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  Water rushed in from below, meeting the heat of the boiler, and steam hissed up into the air, mixing with smoke.

  But one by one, the children’s cries went quiet.

  One by one they disappeared beneath the dark water.

  Alone, his face blank, Cyrus calmly swam away from them toward the nearest shore. Poppy could feel the water close over her own head, forcing bubbles from her lungs. She kicked upward as hard as she could, frantic for air and the surface.

  A hand clamped around her ankle and she felt herself being tugged beneath the surface. Air exploded from her mouth as she screamed. Looking down, she saw one of the orphan girls clutching at her, dragging her farther into the depths. She kicked at the girl’s hand and strained toward the glistening ceiling of water over her head. But more fingers wrapped around her limbs. A boy and another girl had taken hold of her. Their hair swirled around their shadowed faces. Poppy squirmed, frantic, and saw Marcus a few yards away, held tightly by the other two children. His eyes were closed and his body thrashed.

  They’re killing us!

  The five children screamed underwater. Their voices were muffled and distorted by the water pressing down on them, but Poppy could hear them anyway. No! No! Help! Please!

  Poppy caught the eyes of the girl clinging to her leg. They glimmered with horror and fear. And Poppy knew: The orphans weren’t trying to hurt them, at least not on purpose. The orphans were dying, again, and in their panic, they were pulling Marcus and her down with them.

  Poppy’s lungs were begging for air, but if she inhaled, she feared it would be a huge gulp of water and murk. She tried to think at the orphans, pleading for them to release her and Marcus. We can only help you if we’re free!

  But none of the drowning children would let go. Poppy could feel their minds whirling, out of control with fright. They only tightened their grip as they sank like anchors. The water grew darker, the bright surface overhead fading quickly, like a memory of a dream.

  THE CORPSE’S FINGERS dug deeper into Dash’s neck, sending shock waves of pain down his spine. He could almost feel the corpse leaning toward him from behind, its sagging mouth aimed at the base of his skull.

  Then, with a crash, the squeezing sensation was gone. Dash was free.

  He spun to see the corpse flailing on the ground, the pink cord swinging wildly over its head. Beside it stood a girl, her fists clenched—not Azumi, but someone he didn’t recognize. Her hair was a faded blue, as straight as straw, and bobbed just below her ears. She kicked at the thing as it tried to sit up again, knocking it flat.

  “Go!” the girl yelled. “Go now!”

  Azumi clutched his arm and tugged him back to the stone path. The other girl burst through the low branches and leapt ahead of them.

  Following as quickly as he could, Dash hobbled along the path toward the shadowy tunnel of green. His right foot was sturdy, but his left was in agony.

  From behind him came the sound of moaning as the corpse crashed out from the trees. He thought of its withered limbs, its pointed finger bones, and how deceptively strong it had been, and Dash hopped even faster.

  The light grew dim as they pressed into denser foliage. The glass walls and ceiling disappeared entirely. Bright green moss coated thick tree trunks that rose up from the ground. In the back of his mind, Dash wondered how all of these plants, all of this earth, could fit inside even the largest of mansions.

  Around a sharp turn, the girls swiveled off the path, dropping down into dense undergrowth. Azumi reached out and grabbed Dash’s shirt, pulling him with them. He landed in the rocky soil next to her. A blanket of leaves overhead kept the three of them hidden. The other girl was crouched beside Azumi, muscles tensed, as if ready to spring up and attack again.

  Dash groaned in pain, and Azumi shushed him vehemently. Her deep brown eyes were pleading: QUIET. And despite his racing heart, he forced himself to be still.

  Beyond the bushes, out on the path, footsteps whispered inches from his head. He clenched his eyes shut, wishing desperately that he could shake himself out of this nightmare.

  The sound of the footsteps tapered away into unsettling quiet.

  Curled up on the ground between Dash and the other girl, Azumi cocked her head, listening. “Is it gone?” she asked the new girl, who nodded confidently. Peering at Dash again, Azumi’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “We were trying to warn you!” she whispered.

