“Wait!” Oscar struggled to his feet and sprinted after her. Dizzy, I stumbled out after him. Tiny spots of light danced in my vision as I ran down the dark corridor. I could just make out Lidia racing around the corner, and Oscar put on a burst of speed. When a shadow lunged at him from one of the cells, I shouted a warning a second too late. The mess-hall chair slammed into Oscar’s head with a sickening sound.
THUD.
I screamed as Oscar crumpled to the ground. His attacker tossed the chair aside, then stepped over his motionless body and walked toward me. Terrified, I stood rooted to the spot, unable to focus on anything other than the glint of the knife in her hand.
Emily Rosinski smiled at me. “Hello, Kat.”
Without waiting for a response—my vocal cords seemed to have seized up, anyway—she grabbed my arm. I tried to call Oscar’s name, but all that came out was a small, strangled cry as she pulled me past his body and down the corridor. Even in the dark, I could see a giant lump already forming on his forehead.
Emily’s nails dug into my arm, and I winced. She pushed through a set of double doors, and I stumbled half a step behind her, dimly aware that we were outside. I was so fixated on the knife swinging back and forth at her side, several seconds passed before I realized I was still holding the walkie-talkie. I couldn’t call for help now, of course—no one could get to us in time. Glancing at Emily, I tucked it into my jacket pocket. We crossed a small, walled courtyard, heading straight for the guard tower.
“Hope you brought your camera!” Emily said cheerfully, kicking the door open. The DO NOT ENTER sign fell to the ground. “This’ll make quite a post.”
The steep staircase twisted like a snake inside the tower structure, just wide enough for one person. Emily nudged me forward. “Up you go.”
Weak with fear, I began to climb, Emily right on my heels. I glanced down every other second, my eyes seeking out the knife. By the time I reached the top, my legs burned and my heart hammered wildly in my ears. I hurried to the railing and stared down at the compound. The electric fence cast a long, jagged shadow that circled the courtyard. And there, huddled right outside the entrance to the main building with the rest of the crew, was Dad.
My knees nearly buckled with relief. I opened my mouth to yell for help and felt cool metal press against my neck.
“Don’t interrupt,” Emily said softly. “They’re filming.”
After a few seconds, she pulled the knife away. My breath came out in a shaky whoosh, and I gripped the railing until my knuckles were white.
This wasn’t the fun kind of horror. This was really, truly horrifying.
I could barely make out Dad’s voice as he slowly walked backward in front of Jess, her camera up and filming. Sam drifted along next to them, while Mi Jin trailed behind, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. Probably wondering about Roland and Lidia, I realized, and almost laughed at the hopelessness of the situation. Roland was locked in the van, Lidia was possessed and doing who knew what, I was stuck in a tower with a lunatic, and Oscar . . . I felt sick when I remembered the way we’d left him lying unconscious.
“Almost midnight,” Emily whispered, her gaze locked on the crew. “The fans will love this, won’t they? Another host, gone. The curse continues.” Grabbing my wrist, she tugged me over to a grime-covered control panel with a single, rusty lever. “Bunch of morons. You figured it out, though.”
Confused and terrified, I watched her examine the lever. “Figured what out . . . ? That Roland got rid of all the hosts?”
Emily’s eyes widened almost comically. “Roland?”
“Well, y-yeah,” I stammered. “He got you fired, he framed Carlos with that exposé, he sent Bernice death threats . . .” I trailed off as Emily started giggling, a high, tinkling sound that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“Well, at least you got the first part right,” she tittered. “Roland couldn’t stand that Sam and I were in love. He told Jess I was unstable. Unstable! Can you believe the nerve?” Eyeing the knife in her hand, I decided now wasn’t the time to be a smart aleck. “So Lidia fired me. And after I kept her secret, too! But I promised Sam I would come back. I set Carlos up, I sent Bernice those letters. I made this ‘the most haunted show on television’—the host curse was all because of me.” Emily slammed the knife down on the console. “Just one more host left to get rid of, right, Kat?”
