Haunted_Mind_Dark_Vision_TrevorLangCarter.pdf

HAUNTED MIND: DARK VISION
By
Trevor Lang Carter

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art Designed by Trevor Lang Carter
Dark Mind Publishing
Abingdon, Virginia

Chapter 1
Visions
Hannah Cassidy’s hazel eyes glinted from the rimy veneer below her. Her body moved
vertically across the frosty, translucent expanse; her face was only inches from the surface. Her
movement slowed and then abruptly halted. Below the ice, a familiar face gazed up at her; it was
her friend, Amy, who had been missing for over a year. Amy’s gray eyes were fixed with a
petrified gaze—beaming with despair. Hannah sensed a baleful presence waft into her mind;
something dark was moving up from the depths below. The frigid ice bit into Hannah’s flesh,
gnawing its way inside of her, turning her blood cold. Her heart fluttered. The dark form
enveloped Amy and consumed her, and then pulled her deeper into the bitter void. One warm
tear dropped by Hannah’s eye and splashed onto the icy surface; the ice shone like burning
embers; it cracked and popped, and then dissolved. Hannah reached her hand into the chilled
water, desperately trying to save her friend, but it was too late.
Such were the dreams of Hannah Cassidy, a thirty-two-year-old psychologist who had
developed unusual gifts at the age of twelve after she encountered the jolting force of energy
from the sky; the lightning nearly killed her; she lay in a coma for over two weeks. There were
days when Hannah considered her gifts to be more like curses. She often had premonitory
dreams and visions of events that had already taken place. Sometimes the dreams and visions
came to her in symbolic form. Being a psychologist, she had become familiar with the language
of the unconscious. The recurring dream of her friend trapped under a frozen lake, being

consumed by some dark force, stabbed her mind like shards of broken ice. She desperately tried
to push those images out of her mind, understanding what they represented symbolically; Amy
was dead. There was no way for her to know for sure, but her visions had never failed her before.
Sometimes she would hear the echoes of Amy’s screams inside her head, crying out in agony.
She wondered if Amy had been murdered or died in some horrible accident. Despite law
enforcement efforts to locate her, they had turned up no leads, no clues, nothing… The last
person Amy spoke to was her mother, the night before she took off on a trip to Montgomery,
Alabama. Amy had just moved from Montgomery, where she owned a house. She was
remodeling the kitchen and the bathroom, hoping to increase the value of the home before listing
it on the market. Most of the remodeling had been completed, with the exception of putting up
new tile in the bathroom and kitchen. She had taken off on Friday to travel there. Hannah had
originally planned to travel with her, but a family emergency took her to Richmond, Virginia,
where her father lived. He had suffered a mild heart attack.
Hannah sat up in bed, her body covered in a layer of cold sweat. She put her hand to her
chest and started to take deep breaths. The recurring nightmare took its toll on her physically and
psychologically. After she had the nightmare, she would steady her breathing, bringing her pulse
back down to normal. She would then go into the kitchen and drink a glass of cold water. Within
thirty minutes, she’d be asleep again. She had been having that same nightmare at least once a
week since Amy went missing. Over time, it had become more vivid, more terrifying. She felt
she was drawing closer to some revelation. Of what, she didn’t know. Would she find her friend
in some ravine or shallow grave, murdered and dismembered by some psychopath? The prospect
of discovering her friend’s corpse was too terrifying to contemplate.

Although Hannah hadn’t given up on the possibility of finding Amy alive, she knew the
chances were very slim, especially given the length of time she had been missing and the
recurring dream she continued to have. For now, she’d have to live with not knowing what
happened to her friend. She would also have to live with those terrifying visions.
***
Friday, April 8, 2022
Hannah had almost finished packing her suitcase when a knock came at the door. She
looked at the clock beside her bed: it was almost seven-thirty. She had overslept. Shit. She went
out of her bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room to open the door. “Come on in, guys.
I’m almost done packing.”’
“No rush. David isn’t here yet anyway,” Tommy said.
Tommy and Shana Gerard walked into the living room. They had been friends with Hannah
for close to six years. Like Hannah, they too were interested in parapsychological phenomena.
They and Hannah, along with one of Hannah’s other friends, David Baxter, had started an
informal group to investigate claims of paranormal activity; whether that be hauntings,
poltergeists, or visions of the Virgin Mary, they didn’t care. Their minds were open, but not so
much that their brains fell out. They had a preliminary checklist that screened out the
“imposters”—those people that made up stories to get attention. Most of their investigations
required overnight travel. They tried to stay within a thousand-mile radius of Boston, where they
all lived. But on occasion, if the case was interesting enough, they’d travel much further. Their

