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snoring, but still I heard the soft whimper of stifled crying. I peered at her. She was sound asleep.
    I heard another wet snuffle, ending in a gasp, definitely coming from Tori’s bed. I went over. Her cheeks still lookeddry. I even touched one to be sure.
    A long, low whimper made the hair on my neck stand up. It came from under the bed.
    I backed up.
    Um, what do you think is down there? The bogeyman?
    Yes, a monster under the bed was a terrible cliché…but that didn’t mean I was looking.
    I thought you were going to stand up to ghosts from now on?
    Maybe tomorrow…preferably during daylight hours.
    My inner voice gave a deep, put-upon sigh.
    You know who it is. Same jerk; second verse. He’s trying to trick you with the crying. You can’t go back to bed now or he might smother you with a pillow.
    Gee, thanks. That’ll help me sleep.
    Open the shade. The worst thing that’ll happen is you’ll wake up Tori. Serves her right for closing it.
    True. As I walked over, I noticed a dark oval next to Tori’s bed. Figures. One throw rug in the room and she pulls it over to her side.
    I had the shade halfway up when I caught a flicker of movement. Something was dripping off the side of Tori’s bed, but there was no soft leaky-faucet plop—the carpet must be soaking it up.
    I tugged the shade again, moonlight filling the room, illuminating—
    The shade slid from my fingers, flying up with a flap,flap, flap . I staggered into the nightstand. The clock crashed to the floor.
    The dark oval beside Tori’s bed wasn’t a rug; it was a pool of blood. My gaze rose to the blood-soaked sheets, then up to…
    The body on the bed was covered in blood, the head bashed in, the face a bloody—
    I tore my gaze away, stomach heaving, Tori’s name coming out in a whimper. Then I saw the rest of the body: blood streaked but whole. It wore only pajama bottoms, bare chest leaving no doubt that it was male. A kid, maybe thirteen, fourteen, with dark blond hair streaked with blood and dotted with—
    My gorge rose. I blinked hard, and the boy vanished. In his place lay Tori, sound asleep, still snoring. My gaze flew to the floor. Bare. No blood. No rug.
    As I stared at that empty spot on the floor, I remembered the dripping blood. It hadn’t made any sound. A ghostly memory, like the girl at the truck stop and the man in the factory. Horrible deaths endlessly replaying like silent films.
    So it can’t hurt you, right?
    No, it couldn’t hurt me. It could scare me. It could upset me. It could be seared into my brain forever. But it couldn’t physically hurt me.
    The moment I got back in bed, the sobbing started again. Then something that sounded like a laugh. I sat up, but the room went silent. I looked around. Another noise, this timesomewhere between a sob and a laugh.
    It might have been just the death scene replaying, but I didn’t usually get a soundtrack with that. I wouldn’t put it past that half-demon kid to be the director of this little scenario. If I wasn’t spooked by his poltergeist stunts, maybe a gruesome death scene would work. I started to lie down again, then stopped. Derek had given me crap earlier for toughing something out on my own. I’d already let this ghost play me for a fool. I wasn’t doing it again. I got out of bed and headed for the guys’ room.
     
    I stopped at their not-quite-closed door. I could hear Simon’s snoring. Derek, as always, was silent. I made some noise in the hall, coughing and stamping my feet as I walked. I felt like a kid throwing pebbles at a friend’s window, seeing if he’d come out and play. No answer.
    I tentatively pushed the door open a few inches and stood there, waiting. Barging into the guys’ room while they slept…well, not something I cared to do, not when I knew Derek slept in his shorts.
    I coughed and shuffled a little more. When Derek still didn’t wake, I peeked inside. Simon lay on the bed closest to the door, sheets tangled around him. Derek’s bed was