The tiles hit Arielle with such brutality she fell over, dazed, almost knocked out by her shock. Regaining her senses, she crawled to the opposite corner of the room, panicked, panting, perturbed.

With trembling hands and an erratic heartbeat, she fumbled, trying to remember where she'd put her phone. She plucked it from beside her, where it had dropped out of her pocket.

"Fuck." She struggled to get a grip, to handle her shaking if only for a second, so she could locate Stella's number. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Stella Cell came into view, and she pressed the green button. Putting the call on speaker, she set the phone on the floor so she could hunch over and take deep breaths, steady her pulse. She dry-heaved and sweat streaked down her cheekbones as the line rang. And rang. And rang...

Stella never picked up. "Stel, come on! I need you!" She pressed the green button again. "You told me to call you! Please answer!" The line only rang twice before Stella's voicemail buzzed out.

"Hi, you've reached me. Who is me? Shit, shouldn't you know? You're the one calling! Whatever, state your business and I'll return your call if I'm in the mood for it."

Beep.

"Stel..." Arielle gulped. "Penny... she's here. She followed me, or something." She blew out her cheeks and dizziness warped her words. "I did what you asked, the Ouija board and stuff... burned... drowned. But I found the letters, particular letters, in my hotel room... she... threw them at me. What... what do I do?" Another beep signaled she'd ran out of time.

She gathered her wits, ignored her heart as it beat thousands of thumps a second, and got to her feet. Glaring over at the spot where the letters had landed—now immobile, as if they'd never smacked into her—she swallowed. More nausea bubbled in her gut.

A few days ago, she would have believed herself to have imagined it all, to have been temporarily insane. But with all she'd experienced lately, and with her cheeks throbbing from where the wooden pieces had banged, there was no way to deny it. She wouldn't be in such a state if it had only been an illusion.

Another glance at the tiles, having landed far from where she discovered them, convinced her.

"Nope... not touching those... not without gloves." She stumbled to the other bed—the room had doubles, since Stella was supposed to be there—and dropped with a heavy sigh. "Stel... please answer... please help me."

She should have been there. Should have done some ritual to cleanse Arielle, to protect her, to ensure Penny wouldn't somehow come with her on her journey.

Thanks a lot, Stel.

She heaved herself onto the mattress and lay flat on her back, inhaling, exhaling, desperate to relax, to erase what had happened. Groping at the nightstand—for a glass of water, something to fan herself, something to knock herself out—she discovered the TV remote.

"Yeah... yeah, I need noise. Drown out the thoughts." She turned the thing on and found reruns of Supernatural. "One of Jade's favorites." She slipped under the blankets and pulled them up to her chin. "A nap... I need a nap..."

She surprisingly dozed off almost at once, fighting the chills still slurring down her spine.

***

Secrets... secrets... truth... I have it... I can give it...

A raspy, crackling, distorted voice. Tortured, tricky. A curtain of raven hair covered her face, but Arielle recognized her. She had eyes like deep wells of murky water, and blood soaking her cheeks. She had fangs instead of teeth, coated in red and smelling like rot, decay, death.

Come... meet me... I have it...

She approached, dragging her feet, head drooping, arms hanging at her sides. With each leaden step, she groaned, moaned, growled. The hem of her white dress swished against the floor, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

Please... listen... secrets... secrets...

***

Arielle woke with a scream. "Fuck!"

She took a few minutes to slow her turbulent breaths, to take in her surroundings, to make sure this creepy chick hadn't been crawling around her room.

But no, she was alone. In the hotel. The TV was on, the sound muted; like her ears were clogged, her head underwater. Tiny beams of light fluttered at the bottom of the window, signaling it was still day, though probably nearing evening. A golden glow seemed to push against the cloth, wanting to blast in and illuminate her. Help her.

She hauled herself to a seated position and expelled a large breath. Passing a palm over her forehead, she widened her eyes; she was hot, damp with perspiration, sizzling with a fever.

"Shit," she said, removing the covers to find that her jeans clung to her skin, her shirt was drenched, and her legs and toes had gone numb.

Slumping over to her purse, she fished out some Ibuprofen, hoping to ease her temperature. Her temples throbbed with each stride, her stomach lurched with every movement.