Before I could respond, she grabbed the lever and pulled hard. I covered my ears at the resulting screech. When I lowered my arms, the air vibrated with a soft, deep hum.
“What . . .” I stopped, a jolt of terror ripping through me. “Did you just turn on the fence?”
“Your dad could use a few tips on being a real reporter,” Emily told me, pulling out her phone. “After he interviewed that tourism-board member yesterday, I followed her to a bar and bought her a drink. Just talking about Daems had her all worked up. She told me—in the strictest confidence, of course—that even the city officials are so superstitious about this place, they never deactivated the fence. They think it keeps the ghosts in. Isn’t that funny?”
Giggling, Emily held up her phone and started to record a video. “It’s going to be an exciting episode, Kat. We should get a little extra footage. Don’t,” she added warningly when I stepped up to the railing. Dad and the others were crossing the courtyard, still filming, slowly making their way toward the fence. I spun around to face Emily.
“They don’t know it’s on!”
She snickered. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”
“But—but what if Sam touches it?” I said frantically. “You don’t want him to die, do you?”
Anger flashed in Emily’s eyes. “He stopped responding to my e-mails. All he cares about is communicating with the dead,” she snapped. “He might as well be one of them.”
Okay, Roland was right. Total nutjob.
Without giving myself time to think about what a dumb move it was, I smacked the knife out of Emily’s hand. It clattered across the floor toward the edge, and she dove after it with a cry, dropping her phone. I seized the lever and yanked as hard as I could.
It wouldn’t budge.
“Come on, come on,” I said frantically, throwing all my weight into it. But the lever was jammed.
Emily scooped up the knife and spun around just as I grabbed her phone. I lunged for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time without looking back to see if she was following.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FLIGHT OF THE INVISIBLE PRISONERS
WARNING! High Voltage
I sprinted across the small courtyard, half-expecting to feel a knife slash across my back at any second. Bursting through the doors, I ran straight to the end of the corridor and took the first right, then a left, then another left. Finally, I slowed my pace and listened for the sound of footsteps. But all I heard was my own quick, shallow breathing. I was alone.
Any relief I felt at having escaped Emily vanished when I remembered the crew wandering through the courtyard, clueless about the live electric fence. Fingers shaking, I swiped Emily’s smartphone on as I retraced my steps back to where I’d left Oscar.
“No reception. Perfect.” I tried cramming the phone into my pocket, but there wasn’t room. “Oh!” I pulled the walkie-talkie out as I hurried around the last corner. “Dad? Jess? Is anyone . . . ?” I trailed off, coming to a halt. Oscar was gone.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay. Now what.”
Emily’s phone suddenly blared with sound, startling me so badly I almost dropped it. I stared at the screen in disbelief. A video had started to play. And not just any video.
“Are you ready?”
“Shh!” I hissed, pressing buttons frantically as the lighthouse footage played. But the phone wouldn’t turn off. I glanced around, terrified Emily would hear it and find me.
On the screen, Lid
ia’s eyes flew open. This was the same video that Anonymous—Emily, not Roland—had posted in the forums. Lidia stared right into the hidden camera, right at me. Then the bulb exploded, and the scene went dark until Roland flung the door open. I watched him hurry to Lidia’s side, check her pulse, slump over with relief when she responded. He ignored Emily’s question about the fake lightbulbs and ordered her to turn off the camera. But this time, the clip continued.
Emily pulled the camera off the tripod, her eyes glued to Sam, whose head was in his hands. A few seconds later, Jess burst into the room.
“Lidia!” she cried, hurrying over to the table. Sam lowered his hands, and Jess glared at him. “You did it anyway, didn’t you?” she said bitterly. “You tried to contact Levi. I told you she couldn’t handle it.”
“Excuse me.” Lidia lifted her head. “It was my decision, not Sam’s. I wanted to speak to my brother, Jess.”
“I know, but . . .” Jess’s face crumpled. “Lidia, your heart’s not strong enough for this.”