time was limited. Having performed several investigations over the past six years, they had
become more efficient at weeding out the wheat from the chaff. Some cases were interesting, but
not interesting enough to travel hundreds of miles to investigate. Paranormal research and
investigations were something they did in their spare time. Each member of the group was
fortunate to have a flexible work schedule. Tommy and Shana both worked at home; Tommy
was a computer programmer; Shana was a project manager for the same company Tommy
worked for. David was a full-time author. He wrote mostly children’s books but had published
two books on paranormal research, detailing some of the investigations he had performed with
Hannah, Tommy, and Shana. Hannah, along with two other certified mental health counselors,
had a practice in Boston. Hannah counseled mostly children, but would occasionally take on
adult clients if her schedule permitted. She refused to get involved in marriage counseling.
Having gone through a divorce herself, she knew the pitfalls and complexities of trying to
counsel couples. It also brought back too many memories of her own failed marriage.
Hannah returned to the living room with her luggage, a light jacket, and a brown, leather
satchel.
“I wonder where David is,” Shana said, looking out the front window. “Ah… He’s pulling
in now.”
Tommy walked outside to greet David.
Shana turned to Hannah and said, “Tommy has been driving me nuts about this case. He
thinks it’s the crème de la crème of paranormal cases.”
“He might be right,” Hannah said and grinned.
“You think so?” asked Shana.

“It has all the hallmarks of genuine parapsychological phenomena. Materializations.
Poltergeist activity. Psychokinesis. Multiple witnesses. Yeah, I think it could be one of the best
cases we’ve investigated,” Hannah replied.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Shana said and grinned back.
“That we will,” Hannah said and walked out behind Shana.
David grabbed Hannah’s luggage and put it in the back of his GMC Yukon.
“Hey, David. Did you remember to bring the IR cameras?” asked Hannah.
David cocked his head and replied, “Hannah. Come on now. Would I forget those, the most
important pieces of equipment we have?”
“Just checking.” Hannah gave David a quirky grin and smacked his arm.
They all loaded up in David’s Yukon and took off toward Chattanooga, Tennessee. It was
nearly a sixteen-hour commute from Boston, but they’d be staying overnight somewhere in
Virginia to take a break from the long drive. They had a limited budget. Hotels were out. Once
they drove a few miles into Virginia, they’d find a cheap motel to stay in and leave for
Chattanooga early the next morning.
On the way to Virginia, Hannah and the others discussed the case they were going to
investigate. It involved a fifteen-year-old girl named Chloe, and her parents, Robert and Diedre.
The Sinclairs were an average, middle-class family living in a two-story farmhouse in the
country. They had just purchased the house two months before the strange activity started.
Robert owned an auto repair shop in Chattanooga. Diedre managed a local bank. Chloe was a
quiet fifteen-year-old girl, who was somewhat withdrawn. In her spare time, she liked to read
and write. She hadn’t shown much interest in boys yet. Those who knew her knew that she’d
rather be reading a book than spending time making googly eyes at a boy. But what no one knew

was that Chloe had a secret. About a month after her parents bought the house, she ventured into
the attic, where she found a Ouija board. She never told her parents about it, knowing they’d
object to her having it, let alone using it. Not that they were superstitious, but they thought of
Ouija boards as occult objects. Their Christian faith wouldn’t allow them to accept such things in
their home. They would soon discover why their peaceful home had become the playground of
some malevolent force, that had taken pleasure in tormenting them for over two weeks. The
activity had gotten so bad that the family moved in with Diedre’s parents. After searching the
internet for legitimate paranormal investigators, they finally located Hannah’s website.
Hannah and her friends had never formally named their group. She had written several
papers on parapsychology and paranormal research, which she posted on her website. She had a
contact page for people to message her if they had experienced something paranormal. If she felt
the person’s claims were sincere, she would send them a lengthy questionnaire, to further expel
the “bullshit” claims. Her questionnaire listed questions in such a way as to elicit various details
that confirmed whether the person was confabulating a story or not. In other words, she’d ask the
same question from different angles, as a lawyer would do. It just so happened that her mother
had been a lawyer for nearly seventeen years before she passed away at the young age of forty-
four. Hannah had learned a lot from her mother; how to read people, how to ask probing
questions, and how to trip people up whom she felt were lying. Being a psychologist didn’t hurt
either. Psychologists were also good at probing a person’s mind.
Three weeks before Hannah and her team were set to arrive on Saturday, Chloe had used the
Ouija board in her bedroom one night, asking it whether or not there were any spirits in the
house. The planchette—a triangular piece used to spell out the words on the board, moved to

