Page 74 of If I Stopped Haunting You

No wonder she wrote horror; she was fucking terrifying. Neil shuddered. “Good.” He cleared his throat, the dread coiling in his gut as he asked, “And what do you smell?”

She breathed in deeply, letting the air out with a sigh. “Dust and mold, and a bit of smoke as if the fire has lingered here long after.” She smelled the air, tilting her head up slightly like a cat. “And… and decay?” She stopped suddenly, her voice shaky. “It smells like death, like something died here, is still here.”

No. He knew the scent she spoke of and could imagine it from the night before. But that meant—

There was a long, dreadful screech. Penelope flinched in his arms, a hand flying up to tighten around his wrist.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice wavering.

She was right. The castle—the wing—was too still, and they could hear the slightest noise. Neil watched in horror as a door down the hall swung slowly outward. The squeak of a step across the floorboards sounded, then another.

And the smell hit him, that sickeningly sweet stench of rot. It was the same one, the same dreadful scent that had filled his senses and blotted out everything else around him, even the comforting, fruity scent of Penelope’s hair.

“Neil,” she whispered, “is it her?” And he wanted to bask in the sound of his name on her lips, but there was no time for that.

The woman in white stood before them, ragged dress trailing behind her. Her image flashed between whole and rotten, who she must have once been to who she now was. Neil’s hands tightened around Penelope protectively, and slowly he began to ease backward.

“Neil!” Penelope screeched, clawing at his hands.

“Don’t look,” he urged her. “Please, Penelope, don’t look.” If he could do anything, he’d protect her from this.

The woman’s mouth opened wide, a maw full of sharpened, blackened teeth, jaw unhinging, just as Penelope had described the cracks in the walls. It was a nightmare made manifest. Everything in Neil seized up as he tightened his hold on Penelope.

“Don’t look,” he repeated, more to himself than to Penelope as he pulled them away from her.

“Archie,”the woman croaked.

He stumbled, too in awe to notice as Penelope wriggled free of his grasp. She floundered into him with a high-pitched scream,and they fell, landing with anoomphas the woman surged forward.

“Neil!” Penelope cried. She flung herself off him and half dragged, half yanked him backward.

Neil stared up at the woman in horror, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes wide as he and Penelope scrambled back the way they’d come. His father had taught him that spirits lingered in places, settling like memories of pasts and futures, reflections of experiences tied to the place of their death. But ghosts were entirely different things—different beings. They were fun things to write about, strange, otherworldly beings to craft tales out of, but never in his wildest dreams did he believe he’d see one, let alone meet one.

“Holyfuckingshit,”he cursed as the ghost descended on them.

Penelope struggled to stand, her breath shaky and hands clambering for purchase.

“Archie,”the woman moaned, her image flickering in and out.

And then he was being yanked away, his shoulder popping as Penelope apparently used all her strength to propel him down the hall and toward the landing.

Neil gasped as he sat back on his heels, hugging his arm as he turned to Penelope. God, he’d been so foolish to think they could just waltz into the hall and pluck the answers out of one of these rooms like the fucking lottery.

“What is she doing?” Penelope asked, nudging Neil.

With a long, shuddering sigh, the woman in white turned and glided into the room she’d come from, the door slamming shut behind her. The sound rattled the hall, one of the sconces along the wall bouncing from the impact, casting warped shadows until all fell still.

Penelope sank to her knees, hands limp in her lap as she stared past Neil. “If I have writer’s block after this, I can really only blame myself.”

Neil chuckled, unable to stop the laughter bubbling up in him. She joined in only moments later, her laughter short and sharp until she was throwing back her head and cackling uncontrollably.

“Your plan kind of failed,” she said as he held out a hand to her.

“I know.” Neil scratched at his neck as he peered down the west wing toward the ghost’s door. Damn it, how were they going to get the answers they needed when this woman was guarding that room? This castle was a ticking time bomb, and Neil couldn’t be certain how much longer they had in this place before things escalated. If they could even escalate.

“Neil?”

Her hand was soft and warm in his, and he turned slowly toward her, his brow pinched. Smiling, she reached up and smoothed her thumb over it. Adrenaline was still pumping through him. His heart was beating a frantic rhythm.