Lidia ignored her and started to stand. Roland took her by the elbow and slowly, they shuffled out of the room. Jess and Sam followed, eyes downcast. Emily waited until they were gone before hurrying over to the hidden camera—the phone I was holding. Her hand stretched toward the screen, and a moment later, it went black.
I exhaled shakily. Sam had contacted Lidia’s brother in the lighthouse. Lidia’s brother, who had died when they were teenagers. Levi.
The boy ghost.
I looked up, half-expecting to see him, and just barely managed not to scream.
At the far end of the corridor, Lidia stood silently, glowering at me.
“Lidia?” My voice shook. “I want to help you. Can you hear me?”
Creeeeeeeeak.
My breath caught in my throat. Lidia slowly raised her arms, and all down the corridor, each and every cell door opened as if attached to her wrists with string.
“Levi,” I whispered desperately. “What do I do? I don’t know how to help her.” Even as the words escaped my lips, images flickered through my mind like a slideshow. Lidia’s eyes flying open as the lightbulb exploded, Lidia collapsing when I snapped her picture, Sonja’s spirit leaving her body crumpled on the ground . . . the lights, the flash . . .
Strobe lights can trigger my seizures, so that meant no concerts or haunted houses. Not that that stopped me.
“Oh!” Cramming Emily’s phone and the walkie-talkie into my jacket pockets, I pulled out the Elapse and held it up.
Flash.
Blinking, I could just make out Lidia slumping against the wall. I glanced at the viewfinder and sucked in a breath. Because Lidia wasn’t the only person in the picture. In front of each cell was the outline of a man.
The prisoners were free.
At the end of the hall, Lidia pulled herself up and fled around the corner. A chill blew through the hall after her as the ghosts followed.
I raced down the corridor and turned the corner just as Lidia burst through a set of doors. The courtyard—Red Leer was leading the ghosts to the courtyard to make their escape. The electric fence couldn’t hurt a ghost.
But it would kill Lidia.
I burst through the doors into the courtyard, my lungs aching. I might be able to save Lidia from Red Leer. But not if she reached the fence first.
Distant shouts reached my ears, and I squinted across the expansive field. For a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion as I took in the scene.
Lidia, running flat out for the fence. Jess, throwing her camera aside and sprinting after her from the opposite end of the courtyard, Dad right on her heels.
Sam backing up to the fence near the entrance as Emily approached him, knife in hand.
“The fence!” I shouted at him. “The fence is on!” But I was still too far away. No matter how fast I ran, there was no way I could reach Sam in time. But I was much closer to Lidia than the others.
My leg muscles screamed in protest as I tore after her. She’d nearly reached the fence, but I was closing in. A shriek almost caused me to trip, and for one horrible moment, I was positive Sam had been electrocuted. Then movement to my right caught my eye, and I glanced over just as Roland tackled Emily.
Relief washed over me, and I put on another burst of speed. Three yards to go, two, one . . . I grabbed Lidia around the waist and we both fell to the ground with an impact that knocked the wind out of me.
She rolled over with unnatural speed, but I managed to hold her down. My elbow stung, and I felt blood trickling down my arm. Struggling to pin her with one arm, I aimed the camera at her face.
“Let me go.” The low, growling voice wasn’t Lidia’s any more than the grotesque smile twisting her lips.
“I’m trying to,” I gasped. Then I pressed the shutter button and held it down.
Lidia’s eyes rolled back in her head as the flash pulsed like a strobe light, and her body went limp. Through the neon spots dancing in my vision, I glimpsed the hulking outline of a man with a curled mustache just before he vanished in a light gust of wind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DEMONS
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Dangling my legs out the back of the ambulance, I watched through drooping eyelids as Dad and Jess talked with a few police officers. Next to me, Oscar sighed impatiently while the paramedic continued fussing over the lump on his head.
“I’m fine,” he said for probably the hundredth time in the last hour. The paramedic rolled her eyes and, adjusting his bandage one last time, headed over to check on Sam.