‘Yes’ before Hannah even touched it. That was her first and final question. She took the board
back to the attic, put it back inside the old trunk she found it in, and locked the lid.
“I’m curious if the previous owners had seen any activity in the house. Do we know who
they are?” asked David.
Hannah shook her head. “No. I didn’t ask. But I think that’s something we should bring up
during the interview. Whether or not the Sinclairs are aware of any activity prior to moving into
the house, who knows? They might be able to provide us with the previous owner’s name.”
“If there was no previous activity… Their daughter is fifteen, right?” David asked.
“Yes. That could be the determining factor for the emergence of the activity,” Hannah said.
She was referring to cases where poltergeist activity seemed to occur as a result of an adolescent
child, usually a girl, going through puberty, something that has been documented by several
parapsychologists in the past.
Tommy leaned forward between the two front seats and said, “Could is right. Just because
there’s a teenage girl in the house doesn’t mean the activity is emanating from her. Let’s not
make hasty generalizations here.”
Hannah turned her head to look at Tommy. “I said, could be the determining factor.” She
flipped Tommy on the nose.
Tommy rubbed his nose and then pulled Hannah’s hair.
Hannah turned around in her seat and started play-slapping with Tommy, flicking her wrists
up and down, giggling like a schoolgirl. She stopped and turned to Shana. “Would you do me a
favor and slap the shit out of your husband?”
Hannah smiled and said, “With pleasure.” She then gave Tommy a solid slap on the side of
his head. “Take that…bitch.”

“Bitch? Why you…” He pulled his wife’s hair. “Just like a bunch of women… Gang up on a
man like that.” He looked at David in the rearview and said, “Daddy. Make them stop,” in a
whiny voice.
“Children. Do not make me pull this vehicle over and spank your asses,” David said with a
gruff voice.
“Okay. Okay. Back to the business,” Hannah said and brought out a clipboard from her
satchel sitting between her feet, with the completed questionnaire from the Sinclairs attached.
“The activity began sometime around the third week of March. The first signs of unusual activity
involved knocks and raps on the floors and walls upstairs. Very common. Then there’s the
levitation of inanimate objects. Mr. Sinclair states that he and his wife were in the kitchen one
evening when a frying pan flew off the stove and nearly hit him in the head. Seconds later, a
cabinet opened and dishes started to fly out. He wasn’t so lucky this time. One of the plates hit
him in the head. He had to have several stitches as a result of that incident. Then there was a
period of lull where the activity seemed to completely stop for a couple of days. But when it
started back again, it picked up considerable steam. They started hearing discarnate voices,
seeing apparitions, and having horrible nightmares. The poltergeist activity resumed. After two
days of this, they had had enough and moved in with the wife’s parents.”
“Did Mr. Sinclair mention what the voices were saying?” asked Shana.
“…that the voices threatened them. The only specific piece of information… Here. He said
the voice told them ‘I will have your daughter’ and ‘Her cunt is mine,” Hannah replied.
“Ooh… This could be one nasty entity,” Tommy said.
“Maybe someone died in that house, some sick, perverted old man,” David said, glancing
over at Hannah.

“Whatever or whomever it is…it’s not friendly,” Hannah said and shook her head.
After discussing the case, the group fell quiet. David turned his XM radio to 50s Gold. It
was his favorite era of music. He kept the volume at a moderate level as he continued to drive
into Virginia.
Hannah could feel her eyes getting heavy as ‘Sleep Walk’ by Santo and Johnny played softly
through the speakers. A brilliant flash of light and she was standing in front of a small motel that
looked as if it needed a fresh coat of paint but was in otherwise good condition. There were only
five rooms. She looked beyond the motel to a house sitting on a hill. It was an old Victorian-style
home, Gothic, with a steep, gabled roof, a turret on the left side—a small tower-like structure,
and ogee-shaped windows (some with stained glass). The house had been painted dark purple
with hints of gray; most likely, the paint had faded over time. It set roughly a hundred yards from
the motel. There was a long row of steps winding up the hill like a snake, curling up to the front
porch. A concrete wall lined each side of the steps with small, decorative solar lights, shaped like
lanterns, spaced roughly six feet apart. At the top of the steps, off to the right, was the statue of
an angel, whose color seemed to have faded away, giving it a dark gray, ominous appearance. It
yielded a heavy sword in its right hand, which pointed at a forty-five-degree angle toward the
ground. Its face appeared to be etched with contempt, staring up into the sky. Hannah could hear
a voice in the distance calling her name. For a second, she thought it sounded like Amy’s
voice—
“Hannah. Wake up, woman,” David said, shaking Hannah’s arm.
“Wha… What?” Hannah stammered as her eyes fluttered open.
“Stopping for gas. Do you need anything? A snack or something?” asked David.

