3. The Monster Sensitivity Seminar

When news broke about a student's death north of campus, Monster High security had swarmed the woods, blocking off the area with yellow tape for an investigation.

The student was Gilda Goldstag, a horned monster well-known around Monster High who loved reading in nature. Beatrix couldn't get Gilda's name and face out of her head—photos of her were plastered everywhere, the botanical club had planted a garden in her memory, and the school was hosting a memorial service in the screamatorium.

But something about Gilda's death still remained a mystery: the cause of it.

Nobody had revealed what happened—not the school paper, the teachers, the lunch ladies, or even Bloodgood. From what Beatrix overheard from students while dishing out food, Gilda might've slipped on a rock and hit her head, or maybe got stung by a bee and had a bad reaction out in the woods.

But those rumors didn’t explain the sudden surge in Monster High security, with guards posted at every building’s entrance, or the new rule banning students from leaving the grounds without written permission.

Now that a week had gone by, Beatrix sat in a classroom holding a pamphlet titled “When the Undead Pass On: A Guide to Grieving and Healing.”

This was a grim start to the Monster Sensitivity Seminar, or “MSS,” as Bloodgood called it.

At the front of the class, Johannah Carpenter wrote on a whiteboard. Johannah was a senior who ran MSS every Saturday for elective credit. “I know this is a tough time for everyone, so if you need someone to talk to, here’s my number,” Johannah said, jotting down her contact info.

Even though Johannah looked human with her plain face and mousy hair, Beatrix had heard the other MSS members calling her “The Thing” behind her back. Beatrix hadn't cracked the meaning of the nickname yet.

“While we wait for Mr. Gore, let’s go around and introduce ourselves,” Johannah said.

A nervous boy in the back row went first. “Uh, hi. M-my name is Jackson. I’m a sophomore,” he stammered.

“And what kind of monster are you, Jackson?” Johannah asked.

“Half-normie, half-creature. Sort of…” Jackson answered vaguely, squirming in his seat.

“Let’s give Jackson a warm welcome.”

“Hiii Jacksonnn,” the group droned.

“Alright. Who’s next?” Johannah scanned the room.

A small silver werewolf with ruffled fur and green eyes sat slouched in front of Jackson. “Name’s Orion. Freshman. I was bit by a werewolf last summer and it’s been a total pain. Got all this hair now and I still can’t grow a beard.”

“Hiii Orionnn.”

Next up was a short, round guy with a mop of curly hair. He looked stuffy in his sweater vest, and noticeably human. “I’m Guillermo,” he announced with pride, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I'm a junior. And a familiar.”

That caught Beatrix’s attention. The only “familiars” she knew about were the devil familiars that helped witches. She wondered what Guillermo meant.

Orion snorted. “A familiar isn’t a type of monster. You’re just a normie. Even worse, a lame, clingy normie.”

“That’s not true!” Guillermo protested.

“Imagine being a normie who follows vampires around all day like a lost puppy,” Orion taunted.

“Hey, let’s calm down—” Johannah tried to cut in.

“I won’t be a normie for much longer, I’ll have you know!” Guillermo insisted. “My master promised to turn me into a vampire by the end of the year!”

Orion flashed his fangs in a mean grin. “Ha! Good luck with that! We all know how well bloodsuckers keep their promises.”

A growl erupted from Johannah’s throat. “I SAID QUIET.”

Johannah’s face burst open with a rip, exposing raw, glistening flesh and a nightmarish mouth packed with needle-sharp teeth.

The group recoiled in horror as Johannah’s gruesome face twisted, until it suddenly sealed back up. “That’s better,” she said sweetly.

I guess her nickname makes sense now… Beatrix thought, eyes wide.

Suddenly, the classroom door opened. Beatrix expected it to be Mr. Gore, the teacher in charge of supervising these weekend seminars, but she was dead wrong.

“Oh. Grey. What’s up?” Johannah asked.

Grey’s frame filled the doorway, his black void eyes immediately landing on Beatrix.

“Bloodgood gave me permission to help run MSS with you,” he said, matter-of-fact, not breaking eye contact with Beatrix.

