IX

The girls had no words to describe what their eyes saw that night. The fact that Jackson and D.J.'s memorial turned into a party was crazy enough, but then Operetta appears on Manny's shoulders, dancing topless and drunk!?

Operetta's drunk? Again?! Rochelle thought.

How did it ever get to this?!

What was she thinking?!

And most important, is anyone uploading this to the Internet? 'Cause this is a once in a lifetime event… probably… the ghouls hoped this to be a once in a lifetime event — No wait! Spectra"s got it already.

As always, you can count on our favorite, ethereal, ectoplasmic and incorporeal, purple haired gossip ghost girl to get the premise on her Gory Gazette! Now with mobile version.

New update!

CONFIRMED! Operetta's nipples are Fuchsia!

Also, the rumors of her breast implants are clearly fake, since you can only one of them has a scar and is for being a phantom.

"Wait! But I did not post this!" Spectra moaned when she saw her website on her iCoffin. "How did this happen? I must delete this!" She wailed frantically, as she tried to erase the video, only to discover her website has been hacked! Where is a White hat when you need it?

Now this video is out there in the web for the world to see it.

And the comment section is fraughting, exploding with comments about how… uh, let's just skip that part —

She's really celebrating D.J.'s life the way he would have wanted. That's all I'm going to say. Let's face it, is the only good thing to say.

The girls look at her confused. In shock. Probably disappointed. And if the situation were different, they'd be slightly humored.

"Ok… as I said, let's get the ghouls and get out of here — en ce moment!" Rochelle said in her strong French accent, using her sharp eyes to find the rest of her friends amidst the dancing crowd.

Scarah could see in her mind how she checked each face for a match, scanning almost the same way a Terminator does.

Wydowna Spider, Catty Noir, Jinafire Long, Skelita Calaveras, Honey Swamp, Isi Dawndancer, Gigi Grant, Catrine DeMew, Jane Boolittle, and just about any other ghoul that is not that important or popular were in sight, even Gooliope Jellington was here, of course as a circus girl, where else would she be? If this wasn't a circus, they didn't know what else it could be then; but her closest friends — the most important to her were nowhere to be seen!

Some of them didn't really have a reason to be here, they were just like — what am I going to do tonight? I'm gonna party on a bonfire!

She tries to focus and scan this madness, searching for Draculaura first, but there was no sing of the petite vampire. She hoped she had turned into a bat and flown out of there.

She tried looking for her friends Robecca, Lagoona and Frankie, but she saw no screw or fin in the crowd — correction, she just saw two pairs of fins in the crowd: Gil and Lagoona!

What's he waiting to break up with her?

Maybe they could help her find the rest of the gang, but how could she get to them without getting lost in the crowd?!

Maybe if I use my wings, she thought — then it bashes her in the head as a steel bar! You guys should know that's the best way to hit a gargoyle.

Why was she so dumb she wouldn't use her wings to fly over the threes so she could see and search for them from above?! She is a gargoyle! The sky is her element… well, it is actually rock, or more like a flying rock, but whatever the case, the sky is the perfect place for her to watch and search for anything or anyone!

Searching on ground level was as dumb as a bag of rocks, and she was glad Keith wasn't there because he would mention it with his trademarked sarcastic tone and she wasn't in the mood for that.

Once she took height and landed on top of the strongest and tallest pine three, she was able to see who was in the party better than on the ground and point the exact location of her friends so Scarah, Keith and Clawdeen could find them and get them out of here.

There in the sky, she finally saw Frankie, Lala, Abbey and Cleo trying to escape from the revelers. Even Robecca was caught up in this nonsense in a futile attempt to get Operetta off of Manny's shoulders and out of here, but with some luck, she would get them all out before getting into any trouble.

Clawdeen went in first looking for the (not-so) happy couple — But alas! Luck was not on their side, because before she could even tell the others where are the other ghouls at, she sees the most frightening image of all, shrouded by darkness, savagely and rapidly galloping through the woods with a glistening steel blade in hand — suddenly, Clawdeen's ears tensed, she wipes her head in a sudden move, Toralei and her twin werecats entourage turn their heads on the same direction as well, as werebeasts they could hear it clear and loud over the strong sound of the music, the hooves pondering down the dusty path, approaching them! Relentless, merciless, with fuming fury! In an instant — shot out, a black horse bursts into the party with an impossible jump over their heads and lands heavily and perfectly square in the middle of the crowd, its eyes glowing bright red-blood as though burning iron.

It was Headless Headmistress Bloodgood!

They all looked up terrified, her face livid, with eyes that seemed to gleam red, scarlet red, the color of blood burning with tireless rage; and even her face turned the same color, she was so mad right now that all her blood had, sonehow, gotten all up to her disembodied head.

Then all the music dies as suddenly as she comes, she was literally steaming sheer and hot anger! They could see it, exhaled from her teeth-grinding mouth, and her horse too, it contrasted against the cold air of the night. Or so it seemed under the silver light of the half filled moon rising above in the sky tonight. Maybe they were all so scared they believed she was steaming out of rage.