“Uh…yeah. I’ll grab something inside. I need to use the restroom anyway,” Hannah said and
ran her fingers through her unkempt hair.
“I’ll go with you,” Shana said.
Tommy joined the women and walked into the store while David pumped gas.
Hannah walked up to the register to pay for her coffee and donut. Before leaving, she asked
the young female clerk if she knew of any motels close by.
“I just moved here a couple of months ago. I’m not sure. Hang on,” she said and waved
down another employee who had just come out of the restroom. “Tony. Do you know of any
motels nearby? This lady is asking.”
Tony said, “Yeah. There’s the Mallory Motel.” He walked up to Hannah. “If you get back
on eighty-one, it’s about two miles south, off exit Ninety-four. Once you get off the exit, take a
right. Go out about a mile and take another right onto Arum Road. You can’t miss it. It’s only a
couple of miles out on Arum.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“No problem. It looks a little out of date on the outside, but Janet—that’s the lady who runs
the place, takes good care of the motel. My dad does odd jobs for her from time to time. The
rooms are super clean inside.”
“Good to know,” Hannah said and started to walk off. She stopped and turned around with a
grin on her face. “Sorry, but we’re just passing through and I was wondering where we are.”
The clerk, a burly, bearded man in his late thirties, grinned back and said, “Black Hills.”
Janet paused. Why does that name sound familiar? “Are there caverns in Black Hills?”
“Yeah. They’re not far from Arum Road, actually. If you continue on Arum, past the motel,
you’ll go out another four, maybe five miles… I’m not sure if they’re still open or not.”

“Thanks, again.”
The clerk nodded.
They all loaded back up in the SUV.
Hannah handed David a bottle of apple juice and a Slim Jim. Ninety percent of the time
when they were on the road and stopped for snacks, that was David’s go-to snack.
“Thank you, darling,” David said.
Hannah gave him a thumbs up. “I know where we can stay for the night. Take exit Ninety-
Four. There’s a motel not far from there. I’ll direct you once we get off the exit.”
“Sure. I’m tired of driving anyway.”

Chapter 2
Probing
One week before Hannah and her friends visited Mallory Motel, Janet Mallory was busy
cleaning up room number one at the motel when she heard a car pull up outside. She took off her
rubber cleaning gloves, set them on the bathroom sink, and walked out of the room.
Getting out of a police cruiser was a familiar face, Sheriff Brock Kestner, a forty-two-year-
old Black Hills native who had been sheriff for going on six years. He was a no-bullshit kind of
sheriff. He also had a strong presence about him; partly due to his physicality; he stood over six
feet tall, weighed a hundred and ninety pounds—mostly muscle, and had a rugged face.
“Howdy, sheriff,” Janet said, walking toward the parlor area. She stopped about halfway as
the sheriff made his way up to the porch of the motel. “What brings you out this way? You
lookin’ for a room? Your wife finally kicked you out, did she?” She chuckled.
Sheriff Kestner grinned. “No, nothing like that. I’m here on official police business.”
Janet’s grin faded. “Oh? Is there something wrong?”
Sheriff Kestner rubbed his stubbled chin, looking down at the ground. His dark brown eyes
turned back toward Janet. “Yeah. We’re looking for a woman. Her name is Carol Stillwell.” He
looked down toward the rooms and back at Janet again. “She’s gone missing. Her friend says the
last time she heard from her, which was last Saturday, she was staying here, in your motel.”

