I’m okay. Let’s go.”

“No way. You look like you're about to faint,” Autumn insisted.

"Grey, go ahead without her," Astar ordered. "She needs a minute.”

“But we need to tell—” Grey started.

“Oh, sure, let's drag her to the headmistress while she can barely stand,” Astar said.

Grey hesitated. By the way Grey’s face softened as he looked at her, Beatrix figured she wasn’t looking too hot. After a moment, Grey relented. "Fine. Meet me at the front office in twenty minutes." With that, he was gone.

Autumn took Beatrix’s hand, her touch soft. “Come on,” the scarecrow said gently, leading her towards the girl’s dorm. “Let’s get you something to eat—”

"I'll take care of her," Astar interrupted, adjusting his grip on Beatrix. "You stay here and help Jackson explain everything to them." He nodded to the rest of the group, still gathered beneath the oak, faces drawn with fear. "I can fly Bee around faster on my own."

Autumn looked up at the devil and something unspoken passed between them. The scarecrow squeezed Beatrix's fingers before releasing her hand. "There’s food in the common room fridge," Autumn said to the devil. "Make sure she eats."

Beatrix wasn’t really listening, lost in a daze of exhaustion and dread.

Their souls will burn once more… burn once more… they're damned, cursed… that security guard is dead because of me.

Astar crouched in front of Beatrix, presenting his back to her. She climbed on, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting her cheek fall against one of his leathery wings.

With Beatrix clinging to him, Astar stood and unfurled his wings. "We won’t be long," he assured Autumn.

And then they were airborne, the ground falling away, the wind whipping Beatrix's dark hair back from her face. She closed her eyes and held on.

“Why couldn’t Autumn come?” Beatrix muttered to Astar, her voice faint and small even to her own ears. “She wouldn’t have slowed you down. She doesn’t even weigh anything.”

Astar’s shoulders tensed beneath her. “She can’t come with us,” he said. “Not this time.”

Beatrix had the feeling Astar wasn’t really talking to her—more like he was trying to convince himself of something. Astar’s taloned hand tightened around one of Beatrix’s arms, making sure she stayed securely wrapped around his neck. As if he was determined to keep her from slipping away.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

Beatrix sat slumped at a large, rectangular table in the East dorm’s common room and slammed back a glass of cold water, the ice cubes clinking against her teeth. As soon as she set the empty glass down, Astar refilled it from the water purifier on the counter. Beatrix grabbed the glass and chugged again, some of it dribbling down her chin.

"Thank you," she mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She rested her cheek on her palm and watched Astar rummage through the industrial-sized fridge the ghouls in the East dorm all shared. The fridge was packed with containers of dubious leftovers, half-empty bags of blood for the vampire students, and an array of Pumpkin Spice coffee creamers.

A few students were finally trickling back to the dorms now that the forest fire was extinguished, but the East dorm was still quiet.

“Aha,” Astar said, pulling out a large plastic container from the back of the fridge.

“What’s that?” Beatrix asked, her eyelids drooping with fatigue as Astar plopped the container on the table between them.

“Tea cakes. Check it out, me and Patches whipped ‘em up a couple days ago,” Astar said, popping the lid off to reveal a dozen neatly arranged glazed pastries. Beatrix perked up at the sight of the vanilla mini cakes, each one perfectly round and shiny with icing. She recognized them right away — Autumn had baked this same recipe a few times back on the farm.

Beatrix was impressed. “You helped make these?”

“Well, Patches did most of the work,” Astar said with a casual shrug. "She really wanted you to try them, so we haven't touched them yet."

Beatrix noticed a few empty spots where some cakes were missing from the otherwise perfect grid. "I thought you said you hadn't touched any yet.”

"Oh… yeah, I might’ve sampled a few when she wasn’t looking," Astar said, then promptly snatched up another cake and popped the whole thing in his mouth, devouring it in one bite. "Can you blame me? Her desserts are sinful."

"Hey, save some for me!” Beatrix protested as Astar inhaled yet another cake.

"Chill out," Astar said through a mouthful. He pointed a talon at two cakes nestled in the corner of the container, each one decorated with delicate violet petals pressed into the icing. "Those are yours. Autumn said purple was your favorite color, so we made those ones special, just for you. Added flower petals and everything."