“Really? That’s weird,” Johannah said. “Bloodgood didn’t tell me.”

Grey pulled out a folded paper from his black denim jacket and handed it over. The Headmistress's signature was scrawled at the bottom of the note.

Johannah shrugged. “Hm. Okay. The more the merrier. We were just listening to our last introduction.” She pointed at Beatrix.

Grey dropped into a chair next to Johannah up front, facing the class. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, like he was daring Beatrix to speak.

This was not good. When word about her being a witch spread to the entire school on her first day, she and Autumn were sure Grey was behind it. Now she'd have to deal with him running this required seminar all year?

The hostility in his eyes right now only confirmed their theory—he definitely wanted her gone.

Somehow, Grey unnerved Beatrix more than seeing Johannah's face split open. But she wasn't about to let it show.

"I'm Beatrix," she said coolly. "I work as an aide for my friend and do some shifts in the creepateria. Oh, and I'm a witch."

You could have heard a pin drop as Jackson, Orion, and Guillermo gaped at her.

“Liar. You don’t have a pointy hat or broomstick,” Orion blurted.

“Since when are witches allowed at Monster High?” Guillermo questioned.

“Since Bloodgood gave this one permission to work here,” Grey said, sounding less than thrilled.

Beatrix crossed her arms, mirroring Grey. “The headmistress said you needed a witch to serve you lunch slop, so here I am. Got a problem? Talk to her.”

The corner of Grey's lip twitched.

“Anyway…” Johannah clapped her hands. “Mr. Gore’s running late, so let's start without him. Our first topic is monster transformations and—”

“Johannah,” Grey interrupted, “we should explain how monsters die.”

Johannah stopped to look at Grey, thrown off guard. “Um… I don’t know… That seems pretty heavy for our first meeting…”

“A student was killed,” Grey said bluntly. “We need to talk about it.”

Beatrix froze. Gilda was… killed? As in… murdered??

Did everyone know this already? The school hadn’t said anything, yet Grey sounded so sure.

No one else in the room seemed shocked—like murder had already crossed their minds. Beatrix noticed Orion glaring at Guillermo, almost accusatory, and she didn’t understand why.

Grey stood, grabbed a black marker, and split the whiteboard with one thick line. On the left side, he wrote “The Living.” On the right, “The Living Dead.”

"I'm guessing you all know how the Living die," Grey began. "But do any of you know what happens to their souls?"

Jackson's hand shot up.

"Just say it," Grey said.

Jackson's face flushed. "Sorry, sir. Uh, I mean..." He cleared his throat. "When a human dies, their soul goes to the afterlife."

"You're forgetting the most important part—Reapers," Guillermo said, then looked to Grey. “Reapers collect a Living person's soul and guide it to the afterlife. Right?"

Grey gave a nod. “Right… Then the soul gets judged and that's that." He tapped the right side of the board. "For the Living Dead, death works differently. Take ghosts: they used to be human but avoided the grave. Maybe they’ve got unfinished business, or hid from Reapers, or were cursed to stay in limbo—it doesn’t matter. They opted out of the ‘life to afterlife’ cycle, and Reapers see this as breaking the natural order.”

Jackson looked up from the notes he was taking. “You’re saying ghosts cheat death?”

“All monsters do,” Grey said flatly.

"Oh…” Jackson hesitated. “... so, if monsters are cheating death, why do Reapers let us hang around?"

Grey's mouth tightened. "Technically, I should be able to drag every monster here to the afterlife. But there are agreements in place. Treaties between Reapers and certain monster groups. So collecting your soul is off-limits. For now."

Why is this seminar turning into a weird threat session? Beatrix thought.

"But hold on," Jackson said, thinking it through, "if we're protected from Reapers because of special rules, then what happened to Gilda Goldstag? How did she end up…" Jackson didn’t want to say it. Dead.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Look, we don’t want to freak you out,” Johannah said, trying to be gentle, “but being supernatural doesn't make you invincible. Most monsters don't die from old age or disease, but plenty of things can still take you out: stakes through the heart, decapitation, holy water, fire, silver weapons, angry mobs with pitchforks...”

