The Malaga Demon

Gulf Coast Paranormal Series

Book Four

By M.L. Bullock

Text copyright © 2024 Monica L. Bullock

All Rights Reserved

Contents

Prologue–Rita Brown

Chapter One–Midas

Chapter Two–Cassidy

Chapter Three–Midas

Chapter Four–Sierra

Chapter Five–Cassidy

Chapter Six–Jericho

Chapter Seven–Sierra

Chapter Eight–Cassidy

Chapter Nine–Jericho

Chapter Ten–Midas

Chapter Eleven–Midas

Chapter Twelve–Cassidy

Author’s Note

M. L. Bullock’s Book List

Prologue–Rita Brown

The quiet here wasn’t like other places; it was a thick, swallowing kind of silence that pressed against my ears and made my pulse thrum louder. I moved down the empty hallway, my steps heavy and tired, mirroring the old floorboards beneath them. My arthritis was acting up again, a dull ache in my knees reminding me that the weather was shifting, and I’d feel it down to my bones.

Working the night shift at the Malaga Inn meant long hours with no company other than these drafty, historic walls and the deep hush they held like a breath.

I’d thought I’d grown used to it—another late shift, another night with only these halls, these rooms, and the ghostly flickers of faux candlelight from the old candlestick fixtures. But tonight, something felt different. Every creak, every faint whistle of air through the old windowpanes, seemed amplified, as if the inn itself were holding something back.

I tugged at the vacuum cleaner’s electrical cord; the very thing I used to spank my children for doing. They used to help me clean this place–and plenty of other places, but they’re too good for that these days. Too good for the Momma that put them through school. The Momma that worked two jobs to put them through school. Working nights, bringing them with me if I had to.

Did they even remember that? My children, all my children, gone. Well, I guess living on the other side of the country is better than staying close to their old Momma.

I’d barely made it halfway down the hall when something caught my eye—a faint shimmer in the corner by the old tapestry, like a glint off a spider’s web. I squinted, letting out a quiet sigh as I saw it: a tangled mass of webbing stretched high across the corner, thicker and more twisted than any spider should have the time or sense to spin.

“Lord, as if the dust wasn’t enough,” I muttered, shaking my head. I wasn’t squeamish, but there was something unsettling about the way the web glistened, almost as if it were watching me. “How on earth did you get here overnight?”

I reached for my cloth, intent on clearing it out, but just as my hand stretched toward the web, the spider—a glossy, black thing with legs too long for its small body—darted down the wall and scurried across the floor. My breath caught. It was quick, quicker than it should’ve been, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway before I could bring myself to react.

I’d dealt with plenty of spiders before, but there was something off about this one. It felt… purposeful, like it knew where it was going, leading me somewhere. I shook my head, chiding myself for letting my imagination get away from me. I’d seen spiders dart off before, and I didn’t need to go inventing ghost stories now.

But as I continued down the hall, I caught another flash of movement—this time further down, near the corner where the hall turned toward the older part of the inn. It was the same spider, or one just like it, waiting in a pool of shadows, legs stretched wide across the floor.

“Oh, so we’re playing a game now, are we?” I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur. I took a step forward, and the spider took off again, slipping around the corner before I could reach it.

I followed, my footsteps echoing softly off the walls as I turned the corner, expecting to see the spider skittering into another shadowed crevice. But instead, I found myself staring down the dim, narrow hallway that led to the older wing of the inn. This part always felt different, like the air was thicker, weighed down by history and secrets no one wanted to remember.

The spider was nowhere in sight, but the faintest hint of a cobweb brushed against my cheek, sending a shiver through me. I wiped it away and took a slow, hesitant step forward, feeling that strange, purposeful pull again. I didn’t know why, but I felt compelled to keep going, as if something—or someone—was guiding me, urging me deeper into the quiet shadows of the inn.

I kept moving, each step feeling heavier than the last, as though the old floorboards wanted to swallow my feet whole. The draft had picked up now, carrying with it a damp, earthy smell that reminded me of basements and forgotten places. The walls seemed closer here, pressing in on me, and the shadows felt thicker, almost tangible, like I could reach out and touch the darkness. As I reached the end of the hall, a soft whisper drifted past me—so faint I almost dismissed it as my imagination.

But then it came again. Words, or fragments of them, barely there, weaving through the silence. “Please… run… leave…”

My breath caught, and I turned, half-expecting to see someone standing there. Only the dim, empty hallway stretched behind me, silent and watching, yet somehow filled with an awareness that wasn’t there before. My heart pounded, and a chill crawled up my spine, spreading through my whole body.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping—praying—nobody would answer. My mouth felt dry, and I swallowed hard, the weight of the silence pressing down on me like a hand to the chest.

I should’ve gone back, turned around, and left this part of the inn to its own shadows. But instead, my feet kept moving, as though something unseen were guiding me forward, pulling me closer to the corner where the hallway met the old storage rooms. I felt the weight of each step as I moved, the air thickening, clinging to me like a damp shroud.

And then I saw him—a young black man, or something that resembled one, standing in the middle of the hall. His eyes were wide, haunted, filled with a sorrow so heavy it seemed to seep into the air around him. His clothes were ragged, the kind worn by those who’d lived harder lives than most, and his gaze was fixed on something just over my shoulder.

“Young man? What are you doing here?” I asked stupidly.

I felt a chill colder than any draft. His stare was locked on something behind me. Another ghost? Was that what I was seeing? My trembling hand rose instinctively to make the sign of the cross over my chest as I blinked, trying to focus on the figure in front of me, praying I was only imagining things.

Then, in a voice barely more than a breath, he whispered one final plea. “Run!”

I barely had time to take in the word before his eyes shifted, widening in terror, as a sound—a slow, heavy step—creaked behind me. My heart thundered in my chest, but my legs wouldn’t move, my body frozen as a heavy, suffocating presence settled just behind me, filling the air with a darkness that felt alive.

I wanted to run—every instinct told me to, but my body was rooted to the spot, frozen by the icy grip of fear. When was the last time I ran?

The air grew even heavier, thicker, as if the very walls were pressing in on me, trapping me there with that thing looming just behind. Or maybe it was just me, struggling to breathe. My fingers tingled, blood pounding in my ears, drowning out the silence as the air took on a faint, metallic taste, like blood.

A cold breath ghosted across the back of my neck, prickling my skin like needles of ice, and my whole body stiffened, frozen by a fear that clawed its way into my chest and took hold. The air thickened, tasting faintly metallic, like old blood and rust, and as I inhaled, a smell hit me—burnt, rotten, something vile that seemed to crawl up my nostrils and sink into my throat, sour and decayed. I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat, struggling to keep still, but every part of me was screaming to run, to get away from whatever was standing just inches behind me.

This wasn’t some lingering ghost, some poor lost soul bound to this place. No, this felt older—ancient, almost, as if it had come from a time before the inn, before the town itself, something summoned and forgotten. The weight of its hatred pressed down on me, filling every inch of the hall with a malevolence that clung to my skin, cold and suffocating.

I didn’t want to look. I knew better. But as if in a trance, my head began to turn, my breath shallow and tight in my chest. My heart thudded, each beat a painful jolt against my ribs, and I could swear the silence in the hall deepened, as if the entire inn were holding its breath, waiting.

As I looked over my shoulder, the shadows behind me seemed to thicken, like ink bleeding into water, pooling and stretching until they formed the outline of a figure—a grotesque silhouette, twisted and unnatural, its limbs elongated, distorted, and wrong. My throat tightened as the thing took shape, a looming figure that towered above me, its shoulders hunched, its body stretched and warped as though it had crawled straight out of a nightmare.

Then I saw its eyes—two pinpoints of smoldering red, like embers that had never truly burned out. Those eyes bore into me, filled with something primal and insatiable. Hunger, yes, but there was something else there, too, something darker. A satisfaction, maybe, like it was savoring the way fear rolled off me in waves.

It took a step forward, its footfall silent yet heavy, sending a ripple of freezing air washing over me, sinking into my bones. My legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot, and every instinct screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t move. I could only stand there, staring into those ember-lit eyes as it loomed closer, its face still hidden in the shadows, but its intent clear.

It wanted me to see it. To know it. To feel its hatred wrap around me like a shroud.

I opened my mouth to scream, to shout, to do anything, but no sound came out. I was utterly alone, trapped in that hallway with this thing, this creature, this demon that had haunted these halls long before I had ever set foot in the inn. And as it leaned in closer, I felt the cold, suffocating presence envelop me, felt it seeping into my skin like poison, as if it was savoring the terror that gripped my heart.

It moved toward me, just a step, but I could feel it like a shockwave, pressing into me, suffocating me with a force I couldn’t see or fight.

I tried to move, to will my old feet to turn, to flee, but my body betrayed me, locked in place by a terror that felt more like chains binding me to the floor. My breathing came out in shallow puffs, visible against the darkened hall. I could feel the cold pressing into my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter, each breath more labored than the last. It felt like my heart was clenching, beating so hard it could burst at any second.

Lord, help me!

The figure stepped forward again, emerging fully from the shadows, and my breath hitched as its face came into horrifying focus. The skin was stretched impossibly tight over its skull, pale and sunken, with hollows that carved out deep shadows under its cheekbones, as though it had been starved for centuries. Where eyes should have been, there were empty sockets, yet within them, two embers glowed, flickering faintly, like coals that had never fully cooled—a smoldering hunger that watched me, calculated me.

Its mouth twisted into something grotesque, lips peeling back over jagged, broken teeth in a mockery of a grin, too wide, stretching into the hollows of its face. It was a face built on suffering, on every dark impulse carved deep within, and the longer I stared, the more it seemed to take pleasure in my helplessness, feeding off the fear it had wrung from my very bones.

The mouth moved, cracking open as if to speak, though no words came—only a sound, a low, raspy breath that echoed in the silence, vibrating in the walls, in my skull, a sound that crawled over my skin like the legs of a spider. It leaned closer, that twisted, gaunt face filling my vision, the embers of its eyes narrowing as if to drink in every ounce of terror radiating from me.

And that grin—God, that grin widened, almost stretching beyond the limits of what was human, curling up into something both mocking and satisfied, like it had already claimed me, and it was merely savoring the moment before it snuffed out whatever life I had left.

Suddenly, an intense, stabbing pain bloomed in my chest, sharp and merciless, like a fist clamping down on my heart. I gasped, clutching my chest, feeling the panic intensify as the pain spread through my arm, my shoulder, and up into my jaw. I tried to scream, to call for help, but only a faint, strangled gasp escaped me.

“Help…” I managed to croak, barely a whisper, the word dissolving into the thick silence around me. My vision blurred, darkness closing in around the edges, and I knew, deep down, that I was alone—that no one could hear me, and even if they could, no one would dare face whatever it was that had found me here.

The last thing I saw was that twisted, monstrous face, leaning closer, filling my vision as my body finally gave in, collapsing to the floor.

Chapter One–Midas

The office was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. I’d just finished reviewing the latest case file—a thick folder filled with people’s fears pressed flat between the pages—when my phone rang, the sudden sound slicing through the silence.

“Gulf Coast Paranormal,” I answered, leaning back in my chair.

There was a pause, silence so heavy I almost wondered if it was a prank. Then, a voice came through, soft but unmistakably tense, as though each word had been carefully weighed before she let herself speak.

“Is this...Midas Demopolis?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, ma’am. Speaking,” I replied, my instincts kicking in, alert to the tremor in her voice. I was tempted to add, “Live and in the flesh,” but I resisted the snarky urge. Wow. I haven’t thought about that phrase in a long time. Not since Sara.

“Oh, good. This is Karen Burns. I’m the head housekeeper over at the Malaga Inn not far from you, I think. Donnie Bragg gave me your number. He’s my neighbor.” She sounded older, seasoned but worn, like someone who’d seen a lot but never quite... this. I didn’t recall who Donnie Bragg might be but that was nothing unusual. I met a lot of people in the paranormal community over the years. I assumed since the person recommended me, that’s where I’d know him from.

“I don’t usually do things like this, sir. I’m not one to go around calling paranormal investigators, but we’re having... incidents. Things that don’t feel right. I don’t know what else to do.”

Her voice wavered, thick with fear and something darker, like grief. “How can I help, Karen?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. “One of my employees, Rita Brown, died recently. She’d worked here for years, longer than I have. They said it was a heart attack, but I think... I think it had to do with the inn. I know she wasn’t in great health but this is wrong. This shouldn’t have happened.”

I felt a chill settle into the room as I listened. “What makes you think that, Karen?”

“Rita came to me before that. She told me someone–something startled her, but I didn’t believe her. Not at first. She said she saw something in the hallway—a figure, something she couldn’t quite explain. It was there one second and gone the next. She was terrified, Mr. Demopolis. I think... I think it scared her to death.”

I sat up straighter, pen poised. “Have you had other reports of sightings?”

There was a shaky exhale on the other end, and I could almost feel Karen trying to gather her thoughts. “Yes, but we’re not supposed to talk about it. If the owner knew I was calling, well, she’d find a new cleaning company. Rita said it was a shadow at first, tall and thin, just standing in the hall near the older rooms. But then she got a better look.”

Her voice dropped, trembling. “She said it had a face. A twisted, terrible face, with eyes like embers—burning, but empty, like it was staring right through her. And its mouth... was stretched wide, like a smile, but not a kind one. She said it felt like... like the thing was savoring her fear.”

Savoring her fear. Damn. That’s accurate. A chill crept up my spine, but I kept my voice steady. “Did she say if it spoke to her? Or if she felt anything else?”

“Rita said it was silent. Just... watching her. But she felt a cold breath on the back of her neck, and she swore she heard it laugh—soft, low, like it was right against her ear. She told me she’d never felt fear like that in her life. Said it was like this... this thing had a hold on her, like it didn’t want to let her go. I really should have took that shift, if I’d done that, she’d still be here right now!”

I could tell that retelling the story had rattled Karen as much as it had unsettled Rita. “Don’t blame yourself. If it is truly paranormal it would be difficult to predict what kind of behavior would manifest. How long has this been happening?” I asked. “Is this new, or has it been going on for a while?”

Karen’s voice softened, as if she were relieved to be finally telling someone who might understand. “It’s been a few months, maybe longer. Started small—cold spots, lights flickering, the kind of things you think you can explain away. But lately…” Her voice trailed off, and I heard her take a shaky breath. “Lately, it’s gotten worse. There’s a constant feeling, like eyes on you, like you’re never alone.”

“What changed recently?” I asked. “Did anyone disturb the area or try to contact the spirits? Any remodeling happening there?”

She hesitated. “General maintenance but nothing major. Oh! A lot of paranormal groups have been booking the inn lately. People come from all over to hunt for ghosts. But a few weeks ago, a group that called themselves the Southeast Spooks rented rooms upstairs. They wanted a ‘real experience,’ so they performed some kind of ritual—a bloodletting. Of course, they didn’t seek permission to do that but I know it happened.”

“A bloodletting ritual?” I asked, my pen still against the notepad. This wasn’t amateur ghost-hunting; rituals like that could stir up malevolent energy, sometimes drawing in things that were best left undisturbed.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “They left blood stains on the floor. I found it after they’d checked out. Ever since then... the activity has been out of control.”

“What have you experienced, Karen? Any kind of activity?” I asked, already making notes. “Besides what you described from Rita’s experience?”

“Footsteps, heavy ones, in empty hallways. Shadows where there shouldn’t be any. And bad smells—like something rotting or burnt, hanging in the air. And voices, the kind that make your skin crawl, like they’re right behind you. It’s like they woke something up, something we can’t put back to sleep.”

I could feel a familiar twinge of anticipation, the kind that came with a case that could be... different. If Karen’s descriptions were accurate, whatever was at the Malaga Inn was more than a routine haunting.

“All right, Karen,” I said, keeping my tone calm and professional. “We’ll take your case. I’ll bring my team down to the inn, assess the situation, and see what we can uncover. It sounds like this is something that won’t stay quiet for long.”

She exhaled, relief evident in her voice. “Thank you, Mr. Demopolis. We need help. I’m afraid that Rita’s death is only the beginning.”

After hanging up, I sat for a moment, letting Karen’s words linger in the silence. There’d been a hundred cases like this on my desk—unsettling, strange. But this was different. If that bloodletting ritual had indeed stirred something up, the Malaga Inn wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

I glanced over at the photo on my wall, a snapshot of the Gulf Coast Paranormal team at our last investigation. We’d all been worn out, grinning like fools in the early hours of dawn, relieved to be on the other side of something dark. But this job sounded like it had layers, each one darker than the last. I had a feeling we’d be digging deeper than usual.

The embers, the twisted smile—these weren’t typical hauntings. Karen’s voice had carried a weight of dread that went beyond the usual fear of the unknown. No, this case felt like more. And I was ready to find out exactly what we were dealing with.

Without wasting another minute, I picked up my phone again. If we were dealing with something dark enough to drive a woman to a heart attack, I wanted the full team on board. I dialed, waiting for the line to connect.

“Hey, Sierra,” I said when she picked up. “Got a new case for us—a big one.”

There was a pause, then her voice perked up, tinged with curiosity. “How big are we talking?”

“Enough that I’m calling you first,” I replied, feeling the anticipation settle in. “The Malaga Inn. Shadows, whispers, and a bloodletting ritual gone wrong.”

Sierra’s breath hitched. “Sounds... dangerous.”

“Yeah,” I said, the weight of Karen’s fear still fresh in my mind. “We’ll need everyone on this one. Let the others know—meeting at the office first thing tomorrow. And get ready. This one’s going to be different.”

“You do know Macie and Jericho aren’t together anymore. Do we want to bring them both in on this? If this is truly an evil case–”

I frowned at hearing that. “They’ll have to put on their game faces. Yes, I want everyone there and on their best behavior. Everyone on this team is an adult. If they can’t act like responsible adults after a break up, then they don’t need to be a part of Gulf Coast Paranormal.”

Sierra sat in silence for a moment. “Are you okay, Midas? Something you want to talk about?”

No. Not really. I just wish my team would focus more on the caseload and less on each other. That was what I thought but I sure couldn’t say it. Or rather shouldn’t say it.

“Nope. All good. But on second thought, this shouldn’t fall on you, Sierra. I’m sorry if I sounded short. Let me call Macie and Jericho. You call Chris and make sure your husband shows up. How are the RYDER upgrades coming along? Any word?”

“I do believe you’ll be mighty pleased, Big Brother. But no way am I stealing my husband’s thunder. I’ll let Joshua and Chris tell you what they’ve come up with. It’s blown my mind. That’s for sure. I’m glad he figured out the problem. I was getting tired of not seeing him. He’s been obsessed with this tech.”

I detected a hint of worry in her voice. The RYDER technology had proven effective but also somewhat dangerous, yet the team believed it had its uses. I wasn’t ready to pull the literal plug on the device yet, however, leaving it behind wasn’t off the table.

We ended the conversation after agreeing on where to meet up. Little Sister and I often did these pre-investigation meetings with clients to get a lay of the proverbial land.

Without further hesitation, I turned off the lights and headed out.

I closed the door behind me, the click of the lock echoing in the stillness of the office. Outside, a thick mist had settled over the street, swirling under the streetlights like ghosts moving through the fog. It felt like a quiet warning, a chill that settled in my bones as I made my way to the car.

The Malaga Inn. Shadows, voices, bloodletting rituals gone wrong. And an entity that, if Karen was right, might be taking lives. My team had faced darkness before, but there was something about this one—a sense of something waiting, patient, savoring the fear it had already stirred. I could feel it, like a weight pressing down, watching.

As I slipped into the driver’s seat, I let my gaze linger on the empty street for a moment, as if the shadows themselves might answer back.

Whatever lay inside the walls of the Malaga, I had a feeling it was ready for us. And I intended to find out just how ready.

Chapter Two–Cassidy

We hadn’t even started yet, but I could feel the tension settling over the team like a heavy, invisible weight. Everyone had their own way of prepping—small quirks, habits we’d all learned over the years working together. For me, it was tucking my favorite pencils in my worn chalk bag. I glanced around, quietly observing as we prepared to step into whatever waited for us inside the Malaga Inn.

Sierra was quiet, a little too quiet this evening. Wonder what’s up with her? She paced near the equipment, her eyes occasionally closing as though she was trying to block something out.

I knew that look—her heightened sensitivity wasn’t just an asset; it was a curse in places like this. Same here, girl. Same.

Jericho, on the other hand, moved like he was made of stone, unflinching as he set up equipment and adjusted his gear with precision. He had his back to the team, shoulders squared and jaw set, the quiet intensity radiating off him in waves. He always brought that energy to investigations, but tonight, there was something different in his stance, like he was bracing himself for more than just another case.

Then there was Macie and Chris. Jericho and Macie’s breakup hadn’t gone unnoticed by me or anyone else. Macie and Chris were going through the usual motions, checking the EMF meters and thermal cameras, but I couldn’t ignore the subtle glances they exchanged, or the way Chris’s hand lingered just a second too long as he handed Macie a camera.

It was obvious to everyone—too obvious, maybe. I could tell they were trying to act as if nothing had changed, but we all knew about their recent split. They’d need to set aside whatever was hanging between them tonight. Jericho seemed okay but who knew how it would all play out?

I tightened my grip on my EMF reader, pushing down my own nerves. I had my own role to play, and I’d have to stay focused. There was an energy here, a thickness in the air that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and it wasn’t just because of the history of this place or Rita’s untimely death. Something was already stirring, like we’d stepped into a place that was waiting, watching.

I tried to shake off the creeping sense of dread as one of the inn’s staff members joined us, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a nervous energy that made my skin prickle. She clutched her hands together, like she was afraid to let go.

“Karen. Nice to meet you all. Thank you for coming. Hey, Midas.”

I wanted to comfort the woman immediately, she looked like she could use a hug, and a break. Yeah, this place was intense and it had clearly had an effect on Karen and her staff. Midas greeted her and introduced her to everyone.

“I am sorry about your friend, Karen,” I commented softly. “I hope we can help you find answers.”

“I hope so too. She was acting strange, you know?” Karen said, her voice barely a whisper. “Rita, I mean. We all noticed it—she’d been on edge for days before…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes darted toward the hallway, as though she could see Rita’s last moments playing out in front of her. “She kept talking to herself–more than usual, warning us to be careful, but she was always like that. Rita was like everyone’s grandma here but she was a hard worker. Really hard worker and a good woman. She deserved better.”

My heart broke for her clear sorrow. Sierra jotted down notes but every word Karen said only deepened the knot of tension in my stomach. The way she described it, Rita hadn’t just been unsettled; she’d been terrified. She’d been warning the younger staff like she knew something was coming for her, like she felt hunted.

“She said someone was... lurking,” Karen continued, her gaze fixed on the floor. “She’d say, ‘It’s in the halls, it’s waiting,’ and then she’d look around, like she was afraid it might be right behind her. Gloria also had an experience but I don’t think she wants to talk about it. I tried to get her to come but she refused.”

I swallowed, feeling the chill of her words settle in, and pressed a hand to my stomach almost instinctively. As she described Rita’s fear, I couldn’t shake the creeping sense that whatever had driven Rita to the edge was still here, lurking in those same hallways, waiting for its next chance.

The air felt thick as we began setting up our equipment, like stepping into a fog that clung to everything. I moved from room to room, placing cameras along with Midas, laying down proximity lights, watching as the others did the same. Each hallway seemed darker than the last, each corner hiding a shadow that felt too heavy, too solid.

Joshua was setting up his RYDER tech in the main hallway, muttering under his breath about sensor placement, while Sierra adjusted a thermal camera near the door to Rita’s room. I double-checked my own gear, my EMF reader clutched tightly in one hand, my fingers already tingling with that familiar, subtle static.

As I glanced down, the needle on my reader spiked—just for a moment, a blip—but it was enough to make my skin prickle. Early indicator or just a fluke? I was about to find out.

Karen watched us with an intensity that made me feel like we were doing more than just setting up equipment. Like we were laying out armor for a battle none of us had truly prepared for. I tried to keep my face neutral, to project calm, but my gut told me that the inn was already watching us, like it was sizing us up.

“You good, Cassidy?” Chris’s voice brought me back, and I managed a nod, though my hand was still resting against my stomach. It was an instinctive thing, but here it felt like a small layer of protection.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I said, even as the needle on my EMF meter twitched again, just faintly. But in a place like this, even the faintest spike felt like a warning. Why was he checking on me? Weird.