  “That was you? Calling my name?”

  “Both of us.” Azumi nodded toward the other girl, whose blue hair seemed to glow in the dark, like moonlight reflecting off a moth. “This place is filled with … well, it sounds weird to say it out loud, but it’s filled with dead people … who aren’t quite … dead.” Her eyes were wide and frightened. “They’re ravenous.”

  Dash shuddered, still panting for air.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off the other girl. Azumi followed his gaze and a wide smile spread across her face, as if she were unable to contain a brief burst of joy. “Dash, this is my big sister. Moriko.”

  Dash flinched. “Moriko?” Azumi’s dead sister? Dash tried to slow his breathing, but his heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

  Azumi bit at her lip. “Did Marcus mention … what happened to her?”

  Dash nodded, looking at Moriko, who stared back at him, sizing him up. Play along, Dash. Play along. “I think he said … she was missing? That she got lost in a forest in Japan?”

  “That’s right,” said Azumi. “We were visiting our auntie Wakame.” Her voice was trembling, and she glanced over her shoulder at the green shadows behind them. “Moriko wanted to leave the path, and I wouldn’t follow her. And then she was gone, and I’ve had nightmares about it ever since.” Azumi paused, staring at her sister. “But here, in Larkspur, when I was just outside of the ballroom, I heard her calling to me. I followed her voice, and it led me into this greenhouse. This … forest.”

  “I-I don’t understand,” said Dash. “That doesn’t … You were just … ” What was Azumi talking about? She was just with him. He glanced at Moriko again. “Are you like one of them … one of the Specials?”

  Azumi cocked her head at him. “What are the Specials?” she asked. She studied his swollen ankle and the dried blood on his forearms. “And what happened to you?”

  Dash stared at her, aghast. “This is from when I fell down the stairs just now,” he said carefully, eyes locked on her face.

  “Oh my gosh! Are you all right?”

  “You know I’m not!” Dash said. “You were right there when it happened. Right behind me! Why are you acting like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like … you hit your head or something. Like you lost your memory. You’ve been with me the whole time!”

  Azumi’s face drained of blood. “Dash, I haven’t seen you in hours. Not since we first got here.” Her words hit Dash like a shower of sparks. “Whoever was with you when you fell down some stairs … that wasn’t me.”

  “POPPY! MARCUS!” A voice called out as the door slammed open. “Here you are! Thank goodness!”

  Poppy felt her body jerk violently. The orphans’ faces disappeared into shadow, their tight little fingers slipping from her skin. The swirling chaos of the river dropped away in one great splash, and she found herself back in the classroom, the solid wood of the floor underneath her feet. Weakened and breathless, she and Marcus both fell to the ground, choking and gasping for air.

  “I need your help!” The voice resounded around the chamber. “Hey, are you two all right?”

  Poppy forced her burning eyes open. Azumi was standing in the doorway, practically panting. Her black dress and denim jacket looked like a smudge against the light from the hallway behind her.

  “Azumi! How’d you find us?”

  “I heard shouting.” Azumi cocked her head. “What happened to you guys?”

  Marcus coughed and trembled, holding up his hands and watching them twitch. His eyes were red, and he wiped at them furiously. Pop
py’s chest heaved as she took in great gulps of air. They had been dying, and her whole body sagged with relief that they were safe now.

  The chalkboard stood empty before them, and the desks looked dusty and untouched—exactly the same as they’d been before the orphans’ vision had stolen Marcus and Poppy away.

  Poppy smoothed out her shirt, trying to slow her racing thoughts. Sitting back on her heels, she gestured to the room. “We came here looking for a way out. But instead, we met more ghosts.” She shivered. “They showed us what Cyrus did to them.”

  “They made us feel it,” Marcus added quietly.

  “Wait,” said Poppy. “Where’s Dash? Did he find Dylan?”

  “That’s the thing … ” Azumi’s skin was grayish, her eyes like deep pools. She looked like she was about to faint. Poppy dragged herself to her feet and rushed toward her. “He’s hurt,” Azumi said. “He tripped down some stairs and twisted his ankle. I had to leave him alone, but I’m not sure he’s safe.”