“You were out cold,” I reminded him, tugging the blanket the police had given me tighter around my shoulders.
“Yeah, but only for, like, a minute.”
I offered him a section of blanket. Oscar shook his head just as a particularly chilly gust of wind hit. “Oh, fine,” he muttered, tugging the blanket around his shoulders. Smiling, I scooted closer to him.
Dad kept glancing over at me, like he was worried I might disappear. After everything that had just happened, I figured he was mentally booking our one-way tickets home. I’d already told my version of tonight’s drama to three different police officers. And it wasn’t exactly a truthful version.
I mean, the part about Emily attacking Sam was true. The part about Roland wrestling her off him and getting a knife slashed across the face for his efforts was true, too. So was the part about Mi Jin pinning Emily to the ground and refusing to budge until the police arrived. And the part about Jess giving Lidia CPR and crying when she finally came to. And the part where Dad hugged me so hard I thought my ribs would crack, then promised I’d be lucky to be ungrounded before I was fifty.
But I didn’t tell the police about Red Leer. My last decent photo was of Lidia standing at the end of the corridor, which was blurred with transparent outlines. The constant flash I’d used in the courtyard turned the pictures of her face into a warped, overexposed mess. I thought about how it would sound if I explained the whole thing to the cops: Well, she’s been possessed by the ghost of a pirate we picked up back in Rotterdam, and he tried to use her to free all the ghosts of the prisoners here at Daems. Luckily, Lidia’s dead brother helped me save her with my camera.
I figured that would just convince the police I had some sort of head injury, so I kept it to myself. But the P2P fans were going to hear all about it in my next blog post.
Which honestly would probably be my last blog post.
“Hanging in there, you two?”
Oscar and I looked up, startled. Roland smiled, then winced and touched the bandage stretched along his cheek. “I keep forgetting about this thing.”
“How bad is it?” I asked, holding out my arm. “Because I think I lost a few layers of skin on my elbow. It’s pretty epic.”
Roland chuckled. “Mine’s a shallow cut. Although they said it might scar.”
“Scars are cool,” I assured him. “Um . . . I’m sorry about, you know . . .”
“Locking me in a van with a psychopath running around?”
“Well, yeah,” I admitted. To my relief, Roland looked amused.
“You really thought it was me pulling all that host-curse garbage?” he asked, and I nodded. “Why?”
“Er . . .” I wrinkled my nose. “I thought you were jealous.”
Roland’s eyebrows shot up. “Jealous? Of what?”
“Well, that Emily was so obsessed with Sam. Because, you know . . .” I glanced at Oscar for help. He leaned away from me, palms flat as if to say, Leave me out of this. Sighing, I turned back to Roland. “I guess I thought you were in love with her.”
For a second, Roland gaped at me. Then he burst out laughing.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, so I got that wrong.”
“A little bit, yeah.” Roland shook his head, still grinning. “I’ve had my eye on her for a while, but believe me, that isn’t why. She struck me as a little off from the very beginning.”
“So you got her fired?”
“Yeah, but that was before I realized she genuinely needed help. And Sam . . .” Roland glanced over to where Sam stood a little apart from the others, his expression lost. “He’s just clueless. I kept trying to tell him Emily’s behavior was getting obsessive, but he didn’t want to listen. Eventually, everyone but Sam could see it, and we fired her.”
“When did you realize she’d set Carlos up?” I asked.
“Not until recently,” he admitted. “Sam started getting letters from her again, and the writing reminded me of the threats that scared off Bernice. None of us thought . . .” His face tightened a little. “We didn’t realize how bad it had gotten, or we would’ve done something sooner.”
“Roland!” Jess called, waving for him to join her, Dad, and the policemen. One was still examining Emily’s smartphone. I’d given it to him after deleting the dead-air footage. I figured there was enough evidence against Emily without it. Lidia didn’t want fans to know about Levi’s ghost, and the crew had kept her secret. I could keep him a secret, too.
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