The inn had settled into an uneasy silence, the kind that stretched thin, every sound and flicker amplified by the stillness. As I moved through the halls, small disturbances began to surface—just little things, but each one enough to make my nerves fray a bit more.

A faint creak echoed from somewhere behind me, too heavy to be just an old building settling. I turned, holding my EMF meter steady, but there was nothing there. Only the darkened hallway, stretching long and empty.

A few seconds later, the lights flickered, the shadows seeming to pulse in rhythm with each flash. I took a deep breath, brushing it off as a power glitch, but a chill traced its way up my spine as I kept moving.

Then, there was the draft—a cold, biting gust that slithered around my ankles and drifted up to settle like ice at the base of my neck. I tightened my grip on my EMF meter, forcing myself to breathe, to stay calm. But each small, unexplainable thing felt personal, like the inn was testing me, seeing just how far it could push before I’d snap.

I moved toward the staircase, the steps creaking underfoot as I climbed to the second floor. Up here, the air felt different—heavier somehow, like something was watching, waiting. My hand drifted to my stomach again, a small gesture of reassurance. I was here to do a job, but each step up those stairs felt like I was carrying a weight that wasn’t my own. I glanced back at Midas, happy to see his muscular shoulders and steady expression.

As we reached the top, I hesitated. I slid my EMF detector in my back pocket and reached inside my backpack for my sketchbook. Midas didn’t say anything but quietly watched over me as I sketched the shapes I could feel lingering in the walls, in the shadows.

The urge to draw was almost overwhelming, but I pushed it down. It wasn’t time—not yet.

Still clutching the notebook, I removed the EMF meter from my back pocket and set it on the floor. I took a steadying breath, but the familiar routine did little to calm me.

An uneasy pang of guilt surfaced, a whisper in the back of my mind that maybe I shouldn’t be here. I’d been in plenty of haunted places, but none of them had ever made me second-guess myself like this.

What kind of mother willingly walked into a place like this, knowing what could happen? That thought gnawed at me, a reminder that it wasn’t just my life I was putting at risk anymore. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the inn knew this too, like it was testing my resolve, seeing how far I’d go before I turned back.

We moved down the long, dim hallway, the silence amplifying every step, every rustle of equipment. Sierra was just ahead of me, her shoulders tense, and I noticed her hand drifting up to her temple now and then, like she was trying to ward off a headache. Her usual calm was gone, replaced by an edge of strain I hadn’t seen in her before.

Halfway down the hall, she stopped, her body going rigid. Her hand flew to her head, clutching her temple as if some invisible weight had dropped on her all at once. I quickened my pace, reaching her side, my hand hovering just over her shoulder.

“Sierra? Are you sensing something?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to alert the others or make it worse.

She took a shaky breath, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s...a pressure. Like something pushing down on me. I’ve felt it since we got here, but now it’s... it’s everywhere.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I glanced back at Midas, who had stopped a few feet behind us, concern flickering across his face. Sierra opened her eyes, meeting mine, and I could see the strain in them, a flicker of something like fear.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, brushing it off, but I knew her well enough to see the truth. Whatever she was picking up, it wasn’t good, and I could feel my own nerves tighten. If Sierra was affected strongly, then whatever haunted the Malaga Inn was more than just a restless spirit.

The deeper we went into the inn, the more uneasy I became. I’d been to dozens of places like this—abandoned hospitals, old theaters, forgotten homes, places where memories clung to the walls like mold. But there was something here that felt sharper, more malevolent, as though the very air wanted us out.

I paused, glancing at Midas, who was adjusting the settings on his EMF meter. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and for a second, we didn’t need words. We both felt it—the weight, the awareness, like the inn itself was awake and watching us.

“Midas,” I said softly, moving closer. “Does it feel...off to you? I mean, you can’t say you don’t feel it.”

He nodded, his expression grave. “More than usual. This place isn’t just haunted. It’s...hostile.”

I swallowed, the confirmation settling heavily. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like every step we take, it pushes back. And I don’t think it’s going to let up. My mind is being assaulted with images. How many people have stayed here? How old is this place?”

He glanced down, his hand brushing against mine for just a moment—a small, grounding gesture, but enough to reassure me. “Try not to let it overwhelm you. We’re here together, Cassidy. Hang tight.” His voice was calm, steady, but I could see the concern flickering in his eyes, the way his gaze lingered on me just a bit longer.

“Hanging tight.” I tried to return his confidence, but there was an edge to my words, a feeling I couldn’t shake. “But keep an eye on Sierra, okay? Whatever’s here... it’s already gotten to her.”

He nodded, his jaw tight. “Will do. Let’s be careful, both of us.”

For a moment, we stood there in silence, just breathing in the thick air around us, our shared tension unspoken. We’d faced darkness before, but this felt different. And as we continued down the hall, the cold presence of the Malaga Inn pressed down, reminding me that this time, the stakes were higher.

We regrouped in the main hallway near where Rita had last been seen by staff. Each of us set up our equipment quietly, the usual chatter replaced by an odd stillness, like none of us wanted to be the first to break the silence. Midas set up the thermal camera while I checked the thermometer, watching the digital reading drop.

“Got a temperature drop here,” I said, showing Midas the screen. “Down by almost ten degrees in just minutes.”

He nodded, making a note. “No cold source to explain that. The AC is off and we know there are no guests here for the next two nights. What else could cause that temperature change? Jericho, any open windows over there?”

Jericho adjusted his EMF meter, his face a mask of concentration. He waved a flashlight into a nearby open room. He shook his head no. “EMF is spiking in and out—like it’s here up one second and gone the next.” He stepped toward the wall, holding his meter steady as the needle dipped and then jumped again. “Whatever it is, it’s moving.”

I took a deep breath, raising my EVP recorder. “Let’s see if we get anything audible,” I murmured, pressing record and holding it steady as I spoke. “Is anyone here with us? My name is Cassidy and these are my friends. Do you remember Rita?”

We stood still, waiting, the hallway pressing in around us. But when I replayed the recording, there was nothing—just the hiss of static.

“No EVPs,” I reported, exchanging a look with Sierra, who looked puzzled. “It’s like whatever’s here doesn’t want to communicate. Just... make itself known. Sierra, why don’t you give it a try?”

She nodded as I handed her the recorder. Like the pro she was, Sierra asked questions, leaving enough space between the questions for anything invisible to answer. We got nothing. Again.

Chris was adjusting his thermal camera, eyes narrowing as he checked the screen. “Guys, take a look at this.” He turned the screen toward me, revealing an outline—a faint, cold shadow near the wall. I moved closer, but by the time I looked, it was gone.

“Okay,” Midas said, stepping back and surveying the readings. “Temperature drops, sporadic EMF spikes, and some kind of visual distortion. This isn’t residual energy; it’s aware of us and avoiding us.”

I felt a shiver, gripping the recorder in my hand. Whatever was here wasn’t playing by the usual rules, and as we finished recording, the silence seemed to deepen, an unspoken warning lingering in the chill around us.

Joshua knelt down beside the main hallway entrance with the RYDER tablet in his hands. I’d seen this equipment more times than I could count, but tonight there was something different. He’d been talking for weeks about the upgrades he and Chris had added, but it wasn’t until now that I fully understood what they’d done.

“Okay, let’s see if the modifications pick up anything unusual,” Joshua murmured, adjusting the device’s settings with a practiced hand. He glanced over his shoulder at Chris, who nodded, their quiet exchange hinting at the work they’d put into making this device even more sensitive to high-frequency energy fields.

“So what’s new with it?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. I could feel the tech pulsing as it came to life, its faint hum filling the silence.

Joshua handed Chris the tablet while he strapped on the headset. In a few seconds, it was synced to the RYDER. “We calibrated it to detect even finer subtle fluctuations in the environment, things our regular EMF readers can’t pick up. We also added a thermal sensitivity layer that can show heat or cold traces with more precision. If something’s moving, we’ll know—even if it’s not visible. It can isolate specific sound frequencies,” Chris added, his eyes on the screen as faint data spikes began to register.

Joshua added as he adjusted his gear, “We tested it back in the lab. This thing should capture audio anomalies at ranges we couldn’t reach before. If there’s something here trying to communicate, this tech will pick it up.” I leaned closer, watching the monitor as small blips danced across the screen. Whatever lurked in the shadows wouldn’t be able to hide so easily, not with this level of detection. I didn’t understand the science, neither did I want to. It was enough that they did.

My fingers were itching to sketch though.

As the RYDER device scanned the area, the readings spiked, small distortions appearing on the thermal overlay. Each pulse seemed to hint at a presence, flickering in and out like something was circling us, just out of reach.

“There is an anomaly,” Chris muttered, pointing to a faint shape—a cold mass, thin but visible, moving along the far wall before vanishing. “Scan back, Joshua. End of the hallway to the right!”

Joshua glanced at me, his expression grim. He shifted the RYDER device’s range, adjusting its sensitivity as he tracked the anomaly Chris pointed out. The faint shape appeared again, a cold, shifting mass that seemed to fade and reappear, almost like it was playing with us. Every instinct told me this presence was more than just residual energy. I took a deep breath, keeping my hand steady on the digital recorder.

I raised the recorder again, hoping we’d get something more definitive this time. “Is someone here with us?” My voice sounded strange in the silence, almost too loud. “Are we seeing you?”

As the RYDER scanned, a crackling came through Joshua’s headset, faint but unmistakable. His eyes widened slightly, his hand lifting, signaling us to stay silent.

The sound crackled again, low and distorted, like something pressing against a barrier. He replayed it, and through the static, we all heard it—a low, raspy voice, scratchy like gravel.

The voice was barely a whisper, but the words were clear. “Leave... or suffer.”

My hand tightened around the EVP recorder, and I glanced at Midas, who had gone completely still, his gaze fixed on the RYDER’s screen.

“We just got a direct message,” he said quietly, his face grim. “This isn’t just a presence. It’s aware, and it’s warning us. Shoot! It’s gone!”

The hallway seemed to close in around us, the chill deepening as if the inn itself was amplifying the message. We exchanged wary looks, each of us processing the threat, and I felt a shiver run through me. The RYDER’s upgrades had delivered what we’d hoped, but the truth settled in with a different weight. Whatever was here didn’t just want us out—it wanted us gone for good.

We stood in silence, the warning hanging heavy in the air. For a few seconds, none of us moved, each absorbing the weight of what we’d just heard.

The inn had gone unnervingly quiet, the air dense, thick with a chill that seemed to seep right into my bones. I could feel my heart pounding, each beat reminding me that whatever was here was far from benign.

Sierra shifted beside me, her face pale, one hand lightly pressing against her temple. “There’s... something strange,” she whispered, almost as if speaking to herself. “It’s empty.” Her voice was hollow, laced with confusion. “I don’t sense anything... except for that dark one we’ve been tracking. Everything else is... gone. It’s like this place has been cleared out.”

Her eyes darted around, unsettled, before she looked directly at me, her expression tense, her gaze distant. “We need to go down. There’s something beneath us, something... waiting.”

“Down?” Midas asked, frowning. “Karen didn’t mention a basement, but maybe she didn’t know.”

Sierra nodded, her focus sharpening. “I can’t explain it, but whatever’s here, whatever’s keeping everything else away... it’s down there. That’s all I can say.”  The words hung between us, the weight of her statement settling in as we exchanged wary looks. If Sierra was sensing such a profound emptiness above, it meant that whatever lay beneath us held a power we hadn’t yet encountered.

Midas’s jaw tightened, a flicker of grim resolve passing over his face. “All right. We’ll finish here, then find a way down. And if there is something there, we’ll be ready. I’ll shoot her a text and ask her about it.” He paused immediately and did just that. She couldn’t have gone far, she just left ten minutes ago. We had keys to the place but the basement? Was there a basement?

As we moved, a dark sense of foreboding settled over me, thick and heavy, as if the inn itself was bracing for what we might uncover in its depths.

Midas, his gaze hard, turned to the team. “If it’s avoiding us, it means it’s aware of us. Cassidy, keep your recorder going. Whatever this thing is, we’re going to document every inch of its territory.”

Just as he finished speaking, the inn shook and a large boom sounded. It was enough to rattle my nerves, and I caught a glimpse of Chris’s face in the glow of his thermal camera—wide-eyed, tense. “What the hell was that?” he whispered.

Before anyone could answer the RYDER device emitted a sudden sharp blip, its screen flashing red. “Got another spike,” Chris muttered, his voice tight. “And it’s... bigger. This thing’s angry. Joshua, do you see it?”

He moved his head back and forth but eventually took the headset off. “It’s gone. Sierra is right. It scattered.” I glanced down the length of the hallway, a shadow shifting at the very edge of my vision before disappearing into the darkness. My grip on the EVP recorder tightened as I turned to Midas. “

“Whatever’s here, it knows we’re pushing back. And I don’t think it’s done with us yet,” Sierra announced squarely.

Midas gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. “Then neither are we.”

As the temperature plunged further, a sense of foreboding thickened the air.

We knew that this was only the beginning, and somewhere in the depths of the inn, something waited—patient, watching, and very, very aware.

Chapter Three–Midas

I watched Cassidy as she checked her sketchbook, fingers running along the worn edges. She glanced up, and our eyes met for a moment. She didn’t have to say it out loud; I knew what she was asking.

“You want to stay back and draw?” I asked softly, keeping my voice low enough for only her to hear. Her wild red hair was curled beautifully. My wife was such a beautiful woman–inside and out.

“I need to get these images out of my head and on paper,” she replied, her voice steady but tinged with that distant focus she got when the urge to draw hit her. I didn’t need to remind her to be careful; she knew as well as I did that sketching in a place like this could pull her into places she wasn’t ready for. “There are impressions here.” She turned her eyes to the room just behind me. “I’m going to start there.”

Chris stepped forward, glancing between us. “I can stay with her, if you want.”

Cassidy shook her head. “Thanks, but no. Macie already offered. She wants to try some automatic writing, and honestly, that might help too.”

I raised an eyebrow at Chris as Cassidy and Macie were reaching for their notebooks and pens. She flashed me a determined smile, though I could see the tension in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Midas. We’ll be okay,” Macie said, voice steady but soft and a little sad. Man, what is going on with her and Chris? Why would he offer to stay with Cassidy and not Macie?

I nodded, reluctantly stepping back. “All right. If anything feels wrong, I want both of you to radio us immediately.” I hated leaving Cassidy alone, even with Macie, but I also knew when to trust her instincts. There was a fine line between being a protective husband and overstepping.

She gave me a small, reassuring smile. “You got it. We’ll be fine.”

I turned back to the team, pulling them into a tight circle. “All right, here’s the plan,” I began, glancing at each of them in turn. “Cassidy and Macie will set up here. The rest of us are going to explore the reported hotspots, including the basement. We’re not touching anything until we know more, understand?”

A round of nods confirmed the team was ready. As I gave Cassidy one last look, I felt a familiar tension settle in my chest. This wasn’t the first haunted site we’d investigated, but something about this place felt sharper, like an edge we couldn’t see yet.

“Stay sharp,” I told the team as we moved out, leaving Cassidy and Macie to their work. With that, I turned back to the task at hand. Whatever waited for us down below, I’d make sure we were ready.

I led the team down the narrow hallway, my flashlight sweeping over the walls as I pointed out the spots where Karen had reported the most activity. The faint, musty smell of the inn’s age settled over us, mixed with something colder, more acrid, like the lingering trace of smoke. Every now and then, I’d catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, the shadows were empty.

“Over here,” I said, nodding toward a door near the end of the hall. “This is where Rita saw the figure. Karen said the feeling in this area is... different.” I watched as Sierra closed her eyes, reaching out with that silent sensitivity she carried like a radar.

I pulled out my phone as it buzzed in my pocket, Karen’s name flashing on the screen. Her text was short and to the point:

“The basement entrance is behind the old storage closet. It’s down the hall from where you are now. Be careful, Midas. And whatever you do, don’t open the second door. There’s something behind it we don’t understand.”

My eyes lingered on her warning, feeling the chill of her words settle over me. There was more to this basement than even she knew, and the way she’d written it, with that quiet urgency, felt like a veiled plea.

“Karen texted back,” I said, looking up at the team. “There’s a basement entrance just down the hall. It’s hidden behind a storage closet. But she warned us—there’s a second door down there, and we’re not supposed to open it.”

Chris gave a low whistle. “A hidden door in an old inn, huh? That sounds promising.”

“Promising or dangerous?” Jericho muttered, checking his equipment with a steady hand. “Basements in places like this rarely end well.”

Sierra, who had opened her eyes again, gave a small nod. “It’s like the energy is concentrating the deeper we go. I don’t think this spirit or entity wants us down there.”

“Noted,” I said, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “But if there’s something powerful enough to leave this kind of presence, we need to know what we’re up against. Let’s get to it.”

As we walked down the hall toward the storage closet, I sent Cassidy a quick radio message, letting her know we were heading down. Her voice came back calm, but I could hear the faint scratch of her pencil in the background, her hand already sketching out whatever impressions she was picking up.

“Macie and I are fine here,” she replied. “Be careful down there.”

I motioned for the team to gather around as I pushed open the closet door, revealing a narrow, unassuming staircase leading down into darkness. The air that seeped up from below was cold and damp, carrying with it a smell of earth and something metallic. I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

“Flashlights on, and watch your step,” I instructed. “We’ll go down together and stay close.” One by one, we descended into the dim stairwell, each step taking us deeper into the shadows.

As we descended, the darkness seemed to thicken, swallowing up the faint light from our flashlights. The stone walls were damp, and the faint smell of mold clung to the air, mingling with something more metallic, almost like rusted iron. Each step felt heavier, and I could feel the team’s collective tension settling around us, the silence punctuated only by the quiet creak of old stairs and the occasional shuffle of boots.

At the bottom of the staircase, we stepped into a narrow passageway that stretched further than I’d expected, its walls uneven and worn, etched with the marks of time. The space was tight, barely wide enough for two of us to walk side by side, forcing us into a single line. I held my flashlight steady, sweeping it over the stone walls as I moved forward.

“Sierra,” I called softly, “you picking up on anything?” Her heightened sensitivity had been invaluable in cases like this, but I’d seen how it could drain her. Down here, in a place so saturated with heavy energy, I wanted to keep tabs on her more than usual. Joshua and I exchanged concerned glances briefly.

She nodded, her voice quiet. “Yeah. It’s... oppressive though. It feels like this place has been sealed off for a reason. It’s not just history, Midas. Ugh. This is tricky.”

As we moved deeper, I felt the temperature drop, a familiar chill settling over my skin. Joshua’s RYDER device began emitting faint blips, registering subtle fluctuations in the air. He adjusted the settings, his face tense as he monitored the screen. Chris was wearing the headset now.

“We’re getting stronger readings down here—EMF spikes, temperature fluctuations. Whatever’s down here, it’s active. It’s not going to be able to hide. I’m now questioning whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Joshua whispered like a freight train.

I took a slow breath, feeling the weight of the place settle over me, thick and heavy. “Everyone, stay alert. This is more than residual energy; something down here is aware of us and wants to stay hidden.”

The crunch of our footsteps echoed in the confined space, each step drawing us closer to whatever waited deeper within. Shadows flickered in our flashlight beams, and the air grew colder still, a biting chill that gnawed through the layers of clothing, reaching skin and bone. The rough stone walls forced us into a single line.

I trailed my hand along the wall as we moved, the gritty texture grounding me, but then... there was something more. For a brief moment, it felt like a faint pulse under my fingers, as if the stones themselves were alive, quietly throbbing with energy. I pulled my hand back, heart pounding, and gave the team a look, but no one else seemed to have noticed. I didn’t mention it—yet.

“Anybody else picking up on the EMF shifts?” I whispered.

Joshua glanced up, his face lit by the glow of his screen. “Yeah, steady spikes—higher than they should be. The RYDER’s picking up fluctuations of a magnitude I’ve never seen before.” He held up the device, the screen lighting up with small, jagged lines that seemed to pulse with each step we took.

Sierra stopped in her tracks, her face pale. She reached out, lightly pressing a hand against her temple as she closed her eyes, her breathing steady but tense. “There’s... something here. It’s... powerful,” she murmured. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked back at me, the depth of her unease clear in her gaze. “It’s watching us, but... not from one place. I feel it from every direction.”

“Stay focused,” I told her, though her words echoed the feeling twisting in my gut. Whatever this was, it was larger than just one entity or energy. It felt... layered. Older than the inn above us, as if it were ingrained in the very foundation of the place.

Jericho moved ahead, sweeping his flashlight along the walls. “Look at these markings,” he whispered, illuminating a series of faint symbols etched into the stone. They were worn with age, but the shapes were still recognizable—circles and strange, looping symbols that seemed to form a continuous, unbroken pattern down the length of the wall. “Protection symbols,” he muttered, studying them. “They must have been here for ages. Could have been carved to keep something in... or out.”

A sudden, frigid draft swept through the tunnel, causing our flashlights to flicker, and the oppressive weight in the air seemed to intensify, pressing down on us like a physical force.

Joshua tightened his grip on the RYDER device, the screen flashing erratically. “The temperature’s plummeting, and EMF is going off the charts. Whatever’s here, it’s feeding on the energy around us.”

I nodded, feeling the walls seem to close in. “Stay alert. This isn’t residual energy. It’s... responsive.” The words felt heavy in my mouth, but I knew they were true. The presence was aware of us, moving, testing our resolve.

I took a steadying breath, then finally reached for my radio to check in with Cassidy. “Cassidy, we’re in the tunnel now. We’re getting spikes, temperature drops... the whole nine yards. Everything good with you two?”

She replied, her voice clear but tinged with that steady determination. “Roger that. All set here.” There was a pause, her voice softer, almost hesitant. “Be careful down there, Midas.”

“Will do. Call if you need me,” I said, pocketing the radio. I turned back to the team, who stood waiting, flashlights casting eerie shadows on the stone walls.

“All right, everyone. Let’s proceed, but stay sharp. Whatever’s down here—it’s aware of us, and it’s not hiding.”

The tunnel stretched ahead, each step amplifying the unease pressing down on us. The further we ventured, the stronger the sense of encroaching darkness became, as though we were intruding on ground that hadn’t seen light in centuries.

“Look ahead,” Jericho muttered, pointing his flashlight toward a bend in the passage. Just beyond it, the walls appeared to open into a larger chamber. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as we stepped closer. There was a dense, musty smell, something old and rotting, which caught in the back of my throat.

Joshua’s RYDER device let out a sharp beep, and he glanced down, eyes widening. “That’s another spike,” he whispered, his tone laced with alarm. “It’s stronger here, like we’re directly on top of something... volatile.”

Sierra moved beside him, her eyes darting between the walls. “This energy... it’s sickening,” she murmured, her voice tight. “It’s like a residue left from... suffering.” Sierra looked over her shoulder at me, her gaze sharp with caution. Her blonde ponytail was lopsided and her eyes were wide. “We’re standing in the middle of something terrible, Midas.”

I clenched my jaw, steadying myself. “We’re here to find answers. Let’s take a few readings and see if we can identify anything tangible.”

Jericho stepped closer to the wall, aiming his flashlight at a rusted chain bolted into the stone. He traced its length, and I caught a glimpse of what looked like old, worn shackles attached to the end, barely hanging on. His expression darkened as he brushed dust from the chain. “This place wasn’t just a tunnel—it was a holding space. Possibly for...”

His voice trailed off, but I knew what he meant. “Possibly for slaves,” I finished, the weight of those words heavy in the cold air. The inn had roots that ran deep, a past that refused to stay buried. And if what Sierra said was true, that suffering had left a mark—a scar that this entity fed on.

A soft moan drifted through the passage, low and mournful. The sound was faint, like a whisper, but the effect was instant. We all froze, flashlights illuminating a thick haze that seemed to settle in the chamber, dense and unnatural.

Sierra’s face was pale, her eyes wide. “It’s close... closer than before,” she whispered, clutching her hand to her chest as if to steady herself.

“Everyone, stay calm,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “Joshua, keep the RYDER scanning. We need to track its movements, see if we can figure out where it’s strongest.”

Another faint sound echoed—this time, something between a growl and a whisper, low and predatory, rumbling up from somewhere deeper within the passage. Whatever had been lurking in the shadows had finally decided to show itself.

"Everyone, hold steady," I said, my grip tightening on the flashlight as the darkness seemed to thicken around us.

As we pushed further into the chamber, the oppressive energy seemed to thicken, wrapping around us like a living thing. Every step felt like an intrusion, the darkness closing in from all sides. Joshua’s RYDER device crackled, the screen flickering as new data streamed in—a chaotic mess of spikes and readings that made no sense, each one higher than the last.

