You May Now Kill the Bride (Return to Fear Street Book 1)

“Marissa!” I shouted her name. Then I spun away from the wall and lurched toward the door. Off balance because of my shock, I bumped the bed and sent the food tray crashing to the floor.

I jumped over the dinner plate, stumbled, caught my balance, and rocketed into the hall.

“Marissa! Marissa—it’s me!”

I pounded my fist on the room next door. Room 258. My heart was pounding in my chest as hard as my fist on the door.

“Come on. Come ON! I heard you in there!” I shouted.

I pounded with both fists on the brown hardwood door. “Marissa—open up! It’s me, Harmony.”

I held my breath, waiting for the door to open. But it didn’t.

Silence.

I pressed my cheek against the door and listened. No voices now.

I wasn’t asleep. I didn’t dream them. I know they are in there.

“Open up, Marissa! I mean it! Open the door! I heard you! You can’t hide in there. I heard you!”

Silence.

Two doors down, a door opened and a middle-aged man in a white bathrobe stuck his head out. “Is there a problem?”

“Uh . . . no,” I said. “I . . . forgot my key. Just trying to get my sister to let me in.”

“They’ll give you another key at the front desk,” he said, squinting at me in the bright hall light. “If she isn’t there or something.”

“Thanks,” I said. Great advice. Go mind your own business.

He stepped back into his room and closed the door.

I raised my knuckles to the door and rapped a few more times.

“Come on, Marissa,” I said in a low voice. “Open the door. I heard you, Marissa. Just open the door so I can see you.”

Silence.

My fingers on both hands throbbed from my pounding. I was gasping for breath, wheezing, my chest heaving up and down.

I couldn’t hold back the tears. I was so frustrated, I started to sob. I pressed my forehead against the room door and just let the tears come, and the sobs from deep in my chest. I cried so hard, it hurt.

“Marissa . . .”

And then I stopped crying as abruptly as I had started. I backed away from the door. I used the sleeve of my T-shirt to wipe my eyes and my tearstained cheeks.

The front desk.

That man had talked about going to the front desk.

I turned and gazed up and down the hall. No one out here but me. If I went to the front desk . . .

I knew I couldn’t trick them into giving me a key to Marissa’s room, room 258. But maybe . . . maybe I could trick them into opening the door for me.

I had an idea. An idea I knew would work.

Of course, I thought about casting a spell. Do you think I forgot all about my powers? The mischief I could do with the spells I learned from the old books in my attic?

I didn’t forget. But I had learned how limited my skills were. And in hours of searching, I hadn’t been able to find a spell to bring a vanished sister back. I couldn’t even find a spell to locate a missing family member.

Yes, there was magic—dark magic—to bring the dead back to life. To summon the dead and talk with them. But those spells would take years to master. I could barely follow the complicated language that described them.

Besides, I didn’t want to think about Marissa being dead. No. No way. She wasn’t dead. She was just missing. And I was too inexperienced to deal with that powerful magic anyway.

And now here I stood trembling in the hall, and there was probably a fairly simple spell for opening a door. But I didn’t know it. So my magic was useless.

I was useless.

But I’m pretty smart when it comes to getting people to do things for me. And I had a plan.

Marissa, I’m coming back. And I’m opening the door. I’m going to find you, Marissa. You cannot hide from me any longer.

I hurried down to the lobby. It must have been pretty late at night. The lights were dimmed, and the lobby was empty. Perched on a tall stool, a young man sat behind the front desk, concentrating on his phone. He wore a red-and-black flannel over jeans, and his light brown hair fell over his forehead.

When he saw me striding toward him, he took off his headphones and sat up straighter on the stool. “Can I help you?” He was probably twenty-one or twenty-two, but he had a very deep voice.

“I—I’m in room 256,” I deliberately stammered. “And something is going on in the room next to mine.”

He slid off the stool and set his phone down on the counter. “Like what?”

“I heard a girl screaming,” I said. “Through the wall. It . . . it sounded scary. Like she was in trouble.”

He brushed the hair off his forehead. “You mean—”

“She was screaming for help,” I said. “Can you . . . send someone to check it out?”