  “Of course he’s not safe!” said Marcus. “None of us are.”

  “Come with me.” Azumi stepped out into the hallway, waving for them to follow. “He needs us. Now.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Marcus, wiping at his eyes. “This was a dead end anyway. Let’s get out of here.”

  A scratching sound echoed from behind them. Marcus grabbed Poppy’s elbow and spun her around so they could both see what had appeared on the board. It was a chalk drawing of a tall wooden door, a sunburst decoration on top of it.

  Azumi’s mouth dropped open. “What the … ?”

  “We’ve seen this! When the Specials were chasing us!” said Marcus, his face lighting up. “The door was in the hall downstairs!”

  Frantic writing appeared, scrawling across the drawing of the door.

  HOPE

  FEAR

  HELP!!!!!

  Poppy stepped back into the room. “But how can we help you?” A darker thought slithered into her head: And after what you just did to us, why would we want to?

  “Maybe they want to help us,” Marcus said to her. He called out to the room. “If we find this door, we’ll find our way out? Is that what you’re saying?” Something heavy dropped from one of the tables by the wall, clunking against the floor. Marcus ran to pick it up. He turned and grinned, holding up a hammer. “I think they just gave us an answer.”

  Poppy trembled, pressing her fingers to the sides of her skull. “I don’t feel like we have any answers. We’ve been searching and searching, being as smart as we can. Why am I still so confused? The Specials want to hurt us. Or, they don’t want to, but when they’re wearing the masks they can’t help themselves. The first orphans want to help us? How do we know who to trust? What are we supposed to do?”

  Azumi sighed, frustrated. “We’re supposed to go get Dash. Come on!”

  Poppy glanced around the room again. The orphans’ memories still clung to her skin, like the muck of the river. She had to leave this room now—she couldn’t bear the lingering claustrophobia of the water.

  But more important, she knew her friend was waiting for her.

  AZUMI’S WORDS ECHOED in Dash’s head: That wasn’t me … That wasn’t me … That wasn’t me …

  The girl who’d closed the door, who’d trapped him with the hanging corpse, had not been Azumi. At least, that’s what this Azumi had told him only moments ago, but his brain refused to believe it.

  The air in the greenhouse was suddenly stifling. Dash dabbed sweat from his forehead.

  “Are you okay?” asked the new Azumi. Or was she the old Azumi? “You look like you’re going to be—”

  Dash turned his head before throwing up on the ground.

  “Sick,” she finished, scrunching her nose and looking away.

  He wiped his mouth and took a deep breath. “You mean you’re not … Are you … ? Who are you, then?”

  “I’m Azumi!” she said.

  “I don’t understand. If you’re Azumi, then who’s the girl who was with us ever since … I don’t even know how long?”

  “I have no clue.”

  “Why did you call for me just now, and not Dylan?”

  “Your T-shirts are different colors,” she said simply. “Where is Dylan? Where are any of the others?”

  Dash’s brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Could he tell this girl the truth? What was the truth, anyway? That his brother was dead? Would she think he was crazy? “It’s a really long story. I don’t know where to start. What about you, Moriko?” he forced himself to ask. “How did you get here? How did you find us?”

  “I didn’t just get lost in the forest in Japan,” Moriko said, her eyes on her little sister. Dash felt his muscles tense. Again it felt crazy to think it, but he suspected that Moriko was a ghost too. “The forest is a special place, like Larkspur House is a special place. Strange. Beautiful. Haunted. These kinds of places are connected to one another, like hidden roads, or secret passages.

  “Larkspur House can twist your thoughts and make you believe things that aren’t true. Or it can make you forget what was once important, so that you lose yourself entirely.”

  Dash felt his face flush as he found himself nodding along.

  “Not all the ghosts are bad,” said Moriko. “Some of the spirits here want to give you hope. Hope for the things that you’ve lost in your lives. Hope for learning the truth so you can move on. Hope for … escape.”