He glanced at me, his face tense. “This thing... it’s adapting. Whatever energy we’re giving off, it’s using it. Feeding off it.”

I nodded, the weight of that realization settling heavy in my gut. “It’s more than just aware—it’s interactive, almost intelligent. We need to be careful not to give it more to work with.”

Jericho ran his flashlight along the walls, revealing more worn, etched symbols, faint but intricate, lining the stone in uneven patches. “These symbols… They were designed to trap energy or maybe even a spirit. But if it broke free…” He trailed off, the implications hanging thick in the air.

The temperature plummeted further, our breath coming out in visible puffs. Sierra shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I feel it—whatever it is, it’s close. Watching. It doesn’t want us here.”

The RYDER device beeped sharply again, the spikes more pronounced. Joshua adjusted a setting, his fingers trembling slightly. “I’ve got a shape on the thermal feed,” he whispered, turning the screen so I could see it. The outline was vague—a mass, shifting and pulsing, like something caught between states. It wasn’t a person, or any solid form. It was more... predatory, darker than the shadows around it.

I gripped my radio, fighting the urge to call out to Cassidy for reassurance. But I had to focus on the team here, keep everyone grounded. I glanced at each of them, nodding. “We stick together, stay sharp. Whatever this thing is, we can’t give it an inch.”

Sierra’s eyes widened, her gaze fixed on a shadow near the far wall, where a rusted metal door was partially hidden by debris. “That’s where it’s strongest,” she whispered. “Whatever’s behind that door… it’s the source.”

A chill raced through me. I could feel the pull of whatever lay behind that door, like an invitation and a warning all at once. Taking a deep breath, I turned to the team. “Let’s approach slowly. No one touches anything until we’re sure it’s safe.”

As we made our way toward the door, that same low growl echoed through the chamber, rising in pitch—a chilling sound that seemed to vibrate through the walls, settling deep in my bones. We moved closer to the rusted door, the growling intensified, morphing into a guttural sound that echoed off the stone walls, surrounding us. It felt like something ancient, something raw and hungry, was warning us to turn back. The air was dense, thick with a damp, metallic scent that clung to the back of my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Joshua kept his eyes on the RYDER screen, his face pale. “The thermal feed is going wild. There’s a mass... right behind that door. I don’t know what it is, but it’s huge. And it’s moving.”

Sierra clutched her head, wincing. “It’s... pressing against me. It’s in my head, Midas. It’s trying to get in.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to ground her, but even I could feel it—a dark pulse, almost like a heartbeat, thumping in sync with the waves of energy rolling off the door. Whatever was in there was aware of us, and it was pushing back.

Jericho stepped forward, shining his flashlight over the rusty lock hanging loosely on the door. “This lock... it looks almost... ceremonial.” He pointed to symbols scratched into the metal, faint but deliberate. “I don’t think it’s meant to keep people out. I think it’s meant to keep... something in.”

The growling shifted, becoming a low whisper, a breathy chant in a language I didn’t recognize. It slithered through the cracks of the door, filling the space between us like smoke. I could feel it crawling up my spine, cold and oily, as if trying to reach into my mind and pull out my worst fears.

“We need to get out of here,” Joshua said, voice shaking. His eyes darting between the screen and the door, hands gripping the RYDER as if it were his lifeline. “Whatever this thing is, it’s powerful. It’s... it’s drawing strength from us, Midas.”

Sierra’s breathing grew rapid, her eyes unfocused as if she were seeing something we couldn’t. “It’s... it’s suffered. It’s been here so long... so angry. It blames us... blames everyone...”

Her words trailed off, but the fear remained, thick and tangible. I took a deep breath, trying to stay focused, to keep my own fear at bay. “We’re leaving,” I said firmly, the decision solidifying in my mind. “We’re not equipped for this—not tonight. We’ll regroup, come back with more precautions.”

But as I turned to lead the team back up the tunnel, a loud, deafening bang exploded from the door, like something had thrown its entire weight against it. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the ground seemed to shake beneath us.

“Move!” I shouted, and we scrambled back down the tunnel, the oppressive presence pressing in on us like a dark wave.

Each step felt slower, like wading through thick mud, as the door rattled again, louder, more furious, the growl building into an unearthly roar that chased us through the twisting darkness.

We continued down the tunnel, the narrow passage opened slightly, revealing more of the stone walls cloaked in shadow. Man, how long was this tunnel? How far back did it go? My flashlight caught something glinting to the side, and I stopped, focusing the beam. My stomach twisted at the sight—a rusted, heavy chain embedded into the wall, with old, corroded shackles dangling at the end.

Time had worn them, but even now, they seemed to hum with a grim energy, like they held onto memories that refused to fade. Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.

Jericho joined me, his gaze darkening as he took in the sight. “That’s... not something you just find lying around. This was meant to hold someone. People. Africans most likely.” He ran a hand over the chain, his face grim. “People don’t get chained up without a reason. These look pretty damn old.”

I’d never heard Jericho swear before but I didn’t mention it. I wanted to swear too.

I nodded, feeling the oppressive weight of the tunnel press down even harder. “You think this place could’ve been used for hiding people? Running them?” My voice was low, almost a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might wake whatever memories lay dormant here. Jericho dropped the chain and wiped his dusty fingers on his blue jeans.

“Yeah, they were trafficking people. Had to be that. What else would they keep down here? Not a horse. Not a cow. A person!” Jericho was clearly tuning into the sorrow here but I reminded him we were here to get answers.

Sierra stepped closer, her face pale, fingers tracing the outline of a faint mark scratched into the wall near the shackles. “These drawings on the walls. They are symbols—they’re not just for protection. Some of these…they’re markers. Warnings. Like they were trying to keep something at bay.” She looked up, her eyes haunted. “Whoever was here…they knew.”

The air grew colder still, and I felt the temperature plummet on my skin. Joshua’s RYDER device beeped with another spike, the lines jagged and irregular as they danced across the screen. He cursed under his breath, adjusting it, but it was clear the energy down here was interfering with his tech.

“Rusted chains, protective symbols…this place is layered in suffering,” I muttered.

The team shifted uneasily, their faces tight with the weight of the realization. I felt a chill creeping over me, settling into my bones as if the very walls were trying to warn us. The demon, if that’s what it was, wasn’t some lingering specter. It was something far darker, deeply rooted in the misery that had unfolded in this tunnel.

I turned to the others, keeping my voice steady. “Stay close. And remember, whatever we’re dealing with here…it’s aware of us. We stick together, and if anything feels wrong, we move out.”

With a shared glance of steely resolve, we took a collective breath and continued forward into the dark unknown.

As we moved deeper into the tunnel, the darkness seemed to thicken, pressing in on us from all sides. The air was so damp that it felt like breathing underwater. I forced myself to focus, keeping my flashlight steady, but each step felt like it was dragging me further into some ancient, malevolent memory.

Joshua’s RYDER device started to stutter, the screen flickering as static crackled through his headset. He tapped it, muttering under his breath. “This interference is unreal. It’s like something’s scrambling the signals on purpose.”

Sierra nodded, her gaze locked on the shadows shifting ahead of us. “It’s feeding off us,” she whispered. “The fear, the equipment—everything. It’s pulling it in.”

We continued, but the quiet was so absolute that even the smallest sound—a scuff of a boot, a soft breath—felt amplified, echoing in the emptiness. The shadows ahead seemed to move, flickering at the edges of our flashlights, dancing just beyond where the light could reach.

A sudden noise broke the silence—a low, rumbling growl that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. My heart hammered as I scanned the tunnel, but there was nothing. Just the shifting shadows, waiting.

Chris took a cautious step back, his face pale. “Did you guys hear that?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I felt it in my bones—whatever was down here didn’t just want to scare us; it wanted us gone. My hand tightened around the radio. “Cassidy, do you copy?”

Her voice crackled through, steady but laced with tension. “I’m here, Midas. What’s going on?”

“Just…stay where you are. We’re fine, but we’re picking up something down here that’s stronger than we thought. We might be dealing with more than one presence.” I tried to keep my tone calm, but even I could hear the edge in my voice.

The team exchanged uneasy glances, and I could see the fear starting to build in their faces. Whatever was lurking in this tunnel had been waiting a long time, drawing power from the suffering that had soaked into these walls. And now, it was watching us, waiting for us to make the next move.

“Everyone stay close,” I said, forcing the words through the dread that threatened to choke me. “We’re not alone down here, and whatever it is…it doesn’t want us finding out its secrets.”

We pressed forward, moving together, each step heavier than the last, like we were moving through thick, invisible sludge. I could feel the tension in the air, an almost tangible weight bearing down on us with each passing second. The tunnel felt endless, stretching on in a winding, oppressive silence.

My flashlight beam caught glimpses of more symbols etched into the walls—symbols that seemed to twist and writhe as the light passed over them, as if they were alive. Sierra stopped abruptly, her hand clamping onto my arm. “Wait, Midas.” The urgency in her voice froze us in place. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and unfocused. She swallowed hard, her grip tightening. “There’s… something. Right in front of us. Tell me you see it.”

We all strained our eyes, trying to see what she was seeing. But there was nothing—just shadows layered over shadows. Jericho’s flashlight flickered, casting strange, warped patterns on the walls.

Joshua adjusted the RYDER device, his hands trembling as the readings spiked wildly, an almost frantic staccato of beeps and blips. “Whatever’s here, it’s closing in,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Okay so just me? Chris? You can’t see it with RYDER?” Sierra’s face twisted, her hand still clutching her temple as if the pressure was unbearable.

“Not yet. Am I pointed in the right direction? I can’t change modes and it’s not mapping the facility.” He sounded frustrated as he rapped on the helmet with his knuckle.

Joshua saw it and spoke up. “Dude. That’s not how we fix equipment. Take it off and we’ll go with the sensor instead of the helmet.”

“It’s angry, guys,,” she said through gritted teeth. “And it’s... blocking something. There’s a barrier. It doesn’t want us to go any further.”

“We can’t go past that door. Karen says it’s off limits,” I added mournfully. “We need to regroup.”

Jericho took a slow step back, his face etched with grim resolve. “You’re right, Midas. If we cross whatever line it’s drawn, we might provoke it. This thing’s not just a spirit—it’s protecting something down here.”

I took a steadying breath, my heart pounding as I weighed our options. The entity knew we were close, and it was clear that whatever lay deeper in the tunnel was something it would go to great lengths to conceal. But we were here for answers, and turning back now wasn’t an option.

“Stay close. And don’t let go of the person next to you, no matter what,” I instructed, my voice steadier than I felt. “Whatever it’s hiding, we’re going to find it.”

We tightened up, forming a line as we moved forward into the darkness, bracing ourselves for whatever was waiting just beyond the edge of the light.

Suddenly, a low, rumbling sound filled the space—a growl, deep and resonant, vibrating through the walls. It wasn’t an animal sound, but something darker, like an ancient warning buried in the earth itself. The hair on my arms stood on end, and I felt every instinct scream to turn back. But I forced myself to keep moving, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the team was still with me.

“Stay together,” I reminded them, my voice barely audible over the oppressive noise. Jericho was scanning the walls, his face pale, but he nodded, jaw clenched in determination. Sierra’s breathing had quickened, and she clutched her temple with one hand, her eyes wide and unfocused, like she was fighting to hold herself steady against an unseen force.

Joshua was muttering under his breath, frantically adjusting the RYDER device as the readings spiked higher than we’d seen all night. The device’s screen lit up with jagged red lines, fluctuating wildly, as if the entity itself was right there, feeding off our fear.

“Is there anything you’re picking up, Joshua?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He shook his head, his face tense. “Nothing clear—it’s just… everything. It’s like the whole tunnel is alive with this thing’s energy. Whatever it is, it’s everywhere around us, but not showing itself. My sensor is overwhelmed with information.”

The growling subsided, replaced by an eerie, almost palpable silence. Then, a voice, soft and cold, drifted from the darkness, echoing around us in a faint, almost mocking whisper.

"Get out!”

The words sent an ice-cold wave of fear through me. I tightened my grip on my flashlight and glanced at the team, who were all staring into the darkness with a mix of horror and defiance. We were too deep in now—whatever had made this place its home, we’d come too far to back down.

Taking a steadying breath, I looked ahead, pushing my fear aside. “We don’t scare easily,” I said aloud, my voice firm. “If there’s something you want us to know… show yourself.”

The silence that followed was absolute. And then, as if in response, the darkness seemed to shift, coalescing into a faint, twisting shape further down the tunnel—a form, tall and thin, with glowing eyes that seemed to burn right into our souls. It only manifested for a few seconds as it came barreling toward us like a dark bolt of lightning. The group collectively screamed but to their credit, nobody ran. For that, I was grateful.

Until I saw Sierra lying on the floor.

Chapter Four–Sierra

My eyes fluttered open, the dim light of the inn coming into focus as I struggled to steady my breathing. The team’s faces blurred in and out, and I caught Midas leaning over me, worry etched deep into his expression. Joshua was closest, thankfully. He touched my face and smiled at me.

I blinked hard, grounding myself, feeling the cold, damp floor beneath me as I pushed up to sit. My body felt like it had been through a storm. “Crap. I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. What was that boom?” Nobody had an answer as Joshua helped her dust herself off and assessed her for injuries.

“You good?” Joshua’s voice was low but steady, a calm anchor as I forced myself to nod. My chest still felt tight, and my mind was reeling with lingering shadows of whatever had pulled me under.

“I think so,” I murmured, feeling the last vestiges of that overwhelming pressure start to fade. But I wasn’t quite there. Something dark brushed against me, something I wasn’t sure I could shake off so easily.

The others gave me a moment to collect myself as Joshua offered me his hand. I took it gratefully, enjoying the warmth of his skin, as his hand gave mine a light, reassuring squeeze. I didn’t have to say what we all felt—that whatever lurked in this place was beyond the usual.

The tunnel, the rusted chains, the symbols…they’d been holding something in. And we’d just scratched the surface.

“Let’s head upstairs and regroup,” Midas said, keeping his voice calm but urgent. He gave a quick nod to each of us, and we all fell into step, leaving that suffocating darkness behind us as we climbed the narrow stairs and returned to the main part of the inn.

Once we were back in the open space, I finally felt like I could breathe again. But that sense of dread lingered, curling around the edges of my mind, whispering that what we’d just seen in the tunnel was only the beginning.

We gathered around the heavy antique table in the dining room, each of us settling in with an unspoken understanding. The weight of what we’d just experienced hung over us, pressing down like the stale, cold air that had seeped from the tunnel.

“Look what I have. Karen left it for us.” Midas spread out a map of the inn on the table, marking the entrance to the basement and the tunnel beyond it. His fingers traced the lines, but his gaze was distant, his thoughts clearly still below ground.

“We’ve seen some dark places,” he began, his voice carrying that serious edge that always made us stop and listen, “but this… the energy in that tunnel was different. It wasn’t just residual. It was active—watching us, sizing us up.”

Jericho nodded, his arms crossed. “Feels like we stirred something up by just being down there. The symbols, the chains—everything about that place points to it being more than just a hiding spot. Whoever built it… they wanted to keep something in.” His words hit me like a wave. The feeling of oppression, of something old and buried, had clung to us since we’d left.

Cassidy and Macie exchanged glances, and I saw a faint shiver run through Cassidy as she murmured, “Rita must have felt all of that too. She must have seen… whatever it was that wanted her gone.”

The room fell silent at her words, and a chill settled over us. Whatever had frightened Rita to death was still here, lurking, waiting. And now, I knew, it had set its sights on us.

I leaned forward, still feeling the dull ache from the tunnel, a heaviness that seemed to sit right in the center of my chest. My senses were still tingling with the aftershock of what we’d encountered, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, even in the safety of the main room.

Cassidy sat across from me, her sketchbook closed and resting in her lap, but her fingers drummed nervously on the cover. Her eyes were distant, as though she was still lost somewhere down there, tracing the lines of those eerie shadows.

“Cassidy,” I said, breaking the silence. “What did you see? Can you show us what you drew?”

She blinked as if snapping back into the moment, and then hesitated after meeting Macie’s careful glance. “It’s… hard to interpret with pencil, Sierra. But, yeah. You should see.” With a quick breath, she flipped open her notebook and turned it toward me, revealing pages of jagged sketches—each one darker and more twisted than the last.

The image that caught my attention, though, was one in particular. A figure loomed on the page, its form shadowy and menacing, like it had been summoned from the darkest corner of some forgotten nightmare. Cloaked in inky blackness, its outline was jagged and raw, as if Cassidy’s pencil had scratched it into existence with frantic strokes, desperate to capture every unsettling detail.

Its hands were skeletal, with impossibly long, thin fingers that seemed to reach right out of the page, curling like tendrils searching for something to grasp. But it was the face—or rather, the hollow space where a face should have been—that sent an icy chill down my spine. Two empty sockets sat where eyes should have been, but there was a depth to them, an emptiness that seemed alive, staring back at me with a hunger that was both ancient and insatiable.

A faint haze surrounded the figure, almost like smoke, blurring its edges and making it feel as though it was moving, shifting right there on the page. It wasn’t just a sketch; it was a trap, holding something dark and dangerous, as though the entity itself had imprinted its essence onto Cassidy’s work.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away, each second drawing me deeper into those hollow eyes, feeling their cold scrutiny as if they were peeling back layers of my thoughts, my fears.

The longer I looked, the more it felt as though it was pulling me in, reaching through the paper, its twisted form begging to be released.

I shivered, swallowing hard. “This…this is what you saw?” My voice came out as a whisper, barely audible. It was like nothing I’d ever seen or sensed before—a darkness that went beyond spirits or restless souls. It was something raw, something that had lived here, festering in the shadows, for longer than any of us could imagine.

Cassidy nodded, her face pale. “It wasn’t just a shadow,” she murmured, almost to herself. “It was real, Sierra. And when I drew it, it felt…like it was watching me, looking straight back at me through the pencil, through the paper.” Her hand trembled as she closed the sketchbook, as though shutting it might keep the creature contained. But its presence lingered in the room, thick and heavy, like the scent of smoke after a fire, refusing to let go.

I leaned back, feeling the cold press of dread settle in, realizing that whatever Cassidy had captured on that page wasn’t just a figment. It was something deeply, terribly real. And it had already shown itself to Rita, whispering warnings into the darkness, claiming her life in the process.

I tore my gaze from Cassidy’s sketchbook, the weight of what I’d just seen settling over me like a cold shroud.

That shadowed figure, with its hollow eyes and grasping hands, was no mere apparition. It had a presence, a hunger, that lingered even after the book was closed. I felt it, an oppressive energy creeping along the edges of my mind.

“Cassidy, thank you for showing me,” I managed, my voice coming out shakier than I’d intended. I forced myself to refocus, pushing past the eerie imagery seared into my memory. “There’s no way we’re dealing with just a haunting here. That…thing…it has power.”

She nodded, her expression drawn. “It’s like it has weight, Sierra, like it’s bound to this place. And it’s angry. I think we need to break this meeting and gather back at the office. It doesn’t need to know what we’re doing. It’s very intelligent.”

I glanced around the room, the faint hum of our equipment a reminder that we were here to uncover the truth, no matter how unsettling it was. I leaned against Joshua as we moved toward the main floor of the inn, each step feeling like a battle to shake off the heavy, dark energy that clung to us. Every inch of this place felt wrong, and my head still pounded from the sensation of being pulled under.

The staleness of the air, the thick silence—it was still there, but it felt different, as though the inn itself was watching us, holding its breath. I tried to ignore the chill pressing into my skin, focusing on the faces of my teammates, each one mirroring my own unease.

The relief on everyone’s face was instant. Joshua reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as we quickly gathered our gear. Leaving felt almost too easy, like the inn was letting us go, but I didn’t want to question it. I focused on getting out, on the promise of fresh air and distance from whatever shadows we’d stirred up below.

As we stepped outside, the weight finally lifted, and I took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the cold night air clear my head. But even as we headed toward the car, the feeling lingered, an unshakable sense that something from the inn was still watching, waiting for us to come back.

“Sierra Kay? Hey, you alright?” Joshua was beside me, his eyes expressive and full of concern.

“Yeah. I’ll shake it off. I’m okay.” I kissed his cheek and bounded into the SUV before he questioned me further. What had really happened there at the Malaga Inn? The last thing I remember is I heard a thunderous boom and then the world went black. I had a horrible suspicion but I wasn’t ready to believe it yet.

Could there truly be an open portal at the Malaga Inn? Damn! I sure don’t want that to be true.

The drive to the office was quiet but also necessary. At least for me.

At the office, the atmosphere was lighter but a quiet tension still hung over us, as though the shadows from the inn had followed. My fingers felt cold, the ache in my chest a dull reminder of the dark presence that had pressed down on us in that basement.

I’d barely settled in my chair at the conference table when a wave of dizziness swept over me, sudden and disorienting. What’s happening to me?

“Joshua! She’s going down!” I heard Cassidy’s frantic voice and the other voices of my teammates. Their voices became muffled, fading into the background like a distant echo. The room blurred around me, the lines and colors melting away until all that remained was darkness.

I felt myself slipping, like falling backward into a deep pool. My limbs felt heavy, my vision tunneling as I struggled to stay grounded, but something else was taking over—a force stronger than my own will. My breath slowed, and then I heard it, faint and hollow, a whisper brushing against my mind.

Leave… while you still can!

The words seemed to come from inside me, echoing with a chilling familiarity. My lips moved, forming words I didn’t understand, fragments of phrases whispered in a voice that wasn’t mine. It felt as though I were caught between worlds, my body here in the office, but my mind pulled back to the inn, to that dark, oppressive corridor.

“Run… you don’t belong here,” I whispered in a low voice. Images began to flood my mind, each one sharper than the last—the rough stone walls, the thick cobwebs that clung to every surface, the flicker of something moving in the shadows. I could feel the weight of eyes on me, cold and unforgiving, watching my every move.

I heard someone—Joshua, maybe? The voice called my name, the sound faint and distant. I wanted to respond, to let them know I was okay, but I couldn’t. I was pulled deeper, my heartbeat slowing as I found myself walking through the inn’s halls, alone, my steps soundless in the dark.

Ahead of me, in the half-light I saw a woman. Her figure flickered like a mirage, moving through the dim corridor with a fearful urgency, her gaze darting to the shadows. She didn’t see me, couldn’t hear me, but I felt her terror, sharp and biting, like I was living it with her.

I tried to reach out, to stop her, but I was trapped, only a spectator, forced to watch as she stumbled into the darkness.

A thick, cold dread wrapped around me, tightening like a noose. I could feel it coming, that thing she’d seen, waiting in the shadows. Darkness crept in slowly, like a heavy fog swallowing up the edges of my mind. I wasn’t alone. I felt someone’s hand, warm and rough, gripping my brown one tightly. The woman’s breaths came fast, shallow, each one sharp with urgency–as did mine. I looked down again, catching a glimpse of thin arms—my arms--clad in worn, rough fabric.

I realized with a start that I was inside someone else’s body. The weight of the young woman’s terror settled over me, thick and oppressive, making my own heart pound as if it might burst. Oh my God! Oh my God! I am running for my life!

“Come on, darlin’,” the woman whispered, her voice strained and full of dread. “We don’t have much time.” She tugged me forward, and I felt my feet move in step with hers. She was Beulah—I knew it in my bones, in the sharp familiarity that radiated from her. I knew instinctively that she was trying to save me.

The shadows around us deepened, twisting with an unseen threat. Footsteps echoed from somewhere behind, heavy and unyielding, each step infused with the vile intent of the man who pursued us. His presence filled the air, dark and all-consuming, like the stench of rot that seeped through the walls.

“Beulah,” I managed to whisper, my voice small and tight with fear, but she shushed me, her grip tightening. “Shh, now. He doesn't need to hear us!” We were going down, down, down. I hated this. I didn’t want to be here but what could I do?

The two of us moved swiftly, our feet barely brushing the creaking wood as we navigated the darkened hallway. Every instinct screamed for me to look back, to see how close he was, but I couldn’t. The dread kept me rooted in motion, focused only on the steady pace of Beulah’s steps and her whispered reassurances.

But then, I heard it—the rasping breath, the faint hiss of satisfaction in his voice as he drew closer. “You can run, but you can’t hide,” he sneered, his tone dripping with malice. The sound was pure evil, like poison seeping through the air.

Beulah’s pace quickened, her hand pulling me forward, her voice trembling. “Don’t look back. We’re almost there.”

