The office of Headmistress Bloodgood was usually one of the calmest places in Monster High.
Usually.
Most days it was a sanctuary from the chaos that seemed to follow teenagers regardless of species.
Vampires accidentally starting centuries-old rivalries in the cafeteria.
Werewolves turning gym class into territorial disputes.
Sea monsters somehow flooding entire hallways.
The occasional cursed artifact.
The very occasional haunted artifact.
And, on one memorable occasion, an artifact that had been both cursed and haunted.
Bloodgood had survived all of it.
She had survived revolutions.
Monster councils.
Human councils.
Three separate educational reform movements.
A dragon labor strike.
And a zombie teachers' union disagreement that had lasted nearly eighty years.
Normally, very little rattled her.
Today?
Today her office felt like a pressure cooker.
The room wasn't any different.
The shelves still held centuries of records.
The portraits still lined the walls.
The polished wooden desk still sat exactly where it always had.
Nothing had changed.
And yet everything felt wrong.
Headmistress Bloodgood sat behind her desk with her fingers folded neatly together.
Trying very hard not to look toward the clock.
It wasn't working.
Her eyes drifted toward it anyway.
Ten twenty-seven.
Thirty-three minutes.
Thirty-three minutes since the phone call.
Thirty-three minutes since Dr. Sydney Jekyll-Hyde had called her.
Thirty-three minutes since she'd heard a mother breaking apart.
Bloodgood closed her eyes briefly.
The memory was still fresh.
Painfully fresh.
---
"Headmistress Bloodgood?"
The moment she heard Sydney's voice, Bloodgood knew something was wrong.
Not because of the words.
Because of the silence underneath them.
Sydney Jekyll-Hyde was not a quiet woman.
She was brilliant.
Passionate.
Stubborn.
Frequently sarcastic.
As most fire elementals were.
A scientist whose official doctorate technically read "Applied Interdimensional Biology and Theoretical Monster Genetics."
Though when anybody asked, she preferred to say her PhD was in "Things That Should Not Exist But Do Anyway."
The answer usually ended the conversation.
The woman had once argued a dragon senator into submission using nothing but a whiteboard and increasingly aggressive mathematics.
She had publicly corrected three vampire elders at once.
She had survived raising Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde.
Which honestly might have been her greatest achievement.
But this voice—
This voice didn't sound like Sydney.
It sounded like somebody drowning.
Bloodgood sat up straighter immediately.
"Sydney?"
A shaky breath answered her.
Then another.
Then silence.
Long enough for Bloodgood's stomach to tighten.
Then—
"I'm sorry."
Bloodgood frowned.
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
The words came out weaker.
Fractured.
Like Sydney was struggling to keep them together.
"I know you're busy."
A breath.
"I know you have other students."
Another.
"And I know this isn't your responsibility."
The voice cracked.
"But I don't know who else to call."
Bloodgood's stomach dropped.
Immediately.
Because she already knew.
Rumors had reached Monster High before sunrise.
Police.
New Salem.
Monsters.
A chase.
Arrests.
Chaos.
And nowhere in any of those rumors had anyone mentioned Holt or Jackson coming home.
Bloodgood rose from her chair.
"Sydney."
Silence.
Then a sound that broke her heart.
A sob.
Small.
Choked.
Like Sydney was trying desperately not to let herself cry.
"My boys are gone."
The words shattered.
Completely shattered.
And suddenly Bloodgood wasn't speaking to Dr. Sydney Jekyll-Hyde.
She wasn't speaking to a renowned scientist.
She wasn't speaking to a woman who had spent years researching impossible biological phenomena.
She was speaking to a mother.
Just a mother.
A mother whose child hadn't come home.
Both of her children.
Technically.
One body.
Two boys.
One impossible family.
One impossible nightmare.
"My boys are gone."
Bloodgood had no answer.
No comforting speech.
No magical reassurance.
No promise she could honestly make.
Because what could she say?
Everything is fine?
She didn't know that.
They're safe?
She didn't know that either.
She knew what Sydney knew.
Nothing.
And sometimes nothing was worse than bad news.
At least bad news was certain.
Nothing left room for imagination.
And imagination could be cruel.
"They didn't come home."
Another sob.
"I called everybody."
More tears.
"I called every friend I knew."
The words came faster now.
The way people talked when they were desperately trying not to fall apart.
"I called my brother to see if they stayed with Heath."
"I called hospitals."
"I called emergency services."
"I called everyone."
Bloodgood listened.
Because sometimes listening was all you could do.
Then came the sentence she had been expecting.
The sentence that made her jaw tighten.
"I called the sheriff."
Of course she had.
Any parent would have.
Any mother would have.
"And they won't tell me anything."
There it was.
The real fear.
Not ignorance.
Not uncertainty.
Knowing exactly what kind of answers she wasn't getting.
Because Sydney knew New Salem.
Knew its history.
Knew its politics.
Knew the way monsters were discussed when humans thought monsters couldn't hear.
And Bloodgood knew it too.
"I don't know if Holt is hurt."
The words broke apart.
"I don't know if Jackie is hurt."
Another sob.
A worse one.
"I don't even know which one was in control."
Bloodgood gripped the edge of her desk.
Hard.
Because that was the part nobody else understood.