Beatrix picked up one of the flowered cakes from the wax paper, admiring the artistry. "Wow. These are really pretty. Want one?" She held the cake out to Astar.

He shook his head. "Nah, they’re for you. We wanted you to have the fancy ones."

Beatrix took a nibble and sweetness exploded across her tongue. With each bite, there was an underlying bitter note she couldn't quite identify. Astar watched her intently as she chewed.

"C'mon, speed it up," Astar said impatiently. "I don't want to get chewed out by Grey for keeping you too long. I don't know how you stand that guy. He's wound tighter than a mummy's bandages."

Beatrix took a more substantial bite, the moist cake melting on her tongue, the flower petals adding an interesting texture. "Grey's not..." she started. "He's just trying to protect everyone..."

"Right, because that's working out so well," Astar sneered. "The Grim Reaper can't even control his own kind anymore. And his son's just as useless. It’s no wonder his old coworkers are rebelling against him under his nose. Wait, does the Grim Reaper have a nose?”

Beatrix bristled. "Don’t talk about Grey and his family like that…”

"Like what?” Astar’s tone turned scathing. "You’ve never thought maybe those rogue horsemen are onto something about this place?”

Beatrix stopped. “What’s your problem?” she asked, glaring at the devil. “We have more important things to think about right now—”

The devil fixed her with a penetrating stare. He continued, "You really don't get it, do you? Monster High is nothing but a grand experiment, trying to domesticate creatures that were never meant to be tamed. Monsters aren’t supposed to act like humans. Sitting in classes and playing nice isn’t why they were created."

"Who are you to say why a monster's created?" Beatrix snapped.

"Bee, I'm the only one in this whole god-forsaken school who can say it." Astar spread his hands as if the answer should be glaringly obvious. "Witches and demons conjure monsters for a reason. To sow chaos. To cause discord. To make the dull mortal world a little more..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Interesting."

Beatrix shook her head in disgust. "That's garbage and you know it. Every ghoul here worships you, and I’ve seen how you hang out with monsters between classes. You like living at Monster High. Are you seriously trying to tell me Autumn and our other friends would be better off as mindless creatures terrorizing normies?"

"Death politics are way more complex than your pretty little head can grasp," he said coolly. "The three horsemen never wanted Monster High to exist in the first place. If they had their way, they'd turn this place to rubble and exorcise its memory from the face of the earth. And honestly? I think they have the right idea.”

Beatrix’s palms slammed against the tabletop. "Well, tough luck, Astar. You’re gonna have to put aside your fantasies of letting those Reapers ruin everything," she said. “What's wrong with you? You’re acting weird.”

Astar cocked his head to the side. "If you had any respect for the old ways, took the dark order seriously, you'd see it too. This monster utopia was never meant to last. It’s a waste of potential.”

Something about the way he spoke reminded Beatrix of someone else. "Astar," she said. "These ideas about monsters embracing their 'true nature'... are they yours? Or are they coming from your mom?"

For a fleeting moment, conflict warred across Astar's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to answer her question.

Beatrix sighed. “Look, today’s been crazy enough as it is. And I get it, you’re still pissed about Grey attacking you. If it makes you feel any better, you landed some good swings on him too.”

"I could’ve taken him down if you hadn't gotten in my way," Astar grumbled, looking away.

"Can we not do this right now? I still need to meet with Grey and Bloodgood." Beatrix pushed herself up from the table. "Are you flying me over? Or do I need to run there myself?” Beatrix reached for another petal-strewn cake to eat on the way. But before her fingertips could brush the sugared surface, Astar's hand shot out and stopped her.

"Don't," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

“What’s gotten into you?” she demanded. “Did Grey hit you too hard or something?”

"You never trusted me,” Astar said. His yellow gaze bored into hers. "I've finally come to terms with that."

"Huh? Astar, you're not making any sense..."

The fiend ignored her and rose to his feet, crossing the common room kitchen with a distant expression. When he reached the arched doorway, Astar hesitated, glancing back at Beatrix over his shoulder. There was sorrow in his eyes.

"I need you to understand," he said quietly, "that this isn't what I wanted.”

Astar slipped through the door and vanished from sight, leaving Beatrix completely confused. However, when she tried to get up and go after him, she stumbled to her feet, panic spiking as the room swayed around her. Gripping the table for support, she sucked in shallow breaths, fighting off a surge of dizziness. Dark spots danced at the corners of her vision.