Their hearts pounded wildly against their chests — well, those that were functional or had one, of course — nobody dared to say a word, nobody could look her in the eye, they didn't even want to look at her at all, but they felt they had no other choice.

Everyone remained silent, waiting for her to say something, and wishing she wouldn't. This silent waiting for her to speak was probably worse than any word that would fume from her mouth. Operetta struggled to stay on Manny's shoulders as she covered her breasts with her arms, while Heath murmurs in Abbey's ear "Don't make any sudden move. Her vision is based on movement, she can only see you if you move fast."

"I can perfectly see all and each! Single! One! OF YOU!" Screamed, spitting out in rage. Her voice echoed — reverberated in the woods.

I wouldn't think so, Scarah thought.

This is terrible! I knew this was going to end bad, very bad. Rochelle thought, holding on to the three. S'il vous plaît, don't look up, s'il vous plaîtdon't see me. She begged in her mind, not knowing her prayers were being listened.

Using her psychic powers, Scarah makes use of a technique she learned, thinking it would be useful one day: psychic cloaking. A simple, albeit tricky trick, that allows her to hide herself and her SST mates from Bloodgood's eyes, by projecting an image of their surroundings, around them… in her mind… eh, or something like that… I think.

WaitIs that how it works?

I don't know! Is telepathy! As I said, it was a tricky trick. Bottom line is, she can't see them, so the three wannabe detectives are safe from the wrath of the Headless Headmistress!

Add convenient lightning strike at the end of this sentence.

Would you knock it off and let me narrate?

If only Clawdeen hadn't moved into the crowd to get Lagoona and Gil before her arrival, she would have been cloaked too, but she was out of Scarah's sight, and the headmistress had already seen her. But even then, she wouldn't accept that.

Guys, this is the moment. I casted a psychic cloak around us — To put it simple, we're invisible to her. So if you want to escape what would be an unjustified punishment for us, this is the moment. She told them through their telepathic link.

I… appreciate that, thank you. Devon agreed, with a slight smile in his mind-self.

If being friends with Keith for the last ten years has thought him something, is that he should take any opportunity he has to escape a situation like this, specially if he doesn't deserve a punishment for something he's not responsible of.

Rochelle on the other claw was worried about her ghoulfriends.

What about Clawdeen? And Frankie, Lala and all the other ghouls? She asked.

I'm sorry but if I can't see them, I can't help them, specially if she's already seen them. She explained. Look, this trick is hard to keep up for me, so if you wanna leave, you're welcome to flee with us, but if you want to stay and get punished by something you weren't a part of… be my guest. Good luck protecting them in detention. Said bluntly.

Reluctantly, she agrees after mulling it for a brief moment — she was never, and I mean NEVER, good to make quick decisions, is not in her gargoyle nature, but this time she had to make this one real fast, hating herself for leaving her friends behind to their luck.

How could she call herself a friend after this? How could she look them in the eye?

They'll understand.

She hoped they'd understand she couldn't risk getting caught in this jam, not when she's so close to capture Unknown.

Who knows what the principal would do with this red, blinding rage inside her? She could get her off the case and even from the SST. Or worse! She could get expelled!

It would later come to her mind, that this was almost as a one of those cop movies where the main character is usually caught in a bad situation that gets him or her in problems with the captain. And she actually liked to think of herself as a School Police. Honest to herself, she loved the job she was doing with Devon, Scarah, Ghoulia and… Keith.

As a gargoyle, she gave a lot of thought about what would she like to do in college, it took her almost a century to narrow down the list to fifty career paths she would consider to think about, but in this brief time she realized she doesn't have to consider anything. It was clear for her, once high school is over she would choose something very much like this, catching bad guys, protecting those who can't take care of themselves, saving people!

A career path is never an easy choice, but this felt so natural to her, so right, that she would not dare to give it a second thought.

Deadfinitely, this was her true calling.

But back to the Headmistress…

"I want every student back in the school… NOW!" Shouted so loud it almost felt like the earth just trembled.

Their hearts fraught with dread. Even Devon, Scarah and Rochelle could hear it despite being almost thirty meters away from the party already.

Wasting no time, all of the students run, or fly (depending on what they are, of course), back into the school, as fast as their drunken bodies would allow them to.

By the time they all get back inside, Rochelle and Scarah were back into their bedrooms, while Devon drives back to his house.

Once inside the school, Headless Headmistress Bloodgood scolds her students in a way she never thought she'd have to.

"This kind of behavior is not only regrettable and decadent, is… is… is unacceptable and beyond reckless!" Yelled savagely with all her lungs. "This shall have dire repercussions in all of you, I can assure you that. But right now I am so mad with you by the very thought of what you've done, the IDIOCY of your actions and your inexcusable conduct, I can't possibly think straight. So before I do something I shall regret next week, you will all go back into your rooms, and those who don't live here shall stay in my office as I call your parents to come for you," she glared at them with such anger it seemed as she wanted to eat them at that very second. "And if I see you going anywhere but your bedrooms, I swear I shall chase you the way my brother does, and it will be OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!" She screamed so loud, her voiced echoed in their heads. "And you…" she glared at Clawdeen and her ghoulfriends to say in a voice with cold fury, "I want you at my office… first thing tomorrow at eight."