Janet palmed her cheek. “Well, there was a young woman staying here last weekend. She
arrived Saturday afternoon, sometime around two, two-thirty. Said she was from Albany, New
York. She paid for one night. I didn’t see her the next morning when I came down. That was
around eight-thirty. Her car was gone. She left the key in the room on the nightstand.”
The sheriff brought up his phone with a picture of the woman. “This the woman that stayed
here?”
Janet nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s her. She was a pretty young thing.”
“Did she say anything else, other than she was moving to Georgia?”
Janet glanced down and then back up at the Sheriff. “No… I don’t think… Wait. She did say
something about a job. She was moving to Georgia or Alabama, I can’t remember which, for a
job.”
“That’s it? Nothing else?”
Janet’s eyes shifted up to the right and then back to the sheriff again. “No. That’s all I
remember. I saw her carry her luggage inside and close the door. That was the last I saw of her.”
“You sign in your guests?” asked the sheriff.
Janet nodded. “Yeah. You want to see the registry?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No, not at all. Come on in,” Janet said and walked toward the parlor. She opened the door,
walked behind the counter, and flipped open the registry to the page where the woman signed in.
“Here it is,” pointing to the name.
“Carla Sanchez,” the sheriff read. He narrowed his eyes at the name, looked at the time of
check-in, and then up at Janet. “This woman’s name… Are you sure this is the same woman
from the picture?”

Janet nodded. “Oh, yes. I watched her sign it. You think maybe she’s in some kind of
trouble with the law and used a different name?”
The sheriff nodded. “Yeah. She’s in trouble with the law back in Albany. She stole close to
sixty-thousand dollars from her employer and took off. No one has seen her since.”
“Oh, my,” Janet said, palming her face again.
“Ms. Mallory. I would suggest that in the future when people sign in, you ask for their id.
That would surely help us out in cases like this. If someone isn’t willing to confirm the name that
they write with their id… Well, that could be a red flag.”
“Oh, sure. Yes, sheriff. I’ll be sure to do that from now on. It’s just that… Well, when
Raymond was alive and running the motel, he believed that asking for someone’s driver’s license
was an invasion of privacy. I guess I never thought much about it, until now,” Janet explained.
The sheriff grinned. “It’s okay. Just remember, in the future—”
“…get their name. Yes. I most certainly will, sheriff.”
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Mallory. If you think of anything else, anything at all, you
will give me a call, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Janet said and reached across the desk to grab a notepad and pen. “Here. Write
down your number. Or do you want me to just call the station?”
“You can call my cell,” the sheriff said and wrote down the number. He slid it back across
the counter to Janet.
Janet walked him out of the parlor and watched him leave. She moved back into the room to
finish cleaning up. She slipped her rubber gloves back on and went into the bathroom to finish
cleaning the shower, talking to herself the whole time. “Tell me how to run my business… I’ll
run my business the way I see fit. That cock sucking son of a bitch. Boy oh boy, I’d like to…”

She grinned and shook her head. “Now, calm down, Janet. Don’t let that piece of shit get your
blood pressure up.” She started to hum The Great Pretender by the Platters.
***
“There it is,” Hannah said, seeing the sign for Mallory Motel.
David pulled into the gravel parking lot and parked in front of the parlor.
“Wow,” Shana exclaimed. “Would you look at that?” Her eyes beamed at the old Gothic
Victorian-style house on the hill.
Tommy got out and walked around the car to get a better look at the house.
David and Hannah joined Tommy and Shana.
Hannah knew immediately—that house was the same one from her vision. It didn’t come as
a great surprise. She often had premonitions and visions. But she did wonder why she had seen
the house and motel in a vision. Sometimes the premonitions and visions turned out to be
nothing important. They occurred randomly sometimes, usually when she was in a relaxed state.
But more often than not, the visions usually meant something—had a purpose for entering her
mind.
“That is one spooky house. Beautiful, but spooky,” David commented.
“Those old Gothic houses started appearing sometime in the mid-nineteenth century. It was
inspired by English medieval architecture,” Tommy said. His father owned his own construction
company. He always had books laying around on historical architecture. Tommy became
fascinated with the subject when he was a teenager.
“Mr. History Buff over here…,” David said and grinned at Tommy.

“Ah… I used to read my dad’s books when I was in high school. I just love that Gothic
look,” Tommy explained.
“Me too,” Shana said.
“It is beautiful,” Hannah commented.
David walked up the steps to the porch and looked through the window on the door. “I don’t
see anyone inside.” He jiggled the doorknob. “It’s open.” He walked in.
Hannah and the others followed David inside the parlor.
Janet came out of the backroom, unaware that she had guests. She stopped and put her hand
on her chest, startled by their presence. “Oh my. I didn’t realize anyone was here. Forgive me.
I’m Janet, the owner.” Janet was a petite woman, weighing only a hundred and fifteen pounds.
She stood a whopping five-feet-four-inches tall. Her green eyes were lively and bright.
“Maybe you should put a bell on the door,” David suggested and grinned.
Maybe you should kiss my ass. “You’re right, young man. I should put a bell on the door.” I
should shove my seventy-four-year-old foot up her ass. Tell me… Everybody thinks they know
how I should run my business. First the sheriff, now this cock sucker. “You need a room, do
you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Actually, we need two rooms,” David replied.
Hannah’s face turned wan. She had that sinking feeling she got when her psychic senses
flared up. Visual impressions popped into her mind: she could see Amy standing at the counter
talking to the woman who had just greeted them; she could see Amy moving into one of the
rooms. Then she was back; the visions faded.