“And other monsters,” Grey added. “Powerful ones.”

“You mean monsters like you?” Beatrix needled him.

Grey's black eyes locked onto hers, something dangerous flickering in them.

Feeling bold, Beatrix pressed on. "Are you even a monster? You're a Reaper, right? The way you keep talking about the Living and Living Dead, it sounds like Reapers are some secret third thing."

Johannah stepped in. "Grey's dad is the Grim Reaper, and Reapers sort of exist in their own category in the monster world..."

"So what you're saying is, Grey's not actually a monster," Beatrix said arrogantly. "That's funny—witches aren't technically monsters either. Huh, who would've thought we'd have something in common.”

"I am a monster,” Grey corrected, “but I'm also the Lord of Death." The way he stood tall, looking all self-important, drove Beatrix batty.

“Your dad’s the ‘Lord of Death.’ You’re just some high schooler,” Beatrix fired back.

“Not for long. When the time comes, I'll take my father's place,” Grey said, his voice clipped.

“Oh yeah? Well, witches work with devils in the underworld—so I guess you could call me a ‘Lady of Hell.’ Does that make me monster-enough for you?” Beatrix challenged.

"'A Lady of Hell?'" Grey's laugh was short and harsh. "Nice try. You're not a monster."

The rest of the class swiveled their heads back and forth, watching the verbal sparring match.

"Since when are you the witch expert?" Beatrix snapped. "You don’t know anything.”

“I know that witches are just desperate humans who stick their noses in places they don’t belong,” Grey spat. “And doing a devil's dirty work doesn’t make you a ‘Lady’ of anything. It makes you a slave.”

“Sorry I’m late, folks!”

A balding troll hurried in, panting and clutching a binder of lesson plans.

Johannah's relief was obvious. "Mr. Gore! Perfect timing. We were just about to go over the basics of monster transformations.”

As Mr. Gore launched into his lecture, Grey silently cleared the whiteboard and took his seat.

Beatrix glared daggers at him. If Grey noticed, he didn't let it show.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

When the seminar finally ended and Mr. Gore dismissed them, Beatrix was the first one out the door. All she wanted was to put as much distance between herself and that stupid Reaper as possible.

Footsteps pounded in the hallway behind her.

“I can’t believe you talked to Grey like that!” Guillermo exclaimed, breathless as he caught up.

Beatrix flipped her hair over her shoulder with a scowl. “Who does he think he is, calling himself ‘the Lord of Death'?”

“Grey’s dad is kind of a big deal,” Guillermo said. “The Grim Reaper is the CEO of Death Co., the only soul-collecting company in the world. I heard he’s got God on speed dial.”

Orion and Jackson caught up too, flanking Beatrix on either side.

“How does a normie geek like you know so much about the Grim Reaper?” Orion mocked, his furry ears twitching as he sized Guillermo up.

Guillermo pushed his glasses up with a huff. “For your information, fleabag, I make it my business to know everything about monster society's elite. As a familiar, I—”

"We get it," Orion interrupted with an eye roll. "You're Draculaura's familiar. You can quit reminding us every five seconds.”

Draculaura. That name brought Beatrix back to her first day in the creepateria, watching that lunch lady Greta carefully handling a special blood bag labeled "Veterinary use" for a vegetarian vampire on campus.

“... but if the Grim Reaper is so powerful," Jackson asked quietly, "how come Grey got suspended last year?" The way Jackson fidgeted with the headphones around his neck reminded Beatrix of how Autumn picked at her seams when she was stressed.

"Having a powerful dad is exactly why Grey only got suspended," Guillermo replied. "Anyone else would've been expelled."

“What'd Grey do?” Beatrix asked.

“He got into a ton of fights,” Orion said. “I heard he put a bunch of kids in the infirmary. Even the toughest monsters are scared to mess with him now.”

“No no no,” Guillermo said, shaking his head. “The vampires said he got suspended because he kept ditching class last year.”

"All I know is Grey freaks me out…" Jackson admitted in a small voice. “I don’t get why he volunteered to lead MSS this semester. He couldn't care less about it last year.”

