“Irina?” I ask, approaching her slowly.
As I get closer, I realize I’m wrong. The image of her starts to waver like a candle flame.
Whoever it is, it’s definitely a ghost.
Amund shakes his head. “This is her aunt.”
“They’re ready for you, Anastasia,”a voice calls from the hall.
Amund and I exchange a look.
Irina’s aunt—Anastasia—gets up from her desk, revealing the front of her dress darkened by blood. I stare in horror. A gaping wound runs across her throat from ear to ear, but the ghost doesn’t seem to notice. She smooths her skirt and heads straight toward us.
“Holy shit.”
My heart is in my throat as I stumble back. Anastasia continues toward us. Closer and closer. She passes through us, filling me with a sudden, chilling cold. I spin around as she disappears through the door.
“We have to follow her,” Amund says.
We rush out of the classroom.
There. At the end of the shadowed hall, Anastasia slips inside a door.
We throw the door open, revealing a stairwell.
Anastasia pauses as though she’s waiting for us to follow.
Once we get close, she floats up the stairs and vanishes through the second-floor entrance. We hurry after her, catching a glimpse of flowing hair before she rounds the next corner. I break out into a jog, Amund right behind me.
“Your initiation rite will take place in here,”the voice says.“I’ll be with you shortly.”
Anastasia disappears into the room.
As soon as I step inside, all the little hairs on my arms stand on end. There’s total, unnatural silence. This isn’t a classroom but some kind of common room. Pieces of furniture are scattered everywhere, lying on their sides and upended in different directions. It looks like an explosion went off. The walls are blackened, with large cracks shooting through the stone.
“Each initiate, select a goblet,”the voice says.
The room is empty, yet I can hear the soft clink of glasses being raised.
“That’s right. Good. Drink.”
A long moment passes. The goblets clatter to the floor, followed by people falling with a heavy thump.
“Grab them,”the voice says.
My gaze darts around the room, unsure where to look. All I can hear is the sound of people moving quickly. Tables being dragged across the room. Chains rattling and snapping shut. A girl groans.“What are you—”
“Gag her,”the voice instructs calmly.
Her keening cries are soon muffled. Chanting begins to rise around the room. I can’t tell how many people there must be—it sounds like a dozen or more. The girl thrashes against the table, pulling at her chains, her struggle becoming louder, more urgent, until—
Quiet settles over the room.
Slowly, she’s cut open with a sick squelch.
“Take the intestines,”the voice says.“Arrange them as I showed you.”
Awful, wet sounds fill the room, turning my stomach.