Janet turned to the wall behind her and looked at the peg board where she kept the room
keys. Her hand moved passed one and two to number three. She grabbed the keys to rooms three
and four. “Here you go. I just cleaned those two rooms.”
Hannah moved up to the counter. “Would you happen to know if the caverns are still open,
the ones down the road from here?”
“Oh, honey. Those caverns were closed over a year ago. There was an accident that killed
two people,” Janet replied.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Hannah said.
“How much do we owe you?” asked David.
“I’ll tell you what. Since you’re getting two rooms, I’ll cut you a deal. I normally charge
forty dollars per room, plus tax, of course. How about seventy dollars? That fair enough?”
David grinned. “That sounds good to me. Thank you.” He gave her seventy-five dollars.
Janet pulled out her oversized calculator and fingered the numbers with her ruby-red
fingernails. She handed David back his change. “Now, there’s clean towels, soap, shampoo…
I’m sorry, but none of the rooms have a television. I’m afraid I don’t get much business
anymore, not since that hotel opened up a couple of miles down the road. If I had one of those
big interstate signs, I might get more people in here, but who can afford one? They cost an arm
and a leg.”
David grinned. “I’m sure they do.”
“Listen. If you need anything, just pop in. I’m here in the office between eight-thirty and
four. If I’m not here, and you need anything, my home phone number is listed on the front of the
office door.”
“Do you live in the house on the hill?” asked Shana.

“Yes, I do.”
“It’s such a lovely house,” Shana said.
“Thank you, dear. My husband and I—he’s passed on now… We bought that house over
twenty years ago. My husband, God rest his soul, was good with money. We decided to take
early retirement. We didn’t think much about the motel at first. We didn’t need the money, but
we thought…why not?” She grinned.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Shana offered.
“Oh, we all have to go sometime, don’t we? As they say, death and taxes…” She grinned.
Shana grinned back. “Very true.”
“Come on guys. Let’s go unpack and then grab something to eat,” David said.
“Yeah. I’m starved.” Tommy rubbed his stomach.
David and Hannah took one room, while Tommy and Shana took the other. Hannah and
David had grown very close over the past couple of years. They had a brother-sister relationship.
There was no chance of their relationship turning romantic, as David was gay.
After they finished unpacking, they hopped in David’s SUV and drove into town to find a
place to eat. They found a small diner, only a couple of miles down the road.
While waiting for their food, the conversation turned to Janet Mallory.
“That lady, Janet, at the motel… She doesn’t look a day over fifty,” Tommy said, shaking
his head.
Shana nodded. “Yeah. She’d have to be in her seventies.”
“Maybe she found some secret elixir that keeps her young,” David said.
“Some people got it, some people don’t,” Tommy commented.

Hannah’s mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about the impressions she received
standing in the office. She had a searching look on her face.
David noticed. “What’s wrong, Hannah?”
Hannah shook her head. “Oh, nothing. I…”
“Don’t give me that crap. I’ve known you long enough. Something’s on your mind. Did you
feel something at the motel?”
Hannah nodded. “Yes. You all remember Amy, my friend that went missing over a year
ago.”
They all nodded. Tommy and Shana knew about Amy being missing, but only David knew
about Hannah’s vision of Amy under the ice, and that Hannah thought Amy was dead.
“I saw her inside the office, at the counter, and then going into one of the rooms.”
“Maybe she stopped there on her way to Alabama,” said David. “The impressions… Were
they strong?”
Hannan nodded. “Very. I have no doubt she stayed there. I wonder if Ms. Mallory would
remember her. It’s been so long…”
“Can’t hurt to ask,” Shana said and shrugged.
“Yeah. Maybe I will. I have several pictures of her on my phone.”
David touched Hannah’s hand. He knew that Amy had been on Hannah’s mind ever since
she went missing. He also knew that Hannah thought her friend was dead.
Based on Hannah’s research, she thought her ability to receive psychic impressions
involved being able to traverse events in time like accessing files in a database. There was an
association between an event (past or future) and something in a person’s consciousness. This, to
her, could possibly explain synchronicities and coincidences. Like other researchers of the