Beatrix wasn’t following. “Hold up. Jackson, did you take MSS last year too?”

“Yeah… Bloodgood made me repeat the seminar.” Jackson didn’t seem comfortable sharing why, so Beatrix didn’t push for more.

That was when Beatrix remembered she had somewhere to be. “I gotta go. See you guys next week,” she called over her shoulder.

“Where you going?” Orion shouted after her.

“Fearleading tryouts!”

“Ew, don’t be a fearleader! They’re so stuck-up!” the werewolf groaned, his snout wrinkling.

Steam practically blew out of Guillermo’s ears. “How dare you! My master's on the fearleading team and she's the opposite of stuck-up! She’s the epitome of grace—”

Beatrix tuned out their bickering and picked up the pace.

She wasn’t the one trying out for fearleading. Autumn was.

The scarecrow had been practicing for days now. At first, Beatrix had tried to talk Autumn out of it, worried she would end up torn and mangled from getting tossed around, but Autumn had insisted on going.

When Beatrix walked into the gym, a group of ghouls formed a teetering pyramid in the center of the casketball court. And to Beatrix’s horror, Autumn was perched right at the very top.

What is Autumn doing up there???

“Steady! Hold your formation! No room for weakness!” Cleo ordered in front of the pyramid. “Your spot on this team depends on it!”

Beatrix’s heart jumped into her throat as an orange werecat at the base buckled under the weight, and the pyramid collapsed like a house of cards, sending ghouls tumbling to the floor.

In a flash, Beatrix was at Autumn’s side, frantically checking for any tears or straw sticking out of her. “Autumn! Are you okay? Did you rip anything?”

Autumn sat up, a little dazed, and patted Beatrix’s hand. “Don’t worry! I’m okay.”

“What’s the witch doing here?” Cleo sneered, looking down at Beatrix like she was something stuck to the bottom of her sandal.

“What were you thinking?” Beatrix scolded. “Autumn's fragile!”

She cringed at her choice of words. Calling Autumn "fragile" made her sound just like her aunts.

“What am I, her mummy?” Cleo retorted. “She wanted to be at the top. And watch how you speak to me, sorceress.”

Autumn got between them. “Cleo’s right, Bea. I volunteered!”

“Why?” Beatrix pushed. “I told you to be careful!”

“I wanted to… I don’t know…” Autumn fidgeted with her seams.

Cleo tsked. “Autumn, if you’re going to be this high maintenance, you won’t be a good fit for this squad.”

"Told ya I shoulda been up top," grumbled the werecat who'd messed up the pyramid.

Autumn was begging now. “Please, Cleo, this was a one-time thing! Bea was just surprised! I’m fine, I swear!”

The reality of the situation hit Beatrix. She was making Autumn look bad, and all the other ghouls attending tryouts were giving her dirty looks.

Thankfully, someone else spoke up.

“Oh, give it a rest, de Nile. Let the scarecrow join. She’ll be a good flyer, she literally weighs nothing,” a werewolf girl said.

“Clawdeen, stay out of it,” Cleo warned.

“But Clawdeen’s right, Cleo!” Frankie said nearby. “Autumn’s killing it! C’mon, give her another shot!”

Cleo paused, looking like she might dig in her heels, but after a moment, the mummy backed off. “Fine. I’ll show mercy.”

Autumn's stitched smile stretched ear to ear.

"Everyone back in formation!" Cleo commanded.

Beatrix was relieved she hadn’t ruined Autumn’s chances of making the squad. Not wanting to cause any more drama, she wandered over to the metal bleachers and sat down to watch from a distance as Cleo bossed everyone around with a new fearleading routine.

Clawdeen strolled over and sat next to Beatrix. “Ignore Cleo,” she said. “She’s a real piece of work.”

“Tell me about it," Beatrix groaned. "Thanks for stepping in back there." Clawdeen seemed to be one of the only ghouls in the gym who wasn't interested in being mean to her.

“Don’t mention it.” Clawdeen pointed a manicured claw past Beatrix’s head, to the corner of the gym. “By the way, are those guys with you?”

