Chapter 7: The Stolen Head

I ran back up to the landing and took Ambrose's hand.

His fingers closed on mine so hard my knuckles cracked.

"It's me," I said. "It's Daisy. You're on the stairs. Your head's not in the parlor."

His body went very still.

Then it squeezed my hand twice, slow. I took that as a thank you.

"Okay. We'll find it. Hold on to me."

I walked him down the hall.

"Step. Step. Rug. There's a table on your left."

Penny came out of the nursery tying her curls back.

She took one look at the empty collar and swore so creatively the boy in the hoodie wrote it down.

"Looking for something, fodder?"

Kyle's voice came from the east wing, where the guests' bedrooms were.

Of course it did.

They were all out there in the long hall, every guest who wasn't in the nursery.

Kyle stood in the middle with his flashlight on his belt and a grin on his face.

He was holding Ambrose's head by the hair, out at arm's length.

"Good morning, Daisy," the head said. "I'm afraid I've been kidnapped."

"Are you okay?"

"He swings me when he walks. I'm a little seasick."

Ambrose's body took a step toward the voice and walked into a side table.

Some of Kyle's team laughed. Not all of them.

"Here's the deal," Kyle said. "You tell the zombie lady my team's under your protection too. Not just your losers."

"And?"

"And we get the nursery. Your people can sleep out here."

"No."

"I'm not done."

"You're done," I said. "The answer's no."

Kyle shook the head.

Ambrose's body flinched.

"Want to know what's past the windows on the third floor?" Kyle said. "Fog. Just fog, forever. I wonder how far a head falls."

My mouth went dry.

Behind me, Penny said, "Daisy," very low.

I didn't look away from Kyle.

"Everybody in this hall, listen to me," I said.

I said it in my circle-time voice. It's louder than people expect.

"Yesterday he sent a nineteen-year-old into the basement to get chopped up so he could eat peanut butter."

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