Drop Dead Gorgeous (Return to Fear Street Book 3)

A pleased smile spread over Morgan’s lips. Under the porch light, her coppery hair glowed as if on fire. She squeezed my hand. “Are you surprised?”

“Well . . . yeah.” Surprised wasn’t the word. I could feel my heart beating fast in my chest. I couldn’t stop staring at her face in the bright circle of light, like a spotlight.

She laughed. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

I realized I was blocking the door, just standing there like some kind of water buffalo, frozen by those jewel-like green eyes. “Hey, come in.” I managed to back out of her way.

She followed me into the living room. “Lots of toys. Looks like you were having fun,” she said. She stepped over a Lego castle Spencer and I had built.

“He doesn’t understand about cleaning up afterward,” I said. “It’s just not a concept to him.”

“Or you either,” she joked, gazing around the cluttered mess of blocks and toys and puzzles.

I sat on one edge of the couch and slid a bunch of books onto the floor so she could join me. She settled closer than I’d imagined. She wore a soft-looking pale green sweater over jeans shredded at the knees.

She clasped her hands in her lap, and for the first time, I noticed that she had a tiny tattoo on the back of each hand. A blue bird with its wings spread. How had I missed those before?

“How did you find me?” I asked.

She took my hand. Her eyes locked on mine. “I have my ways,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“No. Really,” I said. “Who told you I’d be here?”

She held on to my hand. “No one.” She flashed me a teasing smile. “I wanted to find you, so I did.”

That didn’t make any sense, but why should I care?

She leaned her head so that a wave of her soft hair brushed my face. It sent a tingling feeling to the back of my neck.

She brought her lips to my ear and whispered, “I was lonely. Do you ever feel lonely?”

Before I had a chance to answer, we were kissing. She placed her hands around my neck and pulled my face close, and we kissed, gently at first, but then harder. And we held it . . . held it for a long time, until I was breathless.

I started to pull my head back and break the kiss. But her mouth was insistent, not retreating, and she tightened her grip on my neck and held me in place.

Yes, it was exciting. This beautiful girl who was so into me and so eager to be close. But at the same time, I wondered why she was so desperate to be in control.

And then as we caught our breath, she pressed her cheek against mine. Her skin was surprisingly cold despite the heat in the room. I raised my eyes to the clock on the mantel. Almost nine thirty.

A ripple of panic ran down my back. I had to get Morgan out of the house before my aunt and uncle returned.

She slid her forehead against mine. She licked my ear. Then she pressed her lips hard against mine, and we started another long kiss.

I wrapped my arms around her waist. I’d never felt anything like this. She was so intense . . . so hungry.

Where was this going?

I couldn’t help it. I glanced at the clock again. I imagined my aunt and uncle’s car rolling up the gravel driveway. I didn’t want this to end. But . . .

I could feel panic mixing with my excitement.

And then Morgan pulled her head back. She had her arms around my shoulders. Her lips were swollen, and her green eyes were half closed. “Listen . . . ,” she whispered.

I couldn’t reply. I was struggling to catch my breath.

“I’m going to be honest with you, honey,” she said, trailing a fingernail lightly down my cheek. “I’m going to open up to you—because you’re my honey.”

“What do you mean?” I managed to choke out.

She didn’t answer. She pulled me back to her and kissed me, really hard this time, so hard I could feel her teeth, so hard it hurt.

I tried to pull back. But her eyes were shut tight and her arms had me clamped against her.

And as I stared into her face, she began to change. At first, I thought I was imagining it. But then I realized it was really happening.

Her creamy skin sagged. Like her cheeks were melting. And her pale skin darkened to a dark yellow-green.

I blinked a few times. No. This wasn’t happening. My eyes were going crazy. Something had happened to me, making me see things.

What was that sour smell? Like a damp, moldy basement? Where had it suddenly come from?

I tried harder to free myself from her grip. But her teeth were digging into my lips now. And her eyes . . . those beautiful eyes . . . her eyes sank deep into their sockets.

As I gaped in horror, her lips brushed mine. Loose, floppy lips, the color of raw liver. “Come on, honey,” she whispered in a harsh, raspy voice that made my skin crawl. “Don’t you see how much I need you?”

I started to choke. The horror of it. Seeing her so ugly, like some kind of creature, all shriveled and shrunk and eyeless with her skin oozing wet down her face.

I tried to escape. But she held me with inhuman strength.

“Please—” I gasped. “Please—”

She held me tight and began to bite me. She bit my cheek. Bit my mouth. Sharp teeth that felt pointed. Bit my cheek again, frantic biting now, faster, harder.

“Please—”

The teeth puncturing my skin, sending currents of pain down my whole body. Another bite. Another slashing bite. Cutting away at my cheeks, my lips . . . and then my neck.