The sound of her voice casting that sentence frightened them beyond anything they had experienced all evening.

It did not occur to the ghouls — to any student for a second to disobey. Half of them moved slowly to their rooms in the east wing, shaking, and looking down at the floor, while the ghouls, our oh-so-favorite ghouls, who didn't live in the school as well as the other half of the students, walked in the opposite direction, heading for her office where Bloodgood would make the so dreaded call to their parents.

One thing was clear, they had no way out of this. What punishment could they expect from their parents tonight? Clawdeen knew she couldn't expect much mercy from her father Clawrk, he would gut her alive and then lock her in her room until she grew as old as her great-great-great "grandwolf" Harriett; he has always been quite temperamental, specially with this kind of things, but maybe, and just maybe he would listen and give her a lightest punishment.

Lala on the other wing, knew for sure her father Dracula, will not grant her any mercy and her only hope was to get Ramoanah, her dearest new stepmomster, to hear what she has to say and bite some sense into him before he stabs her with a White Oak ash-coated dagger,locking her inside her coffin, and burying her one hundred feet beneath the basement for the next three hundred years. Poor Lala almost bursts into tears; she's always been so prone to that.

And Gil… as if he doesn't get enough beating at home as it is.

Lorna and Lagoona believed it for sure that he wasn't coming back next week…

Would they even give them the chance to explain this wasn't their fault and they had nothing to do with it and that they were only caught in that crazy party and they never wanted to be in it?

Right, because parents are known for listening to their children.

20 September.

The previous night, the ghouls were unable to sleep, haunted by the silent rage of their parents. They were so mad none of them could utter any sound on the way back, except for Viktor (Frankie's father) who would let out a mechanical growl all the way to their fenced house every few minutes, and no punishment was dictated that night, only the sickly silent promise that they would as soon they could talk to them, posing, fluttering over their head as a grim shadow casted upon them, but it was insignificant next to the greater and darker shadow of death and tragedy that has settled upon the school this month.

And then there was Bloodgood, who asked to meet them at her office today… on a Saturday, like things weren't bad enough now they had to waste a weekend at school, not like they would do much though, but is a Saturday nonetheless.

They just couldn't understand why were they being sent to her office. They didn't start that party, they wanted to leave — escape! They were so not responsible for that madness.

Why was she blaming them for that in the first place?

Would it have something to do with the fact they solve everything with a party?

Well, whatever her reasons were, they were soon to find out, only they weren't quite sure they wanted to. How they wished to have stayed with Ghoulia, studying for next week's Mad Science test.

"I suppose you are wondering why I called you ghouls here?"

The sound of her voice was even more frightening than the previous evening.

Bloodgood narrowed her eyes. Clawdeen's throat went dry.

"Honestly, after all these years I just go with it." Clawdeen said with all the toughness she could muster.

"Yeah, me too." Draculaura agreed, nodding her head.

Bloodgood sighs deeply. "Why is it that when something happens it is always you ghouls? Specially the five of you," she gleamed at Clawdeen, Lala, Lagoona, Cleo and Frankie.

The three look at each other with a look that said What the…? Well, she's right on that.

"Believe me Professor, I've been asking myself the same question for the last four years." Lala exposed.

"Because… we're the most prominent figures of the school?" Frankie said with a nervous smile.

"Headmistress Bloodgood, if you believe we had anything to do with that party, let me tell you right now, we're not responsible for that madness." Clawdeen was quick to say.

"Is true," Cleo backed her up. "We went there because they said they'd be making a kind of memorial for Holt and Jackson… before the real funeral, but then somehow it all turned into a party — a party that we wanted to leave. I know is a sentence I don't use to often, but is the truth. I swear on my future crown."

"But with all that people dancing, we couldn't possibly leave." Blue added.

The headmistress looks at them with a frown emblazoned on her forehead.

"I want to believe you, but this has your signature all over it."

"What? Just because we like partying we're automatically the ones to blame?!" Clawdeen barked with anger and defiance behind her voice. "That is a stupid prejudice, and if I'd believe anyone is above that, it would be you!"

"What about last year's New Moon Dance?"

"That was Romulus who brought the Vodka! Not us!"

"So you had nothing to do with this? You swear on your lives, or unlives?"

"We do," Frankie said, followed by her friends.

All of the ghouls stared back at Bloodgood, determined not to blink, or to look guilty.

"Well, I am very glad to hear that… I believe you." She said surprisingly calm.

Her voice sounded much sweeter and compassionate as usual.

"Not fair! We had nothing to do with it! We wanted to leave — and did you just say you believe us?" Clawdeen said in shock.

"I know this might seem to have your signature, but I also know you would never try to do something as stupid as the events of last night."

"So we're not in trouble?" Frankie asked.