esoteric, Hannah wondered often about the nature of time. She got impressions of past events as
if she had queried a database to pull up a specific piece of information. This suggested to her that
time may not be linear. Our consciousness makes sense of reality by thinking linearly; there’s a
past, a present, and a future. When Hannah got impressions of past events, they weren’t like
memories. She was placed inside that moment. She could taste, touch, smell, hear, and see past
events as if she was there. When she saw Amy in the motel office, she could smell her perfume.
She could hear Amy’s keys jingle in her hand. She could hear her voice. Sometimes she could
even pick up on what the person was thinking during a past event. She hoped that when she
returned to the motel after dinner, she’d get more impressions. Maybe it would lead her to Amy.
Even though she believed Amy to be dead, she had to know for sure. She also knew that Amy’s
family would want to know. They could finally have closure.
An hour later, David and the others went back to the motel.
David went to his and Hannah’s room. Tommy and Shana went to theirs. Hannah walked
back over to the office to see if Janet might still be there. She wasn’t. Hannah called the house
number listed on the door. She peeked around the corner to see if Janet’s car was still there. It
was. I’m walking up there. And she did. She walked up the winding steps, right up to the front
door, and knocked.
Seconds later, she heard footsteps inside. The door opened. “Hello.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I tried calling, but—”
“It’s okay, dear. I was in the basement. I can’t hear that darn phone when I’m down there.
Come in.” Janet stepped aside and allowed Hannah in.
Janet’s eyes swept across the foyer, up the stairs, and into the living room on the left. “My
goodness. The house is even more beautiful on the inside.” She noticed the blue wallpaper on the

walls leading through the hall, with light-blue flowers printed on it. Blue was her favorite color.
The living room was painted a lighter shade of blue. There was ornated crown molding lining
every wall. The living room entrance was oval with strange, dull red letters going over the arch.
She didn’t know if it was a foreign language or just symbols, but the characters looked somewhat
like hieroglyphs. The ceilings were vaulted. The stairs had decorative balusters, with female
figures carved in them, twisting from the base to the top. Going up the center of the stairs was a
dark blue runner with red flourishes.
“Thank you, dear. It was in pretty good shape when we bought it. We added some minor
updates, like the wallpaper you see in the hallway.”
“I’m sorry. The reason I wanted to talk to you… About a year ago, my friend went missing.
She was on her way to Alabama. I think she stopped at your motel. I was wondering if I might
show you a picture of her, to see if you remember her.”
“I just might... I do have a pretty good memory. Let’s see.”
Hannah brought out her phone and fingered the display. She found a picture of her and Amy
outside a restaurant. She handed the phone to Janet.
Janet stared at the screen for only a couple of seconds and said, “Yes. I remember her.”
“You do?” Hannah wasn’t hopeful that Janet would remember Amy.
“Oh, yes. She was a very pretty girl. She only stayed one night,” Janet said.
“Do you know if she was with anyone?”
“No, she was alone. I remember her because she had the cutest little terrier. I think it was
a…uh…”
“Yorkshire?”

The dog had been with Amy for over six years. She treated it like her baby, always carrying
it around, and dressing it up in different dog clothes. She even read to it.
“Yes. Such a cute little dog. She must have left very early the next morning. When I got to
the office around eight-thirty, she was already gone.”
“Did she say anything while she was here, that you remember?”
Janet brought her right hand up to her jaw and looked down at the ground. She looked back
up at Hannah and said, “Just that she was moving.”
Hannah was hoping Janet had more information than that. But she knew Amy wasn’t the
talkative type, at least not with strangers.
“If you think of anything else, anything at all, would you please let me know?” asked
Hannah in a pleading voice.
“Of course, dear. If I think of anything else…,” Janet said.
“Thank you,” Hannah said and moved toward the door.
Janet opened the door.
“Goodbye,” Hannah said.
“Bye, dear.” She watched Hannah walk back down the steps to the motel. “Yes. She was a
beautiful girl.” She grinned.