Out of all the nightmares she'd had in the past weeks, this had been the most vivid. She saw the girl so close, so real, and not fizzing in and out of focus. Her voice still echoed in her ears, loud but clear. Simple but heavy with meaning.

Secrets... she continues to use that word, but why?

It became clearer by the minute; since they'd left Charleston, Penny had latched on to her. Haunted her, tortured her mind into having horrid dreams, worse dreams than those she already endured. Bullied her soul into being paranoid with every passing second. Yet it made no sense; how did she get there? Wasn't she a spirit in Ohio, lurking in Jade's house or its vicinity? How had she popped up in a school parking lot in Charleston, South Carolina? All the shows Arielle had watched with Jade seemed to imply ghosts remained near where they died.

Maybe she was chopped up... one half in Ohio, one half in Charleston?

She wanted to laugh at that ridiculous idea, but nothing was funny anymore. Tugging her lips up into a smile took too much effort and amplified the unease in her abdomen and worsened the hammering in her scalp.

She located her medicine bottle, unscrewed the top, and plopped three pills in her mouth. Hurrying to the bathroom, she filled a plastic cup with water and guzzled down a few sips to swallow the capsules.

Glancing at her reflection, she sighed—and froze. "Whoa."

Her complexion was pallid, blotched, drenched in glistening sweat. Red rimmed her hazel eyes, turning them bloodshot, terrifying. And her lips had turned a frightening purple—but she wasn't cold. She overheated.

"Fuck..." For a moment she looked like the girl who snuck into her dreams. The suicide girl, an unknown being, Penny—who knew? She wasn't sure she wanted to. "I need to see a doctor." She swept the back of her palm across her hairline and gulped as her flesh burned. "What the heck?"

Hobbling to the main room, she lowered onto the corner of the bed. Her hearing returned to normal, ears popping as if she were in an airplane. "Ah, well there's that, at least."

"... and in more dire news, we take you to Ohio, where we uncovered a tragic accident that is still under investigation."

Arielle's attention peaked. "Ohio?" She found the remote and turned the volume up.

The reporter on the TV screen, a woman, her yellow suit a bit too bright for Arielle to look at, winced as she read the prompt. "A horrendous house fire that spread and wiped out several homes took place last night and early into the morning. Sarah, our correspondent, is on the scene."

Gaze glued to the screen, Arielle watched, curious where the incident had occurred, hoping it wasn't near Columbus.

"Hi Jane. We're in the Columbus adjacent suburbs, where the fire started." Sarah, the reporter, moved out of the way and motioned at a neighborhood behind her—a trailer park.

Crap. But there are many Columbus suburbs. It's okay. It's okay.

Arielle's heart skipped a beat when the camera panned over the area; an upper-scale trailer park with giant metallic fences surrounding it. Dangling orange and green lights, shrubs of peach roses lining the walls, colorful motor-homes in the background. She frowned; to her utter dismay, she recognized it. The same Welcome sign, its W worn-out and discolored, the e about to fall off the post. The same prismatic archway at the entrance, odd wind-chimes and beads hanging from its top. "No..."

"We're told it all started in trailer fifteen, towards the middle of the park. It erupted in flames and sadly, nothing remains."

"Fifteen?" Arielle slipped off the bed, her limbs becoming limp. "Fifteen. Fifteen? Is she sure? Can we see it?"

As if on cue, an image of said trailer appeared on the screen. Nothing remained of the foundations. It was once a massive mobile-home with three bedrooms, a living room, two bathrooms, and a patio; but now it was ash and beams and heaps of battered walls. Smoke hazed the area, but it wasn't hard to see the entire thing was destroyed.

Number fifteen was Stella's home.

"No... no." Bile coursed up Arielle's throat, clumping at the top. "Victims. Victims, tell us if there are any victims?"

That's why she hasn't answered me—her fucking house was on fire! Poor thing, poor—

"The flames spread to surrounding homes, engulfing a few of them, too, though none took as much damage as number fifteen. All survived but two inhabitants of number fifteen, who were trapped inside at the time the fire broke out. According to authorities, they were unable to escape."

The glob of bile shot into Arielle's mouth, but she crammed her lips shut.