"Not with me at least. You're not living at the school after all, so you didn't break the curfew — but I am sure your parents still have something to say about this. It is up to them to decide whether to ground you for going there last night, or not." Bloodgood finished.

"I knew it was too good to be real," Lala said.

"What a drag." Clawdeen said with arms crossed, sinking in her chair.

"Don't worry, I'll speak to your parents and let them know you weren't involved with that party. Maybe then they'll go easy on you. Now, answer me one question, what where you thinking when you went there last night?"

"I just went because Gil said he wanted to go." Blue explained. "He didn't think he could bare the real funeral, so he thought this might be a good test or something like that."

"And Abbey just made presence in that act of grievance because her boyfriend Heath said he would be lighting up the fire, and needed to be there in case he burned something else." Abbey retorted.

Headmistress sighed, rubbing her temples with her head on the table. "Oh, my Goth… this generation is so…" she sighed deeply again.

"Wait, if you're not going to ground us, what do you want from us then?" Lala asks.

"I called you here because I'm worried about a particular friend of yours, who is clearly the one with more problems… and the one who needs your help the most," she said looking her silhouette reflected on the window of her door as she waited outside. "I called Mr. Phantom last night. Sadly he is out of reach, since he is in a tour in Europe, so I hoped you could help me with Operetta."

Clawdeen asks in bafflement and slight indignation "So, you first accuse us of starting that party and now you want our help for an intervention?"

"Yes. That sums it up."

"…Okay, then…"

Standing smack-dab in the middle of the hall, the SST was surprised by just how dire the mood at Monster High had become. Far away were the toothy smiles, flashing fangs, bright eyes, and flowing hair, having been replaced with furrowed brows, frowns, and limp locks.

But whereas everyone was down, Keith, who had only frown upon everything since his first day, was now smirking, sporting a grin from ear to ear, just as a cheshire cat, in a disturbing contrast to the general population.

"God, I love it when everyone wakes up drunk, with hangover and miserable except me," he laughed. He was wearing his usual hooded shirt and a leather jacket with his usual colors: purple and black. "I mean, ain't that an ironical turn of events? Here they are hangovered as hell after a single night of drinking, whereas I, who drink all day, am fresh as a lettuce." He grinned wildly.

"Shut up." Rochelle glared at him.

"Not a big fan of irony, eh? Nah, I can't blame you."

"I don't think they're down for the hangover." Devon adds. He wore a simple outfit: a fitted white shirt with brown pants, as opposed to his usual attire consisting of three or two piece suits with stronger and even darker colors.

"Well, not only… I got it these idiots got caught by Bloodgood in a party last night in the woods. I mean, seriously, have they never seen The Creeper, or… the Jason saga? Or just about any slasher movie ever! That's how they all begin, it spells kill us in big bright neon letters. They're lucky she didn't harvest their heads like her brother."

"That's kinda like what I said," Scarah sounded.

"Yeah…" he sighed. "That further proves why I hate parties. They bring only misery and trouble. And I got enough of it as it is."

"Right, this mood has nothing to do with the other recent events, you know like the death of our friends." Ghoulia moaned.

"Oh, yeah… that too… Death can be a real bummer." Keith said, unaware that Mr. D'eath was sliding behind them.

"Well, thank you Mr. Morningstar," he drawled his word with his usual gloomy mood, which was in fact brighter than the students' mood.

"Oh, I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about the job your relatives do. Uh. They don't happen to outsource serial killers like Unknown, or… Charles Manson? No? Ok."

"…I am glad I don't have an appointment with any of you. See you later Ms. Goyle, have a good day Mr. Darkholme." He greeted nodding his head at them, then looked at Scarah and Ghoulia from under his hood as if he wanted to say good bye to them too, but held himself from doing so.

It was clear he didn't know their names, or at least their last names.

"What was that?" Ghoulia yelped.

"Wow, I know he was supposed to be a Grim Reaper, but that guy is a real bummer. And he's supposed to be the counselor? I mean, it wouldn't kill him to smile every once in a while," Keith said, getting a strange look from Devon.

"What?!"

"Y'know, that thing you do with your face and lips whenever you try to pick up a chick, or… pretend you're happy."

"I know what a smile is, I tell you to do that all the time and… you know what? Forget it."

"How comes he doesn't know my last name, but he know yours?" Scarah asked offended.

"Because I treat him as a person, maybe?"

"Yeah right…" Keith whispered.

"Say, you said you'll give us the day off and we are classless today," Scarah said, "so why did you call us?"

Keith immediately replies "Because I finished the list of possible victims, something you need to know now, only question is how do you wanna do this? Do I give you the list now, or do you wanna check it later?"

"Why wait?"

"Well, is Saturday, and other than Jackson and D.J.'s funeral, there is nothing else to do," Scarah said quickly. "I see no reason to wait."

"Not true," Rochelle corrected her. "We still got to do our homework. Or are you going to tell me you're done with Mr. Hax's assignment?"

"You kidding?" She argued.

