Beatrix couldn't tear her eyes away from the skull and bones drawing.

Her body had gone completely numb.

Jackson must've been worried about the look on Beatrix's face, because he tried to backtrack. "I-it's only a theory. It could just be a scratch from a tree branch, or an animal..."

"Thanks for telling me," was all Beatrix managed to say.

"What should we do?" Jackson whispered.

"We need to learn more before we do anything," Beatrix replied, but the words felt hollow.

"Beatrix? Are you alright? You're looking... green..." Jackson said, shutting his notebook.

Beatrix's legs wobbled as she headed back to her dorm building. "I need some time to think," she said. Without waiting for Jackson's response, she fled.

Beatrix raced up the East dorm's spiral staircase, horrifying thoughts spinning in her head, desperate to be alone.

As she climbed to the third floor, she heard some monsters entering the stairwell above her. Not wanting anyone to see her, she stumbled out of the stairwell and into the second-floor hallway. Most of the dorm doors were shut, and Beatrix slumped against a wall, trying to catch her breath as quietly as possible.

The ghouls in the stairwell descended without noticing Beatrix, then they were gone, but Beatrix didn't move from her spot.

She imagined Grey's touch, his hand resting on her collarbone.

Him telling her how beautiful her human soul was.

The ache in her chest was enough to make her crumple to the ground; she resisted the urge the best she could.

She'd been so thrown by Jackson's theory, so blindsided by the idea that Grey could have any part in the murders.

It was all so confusing.

In her mind, there were two Greys:

One was caring. He was by her side at the school board trial. He held her hand. He got her a birthday gift. He found her silly antics amusing, even if he disagreed with her.

But the other Grey unnerved her. He had glared at her with hatred after discovering she was a witch. Scared her to death last night by the perimeter fence. Been ready to strike a vampire during the MSS field trip.

The memory of the nightclub reminded Beatrix of Grey's staff, always on his belt loop, the one he'd used when confronting Bram on the dance floor.

Scythes have blades at the end, and Grey's staff didn't have one, Beatrix thought.

Yet, if Jackson was correct, the staff may have some kind of hidden spirit blade, imperceptible to human eyes.

That would explain why monsters feared Grey's weapon so much.

Someone stepped into the hall. Beatrix hid her face, hoping they wouldn't see her distraught state. She felt too weak and overwhelmed to gather herself and return to the stairwell.

Beatrix heard a groan.

She peeked over.

Ghoulia Yelps was shuffling towards her in red sweatpants and a white tank top, a pencil tucked behind her ear. It looked like Beatrix had disturbed Ghoulia's study session.

Ghoulia groaned again.

Beatrix didn't understand zombie, but she assumed Ghoulia was inquiring about her wellbeing.

"Oh, hey," Beatrix breathed, "Sorry if I was loud, I'm feeling a little, uh, sick." A lie.

Ghoula stood, evaluating Beatrix from afar. Something about the way the zombie slowly blinked at her was reassuring.

Then, Ghoulia began to shuffle back to her dorm, still looking at Beatrix. She let out another groan. An invitation.

Beatrix got up and followed.

Ghoulia's room was crammed with books of all sizes. They covered nearly every inch of the walls.

"You've got a whole library in here," Beatrix observed, hands moving across the novels on Ghoulia's desk. Some had shiny covers, as if they'd just come from the bookstore, while others looked well-worn; relics from another century.

A few books lay open on Ghoulia's bed, detailing surgical brain procedures.

Ghoulia pointed with a crooked finger to a chair in the corner, indicating that Beatrix should sit down.

Once Beatrix got settled, Ghoulia handed her a cup of hot tea.

From her experience in the creepateria, Beatrix knew that zombies didn't consume normal food and water... Ghoulia must've kept tea bags around solely for guests.

"Oh, you don't have to," Beatrix said.

Ghoulia groaned in protest.

So Beatrix leaned back and sipped her tea while Ghoulia quietly read about brain surgery.

Thinking about surgery reminded Beatrix of Henry Hunchback's mark.

She hesitated, assuming that discussing what was on her mind was a bad idea. However, her desire to clear this up couldn't be ignored.

"Hey, Ghoulia," Beatrix began, "do you know a lot about injuries? Autumn is working on a class project about studying a certain type of wound. I was wondering if you have any books on it."

Ghoulia glanced up, droopy blue eyes attentive.

"Um, in a scientific context, do you know if a 'spirit weapon' exists? Like a ghostly sword or... something? Anything like that?"

Ghoulia rose and searched her shelves.

She eventually found one titled "The Ghostly Realm: Existence in the Spectral Plane." Ghoulia flipped through the table of contents and settled on a section about poltergeists.

She pointed to a paragraph.

Beatrix read it aloud:

"A common misconception is that ghosts and poltergeists are identical supernatural beings. On the contrary, a poltergeist reveals its presence by influencing physical objects, whereas a ghost simply manifests itself. A poltergeist has the potential to cause harm in the physical realm, whereas a ghost lacks this capability."

Beatrix paused. "Ghoulia, could a poltergeist use a spirit weapon to harm someone?"

Ghoulia pondered it for a moment, then shook her head no.

The zombie turned to a later chapter: "Death Entities and the Collection of Ghostly Souls."

Beatrix stayed quiet, following along as if Ghoulia alone was responsible for bringing up the topic of Reapers.

Ghoulia quickly scanned the chapter and marked a few paragraphs with a pencil.

Beatrix read Ghoulia's underlined sections:

"Spirits in limbo can evade a Reaper's notice, but a cooperative apparition can seamlessly be guided to the afterlife... To collect these souls, Reapers utilize... a spiritual scythe blade!" Beatrix blurted the last part out.

She looked at Ghoulia, urgent. "A Reaper's scythe can collect a monster's soul with one swing, just like with ghosts, right?"

Ghoulia gave a slow nod. The zombie closed the book and reached for another.

Ghoulia blew a layer of dust off this one's binding. It was titled "A Monster's History of New Salem."

She turned to "Incidents of Mortality at New Salem Preparatory Academy."