Drop Dead Gorgeous (Return to Fear Street Book 3)

A howl of pain escaped my throat. I shoved her hard with both hands. It caused her to loosen her grip, and I tossed my body forward. I hurtled to the floor on my hands and knees.

Blood from my face and neck trickled onto my shirt. I tried to raise myself to my feet, but I suddenly felt too dizzy. The room was spinning. The ugly creature on the couch appeared to tilt one way, then the other.

Too unsteady to run, I forced myself into a sitting position. Then I shut my eyes and raised my hands over my face as if protecting myself.

“Come back, honey,” the creature growled. Her voice was low and pleading, from somewhere deep in her throat. “You know you are my honey, don’t you?”

“Who . . . who are you?” I screamed. “What are you? What do you want?”

“You don’t have to shout, honey,” she rasped. I opened my eyes and gazed up at her. Her eye sockets were black holes. Her teeth poked out over her swollen mouth.

“I need you,” she said. “I can’t look pretty again without you.”

“What do you mean?” I shrieked. “What are you talking about? You—you’re a monster!”

“Don’t hurt my feelings,” she said. “You know you want to be my honey.” And then she tossed back her hideous head and uttered a booming, ugly laugh, a laugh that made her belly bounce up and down beneath her sweater.

I turned my head and eyed the door. Could I get out of there before she grabbed me? And what about Spencer? I couldn’t leave him here with a—a monster in the house.

“What do you want?” I cried.

“Honey, I said I’d tell you the truth. I said I’d be open with you. Why do you doubt me?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question.

“You want me to be pretty again, don’t you?” she rasped.

I couldn’t answer that question, either. “Who are you really?” I demanded.

She rolled the lips between her fingers. “I’m Morgan. Just Morgan. Morgan Fear,” she said.

I swallowed. “Morgan Fear? But you told everyone—”

“I took another girl’s name. The other Morgan in my class. I took her name. Morgan Marks died, too. She died like me.”

Am I dreaming this?

My brain was spinning. I knew the story of the Fear family, their long history of horror, their knowledge of the dark arts, and the curse that doomed them—to evil and horror for all eternity.

“You . . . you died?” I stammered.

She nodded her ugly head. “But I’m a Fear. I know how to deal with things like death.” Again, she tossed back her head and roared with cold, ugly laughter.

“Please—let me go,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “Let me take Spencer and go. I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise.”

Outside the window, I heard a car rumble past. Were my aunt and uncle back? No. Just a passing car.

“I promise,” I repeated. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let Spencer and me go.”

She shook her eyeless head. “I can’t. I can’t let you go, Winks. I need you. You’re my honey—”

“No!” I screamed. “No! Please—”

“I need my honey,” she growled. “You have no idea how much I need my honey.”

I suddenly realized I was still seated on the floor. My legs shaking, I climbed to my knees. Fighting off my dizziness, I glanced at the front door again. Could I stand up and make it out of here before she stopped me?

“I must stay alive,” she rasped. “I must stay beautiful. And how can I do that without you?”

“Me?” I choked out. “Why do you need me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I need you, Winks,” she said, “because I need to feed.”

And before I could move, she was on me.

She shot off the couch and dove on top of me. She shoved hard, pushed me over, onto my back. I landed hard. I felt the breath whoosh out of me in a painful rush.

She sat on top of me. Straddled me. Pressed both of my arms against the carpet.

Then she leaned down. Brought her face to my throat.

I screamed as her teeth dug deep into my throat.

I screamed again as she began to drink.