But his footsteps grew louder, closer, every stride of his bringing a new wave of suffocating darkness. Panic clawed at my chest, tightening with each breath. Just as we reached the end of the hallway, his shadow fell over us, and I felt the chill of his gaze settle on me like a brand.

The smothering darkness thickened, and Beulah’s image began to fade, her grip slipping from my hand like smoke. My heartbeat quickened as I felt her presence pulling away, leaving me stranded in the thick, swirling shadows. I tried to reach out, to hold onto her, but my hand grasped only emptiness.

The hallway dimmed, the shapes around me twisting, contorting, until something else took her place—a figure so dark and menacing it felt like the embodiment of despair itself. How many had run through this tunnel? How many had begged for their lives here?

The Malaga Inn was not far from the Mobile docks and not far from the sprawling mansions on Spring Hill. Perfect for shady slave runners.

The thing emerged slowly, its form shifting and stretching, a hulking shadow with elongated, skeletal fingers that curled and reached, just like in Cassidy’s sketch. Each finger was a grotesque mockery of human hands, long and thin, tapering into sharp points that seemed to pierce the air around them.

My stomach turned as the figure’s hollow eyes stared back at me, empty yet brimming with an insatiable hunger, a dark, endless void where life should have been.

The demon’s gaze settled on me, its hollow sockets drawing me in, peeling away every barrier I’d tried to put up. I wanted to vomit, or rather the girl I was hiding inside wanted to vomit.

A crushing wave of fear radiated from its form, a thick miasma that seemed to feed off the lingering terror Beulah had left behind. I could feel the remnants of her panic woven into the air, and it was as if the demon drank in that fear, savoring it, amplifying it until it pulsed through my own body.

And then, suddenly, I felt her again.

The girl, Kanda’s desperation, her breathless gasps, her terror-laden thoughts—they flooded my mind, mingling with my own emotions. My chest ached with the weight of her pain, each breath harder than the last, as though the walls themselves were closing in. I sensed Kanda’s futile attempts to escape, to free herself from the demon’s clutches and the man who had hunted her, his vile presence lingering like poison in the air.

Kanda was different from other slaves, other people. She could see the spirits here. The dead were everywhere! A roar from behind her encouraged Kanda to run faster but she couldn’t help but glance behind her. Surely she wouldn’t see anything in the dark. Surely not. But she did. She saw it clearly.

The demon’s hollow eyes bore into Kanda–and me, dragging me into the final moments of Kanda’s life, just as they had for Rita. The pain in my chest intensified, mirroring the helplessness she’d felt, that last surge of terror as the demon closed in on her, relentless and unforgiving.

The pressure in my chest grew unbearable, each breath more painful than the last, as though an invisible weight was pressing down on me, determined to crush the life out of me. I was trapped, caught in the relentless grip of Kanda’’s final moments, feeling every ounce of her terror, her panic, and the raw, consuming desperation that had driven her to run, even knowing she had little chance of escape.

The vision sharpened, pulling me deeper into her horror. I could feel her labored breaths, the raw scratch of her voice as she tried to remain silent, as if even the sound of her heartbeat might give her away.

Every step was agony, Kanda’s bare feet were bruised and battered, yet she forced herself onward, driven by an instinct to survive that burned against the darkness closing in on her.

Behind me, I felt the looming presence of the man who pursued her, a hateful, greedy soul wrapped in human flesh, and the demon bound to him, feeding off his cruelty, his callous disregard for her life. It was as if they were one—man and demon, both predatory, relentless, each amplifying the other’s malice.

My chest burned as the pressure intensified, and it wasn’t just Kanda’s fear I was feeling now—it was Rita’s too. Rita, the most recent victim of this horrible spirit. Their terrors were woven together, blending into a shared anguish that spanned decades, generations, each woman’s suffering amplifying the other’s. Their mirrored experiences, the hopeless dread of knowing that escape was impossible, that death was closing in–they shared all these.

I tried to pull away from the trance, to remind myself that I was Sierra, that this was a vision, not my own reality. But the pain, the crushing weight of despair, was too intense, too real. I was suffocating under the fear that had claimed Beulah, Kanda and Rita, helpless as the darkness tightened around me, squeezing out every last bit of hope.

My mind screamed, begging for release, for escape from the agony binding me to the women’s fate. But the vision wouldn’t let go, refusing to end until I had felt every moment, every heartbeat of their terror.

The darkness finally loosened its grip, and I gasped, feeling air rush back into my lungs as if I’d surfaced from deep underwater. The office around me sharpened into view, the fluorescent lights harsh against my eyes, and I found myself clutching my chest, the phantom ache from the trance still lingering, heavy and painful.

“Sierra! Sierra, can you hear me?” Joshua’s voice was close, warm, a lifeline pulling me back. His arms were around me, his hand gently pressing against my back, grounding me, keeping me anchored in the present. I blinked up at him, my vision swimming as the remnants of the terror I’d just felt began to recede.

I nodded, struggling to catch my breath, but words failed me. The fear, the dread from Kanda and Rita—it was still there, clinging to me, as if their spirits hadn’t quite let go. I could still feel that crushing weight, that all-consuming despair, as though I’d walked in their final footsteps and felt the demon’s vile gaze bearing down on me.

“Sierra, what happened?” Cassidy’s voice was soft, laced with concern. I saw the rest of the team surrounding me, their faces pale, their eyes wide with worry. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat felt tight, choked by the lingering horror of what I’d just witnessed. “Hey! Let’s get her some water!” Macie took off for the break room and quickly returned with a bottle. Joshua cracked it open and handed it to me after he helped me to my feet and plopped me back in the chair.

“It… it was two women,” I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper. “Kanda… and Beulah. They… they both faced him. The man—the one who pursued them—and the demon… Rita too…” I shuddered, the memory of his shadowed form, his hollow eyes, still vivid in my mind.

“All of them,” I repeated, my voice trembling. “He fed on their fear, used them… their pain… like fuel.” My voice cracked, and I clutched Joshua’s hand as I tried to steady myself. “And he’s still there, still feeding… waiting for anyone who dares disturb his domain. Fueled by the blood of slaves, by the fury and anguish of slaves! Oh my God, Joshua!” I shuddered as I fell into sobs as a tumult of emotions.

The room fell silent, each of my words sinking in, the weight of them settling over us. I could see it in their faces—the realization that what we were up against wasn’t just some angry spirit. It was something far more ancient, far more dangerous.

The team’s expressions shifted as I wiped my eyes and steadied myself. The silence around us was thick, each of us weighed down by the implications of what we’d just learned.

The terror I’d felt in the trance—the relentless pursuit, the haunting darkness that consumed both Kanda and Beulah—was still fresh, chilling me to the bone. And if Rita’s death had followed the same pattern, then this thing… it wasn’t done.

Not even close.

I swallowed, the ache in my chest lingering, a dark reminder of the pain both women had felt in their final moments. “This… whatever it is,” I began, my voice barely steady, “it’s not just some ghost or restless spirit. It’s something much darker, much older, and it’s fueled by suffering. It’s using the pain that’s seeped into those walls over centuries, feeding off it like a… a parasite.” I struggled to find the words, and Joshua gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

Cassidy, her face pale, took a step closer, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and determination. “You think it’s been… feeding? For all these years?”

I nodded, feeling the weight of that truth settling over me. “Yes. And it’s not just lingering. It’s waiting, still hungry, still consuming. Rita’s death may not have been an accident. It felt so similar… almost like this thing claimed her, just like it did Kanda and Beulah. You know what they all had in common?” I asked the team as they stared at me like a collection of hoot owls. I didn’t wait for an answer. “They were all black. They were all women. This thing targets them!”

Midas rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze distant but fierce. “If that’s true, then this thing won’t stop with just Rita. Anyone who gets too close, anyone who stirs up that darkness—it’s bound to take them, too.”

The words hit hard, and a sense of dread settled over us all. The inn was more than haunted; it was a trap, a dark and twisted snare that had claimed lives, over and over, for generations. And now, we were tangled up in its history, walking right into the path of whatever lay in its depths.

I met each of their eyes, seeing their fear, their unease, but also their resolve. Whatever had lurked in that tunnel, fed by centuries of pain, was still down there, bound to the shadows and waiting for anyone it could claim. But this time, we’d uncovered part of its story, seen a glimpse of the horrors it fed on—and now it knew us, too.

“We’ve stirred it up,” I said, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. “It’s been hiding, waiting… but now it’s watching us. It knows we are coming for it.”

Joshua’s hand tightened around mine, a silent promise that I wasn’t alone in this. “Then we’d better be ready for whatever comes next,” he said softly.

Midas nodded, a grim line set on his face. “If it’s a fight this thing wants,” he muttered, “then it’s a fight it’ll get.”

But even as we spoke, I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on us, lingering, patient, just beyond the veil of our reality. In silence, we unpacked up our initial camera and audio evidence, readying ourselves to confront the darkness lurking at the Malaga Inn. I realized that whatever came next would test us all.

We were dealing with something ancient, something that had seen countless lives and would take countless more if we didn’t stop it.

And as I stepped out of the office and into the cold night, I felt the weight of their stories—the lives that had been stolen—pressing down on me like a warning.

The inn’s secrets were awake, and this time, it wouldn’t let us go so easily.

Chapter Five–Cassidy

I stood just outside Dominic’s room, my hand gripping the doorframe as if that alone could keep the shadows at bay. He looked so small in his toddler bed, a faint smile on his face, like he was dreaming about eating something sweet. The child did love his sweets.

I prayed that could hold onto that innocence, keep it wrapped around his young spirit like a shield. The air in the room felt thick, almost electric, and it made me shiver despite myself. The evil of this world was always reaching out, seeking to touch us all.

I crept closer, my bare feet silent against the floor, and reached out to brush my fingertips against his cheek. Soft, warm. For a moment, the tension in my chest eased, and I felt steady again. But then that prickling on the back of my neck returned, an awareness of something watching, waiting, just beyond what I could see.

My other hand rested on my belly—a reflex I couldn’t seem to stop these days. The thought of another baby, another fragile life to protect, filled me with both joy and a strange, gnawing dread. What kind of world were we bringing this child into? What kind of dangers lurked in the shadows, closer than we dared to believe?

Dominic shifted, his tiny fingers curling around the edge of his blanket, and I held my breath, afraid to disturb the peace in this room. I felt like an intruder, like if I stayed too long, whatever was lurking would take notice.

I whispered to myself, barely audible, “Will I be able to protect you both?”

The shadows seemed to gather, closer, darker, swallowing the faint light around us. I could feel it, that presence, lingering just outside his dreams, biding its time. I pulled myself back, leaving him to sleep and whispering a silent promise. But even as I closed his door, that prickle of unease clung to me, heavy as a weight I couldn’t quite shake.

I climbed into bed beside Midas, sinking into the familiar warmth of his embrace. For a brief, blissful moment, the unease that had followed me like a shadow all evening melted away. His arm wrapped around me, strong and steady, pulling me closer, and I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Dominic out?” he murmured, his voice low, barely breaking the quiet of our bedroom.

“Sound asleep,” I replied softly, feeling the words more than saying them. I closed my eyes, savoring this small moment of peace. “It’s… good to be home,” I whispered, though I couldn’t fully push away the weight that seemed to hover just outside our room. It felt as if something had followed us, a lingering presence that only grew bolder in the dark.

He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over my arm in that comforting, familiar way that usually eased my mind. But tonight, there was a gnawing fear tucked away in the corners of my thoughts, hiding beneath each comforting beat of his heart.

“Sleep, Cassidy,” he said, his voice drifting. “You need it. We both do.”

I nodded against his chest, letting his warmth surround me. And slowly, exhaustion washed over me, dragging me down into sleep. But I dreamed and it quickly took a darker turn.

In my dream, I found myself standing over Dominic’s crib, watching him sleep, my heart filling with love—until the shadows thickened around him, creeping closer, growing darker. I tried to reach for him, to pick him up, but my hand wouldn’t move. Something cold and menacing surrounded us, swallowing the room, blotting out his tiny, precious face.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I was helpless, frozen, as the shadows claimed him, obscuring every bit of his small frame until only darkness remained.

A low, cruel whisper filled the air, cutting through my fear like a blade. You can’t protect them, Cassidy.

I woke with a start, my body drenched in cold sweat, Midas’s arm still around me, his breathing steady and oblivious. My hand trembled as I touched my belly, as if to reassure myself that everything was okay. But the whisper still echoed in my mind, lingering like a shadow I couldn’t shake, and I lay awake, wondering if I was strong enough to keep my family safe from the darkness we’d awakened.

The darkness around me felt dense, heavy, as if it had a pulse of its own, slow and steady. Shadows clung to the corners, thicker and deeper than they should have been, and the whisper… that low, menacing whisper was still there, circling at the edge of my hearing, like a poisonous secret waiting to be heard.

Then, as if summoned by that whisper in my dream, faces began to take shape in the darkness. They formed slowly, like mist coiling up from a hidden, cursed lake.

I blinked, but they didn’t fade. Faint, ghostly shapes hovered around me, growing sharper with every second, each face pale and hollow-eyed, bearing the haunted, tortured look of those who’d seen too much.

Men, women, even children—each one looked as if they'd been pulled from some half-forgotten nightmare, twisted with sorrow and suffering.

Their eyes were the worst. Empty, yet somehow full, like they held the weight of centuries of pain. I could see their mouths, frozen in silent cries, lips twisted into shapes that hinted at words they could no longer speak.

I felt their stares pressing down on me, cold and accusing, and there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to turn. It was as though they’d come to show me something terrible, something I’d never be able to forget.

They floated closer, circling around me like an unholy procession, each one fixed on me with that same, desperate need. Their faces were twisted, gaunt and pale, but their eyes... their eyes burned with a pleading agony, as if they’d been trapped here for so long they couldn’t bear it anymore.

I felt their grief, their despair, creeping over me like icy fingers wrapping around my heart, squeezing until my breath came shallow, each gasp clawing its way out.

My instinct was to scream, to turn away, to shut my eyes, but I was rooted to the bed, forced to face this gallery of sorrow. They drifted closer, and I felt their pain as if it were my own, a terrible, unending weight that left me paralyzed, drowning in their grief. The air thickened, grew colder, and I swore I could feel the brush of cold, dead fingers grazing my skin, soft and barely there, like the last touch of someone long gone.

I sat frozen, the faces closing in around me, as if begging me to understand the depth of their torment, pleading for release. It was a gathering of the lost, a tribunal of the damned, and I was trapped among them, their silent cries echoing through my mind. As tears streamed down my face the images began to fade.

My artist’s mind kicked in, even in the face of terror, memorizing each detail.

The angles of their cheeks, the hollowness of their eyes, the gaunt lines of despair etched into every face. I had to remember them. I had to sketch them. There was something each face was trying to tell me, something crucial, hidden in their ghostly expressions.

And then, one by one, they faded, dissolving into the dimness of the room, leaving only the chill and that dreadful whisper in my mind.

“You can’t save them, Cassidy.”

I sat there in the dark, clutching the sheets and pressing a hand to my stomach, feeling the slow, steady beat of my own heart. It was almost morning—I could feel the faintest glow of dawn behind the drawn curtains, but sleep was impossible now. Not with their faces etched into my mind.

This was no ordinary haunting. This was something that knew us, that sought to unravel us from the inside.

Even as the first light of dawn crept into the room, the darkness didn’t fully recede. It clung to the corners, hovering just beyond the reach of morning, as if mocking the safety that daylight was supposed to bring. I sat there, hands clenched tight around my belly, a silent vow forming in my heart.

But the whisper was still there, slithering through my mind like a taunt I couldn’t ignore.

You can’t save them, Cassidy.

I forced my breathing to steady, my heartbeat to slow, yet the faces wouldn’t leave me. I could feel them, a silent army of the forgotten, haunting the edges of my vision, waiting. Their sorrow had branded itself into me, a weight I couldn’t escape.

As the clock ticked closer to morning, I knew one thing for certain—whatever darkness we had awakened, it wasn’t finished with us yet. And I wasn’t sure I could keep it from taking everything I loved.

Soft sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a thin, gray light over the kitchen. I could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at me, but sleep wouldn’t come—not after that nightmare. My hands shook slightly as I poured water into the coffee maker, the rhythmic hum of it brewing the only sound in the stillness. I pressed my fingertips to my temples, trying to clear my mind, but the images from my dream clung to me, each face etched in perfect, dreadful detail.

Once the coffee was ready, I poured myself a cup and settled at the table, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. I grabbed my sketchbook, knowing that sometimes drawing out my thoughts could help, could give me a sense of control over them. But as my pencil traced the lines and shadows of each face, a dark, gnawing dread settled in my chest.

Their expressions were so familiar—anguish, terror, a grief that ran bone-deep. They were the same hollow-eyed stares we’d seen at the inn, from the shadows that seemed to watch us from every corner. These were the faces of the trapped, the lost souls left behind, bound to that place by some force that thrived on their suffering.

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, like an icy hand brushing over my skin. Just a dream, I tried to remind myself. But I knew better than to trust that. These visions had a way of sticking with you, like something left in your bones. I was so absorbed in my sketching that I barely noticed when Midas slipped into the kitchen, his presence calm and steady beside me. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at me, concern flickering across his face as he took in my tense shoulders, the darkness still clinging to me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked softly, his hand finding mine across the table.

“Nope,” I murmured, glancing down at my sketches, reluctant to explain. But the words tumbled out anyway. “I had a dream… a nightmare, really. I saw them, Midas. Faces—so many faces. They were haunting, silent and watching, like they were trying to tell me something.”

“Go on, honey,” his hand squeezed mine gently, grounding me.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “They were all trapped. It felt like they were trying to warn me, or maybe… they just wanted someone to know what happened to them. They didn’t look angry—just lost. But there was something else,” I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur. “It said… I couldn’t protect them. Our family.” The words hung heavy in the air, the unspoken fear thick between us.

Midas’s thumb brushed across my knuckles, and he offered a small, reassuring smile. “Hey, it’s just a dream. We’ve seen a lot of darkness, Cassidy, and it has a way of sinking in. But we’re stronger than that. You’re stronger than that.”

As he spoke, a faint chill crept into the room, a subtle shift in the air, as if something was moving just beyond our sight, listening in on our conversation. I felt it slip over my shoulders, colder than the morning air, and my gaze darted to the doorway, half-expecting to see a shadow lingering there.

Midas seemed to sense it too. His smile faded slightly, his gaze drifting past me. I didn’t need to say anything; the chill was enough. We both sat in silence, the quiet broken only by the soft ticking of the clock and the sense that something unseen was watching, listening, feeding on the very fear it had planted in me.

I drew a deep breath, determined to shake it off, but the feeling lingered, thick and foreboding.

“We should regroup with the others,” Midas said finally, his voice steady but tinged with something unspoken. I nodded, rising from the chair, my legs heavy as though the weight of the spirits still clung to me. We gathered our things, and the car ride to the Malaga Inn was quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around you and settled deep, leaving room for only your thoughts and fears.

The Malaga Inn loomed before us as we pulled into the parking lot, the late afternoon light casting long shadows over its worn façade, lending it an ominous air that seemed darker than it had been the night before. It was as if the building had been waiting for us, its presence thicker, heavier, like it had soaked up our interference and turned it into something more menacing.

Jericho was already there, standing by the iron gate with Sierra and Joshua, their faces tense as they murmured in low tones. As we stepped out, Jericho turned toward us, his expression grave. “It’s time,” he said simply, and there was no need for further explanation.

Midas placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his grip firm, grounding me. “We’ll face this together,” he said softly. I nodded, the resolve in his voice steadying me, even as the foreboding chill of the inn seemed to seep into my bones.

As we stepped inside, the atmosphere seemed heavier, almost stifling, and my stomach twisted as a familiar chill crept over me. Karen was waiting just beyond the lobby, her face pale and drawn, the usual warmth in her expression replaced by a nervousness that was almost palpable. She wrung her hands as she approached, her gaze darting to the shadows as if expecting something to leap out.

“Y’all came back,” she said, her voice wavering slightly as she greeted us. “I wasn’t sure if you would, after… well, after everything.” Her eyes met mine briefly, and I saw the fear that flickered there, raw and unhidden.

I forced a reassuring smile, though it felt thin, unconvincing even to myself. “Of course, Karen. We’re here to help figure out what’s going on,” I said, though my own resolve felt a bit shaken by the dark energy clinging to the air like a suffocating fog.

Karen nodded, her mouth tightening into a worried line. “It’s… it’s been worse since y’all left,” she admitted, glancing toward the hallway that led to the basement and tunnel. “Last night, I heard things down there—awful things.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Wails, like something in pain, but angry too. Like it didn’t want to be disturbed.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances, and I felt that chill deepen, settling into my bones. Karen’s anxiety mirrored my own, each word of hers drawing out the unease that had plagued me since my nightmare. She twisted her hands together, her voice shaky. “I keep asking myself if we’re doing the right thing, stirring this up. It’s not… it’s not just a ghost, is it?” Her eyes searched mine, looking for reassurance, for certainty that I wasn’t sure I could give.

“No,” I admitted, my own voice softer than I intended. “It’s not just a ghost. There’s something more here… something older, darker. And it doesn’t feel like it wants to leave.” The admission hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears.

Karen shuddered, her face pale. “I can’t shake the feeling that… whatever it is, it’s getting angry. Like it doesn’t want us here. The sounds from the tunnels… they’ve never been this intense before.” Her gaze flickered to the basement door, and I followed her line of sight, feeling a prickling sensation along the back of my neck.

Midas placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Karen, you’re not alone. We’re here to help, and we’ll handle it together,” he said with quiet confidence, though he couldn’t mask the wariness in his eyes.

But Karen wasn’t so easily reassured. She looked at each of us, her face etched with doubt. “I don’t know if you can help, not with this… not with what’s down there.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe… maybe it’s better to leave it alone. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re in over our heads. That whatever’s down there… it’s stronger than any of us.”

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, echoing the very fears I’d tried to bury since we’d left the inn. The images from my dream resurfaced, each ghostly face still vivid, still pleading, as though they’d come to me as a warning—a message that went deeper than just fear.

Despite the dread pooling in my stomach, I met Karen’s gaze and tried to steady my voice. “Karen, we’re not turning back. Whatever’s down there, it’s been there for too long, feeding off the darkness it’s created. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.” The words felt hollow, even as I spoke them, but they seemed to give her a small sliver of comfort.

She nodded, though her face remained troubled. “Just… be careful,” she whispered. “And if you feel… if you feel it turning on you, leave. Don’t try to face it alone. This thing likes it when you’re alone. It’s like any bully, it wants to pick off the weak.”

As we prepared to head into the inn’s depths, I felt that familiar dread twist tighter, as though the very walls of the Malaga Inn were watching, waiting, as if anticipating our next move.

The cellar door creaked open, releasing a rush of cold, stale air that hit us like a wall. I shivered, feeling the temperature drop as we descended the stairs, each step sinking us deeper into that oppressive, suffocating chill. It was as if we’d crossed a threshold into a place untouched by light, a space so old and unyielding that it seemed to reject our presence outright.

"Do you feel that?" I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper. I pulled my coat tighter around me, though it did nothing against the unnatural cold that had seeped into my bones.

Midas, a step ahead of me, glanced back, his jaw set, eyes narrowed. “Feels like we’re walking into a freezer,” he replied, voice low and steady, though his tension was obvious. “But it’s more than that… it’s like the cold is in the air, in the walls.” He brushed his hand along the rough stone as if trying to feel the source of it.

A faint sound rose up from the darkness, something barely audible, yet unmistakable—a soft, distant crying that ebbed and flowed like the tide, both near and far. I stopped, feeling my heart skip a beat, and strained to listen. The cries grew louder, filling the silence around us with a mournful, haunting melody that seemed to seep from the walls themselves.

“Do you hear that?” Jericho whispered as I felt a wave of sorrow pressing down on me, heavy and relentless. I glanced at Jericho, who nodded, his eyes wide with a mix of fascination and dread.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “But it doesn’t sound like just one voice… It’s like a chorus. Like… like they’re layered on top of each other.”

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Jericho asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “The spirits… the ones trapped here.”

I nodded sorrowfully as I experienced the weight of their grief pressing down on us, pulling us deeper into the tunnel, each step echoing with the sound of those sorrowful wails. Man, we sound like a herd of elephants. Good thing we didn’t rely on the element of surprise.

