Chapter 12 · The Door He Never Mentioned

The ghost had both hands around Elias's throat.

Not touching him. Worse than touching him.

Its fingers were sunk halfway through his skin, black nails buried under his jaw, and Elias was on one knee between the rails with his mouth open and no sound coming out.

"Elias!"

The ring on his hand flashed once. Weak. Sickly gold.

Then it went dark.

The dead thing smiled at me over his shoulder.

It used to be a woman. I could tell that much through the gray skin and the tunnel grime pasted to her hair. Half her face had collapsed inward like somebody had pressed wet paper against a skull. Her eyes were white. Not glowing. Just empty.

And her mouth moved.

"Anchor," she whispered.

Every dead voice in the station answered her.

Anchor.

Anchor.

Anchor.

The word crawled over the platform from every shadow, every tunnel mouth, every body slumped against the walls. My stomach clenched so hard I almost dropped Micah.

He was hanging off my left side, too heavy, boots scraping the gravel between the tracks. Blood ran down from his nose and dripped off his chin.