  Dash shook his head. “Nothing inside this place has given me hope. It’s all made me feel insane.”

  “And I’ve just been scared the whole time,” said Azumi.

  “Oh, but of course you’ve had hope! Why else would you have followed the pink ribbon down the hallway, Azumi? Why else would you have called out my name? Hope is the fuel that keeps us … that keeps you … alive.” Moriko sniffed. “But the funny thing about hope is that it always comes with a price. Worry. Fear. Anxiety. Once something is important enough to hope for, it attains a power over you. Hope and fear are tied together as tightly as the threads that … that join haunted places.”

  Frustration made Dash’s vision spin. His forearms were beginning to throb again, and his ankle felt like someone was hitting it over and over with a heavy mallet. “So what do we do? How do we get out of here?”

  Moriko met his gaze. “Right now, you need to bring the rest of your group back here. Then we’ll all head deeper into the forest. It’s the only way out of this place.”

  Dash rocked back on his heels, a feeling of warmth spreading in his torso. Then he remembered what should have been the most important part. Dylan. His throat went dry, making it hard to say the next part. “My brother’s in trouble though.”

  “What kind of trouble?” asked Azumi.

  “Trouble like Moriko’s … trouble,” he said, his voice tiny. Azumi stared at him in confusion. “He’s a … Well … He’s a ghost.”

  Azumi’s jaw dropped and Moriko exhaled slowly, as if she’d suspected as much. “Go find him. Go find all of them,” said Moriko, standing and peering out at the nearby path. “I’ll teach Dylan all he needs to know.”

  “You can help him?” Dash asked, thinking of the spiral staircase and the laughter he’d heard coming from underneath it. “You can show him how to become … okay again?”

  “I’d have to be a monster not to,” said Moriko with a strange smile. She picked a long, sturdy stick off the ground, tested it, and passed it to Dash. “A crutch, for you,” she said. She checked the path once more, then waved for Dash and Azumi to follow her back toward the door.

  “It’s locked,” Dash called out.

  But Moriko touched the knob, and it turned in her hand.

  “I swear the door was locked,” whispered Dash, limping up beside her, wincing with every step.

  “Trust your instincts,” Moriko told Azumi, “and you’ll locate your friends. And when you do, bring them back here.”

  “Come with us!” Azumi threw her arms around Moriko’s neck. “I just found you! I
can’t leave you again so soon!”

  Moriko shook her head and rubbed Azumi’s back. “I’d follow if I could. It’ll only be for a few minutes. I promise.”

  Down the path, beyond the two girls, the foliage rustled. A groaning sound emerged from the greenish darkness. Azumi’s eyes widened as Moriko grasped her shoulders and pushed her into Dash’s arms.

  THE TRICKSTER KNOWS that everyone is waiting for him to make his next move.

  There is a shifting in the darkness surrounding him. The production people are busy making sure that everything is set for the next shot. No one will speak to him. Del explained earlier that he needs to stay in character. According to Del, the stunt that he’d pulled while hiding beneath the spiral staircase was a big hit with the director. The only problem, in the Trickster’s opinion, is that Dash’s pratfall looked almost too spectacular.

  The Trickster worries, as usual, that his twin will end up overshadowing him.

  The aroma of fresh baked bread and food roasted in spices wafts from the darkness. Someone is preparing dinner for the cast. The Trickster’s mouth is watering. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how hungry he is. He turns to find the food-service table only several feet away. He listens for the sound of approaching footsteps—the cue that he should take his place. For now, the hallways are quiet.

  He grabs a handful of chocolate candies, and then attempts to lift his clown mask to slip some into his mouth.

  A voice screams in his head: DON’T DO THAT! Pain blooms behind his eyes. It swells until the Trickster drops the candies. Then it stops, gone, as if it had never happened.

  I’ll eat later, he tells himself, shaking. After this next shot, I’ll have a real break. I’ll catch up with Dash and the others, and see if they have any fun stories about their time inside Larkspur House so far.

  But you can’t, a deeper voice speaks again from within his head. They’ll need you in character. They’ll always need you in character.