As we ventured farther into the darkness, I became aware of a flicker, a faint, brief flash of light near a closed door up ahead. I stopped, squinting to see, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. An after image remained in my vision, though, lingering like a ghostly reminder—a face twisted in anguish, eyes hollow, mouth open in an endless scream.

“What… what was that?” I breathed, blinking to clear my sight. The face vanished, but its presence remained, as though it had imprinted itself into my memory.

“I saw it too,” Joshua muttered beside me, his hand rubbed his short blonde hair. “It was like… like someone’s face. But it didn’t look… alive.”

Midas tightened his grip on his flashlight, his gaze fixated on the door where the light had flashed. “It’s just getting started,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The spirits here… they know we’re coming, and they’re not happy about it.”

The crying intensified, echoing off the stone walls and filling the narrow space with a cacophony of grief. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the cold sink deeper, the sorrow thickening until it felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.

“Cassidy, stay close,” Jericho said, his voice tense as he stepped closer. “This place… it feels like it’s alive. Like it’s watching us.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something—no, someone—was just beyond our sight, their gaze fixed on us, full of silent, unending despair. We moved forward, the cries trailing us like shadows, and I knew, deep in my bones, that the tunnel held more than just echoes of the past.

As we moved deeper into the tunnel, the cold seemed to intensify, pressing in from all sides, like we were wading through something alive, something that knew we didn’t belong. Shadows clung to the walls, stretching and shifting in ways that made my skin crawl, like fingers reaching out, ready to drag us down.

I found myself drifting closer to Sierra, instinct taking over. She looked pale, her face drawn, her eyes scanning the dark as though she could feel every whisper, every shadow pressing down on her. I could see the remnants of that trance weighing on her, lingering like bruises on her spirit, invisible but deep.

“Sierra,” I whispered, leaning in, trying to offer a comfort that even I didn’t fully believe. “We’ve got this. You’re not alone.”

She managed a tight nod, but I could see the tension in her eyes, the flicker of doubt. Whatever she’d seen during that trance, it had taken something from her, something she was trying to hold onto even now.

A sound—soft, almost imperceptible—drifted past us, like a breath of wind, though we both knew there was no air down here, no life, just the chill and the weight of those who’d come before us. I felt a shiver creep up my spine, a primal warning telling me to pull her back, to shield her from whatever was watching us from the shadows.

I rested my hand lightly on her arm, grounding both of us. “You’re stronger than whatever’s here,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wants us afraid, but we’re not giving it that satisfaction.”

Sierra shot me a grateful look, though I could see the strain in her expression. Every step felt like it was drawing something closer, some presence lurking just beyond the edge of sight, biding its time, watching us with a patience that made my skin prickle.

As we moved forward, I kept my hand close to her, an unspoken promise that no matter what this place threw at us, we’d face it together. But deep down, I felt the dread settle, thick and inescapable, a weight that whispered that words alone might not be enough to protect her—or any of us—from whatever waited in the dark.

We huddled together near the strange door at the end of the tunnel, the light we’d seen now gone, leaving only the murky darkness stretching out before us. The silence around us felt wrong, dense, as though the inn itself was waiting, holding its breath, daring us to take another step.

A chill prickled the back of my neck, a cold so sharp it felt like needles beneath my skin. My instincts screamed a warning, every nerve on edge, the atmosphere thickening with an awareness that was anything but human. I glanced at my teammates, each of them wearing the same look of wary determination, though I could see the shadows of doubt flickering in their eyes.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something—no, someone—was watching us, a presence just beyond sight, lurking in the places our flashlights couldn’t reach.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” I whispered, my voice barely audible, yet it echoed down the tunnel, swallowed by the darkness almost as soon as the words left my lips. It felt like an invocation, a challenge to the unseen force surrounding us.

And then, just for a second, the shadows seemed to pulse, drawing in closer, like they were breathing—responding. A shiver raced down my spine, cold as ice, and I couldn’t help but feel that we had disturbed something ancient and malevolent, something that had been waiting far too long for someone to step into its domain.

The faintest sound, almost like a low, guttural laugh, drifted past us, slipping into the silence, and I saw the same dread mirrored in my team’s faces. Whatever haunted this place—it was more than a spirit. It was something with power, something that fed on fear, and we were only beginning to understand the depth of what we’d awakened.

With a final, uneasy glance around, I gripped my flashlight a little tighter, bracing myself for whatever lay ahead, knowing all too well that we were no longer the hunters here.

We were the hunted. And we weren’t the first.

Chapter Six–Jericho

Standing at the edge of the cellar’s yawning darkness, I felt a pressure building in my chest, a weight so thick it was almost physical. Even without stepping down into the shadows, I knew we were getting close. My stomach was growing sicker by the minute.

The air was frigid, dense with something far more than cold—it was alive, oppressive, and threaded with a malice that reached into the marrow of my bones.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and glanced back at the team. Macie was watching me, her expression somewhere between worry and resolve, and for a moment, my heart twisted. I was still trying to get over her, to move forward, but there she was, close enough that I could see the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. And just behind her was Chris, barely an inch away, with his quiet, steady presence that I’d once found comforting. Now, it was a reminder of something I’d lost.

Still, this wasn’t the time to let old feelings cloud my focus. There were things here darker than heartbreak, and I needed every bit of clarity I could muster. It felt as if we were walking into a space that hadn’t seen light—or warmth—in centuries. As I continued to descend, the shadows seemed to deepen, pooling at my feet, each step pulling me further into a place that was less and less of this world.

The walls themselves seemed to hold secrets, to pulse with the faint echoes of things I could only begin to understand. It was like the house had a memory—a dark, rotting memory it refused to forget. Aware of the team just behind me, I murmured a quiet warning.

“Stay close,” I said, my voice low, each word sinking into the silence like a stone into still water. “And if you feel anything, anything at all, say it.”

Cassidy was the first to respond, her voice barely a whisper. “Jesus! It’s colder here than last time.”

“Feels like we’re walking into a freezer,” Midas muttered, rubbing his hands together, though he was focused, his gaze sharp. His light cut through the dark, but even it seemed muted, as if the shadows were eating up the beam, swallowing it before it could do any real good.

We moved farther in, the temperature dropping with every step, and I felt a prickle of awareness along my skin.

My healing abilities had always been more than just the laying on of hands—they let me sense energy too, both the good and the bad. And right now, I was surrounded by bad. Really bad.

Every inch of me wanted to turn around, but I’d come here to do a job, and this time it wasn’t just about finding answers. It was about setting something free. All of my soul screamed DEMON but I had to get proof. I had to be able to stand by that assessment and then take action.

Take action? Well, I wasn’t exactly pure anymore. Macie and I…well, at least it was over now.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I stopped, letting the others fall into place around me. I felt it, thick as fog, a presence that pulsed in the shadows, waiting, watching. The cellar was colder than it should’ve been, and I didn’t need a thermometer to know that. It was the kind of cold that went beyond temperature, that seeped into your soul and tried to take hold.

I took a moment, closing my eyes, reaching out to the space around me. There were spirits here—I could feel them, layered thick in the walls, in the floor, trapped in every inch of this cursed place. Their pain was palpable, woven into the very air we breathed. And behind that pain, behind their sorrow, was something far darker.

The demon. Its essence was everywhere, a sickly, twisted thing that had seeped into every corner of the cellar. But the spirits here… they were different. They didn’t linger like most. They were bound, trapped here like prisoners in chains. And for the first time, I felt a rage that wasn’t my own. The spirits—these souls—wanted freedom, but something held them here, something that fed on their fear, their pain.

I opened my eyes, my voice low but clear. “Midas, I’m right. I know what this is, I swear. There’s more than unhappy, bound spirits here. They’re… they’re bound by a demon. And it’s holding them back, feeding on them. It’s not just keeping them here—it’s using them. I guess it wants new victims. It’s tired of toying with the spirits of old. It wants fresh blood and it has a certain kind of blood in mind.”

Midas’s flashlight wavered, casting long, shivering shadows across the stone walls, and in the silence, I thought I heard it: the faint, mournful sound of a woman’s voice, as though she was calling out from somewhere deep within the shadows.

Macie took a step closer, and I felt her warmth, her nearness grounding me, even as I fought to keep my focus on the task at hand. I couldn’t let her pull me back into old feelings, not now, not here.

“We’re close to something,” I said, each word like a stone lodged in my throat. “I can feel it.”

And beneath my words, echoing through the heavy silence, was that same whisper of a woman’s voice, calling out to us—calling out to me—as though she’d been waiting a long time for someone to hear her.

I took another step forward, keeping my flashlight angled low, sweeping it along the floor, but my attention was locked on that voice—a voice that seemed to ripple through the air, faint but persistent, like a plea just on the edge of hearing. There was something heartbreakingly familiar about it, as if I’d heard that voice before in a dream or perhaps in a memory. I closed my eyes, focusing in, letting the sounds of the cellar fade until it was just me and that woman’s voice, faint as breath.

She was whispering something—a name, maybe? The words were tangled, drowned in sorrow, like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of grief. My heart twisted, each beat louder than the last. I knew, without a doubt, that she was one of the enslaved spirits tied to this place, and her agony had become part of the inn’s very foundation.

“Jericho?” Cassidy’s voice broke the spell, pulling me back. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing her gaze fixed on me, her face pale but steady. She felt it too, I could tell, the way her shoulders tensed, her eyes darting to the dark corners of the cellar as if something might lunge from them at any moment.

“It’s a woman,” I said, voice low, barely more than a murmur. “She’s… calling us. She’s been here, trapped like this, for… I don’t even know how long. But she’s not alone.”

Cassidy swallowed, her hand tightening around her flashlight, her knuckles white against the dim beam. “This place isn’t just haunted,” she whispered. “It’s a prison.”

I nodded, the truth settling heavy between us. “And whatever’s holding them here—it’s ancient. It knows exactly what it’s doing.” The weight of my own words sent a shiver through me, a reminder of just how far over our heads we might be.

The others were clustered near the staircase, shifting nervously, exchanging glances. I motioned them to come closer, and they approached in silence, stepping lightly as if afraid to disturb whatever lay in wait beneath our feet.

“Listen,” I said, keeping my tone steady but firm, like I could ward off the fear simmering just under my skin. “There’s a demon here. It’s not just toying with these spirits; it’s using them, feeding off them. And if we’re going to help these souls find peace, we must get this demon’s name. We can’t release them until we deal with it.”

Macie’s eyes widened, her jaw tightening as she looked from me to the dark depths of the cellar. “You think it’ll let you just… ask for its name?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “But I don’t think I have to ask. Spirits like this leave traces, signs. If I can tune in, really focus, I might be able to pick up on something—anything—that’ll tell us what we need to know.”

Chris shifted uncomfortably, his face shadowed but his apprehension clear. “Are you sure about this, Jericho? These things don’t give up their names without a fight, and if it realizes what you’re doing—”

I raised a hand, cutting him off. Who the heck was this guy to question me? I didn’t mean that in a proud way but man, he was pushing the limits with me. “I know. But we don’t have a choice. If we don’t figure this out, it’ll keep feeding, keep taking anyone who comes too close. This thing won’t stop unless we make it.”

The team exchanged glances, each one of them bearing the weight of this decision in their own way. But even in the midst of their fear, I saw the resolve in their eyes. They trusted me to help them navigate the dark, to pull them through this uncharted territory of shadows and secrets.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes again, this time opening myself fully to the energy of the space. The air grew colder, sharper, as if it were reacting to my presence, to my intent. I could feel the demon’s awareness prickling against my skin, a dark, twisted energy that coiled through the walls, waiting, watching, amused by my efforts.

I muttered a quiet prayer under my breath, words my grandmother had taught me long ago, words meant to protect and guide. And as I stood there, breathing in the dense, stale air of the cellar, I sent out a silent plea of my own, reaching out to the spirits bound here.

Tell me. Give me your name. Of course, it didn’t tell me its name. It wasn’t going to spit it out just for the asking. I decided to speak out loud. “Spirits of the dead, we are here to help. My name is Jericho. These are my friends. Please know we are here to help you but I need a name. Give me its name. Let me help you.”

I steadied myself, taking another slow, deliberate breath, feeling the weight of the air press against my chest.

Nothing. Not a peep. Sierra checked her audio recorder but there was nothing. Not a peep. The cellar was colder than it had any right to be. It was the kind of chill that seeped into your bones and clung, making you feel like you’d never be warm again. I closed my eyes, shutting out the world around me, trying to focus on that faint whisper from earlier, reaching into the silence.

“C’mon,” I muttered under my breath, barely aware of the team behind me, their shifting movements faint echoes in the thick silence. I pushed harder, reaching out with every sense I had, trying to pull the spirit’s voice closer. But something blocked me, like a wall of ice, an invisible barrier that kept slipping through my grasp.

The spirit’s voice flickered in and out, tantalizingly close, only to fade again, as if it were being pulled away by something stronger, darker. A low rumble filled the air, so faint I thought I might be imagining it. But then it came again—a growl, deep and guttural, vibrating through the floor beneath us.

The others heard it too. Midas shot me a wary glance, his eyes filled with caution and something else—concern. “Jericho,” he murmured, his voice low. “Are you sure this is… safe?”

I ignored him, pressing forward, focusing all my energy on that elusive voice. My fingers were ice-cold, my skin prickling with a sensation I couldn’t shake, as if something were clawing its way up my spine, digging icy talons into my nerves. I’d reached out to spirits before, but never like this—never with such resistance, such malice coiled around every inch of the space.

The voice flickered again, a murmur lost in the darkness, and I strained to catch it, every nerve taut, every muscle tense. It was a woman’s voice, but her words were drowned out, like she was trying to scream from behind a wall of water. I pressed harder, pulling on every bit of focus, every ounce of strength.

“Tell me,” I whispered, my voice raw, each word swallowed up by the darkness around us. “Give me something. Give me a name…”

And then, like a lash across my mind, came a sudden surge of energy—dark, twisted, alive. The room seemed to contract, the shadows pressing in, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were caving. My head spun, the air thickening, filling with a stench of rot that clawed at my throat, making me gag.

“Stop it! You won’t run us off! You can’t hold these souls any longer! They are not yours to keep!” I felt a rare anger rise up within me. An ancient anger. One that would rip my soul apart if I let it.

A mocking whisper slithered through the air, low and malevolent, each syllable seeping with contempt. You think you can command me? The words were a sneer, a voice filled with a thousand lifetimes of hatred, scraping against the inside of my skull.

I staggered, fighting to keep my balance, my vision swimming as that malevolent presence pushed against me, resisting my every attempt to reach the spirits. “No,” I muttered, steeling myself, digging in against the pressure building in my chest. “You don’t get to control them. Not anymore.”

The voice only laughed, a sound so dark it seemed to pull the light from the room, leaving us shrouded in shadow. I felt it sink into my skin, heavy, smothering, like I was drowning in it. And beneath the darkness, I could feel the spirits, trapped, their anguish radiating outward, pulling at me, begging me to hold on.

“Jericho?” Cassidy’s voice broke through, a tremor of fear beneath the words. She was watching me, her gaze sharp with worry, her flashlight trembling in her hand.

I swallowed hard, nodding in reassurance I didn’t feel. I had to hold steady; I couldn’t let it see me falter. I clenched my fists, drawing on every bit of strength I had, pushing against the demon’s presence, demanding that the spirits give me something, anything to break this hold.

A faint murmur rose from somewhere deep within the shadows, faint and broken, like a heartbeat barely clinging to life. The voice wavered, twisted with sorrow and fear. But just as it grew louder, just as I thought I might have a name—something to grab hold of—the darkness surged again, swamping the cellar in a wave of hatred so thick I could taste it, bitter as poison.

You will never know my name. The demon’s voice sneered at me in my mind, curling through the shadows, each word a taunt. They are mine.

Joshua spoke up. “Okay that was pretty clear. Did anyone else just hear, ‘They are mine?” Everyone raised their hand but nobody said a word.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stand my ground even as the oppressive force seemed to close in, pressing against my skin, my bones, making it hard to breathe. I knew this thing was strong, older than I could comprehend, and it wasn’t just going to give up its hold because I demanded it. It would take everything I had—and more—to wrest a name from it.

The darkness grew denser, the room shrinking as the shadows tightened around us. I could feel the others watching, their breaths shallow, their fear palpable. But I couldn’t give up now. I’d come here to help these souls, to break them free, and I wasn’t leaving without something.

I closed my eyes, grounding myself, and whispered a prayer, letting the words flow from my heart, a quiet plea for strength, for clarity, for the power to push through. The darkness pulsed, resisting, but I held on, pushing back, determined to break its hold if only for a moment.

The woman’s voice came again, faint but defiant, slipping through the demon’s hold. And in that split second, I caught it—a single name, buried beneath centuries of despair, barely more than a whisper. A woman, a brave soul stepped forward briefly, I could see her dark brown eyes and her parched lips.

Beezel. His name is Beezel. Help!

I opened my eyes, my chest heaving, the name hanging in the air between us like a fragile thread. It was the demon’s name—a crack in the wall, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Cassidy’s eyes met mine, wide with understanding, and I nodded, holding onto that single thread of hope. It wasn’t everything, but it was a start. And sometimes, a start was all you needed.

My breath was shaky as I repeated the name in my mind, Beezel, letting it settle, feeling its weight reverberate through me. It was as if a lock had clicked open, the tiniest crack in the demon’s hold. The walls seemed to sigh, as if some silent force had been disturbed, broken open by the whisper of its name.

But the silence didn’t last.

A ripple of energy surged through the cellar, angry and electric, making the floor tremble beneath us. The others shifted, exchanging nervous glances, their bodies tensed and alert. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my neck, my heartbeat pounding loud in my ears.

“Jericho, what just happened?” Cassidy’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes darting around, catching the strange, shifting shadows that seemed to writhe along the walls.

“He knows I have his name,” I replied, my voice low but steady, trying to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach. I could feel the demon’s fury building, boiling like a storm about to break.

Without warning, a violent gust of icy wind tore through the cellar, swirling dust and debris around us in a frenzy. The darkness seemed to close in, tightening like a vice, as though Beezel himself were dragging the shadows closer, binding us in his anger. I staggered back a step, feeling the weight of it pressing down on me, crushing, suffocating.

Midas swore under his breath, his flashlight flickering as he fought to keep it steady. “It’s like he’s everywhere,” he muttered, his voice laced with fear. “What’s the name, Jericho? Use it!”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the demon see my fear, even though I felt it thrumming through every nerve in my body. “Stay strong,” I called out, hoping to rally them, to remind them of our purpose. “He may have power, but we have his name now. And that’s enough to weaken him.”

But even as I spoke, I felt the demon’s anger coil tighter, his presence swelling around us, seething with a rage that sent shivers down my spine. The air thickened with the stench of decay, the rotten scent clawing at our throats, making it hard to breathe.

And then, in the silence, a voice dripped with venom filled the cellar, echoing from every shadow, every corner.

You think you can challenge me? You think knowing my name gives you power? Foolish man… you are nothing but dead things. Bloody, bloody meat puppets.

Chris swore under his breath. “Even I heard that!”

My pulse quickened, but I stood my ground, feeling the weight of the others’ eyes on me, their trust, their fear. This was it. The battle had begun.

A shudder rippled through the cellar, subtle at first—a gentle tremor in the walls, a prickling chill that burrowed into my skin. But then, like a fist tightening around my chest, the temperature plummeted, and every last bit of warmth drained from the room.

I took a sharp breath, the air thick with a cold so intense it felt alive, pressing in on us, squeezing like it wanted to bleed the life from our bones.

In the dim light, shadows began to twist and writhe along the walls, stretching as though they had form, intent. Beezel’s name had been a knife in the dark, cutting at something unseen, but now I’d exposed it, and the demon wasn’t going to let that go unanswered.

A low hiss rose up, echoing through the silence, slithering through the thickening shadows with a venomous edge. The sound circled us, slipping through the air like smoke, each word colder than the last.

You think you can command me? The voice was both a whisper and a roar, filling my mind with a sickening sense of dread. I own these souls, their fears, their despair. I’ll own yours soon enough.

The others shifted around me, hands clenching flashlights or crossing arms tight against the frigid air. I saw Cassidy press her back against the wall, her lips barely moving as she muttered what I guessed was a prayer. She was shaking, her eyes darting to the shadows that seemed to reach for us, but she held her ground.

I forced my voice to remain steady, pushing back against the cold clawing at my throat. “Beezel, I know what you are now. You can’t keep these souls here forever. Your power is broken!”

Another deep, guttural laugh rattled through the cellar, and I felt it vibrate through my chest. The shadows pressed closer, closing in, each one twisting and reshaping itself into grotesque forms—figures with hollow eyes, mouths open in silent screams, arms outstretched as though reaching for salvation that would never come. Their pain was visceral, pulsing in the air like a heartbeat, and with every passing second, Beezel’s hold tightened.

A sudden wave of nausea rolled over me as the cold intensified, feeling as though it was sinking into my bones, chilling me from the inside out. My head swam, the pressure building with each second, each breath, the oppressive malice of Beezel’s hatred pressing down like a weight that I could barely stand beneath. But I couldn’t back down now.

I squared my shoulders, holding my ground. “Your time’s up, Beezel. These souls don’t belong to you.”

Beezel’s answer was an explosion of ice-cold air, slamming into me with the force of a fist, knocking me back a step. My flashlight flickered, casting frantic shadows as I struggled to stay upright, my breath coming in short, harsh gasps. Every part of me wanted to turn and run, to get away from this place and the ancient darkness that seemed ready to devour us whole.

But I stayed. A ripple of energy surged through the cellar, angry and electric, making the floor tremble beneath us. The shadows pressed closer, their tendrils curling along the edges of our flashlight beams, as if testing the limits of their reach. I gritted my teeth, holding onto the faint thread of the demon’s name as though it were a lifeline.

“We’ve got what we need,” I said, my voice tight. “Let’s get out of here. We need time to regroup and figure out our next move.”

The others hesitated, their eyes darting between me and the oppressive darkness that seemed to breathe around us. Cassidy was the first to move, her flashlight flickering as she nodded. “Jericho’s right. We’re not in any shape to fight this thing right now.”

One by one, they fell in line, retreating toward the stairs. I lingered for a moment, my gaze fixed on the shadows that seemed to pulse with malevolent intent, daring me to stay. The name Beezel echoed in my mind, a crack in the demon’s hold, but not enough to break it. Not yet.

As I turned to follow the others, a mocking whisper brushed past my ear, low and venomous. You think you’ve won? This is only the beginning.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to ignore the taunt as I climbed the stairs. The oppressive cold eased with each step, but the weight in my chest remained, a reminder of the battle still ahead.

Chapter Seven–Sierra

The weight of the cellar clung to us even as we emerged into the dim hallway above, the air stale but free of the suffocating chill we’d left behind. My head ached with a steady throb that matched the rhythm of my heartbeat, a lingering echo of the darkness we’d faced below.

Jericho led the way down the corridor, his shoulders tense, his flashlight angled low. None of us spoke, the silence between us heavy with unspoken questions and unacknowledged fears. I could still feel the demon’s presence, coiled like a shadow in the back of my mind, waiting for us to return.

We regrouped in the lobby, the dim glow of the Malaga Inn’s antique chandeliers casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. It should have felt safe here, away from the depths of the cellar, but the oppressive energy of the place seemed to seep into every corner, a reminder that we weren’t out of its grasp.

Midas looked around at the team, his expression grim. “We need a plan,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “We know its name now. That gives us an edge, but we can’t go back in there without being ready for a fight.”

Jericho nodded, his jaw tight. “We’ll need more than just the name. Beezel’s not going to give up easily, and whatever’s binding those spirits is ancient, powerful. We have to be smart about this.”

The conversation blurred in the background as I leaned against the wall, my head throbbing with the remnants of last night’s trance. My thoughts were scattered, a mix of fragmented images and lingering whispers, as if the demon’s presence had left a mark on my mind.

“Sierra, you good?” Joshua’s voice pulled me back, his hand brushing my arm, grounding me for a moment.

“Yeah,” I said softly, though the word felt hollow. “I just… need a minute. Emily off with your mother?” I nodded briskly before he winked flirtatiously at me. I rolled my eyes but smiled. I got the message.

The Gulf Coast Paranormal office felt eerily quiet as I settled into the chair, a steaming mug of coffee forgotten on the desk beside me. The blinds were drawn, the only light coming from the soft glow of the computer monitor as I cued up the footage from the previous night. My fingers hovered over the mouse for a moment before I clicked play, bracing myself for what might come.