"Astar?" His name came out wrong, her tongue feeling too thick in her mouth. "What's... what's happening to me?"

Her legs buckled and she collapsed to the tiled floor. She struggled to lift her head, her limbs unresponsive. Fear flooded her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a faint movement — a pair of violet legs, semi-transparent, drifting through the wall before her.

“Well done, Astaroth." Spectra sounded colder than Beatrix had ever heard her, devoid of even a shred of emotion.

Beatrix peered up at the spirit floating above.

"Spectra? Why are you here..."

Hazy memories trickled into Beatrix’s sluggish mind — Spectra looming over her bed the other night, hovering over her abandoned body. Suddenly, a nauseating emptiness swept through Beatrix, but this feeling was familiar to her now. The feeling of her spirit slipping away from her body.

"Astar," Beatrix tried to call out. "Help..."

"I'm afraid your devil has other matters to attend to." Spectra's form wavered and doubled as Beatrix struggled to focus. “He won't be coming to save you this time.”

"What..." Beatrix's fingers scrabbled against the smooth floor, trying desperately to find purchase as she attempted to push herself up. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead. "What did you do to me?"

"Don't fret, it will all be over soon," Spectra cooed. "I can’t have you getting in my way this time.” The spirit looked over at the container of the tea cakes and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “I see Astar neglected to give you the full dose — if he followed my instructions properly, you would’ve eaten both belladonna cakes. I need your pulse slowed down as much as possible. That’s too bad.”

The word belladonna rang in Beatrix's head like a bell, dredging up memories of Spectra teaching her how to astral project as a ghost the other night, the small package she’d spotted in Astar’s room: B. donna ingredient. Rapid shipping. New Salem Preparatory Academy.

“Belladonna?” Beatrix asked, “The poison plant that makes you... temporarily... dead?”

“Ah, excellent, I’m glad you remember our lessons,” Spectra said. “I’m sure you recall that detaching your spirit from your body is much easier with belladonna petals. But this time, I need you out of body longer than just a few minutes. Let’s hope one tea cake is enough to do the job.”

“He drugged me,” Beatrix said, tears welling in her eyes. The room swam in and out of focus, her pulse growing weaker and weaker.

Spectra descended until her face hovered over Beatrix's own, pale lips twisted in a cruel smile, her voice as smooth as silk. “Don’t fight it, Beatrix. Astar bought a high quality batch of belladonna, so it will slow your heartbeat without any pain. Just pretend you’re back in your dorm, drifting off to sleep. The fear will vanish once you relax. Let yourself drift away.”

Spectra was right. Beatrix simply felt sleepy as the room dimmed around her. As the poison coursed through her veins, a heavy drowsiness began to overtake her, and the colors of the kitchen bled together like a fever dream.

“Slipping a little witchy ingredient into food never fails, does it?” Spectra continued.

“Why are you…” Beatrix murmured.

Spectra glided around Beatrix like a predator toying with its prey. “I had hopes that you might understand, might help me willingly, but I found that you’re an unusually stubborn witch. This way will be much easier.”

“Help you? With what?”

“A spell. A difficult one,” Spectra said. “One that I couldn’t master on my own back then.”

“I don’t… understand…”

"I need to bring down the barrier," Spectra explained, “the one that keeps death at bay. That spell has been in place for too long. Far too long.”

"Spell?” Beatrix asked, shaky. “The barrier… is from witchcraft? How do you know?"

Spectra's face turned somber. "Because I was the one who created it.”

Shock cut through the haze of Beatrix's mind. "... You're a witch?"

"I used to be," Spectra confirmed, her form pulsing. "That’s the thing about our craft, only a witch can tear down what a witch has built. But this..." She gestured to herself with bitter amusement. "This spiritual form cannot channel magic. And those Reapers can't get into the school unless the barrier comes down. Lucky for me, you’re here.”

“No… I won’t…” Beatrix tried to protest, having a hard time keeping up with what she was saying. As the belladonna's effects fully took hold, Beatrix felt herself slipping away, her consciousness drifting further and further from her weakening body.

Spectra gazed down at her. "Unfortunately, that's what I figured you'd say,” Spectra said. “I’m sorry it had to come to this. But you're going to help me set things right.”