"Just because we're tasked to stop that murdered," she whispered so no one else would hear her, "doesn't mean we're supposed to forget our studies. Homework must still be done, even in the face of great uncertainty," stated stoically.

"Isn't homework supposed to be done at home?" Keith mutters, almost to himself.

"Janey mack, Rochelle, you make it sound like we're going to war," Scarah says, almost afraid of the tone she took.

"She makes it sound like she needs help with her homework." Keith smirked.

"Peut-être." She said with her gaze down. "I might need some help with the biteology assignment."

"Damn! I forgot about that." Scarah exclaimed, almost shrieking in worry.

"And you're not exactly a major on that," Keith laughed. "Don't worry sweethearts, I already finish it last night. I can help you with it." Keith offered.

"Keith, don't take this the wrong way, but… I don't trust you." Rochelle said sounding as politely as she could. "Besides, how could you finish it last night if you were working on the list?"

"I multitask."

"I can help you if you want. I also finished mine last night after… you know." Devon said waving his black notebook, which he carried in case he needed to write something down.

Apparently, he only used one notebook for almost everything.

"Thanks," she said taking it.

"All settled then, you take the boss, I'll take this boyo over here," Scarah said hooking Keith's arm. "And we meet upstairs once we're done with it."

"Oui, peut importe." Said Rochelle oblivious to the conversation, reading Devon's notebook.

"You guys go do that, I will go see how are the ghouls doing."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you upstairs before lunch then, and… put on your best faces," said Keith with a shit-eating grin, leaving with Scarah.

08:15 A.M.

In the Libury, Scarah copies Keith's answers, who happened to have them in his man purse which he seemed to carry around all the time now she thinks about and in fact he never leaves his apartment without it, barely changing some words to make it look like her own answers.

"You got a beautiful handwriting." She said, looking at his surprisingly elegant and refined cursive letter of which she almost feels zealous.

"Thanks. I think is a shame the way schools disregard the most basic of education and teach such an insipid and conformist handwriting. They wouldn't even teach kids how to write properly, only the basic shape of a letter and they're done, I mean what's style for? Elegance what? Well, I guess you won't need those if you'll work in a gas station. I always believed this is the way real men should write. With class and elegance even if they're thugs; words are made by combined letters, therefore they should be linked as one in a refined way."

"Oh my, you're a little Mr. Chatterbox, aren't you?"

"Only when I feel in the mood."

"And just to be clear, why is it you're so cheer now? I got it you don't care much about what happened to Deuce, or D.J. because you are not friends with them, but… With everyone this depressed, I can't see how anyone can be so happy…"

"What can I say? I'm a bit of trickster myself. There is something about seeing people in misery that makes me feel so much better with myself. A gloom reminder I'm not the only one who suffers. But then again, it could be I just look cheerier by comparison."

Scarah's eyes widened. "Well, since you put it that way…"

"Of course, if you want me to shut up…"

"No, no! Is ok. Actually… I'm kinda glad you feel like that. I mean, like talking with me. I don't usually get to chat that much around here anyway."

"How come? A cute chick like you that looks straight out of an Austin Powers movie, surely gets a lot of guys throwing some bad pick up lines at you. And pick up some… 70's thoughts every now and then."

"Thanks for what I want to believe is a compliment in your mind, but that is not the case, because as you know, I'm a banshee."

"And as you know, I'm a human. This is fun. Care to share something not so obvious?"

"See, as a banshee I don't really use me speaking voice very much at school because all the other monsters take everything I say like it's their own personal death omen. Literally. Only ones I can talk to are ghosts like me."

"You are a ghost? Thought it was a misinterpretation," Said touching the area between her neck and breasts. "You seem very solid to me…"

Scarah looks at him peeved. "How cute." Said she.

Then he begins pinching her stomach, causing her tickles.

"Except here. Here you're quite soft…"

"Enough. Knock it off!" She laughed, getting shushed by the librarian.

"I could use your stomach as pillow." Keith whispered trying not to laugh.

"As if." She laugh-whispered.

"Oh, no. I totally would, I'd better watch me when I'm sleepy if I were you."

"I think I will," said smiling.

"So, you were saying."

"Right…" she continued writing as she explained to him her dilemma, "see, when it comes to pronouncements of doom, they're only intended for humans, uh, very specific families we work with. You gotta be Irish to apply for a banshee, and it's often a blood-related thing…" she added quickly. "Of course, when I say 'we' I mean the adults in the family. I can only begin to apprentice until I'm at least a hundred."

"And you are…?"

"Not a hundred," said sharply. "Now you'd think other monsters would know this but you'd be wrong, so every time I say something out loud some monster believes what I said to mean something terrible is about to happen to them. 'Tis complete nonsense of course, but the more I try and convince them of that, the worse I usually end up making it."

"So you use your inner voice instead."

"You guessed right. Actually I wouldn't be surprised you stop talking to me after this."

"Why would I?"

"So… you're not afraid of —"

"You said it yourself. 'Tis superstitious nonsense." He cuts her off.

"Didn't say superstitious."