The first few minutes were uneventful; shadows shifting with the movement of the team’s flashlights, the faint hum of distant traffic bleeding into the audio. But then, just as my eyes began to drift, something flickered across the screen.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The camera had been angled toward the staircase leading down into the cellar, its beam faint but steady. At first, it was subtle—a dark blur that could’ve been a trick of the light. But as I rewound the footage, slowing it down frame by frame, the blur sharpened, taking shape. A figure. No, a shadow.

My pulse quickened as the shadow moved, fluid and deliberate, not quite human in its gait. It paused at the edge of the frame, hovering just beyond the beam of light, as if it knew it was being watched. My fingers gripped the edge of the desk, the ache in my head flaring as I leaned closer to the screen.

The shadow shifted again, and for a moment, I swore I saw eyes—two faint pinpricks of glowing red staring directly into the camera, boring into me even through the lens. My stomach churned, and I paused the footage, needing a moment to steady myself.

The air in the office felt heavy, charged, as though the presence I’d felt in the cellar had followed me here, seeping into the very walls. I glanced around, half-expecting to see the shadows creeping along the edges of the room, but the space remained still.

Shaking off the chill, I resumed the video, forcing myself to watch the rest. The shadow lingered for a moment longer before retreating, melting back into the darkness like smoke dissolving into the air. I scrubbed through the remaining footage, but nothing else appeared—only the faint echo of the team’s voices and the persistent hum of the building’s silence.

Closing the laptop, I let out a shaky breath, the weight in my chest pressing down harder. The footage confirmed what we already knew–whatever was lurking in the Malaga wasn’t just tied to the past. It was active, aware, and it had been watching us as much as we’d been watching it.

“Sierra Kay? You coming?” My husband called impatiently from the front door.

“Yep! On the way! We caught something!”

The atmosphere in the van was charged, a mix of apprehension and determination as I shared the clip on my phone with the rest of the team. Everyone was amazed at the capture but it was also a bit disturbing. Jericho stood near the window, his arms crossed, staring out at the darkening sky. His presence was steady, a quiet strength we all leaned on, but even he seemed more subdued than usual. The weight of the previous night hung heavy over us, unspoken but palpable.

As I secured my backpack, Joshua slipped an arm around my shoulders, his voice low. “You sure about this? We can always sit this one out, let the rest of the team handle it.”

I shook my head, meeting his gaze with a resolute smile. “We’re in this together. I’m not letting them go back in there without me.”

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Just… be careful, okay? For Emily’s sake.”

I squeezed his hand, the mention of our daughter grounding me for a moment. “I will. Promise.”

With the last of the gear packed, we piled into the van, the drive to the Malaga Inn passing in a tense silence. The shadows of the city stretched long across the streets, the familiar landmarks taking on an unsettling edge as the light faded.

When the inn came into view, its silhouette looming against the twilight, a shiver ran down my spine. The building seemed to hum with anticipation, its worn façade shrouded in the deepening gloom. It felt alive, as though it had been waiting for us to return, its dark secrets stirring beneath the surface.

As we stepped out of the van, the weight of the night settled over us like a heavy cloak. The air was cool and still, the quiet punctuated only by the distant chirp of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves.

Jericho took the lead, his flashlight cutting through the dimness as we approached the entrance. “Stay close,” he murmured, his voice steady but firm. “Whatever’s in there knows we’re coming.”

I glanced at the others, their faces taut with the same mix of fear and resolve that churned in my own chest. This wasn’t just another investigation. It was a confrontation, a reckoning with the darkness that had claimed the cellar—and the lives bound to it.

As we crossed the threshold, stepping into the shadows of the Malaga Inn once more, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were walking straight into its grasp.

The cellar was colder than before, the air so dense it felt like walking through water. Every breath was heavy, each exhale a reminder of the oppressive energy swirling around us. It was as though the walls themselves held their breath, waiting, listening. I wrapped my arms around myself, pressing my fingertips into my shoulders, trying to feel something solid, something real in this relentless void.

I closed my eyes for a moment, willing my mind to steady, to find some sense of peace amid the chaos gnawing at my edges. But even in the quiet of my thoughts, there was a presence—a prickling awareness just beyond my reach, watching, calculating. I knew that whatever we were facing wasn’t just observing; it was waiting, testing our resolve, seeing where it could slip through and weaken us, piece by piece.

The ache in my head sharpened, and I winced, pressing a hand to my temple. It felt as though the demon’s presence were clawing its way into my mind, prying at my thoughts, slipping through the cracks in my spirit left raw by last night’s trance. My breath hitched as I tried to shake off the sensation, but it clung, winding tighter, its icy tendrils coiling around me, whispering, daring me to falter.

I opened my eyes to the flickering shadows and the team moving in the half-light. Jericho was somewhere in the distance, his voice a low murmur, a steadying anchor against the currents of dread swirling around us. I held onto that sound, letting it tether me to reality, trying to keep the darkness from bleeding any further into my mind.

But the cellar was relentless. Shadows gathered in every corner, thickening with a malice that made my skin prickle. I could feel the edges of my own resolve fraying, unraveling in the face of the heavy silence that seemed to vibrate with unspoken threats.

I took a slow, deliberate breath, planting my feet more firmly on the ground, letting the cold seep through me as I tried to reclaim some sense of control. But the air was thick with secrets, the walls themselves whispering of things best left buried. And as I stood there, forcing myself to hold steady, I felt the weight of something immense, something ancient, just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to make its move.

And in that moment, I knew—no grounding technique, no prayer or meditation, would protect me from the darkness that lay in wait here.

The air grew colder in an instant, the temperature dropping so sharply it was as if winter had suddenly settled into the bones of the cellar. I could see my breath, each cloud of it suspended for a heartbeat before disappearing into the thick, heavy darkness around us. Shadows rippled along the walls, stretching and twisting like living things, as though they’d finally noticed our presence—and they weren’t pleased.

In the dimness, I caught flickers of movement at the edges of my vision, too fast and too subtle to pin down.

But this feeling.  It was unmistakable. The darkness here wasn’t just a void; it was aware, inching closer, its edges creeping forward with a hunger that made my skin prickle and the hair on my arms rise.

I forced myself to hold still, resisting the instinct to turn and run, to escape this suffocating presence pressing in from all sides. But it took everything in me to stay rooted, my legs tensing as if they had a mind of their own, ready to bolt. I could feel my pulse thrumming, every beat echoing like a drum in the silence, and the darkness seemed to feed on that rhythm, matching it, becoming one with the quickening pace of my heart.

A chill trickled down my spine as the shadows stretched toward me, almost reaching, almost… touching. I wanted to move, to retreat just a few steps, but some invisible force held me in place. I could feel it, an ancient instinct, a deep knowing that told me to stand my ground.

The blackness around me seemed to breathe, each pulse of shadow dragging me further into its hold. It was pulling me, testing me, pressing down until I felt I might be swallowed whole. Every instinct screamed for me to turn, to put distance between myself and this creeping malice, but some primal part of me held steady, defying the darkness, daring it to make its move.

And in that moment, I knew the truth.

Whatever was lurking here had sensed something in me—some weakness, some vulnerability. It was watching, waiting, testing, eager to see how much of me it could claim.

The temperature plunged as if we’d stepped into a tomb, the air thickening with a cold so biting it felt unnatural, like it was seeping straight into my bones. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep the shivering at bay, but there was no escaping the chill. Shadows pooled along the walls and floor, stretching out as though they were alive, breathing in the thick, oppressive silence.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught glimpses—flickers of movement, something shifting at the very edge of my vision. The shadows seemed to reach for me, dark tendrils slipping closer, inch by inch, like they’d been waiting all this time to reveal themselves. I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to stand still, though every nerve in my body screamed for me to run.

Joshua stepped beside me, his hand brushing mine, grounding me for just a moment. His voice was low, careful. “Sierra… are you seeing this?”

I nodded, barely breathing. “It’s… it’s like the shadows are alive.” My voice came out in a whisper, too afraid to break the spell, to alert whatever was creeping toward us that we’d noticed.

Cassidy, standing just a few steps away, let out a shaky breath. “Does anyone else feel like we’re being… targeted?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice a whisper. I could feel eyes on us, a presence that prowled just beyond the reach of our flashlights, hidden but very, very aware of us. “I do. I absolutely do.”

Midas swept his beam of light across the room, but the shadows devoured it, bending and stretching as if to mock our attempts to see what lay within. He shook his head, his expression hardening. “This place is wrong. It’s like the darkness has a mind of its own.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the shadows, the way they shifted and twisted, like they were trying to communicate, trying to draw us in. A murmur, faint and distant, drifted through the darkness, so soft I thought I’d imagined it. But then it came again, like a whisper tangled in the air, slipping around us.

Joshua leaned closer, his hand tightening around mine. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, though I could feel the lie in the quick, shaky beat of my heart. “I think… I think it’s trying to pull me in.”

Cassidy’s voice wavered, thick with tension. “We should go. This feels… it feels like it’s waiting for something.”

Joshua’s fingers laced through mine, steady and strong. “We’re not letting it take you, Sierra,” he murmured, his words a promise that resonated deeper than the darkness pressing in around us.

The urge to turn, to run from whatever lurked in the shadows, clawed at me, but I held my ground, clinging to Joshua’s hand like an anchor. The darkness pulsed, thick and alive, daring me to let go, to give in.

“Whatever it is,” I said softly, my voice steadying, “it wants us to be afraid. It’s feeding off that.”

Midas nodded grimly. “Well, it’s doing a damn good job.” He took a step forward, his stance defiant. “We’re not giving it what it wants. Let’s show this thing it can’t scare us off that easily.”

The words hung in the frigid air, a challenge echoing into the silence, but even as we gathered our resolve, I could feel the darkness shifting, watching, waiting.

A cold rush swept over me, hitting like a wave, and suddenly the room seemed to tilt. My vision blurred, and before I could steady myself, images flooded my mind, sharp and painful, like broken glass piercing my thoughts. Faces began to form, one after another—men, women, children—all of them with hollow, tortured eyes, their mouths open in silent cries. Each face burned with agony, each expression twisted with a sorrow so deep it felt endless.

I stumbled, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the visions to fade. But they didn’t stop. The images only grew sharper, more brutal, each face burned into my mind as if they were carved there. I felt them reaching for me, pulling at my spirit, their pain piercing through me with every heartbeat.

Joshua’s hand steadied me, his voice gentle but urgent. “Sierra, what’s happening?”

“I... I can see them,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. “They’re... they’re reaching for me. They’re trapped, Joshua. They’re suffering.”

I could hear the enslaved spirits now, their voices faint but desperate, pleading in broken whispers, repeating my name over and over, like a chant laced with fear and desperation. Each voice pressed against me, clawing at the edges of my mind, demanding to be heard.

Cassidy’s face twisted with worry, and she took a cautious step toward me. “Sierra, can you make them stop?”

I wanted to, needed to, but the images wouldn’t relent. Every time I tried to block them out, more faces emerged, each one more distorted than the last. The spirits clung to me, as if my own energy was the only tether they had to the world of the living.

Midas swore under his breath, scanning the room. “This demon’s twisting her connection. It’s trying to break her down.”

I forced myself to breathe, to focus on the team, on the warmth of Joshua’s hand around mine, grounding me even as the visions continued to tear through my mind. But it was getting harder to separate myself from the spirits, harder to ignore the searing pain they felt. Jericho’s sudden appearance added a new layer of tension. He stepped forward, his expression a mixture of worry and resolve as he held out a bracelet—dark, smooth hematite beads glinting faintly under the dim light.

“Sierra,” he said softly, “I want you to wear this. It’s hematite; it’ll ground you, keep you protected.”

I glanced at him, hesitant. “Jericho, I don’t think a bracelet is going to be enough to keep this thing at bay.”

He met my gaze, his tone firm but gentle. “Trust me. Hematite is powerful. And right now, you need every layer of defense you can get.” He slipped it onto my wrist, his fingers warm against my cold skin, and I felt a surprising weight settle over me, an anchor in the dark.

“Sierra,” he continued, stepping back but keeping his eyes locked on mine, “I need you to back off from reaching out to these spirits for a while. Let me deal with the demon first. You’re… too open to it, and it’s already sensed that. I can feel it.”

I clenched my hands, feeling the cold beads of the bracelet press into my palm. “But Jericho, they’re trapped, suffering.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “But I also know it’s tearing you up. But that’s exactly what this demon wants. It’s using your empathy as a way in. I need you to trust me with this. Let me weaken its hold, then you can help the spirits. Right now, every moment you reach out, you’re pulling it closer.”

I bit my lip, glancing over to Cassidy, who gave me a slight nod of encouragement. She, too, looked relieved to have Jericho stepping in.

After a long pause, I nodded, though my heart twisted with the weight of leaving those spirits unheard, even if only for a little while. “Alright, Jericho,” I whispered, “but be careful. It’s stronger tonight, more hostile.”

Jericho smiled, a quiet confidence in his expression that I clung to like a lifeline. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my own defenses. Just… stay safe, okay? You’re too important to lose to this thing.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the steadying weight of the hematite against my wrist and the warmth of Jericho’s resolve bolstering my own. I could hold back, for now, if it meant we had a chance to face this thing head-on.

As the shadows pressed closer, a suffocating sense of isolation began to coil around me, sinking deep into my bones. I could feel Jericho’s presence at my side, steady and reassuring, and Cassidy’s warmth on my other side, but it was as if they were fading, slipping further away with each passing second. The darkness seemed to close in, wrapping itself around me like a shroud, blurring the edges of the world and pushing my teammates into the background. For a heartbeat, I was utterly alone.

I forced myself to blink, to stay present, but every glance into the shadows brought flickers of movement—a shape here, a face there, all lurking just beyond my sight. They shifted and stretched, slipping in and out of my vision as though teasing me, challenging me to acknowledge them. Each face seemed twisted in agony, hollow-eyed and accusatory, as if blaming me for the torment they endured.

And then, low and venomous, a whisper slid into my mind, curling through my thoughts like poison.

You think you can save them? The voice was dark, mocking, dripping with malice that sent a cold shiver down my spine. You are nothing. Just another weak soul, grasping at shadows.

My hands clenched at my sides, fingernails digging into my palms as I fought to steady myself. I wanted to deny it, to shut out the voice, but it only grew stronger, twisting deeper into my thoughts, seeding doubt and despair.

A sudden light at the end of the tunnel flickered, a strange, pulsing glow with a faint blue tint. It moved slowly, as if beckoning, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. I watched it, entranced, as small electrical sparks crackled in the air around it, lighting up the stone in brief, jagged flashes.

“Sierra, don’t listen to it,” Jericho’s voice cut through the haze, grounding me back in the present. His hand brushed my shoulder, warm and steady, reminding me that I wasn’t truly alone. “Stay with us.”

I nodded, grateful for his presence, though the whisper lingered, haunting the corners of my mind. Cassidy squeezed my arm, her face set in fierce determination, and I felt a sliver of strength return. Together, we faced the light at the end of the tunnel, bracing ourselves for whatever the darkness had planned next.

I took a slow, trembling breath, forcing myself to stand my ground, to steady my heart against the oppressive weight of the darkness pressing in around me. Every instinct urged me to retreat, to pull back, but I couldn’t do that now—not with so many souls depending on us, trapped and suffering.

Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I reached deep within, summoning every shred of strength I had left. The demon’s taunts clawed at the edges of my mind, mocking, relentless, but I gritted my teeth, silencing it with sheer force of will. You won’t scare me off, I thought, the words ringing out in defiance. I’m not leaving them behind.

In the quiet of my mind, I began to recite the protective prayers I’d learned over the years, each word like a stone laid carefully in a wall between me and the darkness. I called on the memories of light, of hope, of peace—every sliver of warmth I could find within myself—and built them up into a barrier, willing it to hold against the pressure pushing in from all sides.

As I whispered the words under my breath, I could feel the air shift slightly, the chill loosening its grip, as if the darkness itself were listening. But then, just as quickly, the shadows around me seemed to pulse, vibrating with a mocking energy, as if it were laughing, amused by my attempts to resist.

A low rumble echoed through the cellar, a sound so faint it was almost like a growl, resonating with the pulse of the shadows. The sensation crept up my spine, unsettling, a reminder of just how deeply this demon had embedded itself here. But instead of backing down, I held my ground, every word of my prayer a small act of rebellion, a promise to the souls bound here that I wouldn’t abandon them—not now, not ever.

Jericho’s hand squeezed my shoulder, and I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was solemn, but there was a flicker of pride there, a silent acknowledgment of the strength it had taken to stand against the darkness, even for a moment. I nodded to him, feeling a renewed surge of resolve.

The demon could mock me all it wanted, but it couldn’t extinguish the light I carried. I wouldn’t give it that satisfaction.

I took a small step back, feeling the press of the shadows ease slightly as I tried to steady myself, letting Jericho’s presence beside me anchor my racing heart. But then, just at the edge of my vision, something shifted—a figure emerging from the darkness, like smoke coalescing into form. I held my breath, the air thickening as the shape took on a vaguely human outline, lingering in a space just beyond the light.

The figure drifted closer, and as it did, details began to sharpen in the gloom. It was a woman—her face gaunt, her eyes hollow and empty, as if the life had been drained from them long ago. Chains clung to her wrists and ankles, ancient metal rusted and heavy, a weight she still carried even in death. Her gaze met mine, a broken plea held within the depths of her sorrowful stare.

I wanted to look away, to turn from the suffering carved into her face, but I couldn’t. Her lips parted, and a faint whisper escaped, each word laced with a despair that seemed to seep into my bones. “He won’t let us go.”

The air grew colder still, her words hovering in the silence, filling it with the weight of her hopelessness. I reached out, instinctively, as if I could somehow touch her, somehow ease the burden she carried. But before my hand met the empty air, she began to fade, her outline blurring as though she were slipping back into the darkness from which she’d come.

“He cannot stop you. Wait,” I whispered, desperation creeping into my voice, but it was too late. She dissolved into the shadows, leaving only the faintest chill behind, like the echo of an impossible weight pressing against my spirit.

Jericho leaned close, his expression sharp with concern. “What did you see, Sierra?”

I swallowed, the weight of her words settling deep within me. “She… she said he won’t let them go. She’s trapped here, like the others.” I closed my eyes, fighting the chill that lingered in her absence, her words repeating in my mind. *He won’t let us go.*

Jericho’s hand rested on my shoulder, a steady presence. “We’ll find a way,” he murmured, his voice fierce with resolve. “We’ll free her. I promise.”

But even as he spoke, I could feel the darkness pressing closer, a cold certainty sinking into me: whatever held her here wasn’t going to let go without a fight.

I hurried to rejoin the team, my footsteps soft against the cold stone, yet each step seemed to echo louder in the oppressive silence. The shadows around us felt thicker now, denser, as though they were waiting for the right moment to close in. I could still feel the remnants of that figure’s gaze on me, lingering like an unseen hand pressing between my shoulder blades. Even with Jericho’s steady presence nearby, a weight clung to me—a whisper of despair that refused to let go.

Cassidy turned, her eyes reflecting the unease we all felt but hadn’t dared to say aloud. Midas scanned the room one last time, his jaw set. He looked back at each of us, reading our expressions, measuring the tension that had built into a taut, silent warning.

“We’re heading up,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Let’s regroup, get some air, and come back with fresh minds.” His tone left no room for argument, and I found myself nodding, a strange relief settling over me. The thought of leaving this cellar, even for a few minutes, felt like shedding a heavy coat I hadn’t realized I was wearing.

As we climbed the stairs, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something watched us, its gaze heavy with malice, waiting for our backs to turn. Each step felt harder than the last, as though the shadows were pulling me back, wanting to hold me here, to draw me deeper into the dark.

At the top of the stairs, I paused, glancing over my shoulder. The cellar lay in darkness below, thick and still, but the chill that had settled in my bones remained. Whatever was down there wasn’t done with us—not by a long shot.

We filed into the dimly lit hallway, and I took a deep, shaky breath, the stale air above ground almost refreshing compared to the biting cold below. But even here, the shadows seemed to cling to me, a reminder that what we’d encountered in the depths of the Malaga wasn’t about to let us go so easily.

“We’ll be back,” I whispered under my breath, whether to reassure myself or to warn whatever lurked below, I wasn’t sure. But a final wave of dread washed over me, settling like a chill that I knew wouldn’t be shaken off anytime soon.

As we moved down the hallway, a silence stretched between us—one heavy with unspoken fears and a shared, silent promise. We’d come back, because we had to. But as I glanced at my teammates, a single thought lodged itself in my mind.

We may not all be the same when we return.

Chapter Eight–Cassidy

Everyone seemed tuckered out but I was feeling the urge to draw the faces that Sierra saw in her mind’s eye. I knew if I too could connect on that spiritual plane, I would see them too.. I insisted on going back in and Midas begrudgingly handed me a radio.

I crouched in the tunnel, feeling the rough, uneven ground beneath my knees. My sketchbook was open on my lap, the pages stark white against the shadows pooling around me. It felt strange, like I was being pulled by an invisible thread, something thick and pulsing that wrapped around my fingers and urged me to begin sketching.

A chill slid down my spine, the air around me thick with that unmistakable feeling of eyes on me, of a presence waiting, watching. I gripped my pencil, the smooth wood cold in my hand. As if driven by a force I didn’t understand, I started drawing, my fingers moving almost of their own accord, as though they were controlled by someone—or something—else.

With each line that took shape on the page, shadows around me seemed to pulse, closing in tighter, as if they were watching the scene unfold through my hands. I wasn’t just drawing a place; I was channeling something. Images appeared on the paper faster than I could comprehend, dark lines etching into ghostly figures—figures bound, contorted, their faces twisted in agony. They weren’t just images; they were memories, fragments of lives that had been trapped here, enslaved, and forgotten.

The shadows around me deepened, thickening like smoke, their edges fraying and twisting, each shape morphing into something darker, more sinister. The quiet around me grew heavy, like a weight pressing down on my shoulders, forcing my head to stay bowed over the sketchbook, unable to look up, unable to stop. It was like I’d been chained to this page, tied by something I couldn’t escape.

A shiver rolled through me as I sketched the face of a woman, her expression hollow and defeated, her eyes empty but somehow still pleading. I didn’t know her, but I felt her sorrow, her exhaustion, her desperation as if it were my own. My heart ached, mirroring her pain, and I felt the depth of her suffering pull me further into her world.

Cassidy… I barely registered the voice calling my name. Not a living person. It was distant, muffled by the shadows, by the grip of whatever had latched onto me. I couldn’t respond, couldn’t pull myself from the trance that had taken hold.

My pencil scratched over the paper, and suddenly, I was no longer just seeing their faces—I was there, with them, running, stumbling in the darkness. I could feel the cold metal of chains digging into my skin, hear the whispered cries of those around me, like echoes trapped in an endless night. They were leading me somewhere, their ghostly forms a blur as they pushed forward, trying to escape something unseen but terrifyingly close.

The shadows closed tighter, pressing against my skin, chilling me to the bone. And then, just beyond the edge of the page, I saw it—the faint outline of a door, hidden in the dark, like a forbidden passage beckoning me forward.

“Cassidy! Snap out of it!” The voice broke through, pulling me back with a sudden, jarring force.

“Shoot, Midas!  You scared the hell out of me!” I looked up, blinking as he softly apologized and stepped away leaving me alone in the dim light of the tunnel, the sketchbook on my lap, and a pounding fear in my chest.

Midas wasn’t going to interfere but he also wasn’t going to leave me alone down here in this dark tunnel. For that I was grateful.

The shadows seemed to vibrate around me, their edges softening and stretching, as though they were reaching out. My hand trembled over the page, where the face of the woman stared up at me, her expression as haunting and raw as when I’d drawn it moments ago. Her eyes, hollow and pleading, seemed to come alive, capturing me in their depths.

I pulled my hand back, but something in me—a force I couldn’t name—compelled me to reach out again. My fingers brushed the paper, and the instant they made contact, a shock ran up my arm, like touching live wire. The sketch wasn’t just an image anymore—it was a doorway. I could feel her presence there, calling to me, pulling me back into the darkness, into her world.

Okay, will this work without paint? Normally it’s my paintings that connect me. Will this sketch work? With hope and a prayer, I touched the paper with my fingertips and closed my eyes briefly. In no time flat, I felt the room spin. I opened my eyes again.

The tunnel blurred around me, and I heard faint cries, distant at first, but growing louder, more frantic. Shadows swirled in my peripheral vision, thickening into forms, figures twisted and bound by chains that clinked as they moved.

