Page 47 of If I Stopped Haunting You

“Don’t do it,” he begged.

“Thunderwear,”Daniela and Neil said in unison.

Daniela pouted. “It’s no fun when you do it.”

“Precisely why I do it. You don’t think I haven’t heard them all already?”

Laszlo straightened and waved his hands at the group, holding up a cup. “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m drawing the first pair…”

Neil clamped down on his bottom lip as Laszlo reached in and lifted out two names. “I’m with Daniela.”

Daniela’s face was carefully blank. “And the room?” she asked.

Laszlo reached into a second cup. “The study.”

Sighing in relief, Laszlo leaned across the table to high-five Daniela, but she maneuvered out of the way. “Woo-hoo,” she deadpanned, standing.

“I guess that means we know who the other pair is,” Laszlo said, looking between Neil and Skinner.

Neil could see what Skinner was thinking from the way her hands tightened around the edge of the table. But he couldn’t help it; he feltelated. Finally, alone with her. No more running away, no more interruptions.

Just the two of them.

“I think it’s fine,” Laszlo said. “Assuming you two can spend an hour in a room together.”

“Sure,” he said too quickly.Fuck, don’t sound too excited.

Skinner turned to him. He tried to school his expression and force his lips into a flat, uncaring line.

“I guess.” Skinner sighed, looking away quickly, but Neil could have sworn he saw the beginnings of a smile curling her lips.

“Okay,” Laszlo said, glancing between them. “Only the room left, then.”

“Can you please hurry up?” Skinner asked. Neil watched her carefully. She’d tried to mask the fear in her tone, but it was there, in the tightening of her lips, in the furrowed brow, and the waver in her voice.

Laszlo held up the small piece of paper in his hand, eyes widening. “I can choose another.”

“It’s the cellar, isn’t it?” Skinner groaned.

“Um, no.”

“It’s worse?” Neil asked quietly. His stomach swirled viciously.

Laszlo slid the piece of paper across the table toward them and pointed to a place on the map, and Skinner sat up, craning her neck to read.

Neil’s stomach dropped, the nerves in his body buzzing.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

“I have the worst luck,” Skinner whispered.

Excerpt fromThe Drawn and the Closedby Laszlo Morgenstern

Beneath the streets, a shadow waited. It lurked in the darkness like a phantom, half of its face hidden from view. It did not live there, nor in the theater above, but somewhere in between.

As in life, it lived in death: one foot on either side of the line.

Its throat ached with thirst, its teeth sharp and waiting for a person to wander above, alone and forgotten; for someone to fall into its trap. It was a lonely life, waiting and waiting, but, in time, it was always worth it.