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T he lid is pulled back off my coffin. Moonlight filters through the trees above, bright enough to make me squint after the darkness .

Professor Boyd leans into my view. He smiles down at me. “I thought that would soften you up,” he says. “But my goodness, look at you! What a pretty girl turned into such an ugly sight .”

“It was you, all along.” My voice comes out as a rasp. “No poltergeist .”

The look he gives me is perplexed. “I am not following. But that’s all right, Ashley. Time to stop the dirt nap. Turn over and put your hands behind your back, please .”

I glare up at him, even though I’m half-frozen in this fetal position now, with my back cramping from the position I’ve been in .

I’m going to kill him, sooner or later .

“Ashley,” Professor Boyd says pleasantly, and I see the flash of metal in his hand. Gun. “I’m not going to say this more than once .”

It’s not going to help anyone if I get myself killed now. Still, it’s terrifying to turn my spine to him, putting my tingling arms back, my wrists folded in the small of my back .

When he steps down into the coffin, his boots shake the wooden frame, and I feel the movement scrape against my skin. I wince, hating to have him so close to me .

I want to flip over and attack him, but before I can move, he reaches down and zip-ties my wrists. Then he grabs my arm just under my elbow, dragging me up to my knees. The pressure of his hand is intensely painful. I struggle to get my feet beneath me, but my feet are blocks of lead, fallen asleep, and my knees buckle .

He drags me out of the box, my knees hitting the side of the coffin. Then he grunts, letting go of me. I fall face-first into the soft mush of leaves at the side of the box. Yeah, I’m heavier than I look. Blame that cafeteria food. The lettuce is always wilted, so I haven’t been eating a lot of salads .

“Where’s Jax?” I ask, my voice coming out a little flat, a little weird. My throat is so dry. My head is still fuzzy .

“Come on,” he says mockingly. “Let’s get you into the house. Time to get dressed for the ball .”

He’s got to be kidding me. It’s one thing to die in the woods with a lunatic, but I’m not getting dressed up for the occasion .

I can’t stop myself from thinking awful, irreverent things. The second I realize that’s what I’m doing, that it’s some kind of bizarre defense mechanism in a world gone sideways, I think of the thing I’m terrified of: Jax’s face, eyes open, staring into nothingness. I choke back a sob of fear .

“There was never any poltergeist,” I say. “Not any bad one. Just Molly .”

“Molly?” he asks, and he takes a step in front of me, his face furious. “How do you know about Molly? Did you tell anyone else about her ?”

I stare up at him. It’s so incongruent, this neatly-groomed, tall man wearing a nice shirt and a sweater vest, for crying out loud, with his sleeves rolled up so he can murder me. I debate what’s likely to keep me alive the longest .

“No,” I say. “I didn’t… realize. Who you were .”

He grins. “You thought it was Luke. Luke who killed those girls, right? You little Nancy Drew , you .”

“Well you know, it’s hard to get into grad school. Have to do something to stand out from the crowd: get a perfect score on the GRE, solve a murder, something like that.” As I speak, I look around me, trying to get my bearings. At least he’s chatty. That makes me feel like my death isn’t imminent .

We’re in the woods, but I think we’re deeper in than when I was here before .

I was creeped out just kneeling in one of those coffins before I got so intimate with one. But before, I could see the edge of the garage, distantly through the trees, from where we were in the woods. Now I see nothing but the spidery tanglings of branches around us .

I might not have my hands, or my balance, or my mind intact, but I am going to find a way to kill this motherfucker. It’s a brave thought, one that makes me feel a little less terrified .

For right now, I don’t fight him when he hauls me to my feet. I stumble unsteadily as he pushes me forward. It’s a long walk on my aching legs and my feet, which burn with pins-and-needles. I try to move slow because the brush keeps tangling around my ankles, but he keeps pushing me forward harder. Every time I reach an uneven piece of terrain I pitch forward, only to have him yank back on my arm. I’m bruised and sore and exhausted, and I don’t know how I’m going to find the strength to fight him when just this march forward is killing me .