I was no longer alone in this cold, damp passage; they were here, surrounding me, spectral shapes that seemed to bleed from the walls themselves.

I turned, meeting the gaze of the woman from my sketch. Her face was clearer now, her features stark in the dim light, and I saw the shackles around her wrists, the raw, broken skin where they had rubbed away at her flesh. She reached out to me, her fingers thin, ghostly, the chains trailing behind her like a weight she couldn’t shed.

“You have to help us,” she whispered, her voice a thread of desperation that twisted into my mind. “He won’t let us go…”

I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat, trapped under the weight of her suffering. I could feel the others around me, their eyes on me, silent and pleading, their faces lined with the same haunting sorrow, the same despair. Their pain seeped into me, saturating my mind until it was all I could feel. I was drowning in it, sinking into the memories of their captivity, their loss, their endless fear.

The shadows thickened, curling around my ankles, wrapping up my legs like vines. The woman’s eyes bore into mine, and I felt the cold touch of her hand on my arm, a touch that pierced through me, chilling me to the bone.

“Cassidy!” It was Midas, loud and commanding, slicing through the darkness, grounding me. The shadows trembled, recoiling slightly, but the woman’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading.

“Don’t leave us,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He’s coming.”

“Cassidy!” And in the depths of the tunnel, somewhere beyond the veil of shadows, I heard it—the slow, dragging sound of something ancient and malevolent, a presence creeping closer, drawn by the desperation of those it held captive.

I yanked my hand back from the page, breaking the connection, gasping as the spectral forms faded, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness of the tunnel. The cold lingered, pressing in, and I looked up to see Midas staring down at me, his face tight with worry.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice a mix of concern and urgency.

I whispered, half to him and half to myself, "They want us to open that door."

Midas nodded, his face set in steely determination. "But we’re not here to make it easy for whatever’s in there."

A surge of determination welled up in me, pushing back against the fear. “No,” I whispered, feeling the weight of the spirits around me. “We’re here to make sure that door stays closed—for good. But the people that own this place have a responsibility. This should never be open. None of it!”

“Agreed,” he said sternly as he reached out his hand to help me up.

The air around us seemed to grow thicker, pressing in, as if the very tunnel were alive and intent on driving us toward that door, pushing us to the breaking point. I felt a cold prickle at the base of my neck, the sense of unseen eyes on me, dark and hungry. It was as though the demon itself was standing just beyond our line of sight, waiting for one wrong move to lunge forward, to claim whatever it had been denied for so long.

Midas’s grip tightened on my shoulder, grounding me. “Cassidy, don’t let it pull you in again,” he murmured. “You’ve seen what you needed to see. It’s true, the horrible rumors we’ve heard. Slaves did pass through here but whether they were coming in or going out, being captured or set free, it’s hard to know.”

I took a deep breath, feeling his words resonate through me. This was our purpose—to free the trapped souls, to confront the evil that had held them captive for centuries, and, above all, to keep whatever lurked behind that door from spreading its corruption beyond this place.

The flickering shadows around us seemed to thicken, like they were growing bolder with each passing second. I pressed closer to Midas, feeling the comforting warmth of his presence against the chill that seeped from the stone walls. My eyes never left that ominous door ahead, the one the demon so desperately wanted us to open.

Yep, that’s what this was all about. A greater evil was behind that door. A much greater evil. If it was ever released, there was no telling what would happen to Mobile, Alabama.

Suddenly, a strange rapping began. It was clearly near or at the door. And it wasn’t the other side wanting to come out. The demon was on this side and wanting to get in!

The ancient wood appeared swollen, warped from ages of dampness and the weight of dark secrets pressing from the other side.

Footsteps echoed from down the tunnel behind us, each step slicing through the suffocating silence, and I turned to see the team approaching, their flashlights bobbing like distant stars. Jericho led the way, his face set in a grim determination. Sierra was close behind him, and Joshua had one hand resting protectively on her shoulder, as though he could shield her from the malevolent energy thickening in the air. Behind them were Chris and Macie.

“Oh, we’re feeling it, alright,” Jericho replied, his tone steady but grim. “That door… it’s practically radiating with something foul. It’s old, whatever it is—powerful.”

Sierra shivered, rubbing her arms, and glanced around as if expecting something to lunge from the shadows. “It’s like… like we’re being watched from every angle.” She swallowed, her eyes darting toward the door. “And that door—it’s almost as if it wants us to open it, like it’s… calling us.”

Joshua’s gaze hardened, his fingers still resting on Sierra’s shoulder as he stepped closer. “And we’re not about to answer that call. Whatever’s on the other side of that door has been locked up for a reason. It’s not getting out on our watch.”

The cold seemed to pulse, a low hum that vibrated through the stone walls and into our bones. I looked back at the sketchbook in my hand, the faces I’d drawn staring up at me with hollow, pleading eyes. “The spirits…” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. “They’re trapped, waiting. And they’re terrified.”

Jericho nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. “That’s exactly what it wants. It’s been feeding off their fear, keeping them bound to this place. It’s using them to fuel itself, and now it wants more.”

Midas exchanged a look with Jericho, his face set in grim determination. “So we spiritually close the door, seal this thing away for good, and set the human spirits free. I’m assuming that’s possible. We don’t give it a chance to take anyone else.”

Jericho reached into his pocket and withdrew a small vial of holy water, its contents catching what little light remained, casting a faint glow that looked almost defiant in the oppressive gloom. “Oh, it’s possible.” The liquid seemed alive, glinting with an inner power that dared the darkness around us to come closer.

Jericho’s gaze held mine, and I could see the resolve there, tempered by caution—a silent warning that we were crossing a threshold we might not return from.

“We’re going to need everything we’ve got,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it resonated through the silence, as if the walls themselves were listening. “Once we start, there’s no turning back.”

I glanced down at my sketchbook, the faces of the spirits etched in agony on the page, their hollow eyes pleading with me not to abandon them. The weight of their sorrow sat heavy on my chest. I shook my head, defiant. “I’m staying. I won’t let it win.”

Sierra’s voice came, soft but firm, a spark of bravery lighting her features. “Then we do this together.”

The shadows twisted violently, swirling with a fury that defied the bounds of light and dark. Then, as if the shadows themselves birthed it, a figure emerged—a towering, humanoid shape, its form barely contained within the confines of the tunnel.

Burned, charred skin stretched taut across its body, cracking and splitting in places to reveal raw, oozing flesh beneath. Its eyes glowed a sickening, blood-red, as if forged from the very fires that had scorched it.

A low, guttural growl filled the space, reverberating through our bones, and I could feel the demon’s gaze sweep over us, lingering on each one of us, savoring our fear. Its mouth, a jagged line across its face, twisted into a gruesome smile, and it spoke, its voice rough and cracked, like broken glass scraping over stone.

“You think you can take them from me?” it sneered, its gaze locking onto mine, eyes flickering with malicious delight. “They are mine—bound to me by fear and blood. You can never free them. I’ll keep them as I keep all of you.”

I clung tighter to Cassidy’s hand, the heat from the demon’s presence unbearable, pressing down on us, thick and suffocating. Every instinct screamed to run, to escape the grip of this monstrous entity. But as I looked around at my team, each face set with grim determination, I felt a pulse of defiance surge within me.

Jericho stepped forward, clutching the vial of holy water, his voice unwavering even as the creature loomed over him. “These souls do not belong to you,” he said, his words ringing out strong and steady. “You have held them here long enough, fed on their suffering, but tonight it ends. We banish you from this place.”

The demon’s smile widened, its jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. It took a step forward, the ground beneath us trembling. “You? You think you can command me?” It laughed, a chilling, guttural sound that echoed through the tunnel, sending shivers down our spines. “I have ruled this place for centuries. I will not yield to the likes of you.”

Without flinching, Jericho lifted the vial and let a few drops fall to the floor between us and the demon. Each drop sizzled on the stone, releasing faint tendrils of smoke that coiled into the air. The demon’s face contorted with fury, and it let out a roar, a sound that seemed to scrape against our very souls, reverberating through the walls of the tunnel.

Joshua stepped up beside Jericho, his voice low but firm. “You’ve had your time. This ends now.”

The demon’s red eyes flickered, narrowing as it regarded us, its charred skin seeming to stretch and ripple with every word we spoke. The air around it crackled, an intense heat radiating from its form as it braced for our next move, daring us to continue our assault.

Jericho took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. He poured more holy water into his palm, muttering a powerful prayer, the words ringing with a resonance that seemed to pierce the thick darkness surrounding us. The demon’s figure shuddered, its burned flesh writhing as if in agony, and it staggered back, a look of fury and surprise etched onto its grotesque face.

“You cannot save them!” it screamed, its voice a mixture of rage and desperation. “They are bound to me for eternity!”

Jericho stepped closer, his tone commanding as he continued the prayer, his voice rising above the demon’s screams. The creature’s body convulsed, its charred skin splitting further, revealing flashes of raw, pulsing red beneath, as if the fire that forged it threatened to consume it once more.

The creature’s eyes met mine, a flash of fear now mingling with its fury. For a moment, I saw a flicker of the souls it had claimed trapped within its gaze, their silent pleas merging with the demon’s final cry of defiance.

“You are nothing,” it snarled, even as its form began to dissipate, drawn back by the power of Jericho’s words. “This place… will never be free.”

Jericho shouted a word I did not understand but apparently the demon did. With a howl, the demon’s body collapsed into a cloud of dark, acrid smoke, dissipating into the air around us.  I studied the darkness hoping to see the light.

Instead I saw  traces of the demon’s smoke vanish, the team exhaled in relief, believing the battle was over. I was hopeful as I stared into the tunnel. But before anyone could speak, a sudden, deep rumbling echoed from the far end, a new darkness seeped up from the ground like thick, inky tendrils.

The air grew frigid again, even colder than before, and a distant laugh—low, sinister, and undeniably familiar—drifted through the tunnel, sending fresh chills through everyone. Jericho’s expression falters, his jaw tightening as he realizes something crucial: they didn’t destroy the demon. They merely forced it to retreat.

“It’s still here,” Jericho whispered, his voice tinged with dread. “And now, it’s furious.”

The demon’s voice, even more distorted, echoes through the stone walls, “You think you can break my power? This place, these souls... they will never be free. I will consume you all.”

The shadows begin to swell and twist, reforming into shapes that grew larger, more menacing with each second. As the darkness rose around us once more, Midas said quietly, “Okay, everyone. Fall back. Let’s go get our second wind.”

I wasn’t sure what he was proposing exactly but I was ready to breathe night air without a tinge of evil to it. Midas gave Jericho a nod, as if to say, “You’re up.” With a gentle smile Jericho hurried up the ladder with all of us in tow. I wasn’t sure what he was about to do but I definitely wanted to be a part of it.

Chapter Nine–Jericho

I huddled with the team, their steady presence like a circle of strength, anchoring me as we prepared to face something ancient and filled with malice. I could feel their support, their courage reinforcing my own, and I knew that despite the fear clinging to each of us, we had come too far to back down. The souls of the living and the dead depended on us.

Taking a deep breath, I rolled the demon’s name over in my mind, tasting the bitterness of it, feeling the dark weight of each syllable like a stone pressing on my chest.

Saying it aloud would give it momentary power, but it would also pull it to us—force it to confront us here, in the light we were determined to wield against it. This name was a weapon, as sharp and dangerous as any blade, and it was up to me to wield it well.

I looked around the room, catching each of their gazes, letting my resolve harden in my eyes. “Stay close whatever happens,” My voice sounded steadier than I felt, but I knew I couldn’t let my own fear show. The others nodded, their faces taut, bracing themselves for what was about to come.

With one last look at each of them, I began, my voice low and resonant, a hum that seemed to sink into the stone walls. “Beezel,” I intoned, letting the name fill the space, each syllable dragging out like the pull of a heavy chain. The air grew colder, the chill biting deeper with each repetition of the name, as though it were slicing through the layers of reality, ripping open a wound in the fabric of this place.

“Beezel,” I repeated, louder this time, my voice strong and unyielding, driving the name into the thick, oppressive darkness pressing in around us. The shadows in the room seemed to recoil, shivering in response, as though the name had struck a nerve, a sore spot in the malevolent force that filled the air.

Cassidy’s hand tightened around her bracelet, her gaze unwavering but filled with dread. “Is it... is it working?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with the tension that hung between us.

I nodded, though I could feel the prickling sensation of being watched, the weight of something shifting just beyond sight, a presence coiling in response to the sound of its own name. “It hears us,” I said, my voice grim. “And it knows we’re calling it out.”

One more time, I spoke the name, letting each syllable drip with defiance, an invocation that was both a challenge and a warning.

“Beezel,” I declared, louder than before, letting my voice ring out, daring it to face us here, daring it to meet us in our own light.

And then, silence fell—a thick, suffocating quiet, as though the entire room held its breath, waiting for the response. I could feel the anticipation coil tight in my chest, a raw edge of fear that buzzed beneath my resolve. Whatever came next, we had started a battle that only one side would survive.

The silence settled around us, dense and stifling, as though every shadow in the room held a collective breath, waiting for our next move. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, matching the rhythm of something older, something lurking in the dark corners, coiled and ready to strike.

Then, the room shifted. The walls themselves seemed to breathe, exhaling a cold, sickly vapor that slithered along the ground, brushing against our ankles. I tightened my grip on the vial of holy water in my pocket, feeling its reassuring weight, its small but potent promise of protection.

A shiver crawled up my spine, but I stood tall, calling out again, the name ripping through the silence with a strength that surprised even me. “Beezel,” I demanded, my voice unwavering. “Show yourself again. There is no escape!”

And so he did. The air thickened, twisting with a pressure that pressed down on our shoulders, making each breath a struggle. And then, as though the shadows themselves had finally conceded, it came.

First, a faint, sickly glow flickered to life at the center of the room, casting long, twisted shadows that clawed at the walls. Slowly, like something being birthed from the very bones of the earth, a figure began to take shape, emerging from the darkness, inch by inch.

Its skin was charred, blackened as if it had been burned in fire ages ago, cracks running through it, glowing faintly with a red, smoldering light, like embers that refused to die. Its eyes were pits of raw, red fury, burning with an unnatural, crimson light that seemed to pierce through us, seeing far beyond the room, far beyond the walls of this world. Those eyes locked on me, and a twisted, mocking grin split its face, revealing teeth jagged and black, sharp as knives.

“You dare to command me?” The demon’s voice was a rasp, like the scrape of metal on stone, echoing through the room with a weight that made the walls tremble.

A part of me wanted to step back, to create as much distance as possible between me and this monstrosity. But I forced myself to hold my ground, meeting its gaze, refusing to flinch. “I am here to end this,” I said, my voice steady, though my pulse was a wild beat in my veins. “You won’t hold the souls any longer. I come in the authority of heaven!!

The demon lowered his head and roared, a sound that made me want to to vomit but I held my ground. Beezel’s eyes narrowed, the embers in his skin flaring with a sudden heat. He laughed, a dark, rattling sound that made the air vibrate, filling the space with an oppressive, suffocating malice. “End this?” he hissed, each word dripping with contempt. “You think you have the power to cast me out? I have been here longer than you can imagine, feeding off the suffering of those who dared step into my domain. And you... you are nothing.” It took a heavy step toward me.

Oh no!

His gaze slid to Cassidy, lingering for a moment too long, and my blood ran cold. “And yet,” he murmured, a wicked smile stretching across his cracked lips, “You brought me a lovely gift. A lovely, vulnerable soul so open to my whispers. I shall enjoy her for eternity!”

Midas and I stepped in front of him, blocking his view, my heart pounding with a fierce protectiveness. “She’s not yours,” I said, my tone cold and unyielding. “None of them are.”

The demon’s smile faltered, the red in his eyes flaring brighter, his form shifting, shadows writhing around him like snakes. He hissed, low and seething, the sound curling through the air like smoke. “You’re meddling in forces beyond your understanding, mortal.”

I clenched my fists, feeling the sharp edges of fear but forcing them down, grounding myself in the faces around me, in the strength of our resolve. “I am a man of authority, sent by heaven, a worker of Light,” I replied, my voice hardening, “Today, I come to set them free and banish you forever.  Your time here has come to an end.”

The room seemed to draw in around us, every shadow, every inch of darkness coalescing into the form of Beezel, looming over us like a nightmare made flesh. His gaze bore into mine, a silent promise of what he would do if we failed, of the suffering he would unleash. But even as the weight of his presence pressed down on us, I held his gaze, unbroken, a defiance that seemed to cut through the malice, a spark of light in the heart of the dark.

And in that moment, I felt it—a faint tremor in the air, the beginning of a shift.

Beezel’s twisted grin faded, and a snarl rippled across his charred, cracked face, revealing teeth that looked more like jagged shards of black glass than anything human. His gaze bored into mine, an inferno of fury and malice, and with a sudden, violent lurch, he lunged forward, the air around him shifting into a blast of icy, rotting wind that slammed into us.

“Your so-called authority is nothing here!” His voice was a rasping, guttural roar, and the power behind it sent a tremor through the room, shaking loose dust and small stones from the ceiling. The lights flickered, shadows stretching and writhing on the walls like trapped souls clawing for escape.

I staggered but caught my balance, gripping the vial of holy water so tightly I could feel the cold glass bite into my palm. Cassidy gasped as she stumbled back, her sketchbook clutched to her chest, the edges of the paper fluttering wildly as if caught in a whirlwind.

Midas, resolute as ever, stood beside me, his face a mask of unyielding resolve. “We’re here to stand against you, Beezel,” he called, his voice clear and steady, cutting through the oppressive darkness. “Your days of torment are over.”

The demon recoiled, his form flickering for a moment, as though Midas’s words had struck something deep within him. But then he snarled, the embers in his skin blazing brighter, his body swelling as if feeding on the very shadows that surrounded him.

“You think a few words will send me crawling back?” His laugh was low and menacing, a sound that vibrated through the stones beneath our feet. “I have torn through stronger than you. I will feast on your fear, your doubt, and your helplessness.” He stretched out a hand, and the darkness itself seemed to coil around his arm, twisting and gathering like a storm.

Before any of us could react, he unleashed it—a blast of raw, icy force that struck us like a wave, pushing us backward. I felt the cold seep into my skin, like fingers clawing their way into my heart, trying to extinguish every trace of warmth, of life. The world seemed to tilt, the shadows closing in, thick and suffocating, until I could barely breathe.

But even as the darkness wrapped around us, binding tighter, I forced myself to remember the faces of those trapped souls, to hold onto the purpose that had brought us here. I lifted my head, my voice steady even as the shadows pressed in.

“Beezel,” I called, each word cutting through the darkness, steady and unyielding. “Your power ends here. I call upon the Light, upon the authority that no darkness can defy!”

Beezel’s furious eyes blazed, but beneath that rage, I caught a glimmer of something else—a flicker of hesitation, of fear. He shifted, his form rippling, the shadows around him wavering as though they, too, felt the weight of what was coming.

The demon’s form seemed to swell, shadows coiling around him like smoke, his body flickering and pulsing as though feeding off the darkness itself. His eyes burned hotter, fixing on me with a hatred so raw it felt as if it could cut through flesh and bone.

“You think you can banish me?” Beezel sneered, his voice a low, guttural growl. “I have been here for centuries, devouring the lost, the weak, the forgotten. I am bound to this place as surely as the souls you pretend to protect.” He took a step forward, his shadow expanding, swallowing the meager light around us, pulling us into a near-pitch darkness.

Before I could call out a warning, Macie surged forward, her arms raised as if to shield me. “You don’t get to take him, Beezel,” she shouted, her voice clear and fierce, cutting through the darkness. “You don’t get to take any of us.”

“Macie, no!” I lunged forward, but Beezel was faster. His arm stretched out, a jagged claw of shadow shooting toward her, the darkness wrapping around her like a vice, lifting her off the ground.

She gasped, her face a mixture of fear and determination, struggling against the grip that held her in the air. I could see the life draining from her, the shadows feeding off her strength, her very essence. Beezel laughed, a triumphant, cruel sound that echoed through the room.

I didn’t hesitate. With a shout, I raised the vial of holy water, unscrewing the cap with one hand as I gripped Macie’s wrist with the other. “In the name of the Light,” I called, my voice shaking with a fury I could barely contain, “release her!”

I threw the holy water at Beezel’s face. It struck him, hissing as it made contact, sizzling like acid. He screamed, a sound so raw and piercing it sent shivers down my spine. The shadows around him recoiled, retreating momentarily, the grip around Macie loosening just enough for her to fall to the ground. I caught her as she collapsed into my arms, her face pale but alive, her breaths coming fast and shallow.

“Jericho…” she murmured, clutching my arm, her eyes wide with both fear and gratitude. “I thought…”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, steadying her as I held her close, refusing to let go. “He doesn’t get to have you.”

Beezel recovered quickly, his form coiling and growing larger, his fury palpable. He lunged toward us, his charred, clawed hands outstretched, eyes blazing with rage.

This time, I stood my ground, my voice rising above the demon’s howling fury. “You will leave this place, Beezel,” I commanded, every ounce of my strength behind each word. “You have no power here. You are banished in the name of all that is holy!”

The shadows around him began to thin, to tremble. I could feel the air shifting, the darkness weakening, the power of the light pressing in, closing the gap between us and the creature that had terrorized these halls for too long.

Beezel writhed, his form twisting, as if the very light I was calling on was burning him from the inside out. “This isn’t over,” he spat, his voice a desperate hiss. “You can’t save them all.”

But even as he spoke, his form began to waver, dissolving like smoke caught in a high wind. His grip on the darkness loosened, and I felt the room lighten, the pressure lifting as his presence began to fade, drawn back to whatever pit had spawned him.

I held Macie close, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat, a grounding force amid the chaos, refusing to let the demon’s last words shake me. “Go back to where you came from,” I said, my voice calm but resolute. “Your reign here is over.”

With a final, agonized scream, Beezel shattered, his form splintering into fragments of shadow that dissolved into nothing, leaving the room in silence, the oppressive weight finally gone.

As the last of Beezel’s presence faded, I felt the atmosphere shift in the room. The shadows lightened, the oppressive darkness retreating as if breathing its final breath. Midas flicked on his flashlight, and for the first time, its beam seemed to fully pierce through the gloom, illuminating every corner of the cellar that had once felt unreachable.

The team gathered around, silent but wide-eyed, the weight of the night heavy on all of us. Sierra let out a shaky breath, her voice soft. “It’s… it’s really over, isn’t it?”

I nodded, but even as I said, “Yes,” the memory of Beezel’s last, rasping words echoed in my mind, a chilling reminder that our work was far from finished.

Macie, steadying herself, whispered, “Thank you,” and gripped my hand with a quiet fierceness. Her touch was an anchor in the aftermath of the darkness, her presence a reminder of what we had fought to protect. I squeezed her hand back, the warmth grounding me.

Midas took a final glance around, his voice rough but resolute. “Alright, team. Let’s do what we’ve come here to do. Mediums, do your work. We’ll stand by.” One by one, Macie, Cassidy, Sierra and I made our way through the cloud of ghosts that had previously been trapped in the cellar. But as I took that first step into the light, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Beezel’s last warning was more than just a threat.

It was a promise—a promise of more battles to come, a reminder of the darker forces that would never stop pushing back against the light.

In the silence that followed, I whispered a prayer, a plea for strength, for guidance, knowing we’d need it. And as we left the cellar behind, I glanced back one last time, feeling the weight of those who were freed—and those who still lingered in the dark places of this world, waiting.

Chapter Ten–Midas

When we returned the following day, the tunnel had a different feel to it, a quiet warmth that seemed to rise from the stones themselves. As I stood in the darkness,, a wave of calm washed over me, as though the very walls were sighing in relief, their shadows softened. The air felt lighter, as if a heavy weight had finally been lifted. I closed my eyes, and for the first time since we arrived, I felt something other than fear—gratitude.

It was a faint whisper, a gentle touch, but I felt it all the same.

I opened my heart to the sensation, allowing it to seep into every corner of my mind. It was as if each spirit we’d freed was reaching out, expressing a silent thank-you. The pain and suffering I’d felt earlier were gone, replaced by a warmth that brought tears to my eyes. I pressed a hand over my heart, the feeling so deep, so profound, that it left me breathless.

Jericho’s voice drifted through the quiet, calm and grounded. “They’re at peace now,” he murmured, his tone filled with a reverence that matched the stillness around us. He stood beside me, his own gaze soft, eyes taking in the lingering shadows with a look that was both compassionate and resolute.

I turned to him, feeling the weight of his words settle in my soul. “You think it’ll last?”