"I always knew that you are supposed to predict doom for normies… I just didn't care, we're partners in this… whatever the hell that experiment is, and communication is important. Also you are a cute ghoul…"

"Woa, thanks…" said she, with a coy smile, pulling her hair behind her left ear.

"Or maybe… is just a wishful thinking," said he, with a sly smile. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna take a walk around here. Looking into the ancient culture and history section, it might come in handy for a history essay or something."

"Right… I'm… gonna stay here and finish this. Hey, maybe later you can help me study for Mr. Hackington's test."

"Yeah, I don't need to study, I got that test in the bag."

Upstairs, on the East wing, Rochelle takes Devon into her room so he can help her with the assignment.

"Here, this way," said on the stairs, taking him by the hand.

"Are you sure I should be here? This is the ghouls area," he argued.

"Oui, c'est bon. We're not supposed to bring any boys here, but…" she stopped for a moment and looked around to make sure no one was watching then then kept forging ahead toward the dormitory, "there are no teachers looking and my roommate is a cool ghoul. She won't tell anyone. Besides, is not like we're going to do anything wrong, we're just going to study, right?"

"Right…"

Inside her room, they find Robecca, laying on her canopy bed, playing with her mechanical penguin Captain Penny.

"Oh, hi guys…" she greeted shyly, looking at Rochelle holding Devon's hand.

"Hi, Robecca." Said Devon.

"Are you two… going to do something here? Should I leave?" She asked in a strange tone. "'Cause I could use some rounds in the Roller Maze right now."

At first they didn't understand what she was implying. Then they realized they were holding hands. It became clear then, she probably must have thought they were there together — as in together, together! — for a sneak-in-and-make-out session… or maybe even another thing.

"Woa. Non-non! Non… No… We were just going to study," Rochelle said, quickly letting his hand free.

"Yes. Is not what you think. I was going to help her with the biteology assignment." He explained promptly.

"Okay, and just what do you think I was thinking?" Asked wryly, sitting on the right side of her bed, slithering her copper plated feet into her boots.

"I… I don't know…" he sighed.

"Is okay guys, is not like I haven't noticed you two spend a lot of time together upstairs in the attic." Said walking towards the door. "You might wanna lock the door, though. Wouldn't want Venus to walk into your 'study' session. She isn't exactly flowery today," suggested as she closes the door behind her.

"You do not think she thinks we are…?"

"Je ne sais pas." She shrugged her shoulders.

Once they were left alone, Devon helps Rochelle with the assignment about Dragons and the temperature induced sex-change during their egg state, how does this affect and causes hermaphrodite dragons, and how different it is the way the change of temperature affects ice dragons from fire dragons.

After almost two hours straight, Devon points out something unusual he noted on Rochelle's behavior, something that went almost unnoticed for everyone else except for him.

"Okay, spit it out, what is troubling you?" He asked, sitting next to her on the floor, leaning against her bed.

"What? No-nothing… why would you say that?" She stammered.

"Rochelle, I know a thing or two about basic psychology. I can tell you're sad about something."

"Non, je ne suis."

"Please, don't French-lie to me. I can see you got the unmissable signs of sadness. I see them on Kiki all the time: your whole body is drooping — and don't tell me is because you're 'too heavy for your size —, your eyes are awfully unfocused, specially considering the topic we're dealing with. Back in the halls you wouldn't stare at anything specific, you were just staring down, also I noted your movements and breathing are slower than usual. In other words… you are sad, why?" Are you upset for leaving your friends behind last night? Or is it just… all of it?"

"Say, you never cease to amaze me." Rochelle admitted with a faint smile. "You're right, I feel terrible for leaving Clawdeen and the ghouls last night at the mercy of the Headless Headmistress… and as I said it out loud, I realized it almost sounds as a bad joke," she giggled.

"No… it completely sounds as a bad joke." He chuckled back.

Rochelle sighs deeply, putting down her pen. "I know it might seem a little foolish to beat myself about something like that… but abandoning my friends to their luck in such situation… is just not who I am. It goes against my whole identity, specially after all we've lived together."

"So you are conflicted. I've been there. God, I can't image what you would be like if it had been the cops."

"Why do I feel Keith has put you there?"

Devon raises his hand as he's about to answer, but mulls on to it for a few seconds before saying "I can't say, won't deny…"

"But is not just that, is al of it, this whole, uh, let's say job. This feeling that I can't protect them from this danger."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"Rochelle, when you joined the SST you wanted to keep your friends safe because that's just the kind of person you are, protecting and watching over those whom you love is encoded in your DNA. But when you did, you never thought you would have to protect them from a threat like this, only from themselves — from bullies, cheating, or simply doing something dangerously stupid in the halls like shooting theirs balls with paintball guns, or from that dragon that for whatever reason I cannot wrap my mind around, is locked in second floor. And you never thought there would be something you couldn't protect them from, let alone something this dire. Now you look around these days… it's all different. It's all changed… your daily reality has been twisted upside down into something that should not be with this stranger you can't possibly protect them from, who devalues the lives of your friends as part of a personal vendetta in which they aren't involved… and as tough as you are, that breaks your heart."

