"Noooooooo!" he screamed.

With a loud cry, Luke swung his arm down, digging the blade of the letter opener deep into the top of the mahogany desk.

Breathing hard, he let go of the handle and stepped back. He stared for a long moment at the letter opener standing upright in the middle of the desk.

"Josie," he uttered in a hoarse, frightening voice. "Josie. Almost."

He took another step back, still gasping for breath, his features twisted in horror at what he had just done.

"I've got to get out of here," he said, more to himself than to Josie, his voice barely a trembling whisper.

He ran from the room, bumping the door frame hard with his shoulder but not stopping. Josie stood pressed up against the wall, staring at the letter opener, until she heard the front door slam behind Luke.

Then she exhaled loudly and moved to the desk.

"Wow," she said and cleared her throat, which felt tight and dry. "Wow."

The intercom on the den wall crackled to life. "Josie, are you there? Are you home?" It was Erica from upstairs.

Josie reached for the handle of the letter opener and tugged. "Yeah. I'm home," she called to the small box.

"You're late," Erica said.

More lectures, Josie thought, rolling her eyes. She managed to pull the blade out of the desk top on the second try. She slid some books over to cover the hole.

"Can you come upstairs?" Erica asked. "Rachel is asking for you."

"Maybe later," Josie replied. She had to sit down. She was trembling all over. She had to think. She was terribly shaken by Luke's wild attack.

So out of control, she thought. I've never seen anyone that out of control.

"Rachel wants to see you," Erica insisted, her voice sounding shrill and tinny through the speaker.

"Tell her I'll be up as soon as I can," Josie said irritably.

The intercom clicked off.

Everyone's mad, Josie thought. Everyone's mad at me.

And what have I done?

Nothing.

I just want to be left alone.

Still feeling shaky, she moved toward the leather couch. But something caught her eye on the table against the far wall. The day's mail.

She turned and made her way to the table. Sifting impatiently through the magazines and mail-order catalogs, she pulled out a square envelope addressed to her.

Another valentine.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her hands trembled as she tore the envelope open.

This card was heart shaped. Bright pink. It said, "Hi, Valentine, remember me?" on the front in fancy script.

"Oh, brother," Josie muttered aloud.

Reluctantly she opened the card to find the printed message crossed out and a new message printed beneath it, this time in red ballpoint ink.

This Valentine's Day No memories to save.

The only flowers for you Will be on your grave.

Slamming the card onto the table, Josie glanced up at the calendar on the wall above the desk.

Valentine's Day was Saturday.

This has got to be a joke, she thought, forcing herself to start breathing again.

No one is really planning to kill me. That's impossible.

Isn't it?

Chapter 7.

"I HATE JOSIE!".

The crackling of the intercom woke Josie.

She groaned and squinted at her clock radio. Twelve-thirty at night.

She buried her face in the warm pillow and closed her eyes. The crackling from the box on the wall continued.

Why do we have to have an intercom in every room? Josie wondered.

"Josie, please come." Rachel's voice sounded high and frightened through the little speaker.

With a loud groan, Josie pulled herself up, kicking back the covers.

"Josie, come to my room," Rachel said, pleading.

"Why me?" Josie grumbled aloud.

Why is Rachel awake at twelve-thirty at night? And why on earth is she calling me?

The intercom crackled loudly. "Josie?" Rachel's voice sounded strained and scared.

Josie sighed and stretched. "Okay, okay. I'm coming," she muttered.

She lowered her feet to the floor and stood up. It was cold in the room. The old windows rattled from the stiff breeze outside. Her radiator was silent. Outside the bedroom window she could see only solid blackness.

"Josie? Are you coming?" Rachel's voice was a pleading whisper now. Josie could barely hear it over the static.

She made her way through the darkness to the hallway. The floorboards creaked with every step.

I hate this old house, Josie thought. I hate the creepy sounds it makes. The groans. The creaks. This house moans as if it were alive.

Josie shuddered, suddenly afraid.

The kids at school told such frightening stories about Fear Street. About ghosts and evil spirits. About murders and disappearances.

Most of it probably wasn't true. But some of it was.

Fear Street certainly hasn't been lucky for us, she thought bitterly.

Rachel's room was at the far end of the hall. Josie dragged one hand along the wall as she made her way through the dark, creaking hallway. The wall felt cold. Unnaturally cold.

A cold breeze ruffled her nightshirt.

Where was it coming from? she wondered. There were no windows in the hallway.

A ghost's cold breath. The words popped into her mind, causing her to shiver again.

Don't get carried away, she scolded herself.

The floor was cold through the thin carpeting. She jogged past the bathroom, past the guest room. The house groaned and sighed, as if warning her, telling her to go back to bed.

Rachel's room was dark and silent. The door was half-open.

Josie pushed it open all the way and slipped inside, breathing hard. She was chilled and frightened. "Rachel?" she whispered.

No reply.

The room was so dark, she could barely make out the outline of the bed.

"Rachel? Did you call me?" Josie's voice came out a frightened whisper.

No reply.

Josie crept up close to the bed. Closer.

"Ow!" She stubbed her toe against the leg of the bed.

"Rachel?"

Josie could hear her twin's soft breathing. Steady. Slow.

She squinted into the darkness.

Rachel was asleep. On her side. Head resting on the pillow, her long hair loose. A smile on her face.

"Rachel? Did you call me?" Josie whispered.

Rachel didn't stir.

What's going on? Josie wondered, shivering. Did she call me, then fall back to sleep? Did I dream that the intercom came on?

Wrapping her arms around herself, she took a last, lingering look at her sleeping twin. She looks so peaceful, Josie thought. So happy. So normal.

She hurried out of the room, tiptoeing silently. She half-walked, half-ran through the cold blackness, holding her breath until she safely got back to her room.

Sliding into bed, Josie pulled the covers up to her chin and shut her eyes.

I've got to get to sleep, she thought. I've got two exams tomorrow.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She opened her eyes and stared wide-eyed at the dark ceiling. The light fixture over the bed seemed to be reaching down for her, reaching to grab her.

Again she scolded herself for having too much imagination.

Why doesn't the heat come on? she wondered. Why does it have to be so cold in here? Why can't I fall back to sleep?

She had just started to feel drowsy again when the intercom crackled to life. Josie sat up with a start, listening to the loud static.

"Josie, please come." She could barely hear Rachel's voice over the crackling.

"Huh? What's going on?" Josie cried aloud.

"Josie. Please. Hurry." Rachel sounded strange. Frightened. Her voice very tight.

Josie quickly made her way past the buzzing intercom, out into the hall, the floorboards groaning with each step.

Her bare feet padded over the thin carpet as she hurried down the narrow hallway.

"Rachel? What's wrong?" She stopped in Rachel's doorway, her heart pounding, and pressed her hands against the door frame to steady herself and catch her breath. "Rachel?"