Jericho gave a slight nod, a flicker of a smile on his lips. “For them, yes. The demon is gone, Cassidy. They’re free.”

I closed my eyes, breathing in the newfound peace, letting it wrap around me like a comforting blanket. This was why we were here—to bring light to places where darkness had lingered for too long. And as the spirits’ gratitude swelled in my heart, I felt an overwhelming sense of purpose. The Malaga Inn would no longer be a prison for these lost souls. It was finally, blessedly, at peace.

As we lingered in the tunnel, Jericho took a deep, measured breath, his gaze distant, as though seeing beyond the walls, into a place only he could reach. His face softened, a mix of exhaustion and something else—quiet satisfaction, maybe even a touch of peace. I knew he felt the weight of what we’d done here, and the enormity of it seemed to settle into him like a steady heartbeat, grounding him.

For a long moment, he said nothing, letting the silence do its work. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, like he was sharing a sacred truth. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” he began, his tone thoughtful, almost reverent. “All that darkness, all that suffering—and yet, somehow, we’re able to bring them peace. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

I nodded, understanding the pull of his words. It was hard to grasp how something as small as a word, a prayer, or an intention could shift the very balance of a place like this.

Jericho’s gaze shifted to me, his eyes filled with a steady resolve that felt as solid as the ground beneath us. “You know,” he said, his voice quiet but strong, “there’s a reason we’re here, Cassidy. This isn’t just about the spirits. It’s about all of us—learning to carry that weight, learning to stand in the dark and not lose ourselves.”

I felt his words settle into my heart, grounding me, too. It was a reminder of why we did this work, of the strength it took to face what we’d faced tonight. And for the first time, I saw in Jericho not just a friend, not just a teammate, but a kindred spirit, someone who understood the weight and purpose of this work on a level that went beyond words.

“Thank you,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was thanking him or the spirits or maybe something bigger than both of us. All I knew was that, in that moment, I felt more whole than I had in a long time.

We moved as a unit, quiet and reverent, toward the sealed door. Jericho held a small bouquet of wildflowers we’d gathered earlier, their bright colors a stark contrast to the dark stone and the shadows still lingering in the edges of the tunnel. He knelt down before the door, placing the flowers gently at its base, a final offering, a sign of peace.

The others followed his lead, each of us laying a flower beside his—a quiet tribute to the souls who had been trapped here, and perhaps, a blessing for whatever lay beyond that we hadn’t yet touched.

As I added my own flower to the small pile, I closed my eyes, murmuring a soft prayer, not just for the spirits we had helped but for ourselves as well. We’d faced something ancient here, something vast and powerful, and it felt right to leave a piece of ourselves behind, a symbol of our respect and the burden we had carried.

Midas placed his hand on the door, bowing his head, his lips moving in a silent benediction. I didn’t need to hear the words to understand their meaning—they were words of protection, of closure, an ending that we all felt echoing in our hearts.

For a moment, the air felt still, heavy with finality. It was as if the very walls were breathing with relief, letting go of centuries of pain and darkness. And in that quiet, I could almost feel a warmth surrounding us, a silent gratitude from the souls who, at last, could rest.

As we turned to leave, I glanced back one last time, a quiet compulsion I couldn’t resist. The flowers rested peacefully at the base of the door, their colors softened in the dim light, a gentle contrast to the cold stone. But there, at the very edges of my vision, I caught a flicker—a faint, dark movement that vanished as quickly as it had appeared, like a shadow slipping back into hiding.

A chill prickled up my spine, and I felt a lingering weight, a subtle reminder that though we had brought peace to many, some things were beyond our reach, bound to these walls in ways we could never fully unravel.

Midas’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder, grounding me. “Come on, Cassidy,” he said softly, his voice a steady anchor in the unsettling quiet. “We’ve done all we can here.”

I nodded, allowing myself one last look, feeling both the closure and the faint, haunting promise that some shadows would always remain—etched into the very bones of this place. Yet, as I turned away, I also felt a lightness, a peace that whispered we had done right by the souls here, and they had found their way to something close to freedom.

As we walked back toward the tunnel’s entrance, I could feel the weight lifting from us, and though the darkness would always cling to the edges of our memories, we left knowing that for now, the Malaga Inn was quiet, its spirits finally at rest.

We climbed the narrow staircase leading out of the tunnel and I felt an unexpected warmth bloom in my chest, spreading through me like the first light of dawn. The lingering shadows faded, and in their place was a sense of relief, a gentle promise of peace. It felt like a gift, a final offering from the spirits we’d helped to set free.

I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling a quiet excitement stir—a life growing, a new beginning waiting just ahead. This baby, my child, would never know the weight of this darkness, would never walk the haunted paths we’d braved tonight. The thought filled me with hope, a precious light amidst the memories of shadowed halls and restless spirits.

As the team gathered outside, our laughter mingling with the fresh air, I felt my heart lift. This was more than just an ending—it was a new chapter, for all of us, and for the tiny soul within me. And this baby makes four.

Wow! Four! I love my life.

I looked at Midas, sharing a smile, a silent vow that no matter what shadows might linger in our lives, we would always find our way back to the light.

Chapter Eleven–Midas

A few days later, we reconvene at the Gulf Coast Paranormal office. I sat at the head of the table, studying my team, each face a mix of exhaustion and quiet satisfaction. This case had taken more out of us than any before, and it wasn’t just the darkness we faced but the weight of the history we’d uncovered.

I let my eyes linger on Cassidy, sitting beside me, her hand resting on her belly—a reminder of the life we were building amidst the chaos of this work. Dominic’s laughter flashed through my mind, a sound I looked forward to every time I walked through our front door. And soon, there’d be another voice to join his.

A bittersweet ache settled in my chest as I thought of the souls we’d encountered in Mobile, those who’d lived and died in chains, silenced by centuries of cruelty. No matter how many spirits we freed, the past couldn’t be rewritten, and the lives lost couldn’t be returned. But I hoped, in some small way, that our work allowed them a measure of peace, a final moment of freedom after lifetimes of suffering.

Clearing my throat, I looked at the team and offered a small smile. “This one…this one took a piece of all of us, didn’t it?” I began, glancing around the table. “But we’ve come through it together, like we always do.”

Everyone nodded, and I could see a shared understanding pass between us, the unspoken acknowledgment that we’d faced something dark, something that would linger with each of us in its own way.

Jericho shifted in his seat, leaning forward, his expression thoughtful and calm, but his eyes held that steady fire I’d come to respect. He cleared his throat, glancing around the table.

“I don’t know how much I say it, but… I couldn’t do this alone. I need each of you. This work—it takes something from all of us, but it also gives something back.” He paused, letting his words settle before continuing. “Compassion is what keeps us going, and that’s something we all brought to this case, from start to finish.”

“Agreed, brother,” I said as I nodded along with Jericho’s words.

His gaze softened, his voice barely above a whisper. “The things we saw, the pain those souls endured… it takes a toll. But I’m grateful we could be there for them—and for each other. When I heard the demon’s name, I wasn’t sure what would happen, but knowing you all were behind me, that made the difference.” He glanced at Macie, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection they’d shared during the exorcism, then met my eyes.

I nodded, feeling a swell of gratitude toward Jericho. His insight, his strength—they’d become an anchor for the whole team, something we could lean on when things got rough.

“Thank you, Jericho,” I said, my voice filled with quiet respect. “We all need that reminder. Compassion is what brought us together and what keeps us grounded in this work.” I met the eyes of each person around the table, feeling the weight of that shared purpose settle like a warm mantle on my shoulders.

I reached for my water bottle, raising it in a silent gesture, and the team quickly followed, bottles crinkling softly in the quiet room. “To the spirits,” I said, my voice carrying the weight of our journey. “To the ones we couldn’t save, and to the ones who found peace because of what we did. May they rest free from the darkness that held them.”

There was a murmur of agreement as we touched our water bottles high, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Cassidy’s eyes were soft, her hand resting protectively over her belly, and I knew she was thinking about the lives yet to come, the hope we could still bring into the world.

“Here’s to all of us, too,” Sierra said, her voice strong and clear. “For facing the darkness head-on and for keeping each other standing through it all.” Her gaze flickered to each of us, a proud smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

The water bottles made a crinkling sound again, and we drank in silence, each of us reflecting on what it meant to be part of something this powerful, this life-altering. Even though the spirits’ voices had faded, their presence lingered, a solemn reminder that our work wasn’t just about thrill or fear—it was about connection, compassion, and, ultimately, resilience.

I lowered my water bottle, feeling that familiar sense of pride I always had with this team. “We’re lucky,” I said, my voice barely a murmur, but I knew they could hear the emotion in it. “Lucky to be here, lucky to have each other. And I don’t take that for granted—not for a single day.”

As the room settled into a comfortable silence, I looked over at Cassidy, my gaze softening as I took in the slight curve of her belly. A new life, a new beginning—something beautiful that we were building together, despite the darkness we often faced. Thoughts of our little family waiting for me at home filled me with a hope I couldn’t quite put into words.

Cassidy met my gaze, her eyes shining with that familiar spark, but now, there was something else—a quiet excitement, a readiness for the future, for the unknown. She placed her hand on her belly, and I knew what she was thinking, knew that she shared the same dreams, the same hopes that were blossoming within me.

“We have a lot to look forward to,” she whispered, her voice filled with a gentle reverence that made my heart swell. I nodded, feeling the weight of it all—the losses, the victories, the lives we’d touched. We had honored the past, but now, there was a future waiting for us, and that thought was like a light breaking through the shadows.

I glanced around the table, my gaze lingering on each face, each friend who had become like family. “This journey we’re on, it isn’t easy,” I said, my voice steady, “but with each case, each soul freed, we’re reminded why we’re here. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Cassidy leaned closer, her hand slipping into mine, a silent promise of everything that lay ahead. Together, we were building something stronger, something that could withstand the darkness. And as I looked around the room one last time, I knew that whatever came next, we’d face it together—stronger, braver, and ready for whatever waited beyond the veil.

With that, I raised my bottle of water once more. “To the past, to the spirits—and to the future, for us and for every life we’ll touch along the way.”

And as we drank, I felt a quiet certainty settle over me. We were exactly where we were meant to be.

Chapter Twelve–Cassidy

The studio was steeped in a silence so heavy it felt almost sacred. I stood before the three paintings, each canvas a tribute to the souls we’d encountered; faces bound in sorrow, defiance, and strength, etched in shadows and light. They were more than just images; they were the voices of those forgotten, crying out from beyond the veil. And somehow, they had found me, chosen me to carry their story forward.

I ran my fingers over the dried paint, feeling the texture of each brushstroke, the subtle ridges beneath my fingertips like scars. In the dim light, the woman I’d seen in the tunnel stared back at me, her eyes piercing and solemn, her expression caught between defiance and despair. I could almost feel her presence beside me, her spirit alive within the paint, her memory preserved in each deliberate line.

I carefully packed and prepared the paintings. They would go to the Mobile Museum of Art.  It was an honor to be a part of remembering these brave souls.

We must remember history or we are doomed to repeat it.

This morning, as I stood in the silence waiting for Midas, a chill settled over my shoulders, a quiet reminder of the spirits who’d trusted me to remember them. I glanced at each face, every detail etched from memory and something deeper, something beyond memory before heading to the vehicle.

I hadn’t just painted them–I channeled their pain, their strength, their lives trapped in darkness for far too long. And I was glad to do it.

Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift back to the tunnel, to the moment when they’d appeared to me, reaching out with hands bound by chains, their faces twisted in sorrow. I had felt their desperation, their hope for release, their silent pleas woven into the cold, damp air.

I could still hear the faint rustle of chains, the echo of their voices—a sound I knew would never fully leave me. And now, those echoes had found a new home on these canvases. I shivered, feeling their gratitude as if it were a gentle hand resting on my shoulder, a reminder that they were finally seen, finally acknowledged.

A faint smile touched my lips as I stepped back, allowing myself a moment to breathe, to honor them in silence. In painting them, I hadn’t just captured their sorrow; I’d given them something they’d long been denied—recognition. Peace. I whispered a promise to them, a vow that I’d carry their memory forward, honoring their stories even as I found peace in my own life.

As the silence deepened, a quiet sense of release settled over me, and in that moment, I felt certain they’d found the rest they deserved. We didn’t talk much during the brief ride to the museum. Thankfully, it looked busy and there was clearly excitement around this exhibit of multiple artists focused on memorializing those nearly forgotten individuals that may have traveled the Malaga tunnel.

Midas and I stepped into the Mobile Museum of Art, the familiar echo of quiet reverence filling the space as I moved toward the exhibit hall. The weight of anticipation settled in my chest, a blend of pride and humility. Today wasn’t just about the soon arrival of my paintings or even the art itself—it was a chance to let those voices reach others, to share their stories in a way words never could.

As I entered, the first thing I saw was Jericho, standing by the entrance to the gallery, his expression solemn but filled with an intense purpose. He caught my eye, nodding, and I felt the weight of his support, his respect for what these paintings meant. He understood, perhaps better than anyone, the lives I had tried to capture, the spirits that had pressed their stories into my mind and soul.

Sierra, and Joshua stood just behind him, each of them nodding in quiet solidarity. They had walked those tunnels with me, had felt the pulse of those lives echo through the darkness. And now, here we were, together, honoring the spirits in a new kind of light. I was sad to see that Macie wasn’t here but with the complications of Jericho, Chris and Macie, I guess it was for the best.

We stepped into the gallery, and there they were—the three paintings, suspended in the soft glow of gallery lights, each brushstroke illuminated in a way that made them almost shimmer. The woman’s face looked out with that same defiance and sorrow, a silent guardian for those she’d represented, her gaze meeting mine as though she knew we’d kept our promise.

For a moment, the air seemed to shift, almost like a whisper—a faint presence brushing past us, offering a subtle acknowledgment of our work. I could feel the spirits there, a final farewell woven into the quiet warmth of the room.

I took a deep breath, letting the quiet weight of the moment settle over me. The gallery was hushed, the sound of footsteps muted on the polished floor as visitors drifted from painting to painting, their gazes lingering, absorbed. There was a sense of reverence in the room, an awareness that these paintings held more than just images—they held history, lives, and stories that were almost lost to time.

Jericho stepped up beside me, his gaze fixed on the paintings, his voice soft. “You know, they’re more than just portraits,” he said, his eyes shadowed with the weight of his own reflections. “It’s like they’re finally able to speak.”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. “That’s what we hoped for. I wanted them to have a voice, something that could reach people, even beyond the veil.”

Sierra joined us, her hand lightly brushing my arm, a reassuring gesture that reminded me of the support we’d shared in the tunnels. “You gave them a gift, Cassidy,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You gave them a way to be seen.”

“Hey, Sierra! Look at you rocking that little black dress.” I smiled at my friend and we hugged. I loved this woman. Through thick and think, she was my Little Sister too. Always.

Looking back at the canvases, I felt a quiet, swelling pride—not for myself, but for them, for the courage it must have taken to endure. And in a way, this exhibit wasn’t just an ending; it was a new beginning for their stories to be shared, understood, and honored.

Midas’s warm hand rested on the small of my back, his presence comforted me. “You’ve done something incredible here, Cassidy,” he murmured, his voice laced with pride. “Not everyone has the courage or compassion to bring voices from the past into the present like this.”

I leaned into him, feeling the steadiness of his embrace, letting his strength reinforce my own. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. We did it together,” I said softly, glancing at each of my friends, my family, gathered here in quiet solidarity.

They’d been with me in those dark tunnels, and now, they were here in this space of light, helping me honor the spirits we’d fought to free.

The room held a profound stillness as we all stood together, a quiet, unbreakable bond shared between us, forged by darkness but tempered by the light of compassion. I gazed at each face around me—Midas, Jericho, Sierra, Joshua—all of us linked by the silent vows we’d taken to honor the spirits we encountered, to remember those who had gone before us.

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw the faintest shimmer of movement beside the paintings, as if the woman from my visions, with her sorrow and defiance, were standing there, watching over us with a faint smile of gratitude. It was as if, at last, she—and all the souls we’d freed—were able to rest.

Midas pulled me closer, his voice a warm murmur in my ear. “They’re free now, Cassidy. And you helped give that to them.”

A soft breath of relief escaped me, and I whispered, “I think they’ve given us something too. A purpose. A reminder.”

We stayed there a moment longer, each of us silently making peace with the shadows of the past and finding hope in the present.

And as we left the gallery, I felt lighter, as if I carried with me not the weight of sorrow but a quiet, enduring sense of honor—for the lives we remembered, for the family we’d become, and for the future we would continue to face, together.

Together. I liked that.

Author’s Note

Dear Readers,

Thank you for embarking on this journey with me into the chilling depths of The Malaga Demon, Book Four in the Gulf Coast Paranormal Season Three series. This story, like all the stories in this series, is a labor of love, woven from my fascination with local Gulf Coast history, the paranormal, and the resilience of the human spirit.

Mobile is the perfect place for this story. The Malaga Inn in Mobile, Alabama, serves as an atmospheric backdrop, blending fact and fiction to create a haunting tale of spirits, secrets, and redemption.

As always, I strive to honor the stories of those who came before us, both the living and the dead. This book touches on themes of oppression, loss, and the lingering impact of history. Through the lens of the paranormal, we explore the echoes of those who endured unimaginable hardship, reminding us of the importance of remembrance and compassion.

I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to you, the readers, for your continued support and love for my stories. Your enthusiasm inspires me to keep delving into the shadows, uncovering tales that connect us to the past and remind us of the strength it takes to face the unknown.

Just a reminder again–this haunting is a work of fiction. As far as I know, there is a tunnel beneath the Malaga Inn but access to it is limited and as of yet, there are no reports of demonic activity.

But then again, who knows?

If you’ve enjoyed this book, I would be deeply grateful if you could share your thoughts in a review or recommend it to a friend. Your voice helps keep these stories alive, ensuring they reach those who, like us, are drawn to the mysteries of the unseen.

With much love and appreciation, 

M. L. Bullock

P.S. If you ever find yourself in Mobile, consider visiting the Malaga Inn—it’s as beautiful as it is intriguing. You never know. You may feel a whisper of its secrets lingering in the air.

M. L. Bullock’s Book List

If you think you’ve missed one of my books, here is a comprehensive list of everything.😊 All books are available on Amazon Kindle, and as paper books. Some are available as audiobooks.

SEVEN SISTERS

#1 Seven Sisters

#2 Moonlight Falls on Seven Sisters

#3 Shadows Stir at Seven Sisters

#4 The Stars That Fell

#5 The Stars We Walked Upon

#6 The Sun Rises Over Seven Sisters

#7 Beyond Seven Sisters

Bonus Christmas at Seven Sisters

Bonus The Ghost on the Swing

#8 Silent Night, Haunted Night

#9 Haunted Halls of Rosegate Manor

#10 Terror at Mossy Oak

#11 Dark Angel of Selma

The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection

Seven Sisters Collection Vol. 1

Seven Sisters Collection Vol. 2

Seven Sisters Collection Vol. 3

IDLEWOOD

#1 The Ghosts of Idlewood

#2 Dreams of Idlewood

#3 The Whispering Saint

#4 The Haunted Child

The Hauntings of Idlewood

RETURN TO SEVEN SISTERS

#1 The Roses of Mobile

#2 All the Summer Roses

#3 Blooms Torn Asunder

#4 A Garden of Thorns

#5 Wreath of Roses

Return to Seven Sisters Collection

THE GRACEFIELD HAUNTINGS

#1 Haunted Gracefield

#2 The Three Graces

#3 Grace Before Dying

The Gracefield Hauntings Collection

MARIETTA

#1 The Bones of Marietta

#2 Footsteps of Angels

Marietta

THE BEAUMONT SAGA: A SEVEN SISTERS PREQUEL

#1 Olivia

#2 Louis

#3 Christine

The Beaumont Saga

DEVECHEAUX ANTIQUES AND HAUNTED THINGS

#1 A Cup of Shadows

#2 A Voice From Her Past

#3 A Watch of Weeping Angels

#4 The Ghost Mirror

#5 The Phantom Lamp

#6 The Darkening Door

#7 Kalliope’s Dollhouse

#8 The Mourning Heart

Devecheaux Antiques and Haunted Things Trilogy Volume 1

Devecheaux Antiques and Haunted Things Trilogy Volume 2  

SUGAR HILL

#1 Wife of the Left Hand

#2 Fire on the Ramparts

#3 Blood By Candlelight

#4 The Starlight Ball

#5 His Lovely Garden

The Sugar Hill Collection

THE GHOSTS OF SUMMERLEIGH

#1 The Belles of Desire, Mississippi

#2 The Ghost of Jeopardy Belle

#3 The Lady in White

#4 Loxley Belle

The Ghosts of Summerleigh

SOUTHERN GOTHIC SERIES

#1 Being With Beau

#2 Death’s Last Darling

#3 Spook House

The Southern Gothic Collection

WELCOME TO DEAD HOUSE

#1 Never Dead

#2 Always Dead

#3 Dead at Midnight

Welcome to Dead House Series

HAUNTING PASSIONS

#1 For the Love of Shadows

#2 Her Haunted Heart

Haunting Passions

GULF COAST PARANORMAL Season One

#1 The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road

#2 The Ghosts of the Crescent Theater

#3 A Haunting on Bloodgood Row

#4 The Legend of the Ghost Queen

#5 A Haunting at Dixie House

#6 The Ghost Lights of Forrest Field

#7 The Ghost of Gabrielle Bonet

#8 The Ghost of Harrington Farm

#9 The Creature on Crenshaw Road

#10 A Ghostly Ride in Gulfport

#11 The Maelstrom of the Leaf Academy

#12 The Ghosts of Phoenix No 7

#13 The Ghosts of Oakleigh House

#14 The Spirits of Brady Hall

#15 The Gray Lady of Wilmer

Bonus The October People (A Gulf Coast Paranormal Extra)

GULF COAST PARANORMAL TRILOGY

#1 Ghosted

#2 Haunted

#3 Spooked

#4 Dead

#5 Paranormal

#6 Delta Hex

#7 Delta Dead

#8 Shadowed

Gulf Coast Paranormal Season One Boxed Set

Gulf Coast Paranormal Season Two Boxed Set

GULF COAST PARANORMAL SEASON TWO

#1 The Wayland Manor Haunting

#2 The Beast of Limerick House

#3 The Haunting at Goliath Cave

#4 The Skeleton’s Key

#5 Death Among the Roses

#6 The Spiritus Mirror

#7 The Captain of Water Street

#8 Return to the Leaf Academy

#9 The Rising of Lucy Vallow

Bonus Horror Ever After (A Gulf Coast Paranormal Extra)

GULF COAST PARANORMAL SEASON THREE

#1 Tower of Darkness

#2 Haunted Molly

#3 Dead Children’s Playground

#4 The Malaga Demon

#5 Haunting at Barton Academy

#6 The Outlaw Screamer

TWELVE TO MIDNIGHT

#1 Mary Twelves

#2 Pieces of Twelves

BRYNN LEEDS HAUNTING

#1 We Walk in Darkness

MORGAN’S ROCK

#1 The Haunting of Joanna Storm

#2 The Hall of Shadows

#3 The Ghost of Joanna Storm

The Haunting at Morgan’s Rock Trilogy

QUEEN MUMMY

#1 Queen Mummy

RIVER RUN

#1 River Run

#2 Blood Run

#3 Witch Child

River Run Collection

SOUTHLAND

#1 Southland

#2 Southland: Legacy

Southland: The Complete Collection

THE DESERT QUEEN

#1 The Tale of Nefret

#2 The Falcon Rises

#3 The Kingdom of Nefertiti

#4 The Song of the Bee Eater

The Desert Queen Collection

LOST CAMELOT

#1 Guinevere Forever

#2 Guinevere Unconquered

#3 The Undead Queen of Camelot

Lost Camelot Trilogy

SHABBY HEARTS (A Romantic Comedy Series)

#1 A Touch of Shabby

#2 Shabbier By the Minute

#3 Shabby By Night

#4 Shabby All the Way

#5 Star Spangled Shabby

#6 A Shabby Wedding (Coming in 2024)

Shabby Hearts Collection

MISCELLANEOUS

Ghosts on a Plane

Dead Is the Loneliest Place to Be

After Ella

Ghosts of the Atlantis

BY MONICA BULLOCK

Delivered Me From Evil

ROSE FALLS

#1 Rose Falls

#2 Rose Shadows

#3 Rose Rising

Rose Falls Collection