I am Type O. I can donate blood to anyone, but only receive transfusions from my own kind.

“Good guess,” I said, knowing it wasn’t. There was a square, head-level recess in the wall up ahead on my left, like an unfinished window. I’ve been to haunted houses; this is where the zombies reach out to grab you. If only that’s what this place was.

I approached with caution, peered in to find two elliptical holes on the far side of the opening. Eye sockets with soft light streaming through. Back to Clue Mansion, I thought, realizing this was the observation end of a fake portrait that allowed one to spy into the room on the other side. All around this head-size cutout were images of my decapitated head planted in a pot. Nothing ominous about that.

Curiosity is a son-of-a-bitch. It caused me to do two things. First, to swipe a dollop of the liquid dripping from the wall and taste it, proving it was indeed blood, or at least a convincing facsimile. I was not familiar enough with the taste of my own blood up to that point to know whether or not it was mine. Second, to push my face through the window in the wall to peer through the eyeholes into the far room.

The smell inside was the same as the taste in my mouth. A biting copper reek, familiar as rot. And the air in here was dank. The recess, contoured in the shape of a face, was damp with wet splotches seeping through the paper lining, shining dark in the diffused light streaming through the eyeholes. It was like an inverted papier-maché skull, just large enough for me to fit my face inside. A stupid move.

A panel in the wall slid down around my neck, trapping my head inside the snug enclosure. My face flush against the contours, nose crammed into an impression that smelled like fresh blood. Dampness bled through the thin liner, wetting my cheeks, my hair. I planted my hands against the wall and pushed, but the panel was clamped securely against my neck. I was stuck. My head buried in the wall, waiting for the blade.

My breath quickened, turning loud in the cramped space. My heart hammered. I felt panic rise as a tightness in my chest threatened to crush my lungs.