Then we emerge into the break in the woods. In front of me is the little abandoned house. We go up the rickety back steps, across the porch, through the paint-peeling back door into the small, bare kitchen. There’s no electricity anymore, but the room is illuminated enough by a camping lantern on the old linoleum counter .

Jax sits tied to a chair, his head lolled forward, his eyes closed, and I scream when I see him .

Professor Boyd winces. “No one can hear you, but I’m not going to say that old clichéd so you might as well scream. It’s incredibly irritating .”

Jax’s head jerks up. Despite the fact that we’re in the hands of a psychopathic serial killer, I feel a sudden sense of lightness when his eyes meet mine. For a second, I believe that we’re going to be okay .

“Ash,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. Not much of a rescue .”

“It’s all right,” I say. “It’s so clichéd, the damsel in distress thing. I thought I’d come rescue you .”

Professor Boyd grunts in amusement. “Good luck with that .”

The lantern casts a weak yellow light, but it’s enough to make the windows above the sink reflect the two of us back, Professor Boyd and I stand at the threshold of the kitchen, and that’s why I see the reflection that isn’t mine. Molly meets my eyes in the reflection, and even though she’s the grainy, colorless figure that you get in a window reflection, she looks more real to me than any other time she’s appeared. She is square-jawed and intent, her eyes furious, and she gives me a slow nod. A message .

I am not alone here .

Professor Boyd has, by all appearances, the upper hand. Things might not go our way. But it’s not the lock he thinks it is, either .

“What’s going on?” I ask him. “Why are you doing this ?”

“I mean, there isn’t a reason,” he says. “I just like it .”

“ Like what ?”

“Killing blondes, mostly, but sometimes really irritating brunettes with bad dye jobs.” He shakes his head. “Did you do that because you thought a boy would like it? Because… really… no one likes that .”

“I know, trust me,” I say. “So you’re a serial killer ?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know why we have to quantify everything, judge everything. It’s just something to do. Well. I can understand it’s hard for you to see it that way .”

“Just a little,” I say. “Did you kill all those girls? Claudia, Molly, Kerin .”

“It is so nice to be back on campus,” he says. “Back at Kappa Omega .”

“You killed another girl back when you were a student here, didn’t you ?”

“Yes. I had this girlfriend who was just totally murder-worthy, but that would have drawn a lot of suspicion. So I went after her silky-haired roommate. I am a sucker for pretty hair.” He looks at me disappointedly .

“Did you kill other girls? When you were away from campus ?”

“I took a long hiatus,” he says. “Grad school was very busy, after all, as much as it would have been nice to relieve some tension by killing hookers. Can’t be stupid, after all. And then I got married, and that was a necessary step, but man, it really put a crimp in my extracurriculars .”

“You’re not stupid,” I admit grudgingly. From the corner of my eye, I see the reflection, moving towards him .

“But that’s all in the past,” he says. “We should talk about the future .”

“Yeah, that sounds delightful,” I say. “I’m very excited about the future. First, though, one last thing on the past. Where did the bodies go? What happened to that first body, the one that was found ?”

“Oh, man. I had this awful bore competing with me for a fellowship. He lived right next door to a dumpster, so I borrowed some of his hair and dropped off the girl there. Unfortunately, it didn’t go anywhere. I thought that would really shake him, being implicated in a murder. But, good news! I did get that fellowship after all .”

“You’re insane,” I say .

“No, that’s a different thing,” he says. “I’m a psychopath. Which means I don’t deal with all your mortal weaknesses, the empathy, the love . All I see is business, means to an end .”

“And yet you kill people for fun. That doesn’t seem like business . ”

“It’s a weakness,” he admits. “I enjoy how weak you all are. It’s nice to experiment with how you scream and cry and beg when your world is coming to an end. And you know? There’s just nothing on cable today. No matter how many channels you have .”