Two... there are three people in Stella's residence. Her grandma, her mom, her—

"We're told the victims are Sylvia Sullivan, forty-eight, and her twenty-two-year-old daughter, Stella. It's still unclear if foul-play or criminal intent are the cause, or if wiring or gas might have provoked it. We'll stick around to await details. Until then, I'm Sarah Long, back to you, Jane."

Arielle barely made it to the trash-can. She held the edges for dear life and hurled all her emotions inside, shivering, crying, screaming all at once.

What the fuck?

***

By the time night fell and her stomach was emptier than it had ever been, Arielle mustered some courage to leave the hotel room. She couldn't stay cloistered in there. Couldn't breathe the toxic air—and the stench underneath all the deodorizing spray she used—and couldn't look at the TV screen another minute. She'd had half a mind to rip it from the wall, toss it, jump on it until it shattered—but that would cost money she didn't have.

Using a pillow-case as gloves, she'd grouped all the Ouija letters and stuffed them into a trash bag, holding her breath as if smelling them would infect her, kill her. Then, clutching the bag in one hand, and Stella's crystals in the other, she hurried to her car and threw everything inside.

She peered up at the building. "No... I can't stay here at all."

She returned to the room and grabbed all her things and dropped the hotel key off at the front desk. It was nine o'clock, and they warned her they'd still charge her—but it wasn't her credit card on file. It was Stella's.

Once in the vehicle, she had a hard time turning on the engine, her arms shaking too much, her eyes too blurred with tears to concentrate.

I shouldn't be driving... but I can't be in there.

Her instincts led her to the same off-freeway beach where she'd burned and drowned the Ouija board and planchette. She parked, took out the trash bag, and stormed up to the edge of the water, not caring that the waves reached her shoes and submerged them. Wet feet were the least of her concerns.

"Are you fucking happy, huh?" She opened the trash bag and heaved the letters into the ocean. "You and your fucking secrets, hm? Taunting me, making me stay behind and investigate... because I wanted to know what happens after death, w-wanted to be sure Jade was okay. So instead, I lose another best friend?"

She collapsed to her knees, the waves lapping against her jeans, saturating them with cold water.

It was too much. Rachel's death—her former best friend from back west—Jade's death, Stella's death. Unexpected, unwanted, misunderstood. All girls who knew and loved Arielle, people Arielle didn't think she could live without.

"Why, huh? Tell me, Penny! You know, you said you d-did! So tell me why!" Her lower lip quivered so much she couldn't hold in her saliva, and drool splattered down her chin. "Why Rachel? Why Jade? And w-why Stella, for fuck's sake? Stella! She listened to you! She warned me, she—" she gasped, sucking in the salty air, "—did you cause it, huh?"

The ocean flapped against her thighs, spraying her face with cool liquid. She lowered to her behind, letting it inundate her, devour her.

"No," she released a desperate laugh, a deep guffaw full of irony and disgust. "No, because ghosts don't kill. It's a fucking, fucked-up coincidence... but it's s-still your fault, Penny. Because you tracked me... because you urged me, made me want to save Jade... and then I lost Stella in the process."

Would it have made a difference if she'd listened to Stella and drove home? Would she have got to her before someone or something put her house on fire?

Fire.

She covered her mouth as her sobs intensified.

Her mom... had nightmares... about fire...

It had to be coincidental, right? How could Mrs. Sullivan predict her own death? She had talent, for sure, but she'd never done that... not that Arielle knew of.

"W-what the hell, Penny? If that's even your actual name! You... you bitch, you cruel thing! What happens after it all, huh? You wouldn't tell Stella, you tortured Jade for it—so tell me. Tell me!"

She peered at the horizon, at the clouds shifting over the shockingly full moon. At the stars staring down, pitying her, sorry for yet another loss she had to suffer through.

Was anyone up there controlling this? Killing those she loved for some messed up purpose? Or no purpose at all?

An eerie fog enveloped her senses, prompting her to splash her face with water and get to her feet. Her knees buckled and her limbs were unsteady, yet she flipped around and ambled to her vehicle. She was in control of her movements, but her brain... was elsewhere. Numb to everything, robotic, on auto-pilot.

I have to go. Return home.

Tears still streamed from her eyes, and she was too frail to attempt the long drive to Ohio. But something in her core pushed her, ignored the discomfort, yanked her from the beach and shoved her into her car.

She twisted the key, waited for the engine to start, and gulped.

Time to go.