Never Read Online Free Page A

room where Wendy's younger sister crunched up on a small loveseat, dozing uneasily. Her bleached blonde hair was tangled in a sweaty mass beneath her head and a jacket had been slung over her torso, the sleeves dragging the floor. Chel's twin, Jon, slouched in a chair beside the loveseat, paging half-heartedly through a Life & Style magazine, and examining the recipe section with only a modicum of interest.
    “Healthy or not, those cookies look awful,” Wendy said, leaning over the back of the chair and purposefully murmuring directly into Jon's ear. “Kind of like baked gravel, right? Clean that colon!”
    “Could be worse,” Jon replied without glancing up from the magazine. “They could be…oh. Um. Hi, Wendy?” He reddened as if he'd been caught paging through something dirtier than Life & Style . “I, uh, didn't see you walk in.” Jon chewed his lip, having trouble looking at her, and Piotr knew that he wanted to say something about her current incorporeal state but wasn't sure how exactly to begin. Polite but scared; Jon to the core.
    “I'm not surprised,” Wendy murmured, gingerly patting her brother's shoulder to put him at ease. “There are a lot of ghosts wandering the halls tonight. It's kind of weird, actually.”
    “You're telling me,” Jon grumbled, finally looking her over. He nodded once, face grave. “This place has been spook central the past hour or so—people walking through walls left and right. It's just creepy. I'd give anything to go back to normal. A gunshot grandma gushing everywhere just ain't right, you know?”
    “You get used to it,” Wendy sighed. “Wake up Chel and we'll bail, okay? Let's go home.”
    “Righty-roo,” Jon agreed amicably, leaning over and poking his twin in the shoulder. “Yo, sleeping buffy! Arise and greet the day! Or the rest of the night. Whatever.”
    Chel opened her eyes and glared. “Is she dead?”
    “Nice, thanks,” Wendy snarked. “Good to see you, too.”
    “What happened?” Chel asked, yawning.
    “I did die, but they brought me back.” Wendy knocked a loose fist against her breastbone. “Pumped me with enough voltage to become a supervillain, though. Bzzzt.”
    Chel, grimacing, sat up on the loveseat, Jon's coat falling to the floor. “Great,” she yawned, grabbing her purse with one hand as she rubbed her eyes with the other. “Glad you're not dead anymore.”
    “Wendy wants us to boogie,” Jon added. “Let's go.”
    They gathered their things and were preparing to leave when a monster of a man—well over six feet tall, with a thick head of gray hair and a trimmed beard—bounded into the room. His shoulders filled the frame and the reflection of the ceiling lights on his glasses hid his eyes. According to the card dangling around his neck, his name was Dr. Kensington. He was smiling; his teeth were huge and white, straight and sharp.
    Wendy watched Piotr, shivering, cover his neck with one hand.
    “Ah, there you are!” the doctor said. His tone might be called jovial but his eyes were not pleased; they glared. “I'm glad I caught you!”
    “Um, good?” Jon said, glancing at Wendy.
    Dr. Kensington clapped a hand on Jon's shoulder, shifting him away from the door. “Please, Miss Darling, Mr. Darling, take a seat. I need to speak with you.”
    “How about ‘no’? We're tired and going home,” Chel said. She bared her teeth in an expression that tried to be a smile, but like the doctor, her mouth didn't match her eyes.
    “Now, now, no need to be rude.” the doctor said, guiding Jon firmly by the shoulder back to the loveseat, and then pushing with one meaty hand until he sat.
    “Sort of stressed out,” Chel replied, looking everywhere in the room but at him. “Not really caring about how rude I am at the moment.”
    “Ah yes. About that.” The doctor turned on his heel and walked to the doorway where the dark-haired nurse from the emergency room, Jenna, was waiting. Smirking, she handed the doctor a clipboard.
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