"And I think you're just worrying too much. Believe me, in a day or two things will be back to normal and you guys will be threatening to rip each other's limbs off for a reason that has nothing to do with Perry."

Miranda exhaled. "You make it sound like we argue all the time."

"Not all the time," Kylie said. "Just most of the time."

Miranda shrugged. "Anyway, do you think you can help me snag Socks so I can see if I got the spell right? Perry listened to me practice for an hour. I want to fix this." Miranda frowned. "I feel like a screw-up."

"You're not a screw-up." Kylie looked down at the floor. "Come here, Socks. Come here, baby."

Miranda fell back on the mattress. "I feel like one, especially when my Wiccan sisters tease me about it. I suck at being a witch."

"They tease you about Socks?" Kylie asked.

"Yeah, not that I blame them. I messed up."

"Screw them," Kylie said. "You should figure out how to curse them with a dose of dyslexia and see how they deal with it."

"They're really not being mean," Miranda said.

"But it hurts you." Anger for Miranda burned Kylie's chest. She hated bullies. Hated people who put other people down so they could feel better about themselves.

Miranda popped back up. "But they're just teasing." She knelt and tapped her fingers on the floor. "Here, kitty, kitty."

Miranda's words seemed to be sucked up by the shadows in the corners of the room. Kylie lowered her foot from the bed and swiped her heel against the bed ruffle.

She waited to feel Socks attack her ankle. The only thing she felt was an icy cold leaking from beneath the bed skirt. An icy cold that gave Kylie a bad feeling.

She looked at Miranda. "Why don't you go outside and I'll ... I'll bring him to you. He'll probably come out when you leave." For some reason the room seemed to grow darker. Kylie hoped Socks was all that would come out.

Miranda stood. "I don't know why he doesn't like me," she muttered, and walked out.

Kylie cautiously stood and stared down at the bed ruffle. "Socks? Kitty?"

No little skunk came scampering from beneath the bed. No soft meow whispered from beneath to let her know he was okay.

Taking a deep breath, she got on her hands and knees and stared at the unmoving ruffle. She fought the temptation to breathe on it. For some odd reason, she wanted to see something move; the odd stillness of the material didn't feel right. Nothing felt right.

She reached for the cotton material to peer beneath it, praying all she'd find was one scared skunk. Kylie's fingers almost touched the ruffle when a sound-a moan or a strangled cry-whispered from beneath the bed. She jerked her hand back. Her breath caught. That didn't sound like Socks at all.

An icy and unnatural cold snaked from under the bed. Steam billowed out from the bed skirt. Fear, ugly, raw fear filled her chest. She glanced back at the door. Wished she could leave. Knew she couldn't. Instinct told her Socks wasn't alone under that bed.

Still on her hands and knees, she took one tiny knee shift backward. How many times as a child had she feared a monster under the bed? How many times had her mom promised that monsters didn't exist? That moan sounded again.

Her mom was wrong. A monster, or something equally scary, lurked right under Kylie's bed.

She couldn't blame her mom for the lie. Mom didn't know.

But Kylie did.

Not that it mattered. Unwilling to abandon her pet, trying to settle her pounding heart, she reached again for the bed skirt. Right before her two fingers caught the cotton fabric, a hand shot out.

Her own scream faded into the shadows as the cold, dead hand grasped Kylie's arm and yanked her forward.

She fought for freedom, clawed at the fingers, twisted her arm, anything to pry it loose. Nothing worked.

"Help!" she screamed, but no one answered. The clasp around her wrist tightened, dragging her closer. The last thing she saw was the bed ruffle sliding over her face as she slipped into dark oblivion. Her last thought before her mind went numb was that she was finally going to meet the monster living under her bed.

Chapter Ten

Kylie lay flat on her back, cloaked in darkness. Deep, black darkness. Just a vision. It's not real. Not real.

Something on each side of her pressed tight against her forearms. It felt real. She tried to move, but couldn't. Fear swelled inside her. She tasted the bitterness of it on her tongue.

Disoriented, she tried to make sense of it. Inhaling, she smelled the earth. Wet, moist dirt. She wasn't under the bed. Where was she? An answer came and she wished it hadn't. She was buried. Another scream filled her throat, but logic told her this wasn't real. Just a vision.

But from who? And what? Holiday?

The sound of Kylie's own breath leaving her lips sounded too loud. Instantly, she realized she wasn't alone. It wasn't the sound of someone else breathing. No one breathed but her. Yet the grip on her wrist hadn't loosened. Whoever had dragged her under here hadn't left-someone still clung to her wrist as if that person's very life depended on it. Unfortunately, Kylie knew it was too late. Only she was alive.

"Why am I here?" She tried to move again but felt somehow constricted.

No answer came.

Blinking, her vision slowly adjusted to the darkness. She saw the pattern of old wood a few inches from her face.

She tried to pull her wrist away from the tight grip, but the hold only tightened.