Ghost Behind You

1.15. The Skeleton

By the time Rose returned the room key to the front desk, it was already 2 p.m. The receptionist took the key, and after confirming her identity, handed her a note left by the guest from Room 401. The handwriting was elegant but hurried:

"Officer Li, I had to leave due to an urgent matter. Please wait for me in your room. I have something important to discuss. —Zach."

Rose thanked the receptionist, then headed back to her room to wait, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity. She wasn't sure how long Zach would be, and hunger was beginning to creep in. Just as she was about to ask the receptionist if they sold instant noodles, she spotted Mary and Gary's parents coming down the stairs. It dawned on her that they were supposed to go to the police station that afternoon, and she had originally planned to go with them.

But now, given what she had discovered about Zach—or Yang Yunhui, whatever his real name was—she felt there was no need. As long as he revealed the truth, his name hardly mattered.

Rose didn't mention what she had been busy with, only asking when they planned to leave. Gary's parents seemed eager to get going and were planning to leave either tomorrow or the day after. Mary seemed surprised that Rose wasn't ready to return to Beijing yet, apologizing for dragging her into the whole ordeal. After a brief farewell, Rose returned to her room.

It was 4:30 p.m. by the time Zach knocked on the door. Rose, who had been reading while waiting, quickly sat up as he entered, drenched in sweat and carrying a black plastic bag in his right hand. Without wasting any time, he gulped down a large glass of water and asked how she was feeling.

Before Rose could question him or thank him for saving her, Zach handed her the plastic bag. "This is what I dug up from the bathroom in Room 104. Take a look."

Curiosity piqued, Rose quickly forgot the questions she had prepared. She opened the bag and pulled out a set of animal bones.

Spreading the bones carefully on the floor, Rose examined them while Zach watched her in silence.

"It's a cat's skeleton," Rose said, holding up the skull. She slipped on gloves, handling the bones with the same care she'd use for court evidence. Inspecting the teeth, she continued, "This cat was about six or seven years old, but it's not an ordinary breed. Its skull is small, and its limbs are unusually long."

"Yes, I went out to confirm that," Zach replied. "It's a purebred Siamese cat. Based on the teeth, I'd say it was around seven years old. Now, take a closer look at the neck."

Rose picked up the neck bones, carefully sorting through the disorganized skeleton. As she held the vertebrae, they felt unnaturally warm, unlike the cold human bones she was used to handling. She scrutinized the vertebrae, then looked up at Zach.

"There are signs of a sharp blade cutting through. This cat was killed by having its throat slit, right?"

"More or less," Zach said. "When I first uncovered the skeleton, its body was twisted into an unnatural shape. I also found some broken claws nearby. It looks like the cat wasn't dead right away. Even after its throat was cut, it struggled for a long time, trying to claw its way out."

"That's impossible!" Rose exclaimed. "Even with a human's lung capacity, once the windpipe is severed, oxygen deprivation leads to brain death within a few minutes. I don't know a cat's lung capacity, but after such trauma, it shouldn't have been able to move, let alone struggle for so long."

"Don't forget," Zach said gravely, "this wasn't an ordinary cat."

Rose shivered. She took another long look at the skeleton. It was well-preserved, though a few ribs were broken, likely post-mortem. Despite its age, the cat had been healthy when it died, judging by the grooves where its muscles had attached. The thought of guests unknowingly showering over the remains of a cat that had desperately tried to escape chilled her to the bone. She had walked over that very spot herself.

"What else did you find?" Rose asked, eager to shift away from the disturbing image. "I can't glean much more from these bones, not even the cat's gender. I'm not exactly an expert in feline anatomy."

Zach smiled faintly. "That's why my trip was worthwhile." He sat up straighter, finishing another glass of water. "This was a black Siamese cat. I found some hair samples in the soil that confirm its color. Now, based on the bones and what I've pieced together, here's what I think. Don't interrupt until I finish, okay?"

Rose nodded.

"This cat belonged to someone with extraordinary abilities. In some cultures, black cats are seen as guides for souls. I believe its owner was a practitioner—someone who dealt with spirits, much like I do."

Zach paused, gauging Rose's reaction, then continued. "Its owner was a witch. The black cat was her servant, as the legends suggest. Witches rarely kill their own black cats, but this one did. I believe she killed it to perform an ancient, long-lost ritual—an act of sympathetic magic. Gary's soul was likely taken by this black cat, claimed by the witch."

Zach stopped, taking another sip of water as he observed Rose's stunned expression. He chuckled. "Looks like that was a lot to take in."

"It's not that," Rose said, her expression serious. "It's just... it feels far-fetched. Can I ask questions now?"

Zach, now serious as well, nodded. "Go ahead."

"Are you sure this was a black cat? What proof do you have? As far as I know, fur color can't be determined from bones, and your theory hinges on this."

Impressive, Zach thought. She's sharp.

He answered earnestly, "I found fur remnants in the soil—black fur. I'm confident it's from this cat."

"Okay. You said witches don't usually kill their black cats, but this one did to perform a ritual, right?"

"Yes."

"And you're sure it wasn't for some other reason?"

"I can't say with certainty, but the cat was healthy before its death. I can't think of any reason to kill such a long-time companion unless it served a higher purpose."

Rose frowned. "So how did this witch learn such magic? You said this form of magic is long lost."

Zach was silent for a moment, then answered, "I don't know. This kind of magic hasn't been practiced for centuries, but that doesn't mean it's gone forever. This witch somehow rediscovered it, and she used it."

Rose fell silent, thinking it over. "Tell me more about this magic."

Zach paused, choosing his words carefully. "The general idea is this: the black cat is buried in the ground, and through a series of rituals, its spirit can summon the souls of the dead. The witch can then control these spirits, both in our world and the afterlife."

Rose's eyes widened. Suddenly, the pieces started coming together. "When I was in Room 104, I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. You said the room itself felt that way because of what was buried there—the cat." She gestured toward the skeleton. "But now that it's here, in front of me, I don't feel that dread anymore. Why?"

Zach nodded, as if expecting the question. "Because the cat was just a tool. When I unearthed it, its energy was released, and it attacked you because you weren't protected. That was the cat's energy field. But the instability in Room 104 wasn't just from the cat—it came from the witch's spirit as well. Her energy field was what I detected."

"Then why didn't I feel anything after I woke up in the room?"

"Because the energy has grown stronger. When we broke the spell by unearthing the cat, the witch no longer had a reason to linger there."

Rose's heart skipped a beat. "Where is her spirit field now?"

Zach's expression darkened. "It's nearby, but I can't say exactly where. I don't know where her remains are, but her energy field is still present. And now, her target has shifted—toward you."

"Me?" Rose asked, stunned.

Zach sighed. "I didn't want to scare you, but you're in too deep now. The cat's energy has latched onto you, and it's guiding the witch toward you. She won't stop until she has you."