Rochelle was speechless.

"Is almost as if you could read my soul," she said even more impressed than before.

"Of course, I also noticed it's not all suffering. Since the first day we worked together I could see that little spark in your eyes, you like what we are doing. The hunt for clues to solve this puzzle, the interrogations, the search for suspects… protecting your friends in a whole new way."

"Oui… I must admit… even though the situation is most horrible… I really enjoy doing this kind of job. It is the only thing I have done that makes my spirit soar above the clouds, so high it almost touches the sun, and sink into an endless dark ocean of despair where it begs uselessly for air, all at the same time. How can you do this? I know you go with your father on his cases sometimes…"

"Because this is who I am too. I just know ever since I was a kid, this is what I wanted to do, to help people, to protect them…" he pauses for a moment. "Instead of just sit and think of all the lives that ended prematurely and the tears of the grief stricken survivors and relatives, saying how sad nobody could stop it, hoping one day things will get better on their own, and then one day realize that I could have made something different, something to stop it… Or I could go to bed, not hoping but knowing that the ones responsible for such tragedies had their comeuppance, that for the wrong they did, they have been punished rightly. To be part of the change."

Mesmerized, she sighs thinking Il est extrêmement beau, and has such a passion for justice that I've never seen in anyone… I just wish I could

"I just got one question. I — I mean, seriously, who keeps a wild dragon in a school? I mean, is not a student like Jinafire. Is a giant savage beast waiting for a student to open the wrong door and chomp him."

"I made myself that question everyday for a year. But then I just went with it."

It was strange somehow. Having this conversation with him, fills her heart with something she hasn't felt in what feels like years now: hope that they might stop this criminal and make him pay for his crimes. But there was more, at this point there was no mistaking, she was in love with Devon.

Garrott who?

Forget it about him! He is who decided their relationship couldn't keep going with such a big distance between them, and after all those years she spent waiting for him, she wouldn't get a say in the matter?! Shame on him, monsieur I'm going to Boo York this year.

But then again, is not like being his ghoulfriend, even when he was missing — not missing, kidnapped! — stopped her from falling in love with Deuce, did it?

Oh well, I guess the heart wants the heart desires — or something like that, specially when is a French stone heart with so much love to give.

10:12 A.M.

Once homework was finished, the SST meets upstairs where Keith proudly presents to his mates his list of would-be-victims.

"Ladies and gentleman, prepare your eyes to behold something not all mortal eyes are able to see. Which is why is a good thing most of you aren't. As you know, I was tasked with making a list of all those who would be in immediate danger of being sacrificed, for I am the only one capable of understanding — of thinking the same way as a criminal, and now I present to you…" he paused by several seconds for dramatic effect, irritating his partners. "The List… the name is still a working title, I accept suggestions," said taping the smartboard.

"I think is a fitting one," said Devon.

"Yeah, how did you ever come up with that?" Rochelle sounds.

"I was between The List and The Goners."

"Well, I think you made the right call," called, looking at the screen.

The list was split into three columns: ERUDITE, SLUTS, and VIRGINS (M.A.P.N.)

Afraid to ask, Rochelle poses the question "What does MAPN stand for?"

"Am glad you ask," he said with a smile.

"Oh, here we go…" Devon sighed with his arms crossed.

"MAPN stands for Must Ask their Phone Numbers. See, I usually prefer a girl with a little more experience, but sometimes is better to be with a girl that has no idea what to expect for, with no previous experience to compare, that way I am the one who sets the bar instead of getting an 'I've had better' kinda look." He explained.

The ghouls were jaw dropped.

"I am speechless…" Ghoulia moaned.

"That's because you're a zombie." He groaned.

"Janey mack, that is…I'm guessing you've been there." Scarah inquired.

"More times than I wish I had, but not enough to turn gay… anyhow…"

"I must say… this time you have managed to surprise me." Devon said with an awe-struck face.

"Thanks."

"I mean, this… has got to be a whole new level of low for you."

"Wait till you see the names." He grinned.

"Oh, I can't wait." Rochelle said sarcastically, looking at Scarah and Ghoulia.

Tapping the columns, he reveals the names of those he believed would be the following victims of Unknown.

The first name in the list was Ghoulia Yelp as the Erudite.

"You think I'll be one of the next sacrifice? Why, thank you! That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me." The ghouls look at her confused. "Well, he's saying I'm smart enough to be a sacrifice that represents intelligence."

"Of course… what were we thinking?" Scarah says.

They continue reading the names in the Slut part.

"Toralei Stripes, not a surprise there," Rochelle comments honestly, "Purrsephone, Meowlody, Amanita Nightshade, again… not a surprise there. Gory Fangtell —"

"I must say, I don't even have to read her name to know she was here." Scarah says.

So far, everything seemed to add up, until they read the last name.

The very second she saw it, Rochelle sprang to her feet, glaring at him so fiercely that Devon saw, for the first time since they've met, the shadow of her tue demon nature upon her pretty face. But Keith had such serenity, he almost seemed to have this planed out and marching as he expected.

