I scream as the cupboard door behind me flies open, pushing me to my knees.

But it’s not a skeleton or ghost or demon waiting inside.

It’s one of our classmates. A boy named Jacob.

Jacob doesn’t seem to realize it’s us at first. He cowers against the cupboards, his eyes wide and slightly bloodshot. And it’s only then, once I’ve scrambled to my feet, that I realize he looks like he’s been through a war. His clothes are dusty, and the knees of his jeans are worn out. His hair is a mess.

“Jacob?” I ask. I take a step toward him. He flinches back, causing the metal bowls on the counter behind him to topple with a loud crash. “Are you okay?”

Finally, he seems to come to his senses. His whole body shakes, and his eyes focus on me, then on Mira and Rohan.

Instantly, he lets out a relieved yell and runs forward, practically leaping into Mira’s arms. She stumbles backward and hugs him, her eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Thank goodness it’s you,” he sobs. “I thought I was the only one left. It’s been so long …” And then, Jacob starts to cry.

Mira and I share a look. She pats Jacob on the back awkwardly. As far as I know, they’ve never really talked to each other, but he acts as though she’s his best, long-lost friend. Rohan stares at the kid like he’s worried Jacob has lost his mind.

“What are you talking about?” Mira asks him. “It’s only been, like, a few minutes since the séance.”

“What?” Jacob asks. He pulls away and looks at her like she’s the one who’s losing it. “What do you mean, only a few minutes?”

Again, my friends and I share a look: What in the world is going on?

“I mean,” she says patiently, her voice suddenly soft, “the séance was only a few minutes ago.” She shows her watch to Jacob. “See? The séance was midnight, and it’s only twelve fifteen, and—”

“No,” Jacob says, stepping backward. “No no no. You’re in on it, too, aren’t you? You’re one of them.”

“What are you talking about?” Rohan asks. “She’s telling the truth.”

“No,” Jacob says. He takes another step away from us. “You’re lying. I’ve been stuck here for days. Weeks. You don’t know the things that I’ve seen. The things that I’ve had to do.” Tears streak down his dirty face. “I saw them taken. One by one, I saw the hotel take them. I was all alone.”

His next step makes him knock against an oven. The door flops open with a loud metallic bang. He doesn’t seem to notice. He is completely lost in his thoughts.

“I’m alone,” he mumbles on repeat. “I’m alone, I’m alone.”

Seeing him like this scares me more than the monsters. Jacob looks broken. If the hotel can do this … Chills race down my spine at the thought of the other nightmares this place could produce.

Then I realize it’s not just chills from the thought.

I suddenly have the bone-deep sensation that we aren’t alone.

“Jacob,” I say calmly. I reach out to him like I might reach out toward a cornered animal. “Jacob, it’s okay. Come with us. It’s safer if you come with us.”

“No!” he howls. “You’re one of them! I know you’re one of them!”

He turns to run.

He doesn’t make it far.

“Jacob, look out!” Mira yells.

But it’s too late.

We aren’t alone after all.

I stumble back toward my friends as something monstrous unfolds from the oven. Black and spindly. Bones. Blackened, burnt, cooked bones. Dozens of them. Pouring out of the oven like an octopus, each jagged tentacle tipped in a clawed, skeletal hand.

Rohan yells in fear as the hands snap out, latching around Jacob and—in one quick movement—pulling him into the oven. The oven door slams shut behind him.

Before the three of us can run forward to help, it becomes clear that our lives are in danger, too.

Around us, the kitchen becomes terrifyingly alive.

Knives peel themselves from their blocks, hovering in the aisles, while the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling unhook and begin circling menacingly overhead, like ravenous birds. Flames burst into life on the stoves and behind the glass oven doors. The pots sitting on the burners immediately begin to boil and steam.

But the pots aren’t just hissing. There are thuds within them. Thuds, and screams.

As if there are kids stuck in the pots, trying to get out.

Getting boiled alive.

Getting cooked for the hungry hotel.

If we aren’t fast, we’re going to be next.