I want to find all the coffins in the woods, to make sure every girl is brought home—as much as they can be .

But Molly throws herself into him, and Mr. I-Enjoy-Your-Weakness is screaming like, it must be said, a girl. The two of them plummet across the room and into the wall .

I run forward to Jax, who stares from them to me, wide-eyed. “You can’t see it,” I say, searching for a weapon, but unfortunately the serial killer didn’t leave me a convenient box cutter or anything to sever the zip ties. “but one of his victims is an angry poltergeist, and he’s having a bad day. We have to get out of here .”

“No kidding,” he says. “Ash, I’m stuck. You need to get out .”

I kneel behind his chair. Each wrist is zip-tied to the back of the chair, and so are both his ankles. There’s no way for me to get him loose without something sharp even if my hands weren’t tied behind my back .

“Don’t repeat my mistake. You have a chance to run.” His voice is urgent .

“The nearest house is so far away,” I tell him. “I can’t just leave you .”

“ Ash !”

Behind me, I hear something break. Suddenly I understand why Molly was silent in the mirror. She was saving her strength for this moment, for this killing. She is a murdering poltergeist, now, but she’s also our protecting angel .

Whether or not she’ll succeed in killing Professor Boyd is another question altogether .

I search the room, frantic, trying to find anything I can that will cut us loose. The kitchen is empty, save a pack of zip-ties and a lemon-lime Gatorade on the counter. It’s just like it was when we were here before .

I duck into the next room, searching for something, anything. The front door is ajar, and there’s nothing between me and the cool autumn night except for the screen door. I can hear the cicadas chirping. I am so, so close to freedom. I could run down the driveway, down that one-lane country road, away from this nightmare house .

Before my worst self can take over, I search again and turn to run back into the kitchen, and a soft sound catches me and makes me turn .

Luke, framed in the doorway, his blond hair silver-white under the moonlight, all broad shoulders and smoldering-furious green eyes. For a second, I feel a new shiver of fear. But Professor Boyd is the bad guy, right? Making Luke once-again the good guy? Or is that too simple a definition for Lukas Chamberlain ?

He reaches me in a few steps, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. He shushes me as if I’m a wounded animal. “It’s all right, Ash. We’re here now.” He pulls the blade from the sheath with a soft rustle of metal, and I’m almost afraid the punchline is you’ll never get away. Then I feel the cold edge of the blade against the tender skin of my wrist and the plastic zip tie yanks against my flesh before falling away, and my hands are free .

“Mave’s going around the back,” he whispers, his lips pressed against my ear. “Get out, get in the car. Wait in the driver’s seat. If things get chancy, you get out of here .”

I still can’t drive a shift. But I wouldn’t leave anyway. “Jax’s tied up in the kitchen .”

“I’ll get him,” Luke says. He squeezes my shoulder. “ Go , Ash .”

I take a step past him as he moves past me to get Jax, but I can’t leave yet. There’s a sound of things falling, breaking, from inside the kitchen. As Luke runs forward into the kitchen, I follow to the doorway .

Jax is still tied to the chair, on his side. His eyes are wide, his neck craned up to watch the ceiling in a way that makes my stomach drop in horror for a second. The room is empty. Then Jax blinks, and relief floods my chest. I follow his gaze up. Professor Boyd and Molly are pinned together on the ceiling, wrestling for control .

Luke says, “I don’t even know what to do with this .”

But he does know what to do for Jax; he drops to one knee, cutting Jax free. Jax collapses on the ground, then tries to scramble to his feet unsuccessfully .

Luke gets an arm under Jax’s shoulders, hauling him to his feet, just as Mave comes in the back door. Mave takes one look at us, at the noisy battle being waged on the ceiling, and then rushes forward beneath struggling ghost and serial killer. He puts an arm around me, rushing me with him towards the front door. “Don’t look,” he murmurs in my ear. “We’re almost out of here. You’re going to be okay .”

Behind us, Professor Boyd screams .