Beatrix looked where Clawdeen was pointing and saw Orion, Guillermo, and Jackson huddled together by the doors, gawking at the fearleaders like they’d never seen females before.

“Sort of,” Beatrix said. “I’m taking the Monster Sensitivity Seminar with them.”

“Ooh, I’ve been dying to know—how are you liking MSS so far?” a high-pitched voice asked right next to Beatrix's ear.

Beatrix spun around and found herself face to face with a pink-skinned vampire sitting behind her on the bleachers. The vampire had appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

Guillermo had mentioned his “master” was on the fearleading team, so this had to be Draculaura.

“MSS has been… interesting,” Beatrix replied, thinking about her heated argument with Grey.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, I’m just so excited to finally meet the witch on campus!” Draculaura squealed, her violet eyes sparkling. “I’ve been around for over a thousand years and haven’t met a witch before! Can you believe it? If you ever need anything, anything at all, just tell me and I’ll send Guillermo to help! He’s my best familiar yet.”

"Wow, uh, thank you,” Beatrix said, a bit overwhelmed by Draculaura’s energy. But then a question popped into her head. “Oh yeah, I was wondering, what exactly is a ‘familiar’ to vampires? Is Guillermo, like, your servant or something?”

“He’s more like my personal assistant. He helps me keep track of my social calendar," Draculaura explained.

“Oh… gotcha,” Beatrix said. A bit different than a devil familiar then. “Guillermo said you're gonna turn him into a vampire someday. Is that true?”

Draculaura stifled a giggle. “Maybe someday, but probably not. My dad would never approve. Don’t tell Guillermo, it’ll crush his sweet normie heart."

Beatrix felt a pang of sympathy for Guillermo. So Orion was right—vampires didn't keep their promises.

Beatrix looked back at the court where Autumn was practicing cheer moves with pink pom poms, her straw braids bouncing with each jump.

“Your friend’s got potential,” Clawdeen commented as Autumn attempted a high kick. “I’m glad Frankie recruited her. We really need fresh blood on the squad… you know, since Gilda’s gone.”

“The ghoul who died?” Beatrix asked.

Clawdeen's golden eyes grew distant. "...Yeah. She was one of us."

Beatrix didn’t know what to say, feeling awkward. “I’m so sorry…”

Draculaura gave Beatrix a small smile to put her at ease. “You’d think we’d be used to morbid stuff like this, being undead and all.” Her smile faded. "What's really upsetting is how the school's handling it."

Clawdeen’s fur bristled. "They ain’t handling it at all. Just sweeping it under the rug like nothing happened!”

Beatrix had to ask. “Do you know what happened to her?”

Clawdeen and Draculaura exchanged a look. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them.

Beatrix backpedaled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

"No, it's okay." Clawdeen's voice softened. "Let's just say 'Laura and I have our own ideas about what went down. And we're not happy with the school turning a blind eye."

"I've been telling Bloodgood for ages that things would only get worse if they didn't take action…" Draculaura muttered to herself, her violet eyes turning cold.

Beatrix frowned. “I don’t understand…”

Clawdeen glanced around the gym, making sure no one was eavesdropping, then leaned in close. “Listen, it ain’t a secret that things get sketchy here after the sun goes down. Some monsters get a little too comfortable. And since the administration doesn't seem interested in figuring out what happened to Gilda—”

“You need to be careful,” Draculaura finished for her, firm. “Don’t go wandering around campus alone at night.” A haunted look passed over her pink features. “The truth is, not everyone plays by the rules here.”

A shrill whistle pierced the air, making the ghouls jump. It was Cleo.

Clawdeen sighed. "Duty calls. Better go before Cleo has a royal fit." She gave Beatrix one last look. "Just watch your back, okay? And if you notice anything weird, let us know."

The werewolf jogged off to join the rest of the fearleading squad, Draculaura close behind. Beatrix watched them go, her mind reeling. As she sat alone on the bleachers, one thing was clear—there was something seriously wrong at this school. Something the monsters here refused to say out loud.