"Operetta? How can you suggest that?" She shouted.

"…Of course she had to be there," Scarah sighed.

"What? You think she shouldn't be here? 'Cuz I'd like to hear a reason why, keeping in mind she is now the most downloaded topless video of the week."

Rochelle wanted to argue, but truth is he was right to put her in that list, or at least after last night strip-tease show. And it didn't surprised them to see the picture he used was the same topless picture uploaded in the Gory Gazette.

Clearly he had been checking the website — the picture and the whole video! Only thing stopping her from doing something worse at that party was Bloodgood's sudden arrival.

Silently, Devon feared this might be another one of his "behavioral experiments."

Calmly, he lays his hand on her shoulder and asks her to calm down and sit again. With just simply looking at her in the eye, there was something about him, he had such a soothing energy…

She takes in a deep breath and manages to hold herself.

On the Virgin column they had many more familiar names: Clawdeen Wolf, Lagoona Blue, Venus McFlytrap, then her own name, Rochelle Goyle. She felt a little frightened to see she could be next, but then again why wouldn't she? Or maybe a better question is, how relayable was this list?

The last name was Twyla.

After finishing reading the list, the girls take a moment to process… this…

"Okay… so, this is, according to your folie twisted mind, the most likely to die next," Rochelle said as calm as she could.

"The most likely to be sacrificed. Yep."

"Question, and I know it might sound strange, why isn't Draculaura in the virgin list?" She asked.

Keith giggled. "You know, for a girl made of granite, you're very sweet. I'll explain — don't be fooled, there are many girls here sexually active and many other virgins, but only this few look good as a carcass, and I mean the kind that doesn't move. If I were him, I would target one of these ghouls. Why? Because they would make for the funniest and most ironical deaths."

"All right… I'll go with the obvious question, how do you suggest we keep them safe?" Scarah asked. "We cannot exactly put them under preventive custody, and we can't lock all of them in the same room. Some might even kill each other."

"Well at first I thought we'd have to lock them in the catacombs. But after the events of last night, do you really believe Bloodgood would leave any of the students that live here out of her sight? Or that those who live with their parents would be anywhere but in their rooms for the next hundred years?" retorted with a grin plastered all over his face.

"Wait, are you telling me you had something to do with what happened last night?!" Asked Rochelle.

"Well, that would be neat, but also an stretch, don't you think? Do you really suggest I expected — or planned on Holt's friends to throw a little tribute for him in the woods at night despite having a killer on the loose, that would then turn into a party with alcohol brought by an irresponsible girl, then tell Bloodgood about it while is happening so all the students are caught red handed and pantless, thus getting them grounded and safe in their respective homes or in-rooms? Come on girl, that is preposterous. I mean, are you really suggesting that I can somehow manipulate chance? No, that is what I call a happy coincidence; I mean, I'm smart but not enough, that's just a fortunate series of events," said Keith with an undeletable sly smirk in his lips. "Of course, that is only a temporary solution, we know he's well determined, so this won't stop him any more than a week while he works on a way to get into the castle or their homes, if we're that lucky of course. And that is a big if."

"Frankly, I don't believe he will take that long in penetrating this place. He could easily turn into a ghost or an invisible man to break in and out, unseen." Moaned Ghoulia.

"Well, thanks for killing the optimism, because if not me, who else?" He snarled wildly. "True he could. But he only kills when his pray is alone and vulnerable and with all the students here, that would be too much of a risk, a werewolf could sniff his presence or Marvel Girl over here could read his mind, warn the others and ruin his plan."

"You're right, but if he gets to them quickly, having all students in here could also play on his favor. The way he leaves the bodies are to ensure not only as much dread and chaos as possible but to send a message, that no one is safe," Devon adds. "Deuce was left in the entrance for all students and teachers to see, and Holt in the floor of the studio deep inside the catacombs where he thought he wouldn't get caught according to Operetta's statement."

Then Keith realized something at last. "You will not let me have this one, will you? Luckily for you, I got another plan to keep them safe and shut your mouth: you ghouls take those who live here and lock them in a room with some girly excuse like a slumber party or what have you, while we stake out on those who don't. And if we find the motherfucker, we shoot him the face and problem resolved."

The rest of the team stares at him peeved, Devon sighs arm crossed.

How could he even come up with such a plan and call it a plan?

This is when it hits Rochelle clear in the head, "Oh, I got it now… You are crazy," said she. "I had an uncle like this once… until he jumped in a lake thinking he could bounce and skid to the other side like a pebble. He was wrong and so wrong, he sunk right to the bottom. Even to these days, when we think of him we can't help to feel both, sad and humored at the time."

The rest of the group looks at her with a confounded look in their faces.

"What? He isn't the only with weird and funny comments. I can be fun too."

"Girl, you don't have to convince me you are. You're my most solid material for jokes in this place." Keith laughed.

Rochelle glares at him peeved and arm folded.

"Ha, ha."