Page 91 of If I Stopped Haunting You

Pen took a hesitant step into the room. It was as if they’d leaped back in time, all traces of decay and abandonment gone not only onherbut in the room. The wallpaper was a vibrant canary yellow with branches streaming up vertically, a forest gathering on her walls. The bed was large, draped in a similarly soft yellow, the edges of the canopy dripping with cream-colored lace.

Georgina sat at a table against the farthest window, a small, narrow desk that reminded Pen of her own. It looked out over the castle grounds, the view disappearing into the tree line, the wilderness far greater than it was in the present day. Her long, lace-trimmed sleeves had been pushed up, and she had a quill in one hand, her other holding open a familiar red journal.

Neil took a hesitant step toward the young woman, and Pen followed, her footfall light and silent. He leaned over Georgina’s shoulder, glancing down at the journal entry as Pen looked out the window, spotting a small, square building in the snow beyond the graves.

Neil,Pen mouthed, waving her hand and pointing toward the window.Mausoleum.

Georgina glanced up at Neil, silver eyes narrowing.

“Impostor,”she gasped, standing.“Get out of my room.”

She pounded against his chest, and Neil pitched backward, searching for the door. Pen stood frozen as the two stumbled toward the entry. Georgina’s image flashed, soft, full colors turning to monochrome and decay. Plump, pink skin turned ashen and gray with death, drooping and collapsed to her bones.

As Georgina’s hands found purchase on Neil’s shirt, her skin oozed, decay sinking into the flesh and rotting it from the outside in, showing the bones where muscle and skin should have been. Pen pressed her hands to her mouth at the sight and dry-heaved as Neil tried to fight the ghost off. His hands tugged at her, his nails and fingers plunging into rot.

Pen gagged, the smell hitting her anew, and she fell against the small desk as Neil slipped backward. He crashed to the hall floor, knocking his head.

“Neil!” Pen screamed, stepping forward.

But Georgina turned on her, Neil forgotten as he held his head in his hands and struggled to sit up. The door slammed shut, locking Pen in and Neil out as the ghost surged forward, toward her.

Pen closed her eyes, trying desperately not to look. Something oozed over her hand on the desk, and though she shivered, though she could taste bile in her throat, she stood as still as possible.

Something brushed her foot, and Pen knew instantly that it was Georgina’s dress. She could feel the sway of the torn, ragged fabric, smell her stench, but still, Pen refused to look.

Cool breath kissed her cheek, and Pen whimpered, eyes still clamped shut.

“You saw it, yes?”Georgina asked, leaning close, her voice a rasp.“You saw the mausoleum. Go to the church, Penelope. Go to the church and follow it to the mausoleum. You’ll find what you seek.”

Pen wanted to ask her what she meant. She wanted to ask the woman how she knew her name, but when Pen opened her eyes, she was alone. She stood frozen for a long moment, taking in the room. It was decrepit, gray, empty. There was no recollection of the beautiful space it had once been.

Neil.

Crying out, Pen ran across the room and threw open the door.

“Neil?!”

Hissing, he sat up fully, prodding along his skull. Pen knelt at his side, and he groaned as she reached out to help him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Neil shook his head, wincing at the movement. “No, no, I’m really not.” He squinted up at her. “I’m sorry, there was nothing I could do.” Neil ran a hand along her cheek, leaving behind a smear of grime. “How about you? Are you okay? The door…”

“I’m okay,” she lied. She could think of nothing but Georgina’s words, of the mausoleum hidden in the snow beyond the window. But he was hurt, and the mausoleum could wait for a minute longer. “I need you to walk.” Grunting from the effort, she helped haul him to his feet before wrapping an arm around his waist.

He looked dizzy, his eyes not quite focusing on anything as he stood and meandered toward the landing. He leaned against the banister, lips parted as he glanced at the darkness they left behind. In this spot, in the light, it felt safer. They could take a moment to breathe before he attempted the stairs.

Pen reached up on her tiptoes and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. His skin was ashen and clammy. How badly had he hit his head?

“Neil, I need you to look at me.”

He did, spinning away from the shadowy hallway. Pen could feel her pulse pounding, feel her hands go numb as he stared at her. She tried to swallow down the panic, but the way he was looking at her…

Something was wrong.

“I need…” he said, trailing off and leaning forward.

“Neil?”