Nobody else could understand.
If Holt got hurt—
Jackson got hurt.
If Jackson got arrested—
Holt got arrested.
There was no separation.
No division.
No neat line between them.
One body.
Two minds.
Two sons.
One terrified mother.
"What am I supposed to do?"
Sydney whispered.
And Bloodgood hated that she had no answer.
Because for all her centuries of experience—
For all her wisdom—
For all her authority—
She was just as helpless as Sydney was.
---
Thirty-three minutes later, Bloodgood was still thinking about that call.
Still hearing it.
Still imagining Sydney sitting beside a phone.
Waiting.
Watching.
Praying.
Probably crying.
The thought hurt.
A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts.
Three taps.
Quick.
Nervous.
Bloodgood immediately straightened.
"Enter."
The office door opened.
Frankie Stein.
Clawd Wolf.
Draculaura.
Abbey Bominable.
Ghoulia.
Deuce.
Cleo.
Toralei.
Several others.
And Heath Burns.
The moment Bloodgood saw him, her heart sank.
He looked awful.
Not physically injured.
Something worse.
Exhausted.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His flames burned unevenly.
His posture looked wrong.
Like somebody carrying far more weight than they should.
Bloodgood had been a teacher for centuries.
She recognized fear.
She recognized grief.
She recognized guilt.
Heath looked like he was carrying all three.
And maybe anger too.
The same anger she'd heard in Sydney's voice.
The same anger she'd felt herself.
"Ah."
Bloodgood folded her hands.
"There you are."
Confused glances spread through the room.
Frankie stepped forward first.
Naturally.
"Headmistress Bloodgood—"
"What am I going to do with you?"
The room went silent.
Several students blinked.
Frankie frowned.
"What?"
Bloodgood slowly rose from behind her desk.
"What were you thinking?"
Confusion turned to bewilderment.
Clawd glanced toward Frankie.
Frankie glanced toward Draculaura.
Draculaura looked just as confused.
Bloodgood continued.
"Defacing the human school like that..."
Half the room looked horrified.
The other half looked offended.
Heath looked completely lost.
"But Miss Bloodgood," Frankie protested, "we didn't—"
"Hush, Frankie!"
The room jumped.
Even Frankie froze.
Bloodgood almost felt guilty.
Almost.
Because she wasn't angry at them.
Not really.
She was watching.
Listening.
Trying to learn something.
Anything.
Had someone heard from Holt?
Had someone heard from Jackson?
Had Sydney called anyone else?
Nothing.
Just exhausted children.
Scared children.
Children trying very hard not to panic.
Frankie tried again.
"But—"
"Don't make things any worse for yourselves."
"But we didn't—"
"Shh!"
Bloodgood raised one finger.
"Ah!"
A second finger.
"Shush!"
Several students exchanged baffled looks.
Even Toralei appeared confused.
Which honestly might have been the strangest thing she'd seen all morning.
Bloodgood sighed dramatically.
"Such foolish endeavors."
Inside, she hated every word.
Outside, she continued.
"You've set monster-human relations back a hundred years."
The students looked increasingly horrified.
Especially because they thought she meant it.
And that hurt.
Because Bloodgood knew.
Not every detail.
But enough.
Enough to know they hadn't vandalized that school.
Enough to know they'd been blamed anyway.
Enough to know one student had spent the night in jail.
Enough to know another had vanished.
Enough to know a mother was crying somewhere across town.
Still—
Appearances mattered.
Especially now.
Especially when humans were already looking for someone to blame.
"And now," Bloodgood continued, "this close to Halloween..."
She paused.
Looked around the room.
At Frankie.
At Clawd.
At Draculaura.
At Abbey.
At Ghoulia.
At Heath.
Especially Heath.
Then at two spaces that should have been occupied.
Two missing students.
One missing body.
One impossible situation.
Bloodgood swallowed.
Then forced herself onward.
"...you're lucky all you're getting is detention."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then—
Frankie exploded.
"DETENTION?!"
"Frankie!"
"But we didn't do anything!"
Immediately the room erupted.
"We were trying to stop them!"
"We didn't paint the school!"
"Somebody else did!"
"You have to believe us!"
Voices overlapped.
Arguments collided.
Frustration boiled over.
Bloodgood let it happen.
Because honestly?
They deserved the chance.
After nearly a minute she finally raised her hand.
The room quieted.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
Then Bloodgood asked the question she had wanted to ask from the beginning.
The real reason she'd called them here.
The question that had been haunting her since sunrise.
"...Has anyone heard from Holt?"
Silence.
Instant.
Terrible.
Silence.
No one moved.
No one answered.
No one even looked surprised she'd asked.
Because they were all wondering the exact same thing.
Bloodgood already knew the answer.
But hearing it hurt anyway.
Then she asked the second question.
The one that hurt even more.
"...Or Jackson?"
The silence somehow deepened.
Heath looked down.
Frankie looked sick.
Draculaura's eyes widened.
Clawd closed his eyes.
And in that moment—
Headmistress Bloodgood knew.
Whatever happened next—
Whatever explanations arrived—
Whatever phone calls came—
Monster High was already dealing with something much bigger than a detention.
Because two seats were still empty.
And somewhere across town—
A mother was still waiting for her sons to come home...