He froze for a moment. He obviously hadn’t dealt with many emergencies. He was the night clerk, and he was probably used to long, quiet, boring nights behind the desk.

He squeezed his phone, then pushed it across the desk. “Uh . . . What’s the room number?” he asked finally.

“Next to mine,” I said. “258.” I bit my bottom lip and gave him my best frightened expression. “I think you’d better hurry. She sounded like she was in serious trouble.”

He turned to the desktop computer beside him and tapped the keyboard, squinting at the screen. “Hmm . . . 258?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He squinted harder. Then he turned to me. “But that room is vacant. There’s no one in there.”

I uttered an exasperated sigh. “I know what I heard. I heard a girl screaming her head off in that room. Maybe someone forced her into that empty room.”

That made him flinch. His mouth dropped open, but he kept his eyes on the screen. “It says here it’s an empty room.”

“Can we go see?” I asked. “We’re wasting time here. Can’t we take a look? Make sure a mistake hasn’t been made? Maybe save a life?”

He peered down the long, dimly lit hall for some reason. “I’m the only one on duty . . .”

“Maybe we should call 911,” I said. “Get the police here.”

“No. I don’t think so.” He didn’t like that idea. I figured he wouldn’t want a bunch of cops barging in, waking up the guests.

He opened a drawer under the front desk and grabbed a key card. “Let’s go.”

We strode side by side down the main hall, then up the wide carpeted stairway to the second floor. I had to hurry to keep up with him. He was tall and thin, and he had long legs. He swung his arms as he walked, the key card gripped tightly in one hand.

“Do you know Mr. Himuro?” I asked as we made our way along the rooms on the second floor. I’m not sure why I asked. The question just popped out.

He shook his head. “I don’t come on till nine. I don’t know any of the day people.”

We stopped in front of room 258. I struggled to catch my breath. Far down the hall, I heard a baby crying. The only sound except for the beating of my heart.

He tapped lightly on the door. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Silence.

He tapped again, a little harder.

I took a step behind him. I prepared myself for an emotional reunion with my sister. I mean, I couldn’t really prepare myself. My muscles were all tight and knotted. I forced myself to breathe normally.

“Sorry to bother you,” he called into the room. “This is the night clerk. Could you open up, please?”

He waited for a long time. It seemed like an hour or more. Then he turned to me. “You’re sure?”

I nodded. I crossed my arms tightly in front of me.

“I heard her. I heard voices. In this room. I swear.”

He raised the key card to the wall unit and clicked it. A little green light flashed on. He gripped the knob and slowly pushed open the door.

Dark inside. Still silent.

“Anyone here?” he called.

He fumbled on the wall and clicked a light switch. A lamp flashed on between two beds. The beds were made. I gazed all around the room, still hugging myself.

No sign that anyone had been there. Everything clean and orderly. Nothing out of place.

No sign. No people. No one.

It took me a while to realize that the night clerk was staring at me. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” I said. “A nightmare. I’m living a nightmare.”

He clicked off the lamp. I followed him out of the room. I slid the door back, but I deliberately didn’t close it all the way. I made sure it didn’t lock.

I had a hunch. A stupid hunch. But, hey, I was about as desperate as a person can get.

I apologized at least six times to the guy. “No worries,” he said, but I could tell he was suspicious of me. He definitely thought I was a lunatic. Maybe he was wondering if I could be dangerous. Ha.

He waited for me to dig my room key card out of my pocket and go into my room. I apologized again, then closed the door behind me. I heard him trotting down the hall.

I stood gazing out the window at the inky black sky. Now I didn’t know what to do. I was wide awake. My heart was pounding. My skin tingled. How could I go back to sleep?

When I saw the white sheet of paper on my dresser top, it didn’t register at first. I mean, I saw it but I didn’t focus on it, and it didn’t seem strange for it to be there.

But as my brain settled down, I realized I hadn’t left a sheet of paper there. I uncrossed my arms and walked to the dresser. As I neared it, I could see the words in red ink across the page.

A note. It was a note of some kind.

I grabbed it and raised it into the light. And read the handwritten words:

DON’T TRY TO FIND ME