Chapter 3
Bound by Blood
A little over a year before Hannah and her friends arrived in Black Hills, Janet Mallory
wasn’t the same chipper, lively woman that she was when they arrived. In fact, Janet was
bedridden. She had suffered a major stroke. She was slowly dying. Her husband, Raymond, took
care of her, night and day. She stayed in their bedroom upstairs, which faced the motel.
Raymond couldn’t stand the thought of losing Janet. They had been married for over forty years.
For most of those years, they had been very happy. But there were moments when Raymond
wanted to leave her. Janet had suffered from major depression since she was a child. She also
had signs of a dissociative disorder; she sometimes became delusional, thinking she was
someone else; there were times when her memory failed her, or she remembered things that
never happened. But Raymond couldn’t leave her. He took his vows very seriously—for better
or worse. No. He would never have left Janet. He was dedicated to the marriage—to her. When
Janet had a stroke, Raymond’s love for her grew even stronger. Even though in the past he had
sometimes wished she’d die, when she became delusional and severely depressed, sometimes
even violent toward him. It wasn’t to be rid of her. He saw the immense suffering she endured
and wanted it to end. Despair crept inside him, darkening his thoughts. Those moments were few
and far between. He saw the woman he loved suffering greatly, on the verge of death, and he
would do anything to make her better—to save her. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.

Janet, unable to speak clearly due to the stroke she had suffered, was able to communicate
through writing. Her penmanship was clear enough for Raymond to understand her, although
some days it took her longer to write things down. One of her first communications to Raymond
was for him to put her in her rocking chair next to the window so that she could look outside.
Being cramped up in the house for months had severely impacted her mental health. There were
days when Janet would sit by the window for hours, just looking up at the sky or down at the
motel, watching guests come and go. Then one day, while she was sitting in that window, she
saw a tall, lanky man arrive, dressed in a dark suit with jet black hair—combed straight back,
driving a black Cadillac. She wondered why someone who could afford such a nice car would be
staying in their old motel. But she would soon discover that the dark-suited man wasn’t there for
a room.
Raymond had been changing the sheets and pillow casings in one of the rooms when the
man drove up. He had been expecting his arrival. He greeted the man and took him into the
office. He shut the office door, put the Closed sign up, locked the door, and took the man into the
parlor in the back of the office. They sat at a small, round table across from one another.
“You brought the book and talisman?” asked Raymond, his voice cracking.
“Patience, Mr. Mallory,” the man said, slowly tapping his fingernail on the dark oak table.
“We must first discuss our agreement.”
“Of course,” Raymond acknowledged. “Would you care for a drink?”
The man waved his hand and shook his head.
Raymond walked over to a filing cabinet, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a bottle of
bourbon and a small glass. He poured a few ounces of the amber liquid into the glass and drank

it. He set the bottle and glass on top of the filing cabinet and sat back down across from his
guest.
“I want to know that you fully understand our agreement—what you are committing to,” the
man said, his dark eyes beaming at Raymond.
Raymond gave a half-nod and said, “Yes. I understand.”
The man looked up in the corner of the room behind Raymond at a raven that was mounted
on the wall with outspread wings. He nodded toward the creature and asked, “Your work?”
Raymond shook his head, not comprehending what the man was talking about at first, but
then glanced back at the bird. “Oh. Yes. A skill I picked up from my father… He was a
Taxidermist. I helped him from time to time.”
“I think you captured the essence of the bird. Yes. Some believe the raven carries a message
of hope—the circle of life, death, and rebirth,” the man said.
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Raymond wasn’t interested in talking about the stuffed bird on his
wall. He wanted the book and the talisman.
“Now, back to our agreement,” the man said and pursed his lips. He pulled out a folded-up
piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket and put it in the middle of the table. “You have
carefully read through the agreement, I hope.”
“Oh, yes. Several times,” Raymond said. “Mr. Umbra. You have my word. I will honor the
agreement to the letter.”
Mr. Umbra flashed a half-cocked grin at Raymond with one brow cocked. “Although I’m
sure your word is golden, I’m afraid it’s simply not enough. There must be a metaphysical
binding in order for the agreement to be valid.”
“A meta… What?” Raymond narrowed his eyes at Mr. Umbra and scratched his head.

Mr. Umbra grinned. “It’s what you might refer to as a spiritual bond. Are you a religious
man, Mr. Mallory?”
“Not really. No. I mean… I don’t adhere to any particular religion, but I think it’s possible
that there’s something greater than us, some type of God.”
Mr. Umbra nodded. “Well, the metaphysical binding has nothing to do with God. Think of it
as a psychic connection, between you and me. If you do not honor our agreement… Well, let’s
put it this way, Mr. Mallory. If you fail to honor our agreement, your mind will become
unhinged and then fall into darkness. Both you and your wife will come face-to-face with your
Shadows. Facing one’s own Shadow… It can be an unpleasant experience, to say the least,
unless one has attained a certain level of illumination.”
Raymond’s jaw dropped. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked down at the agreement,
and then back at Mr. Umbra. “My wife… She … She had problems before the stroke. This
Shadow you’re talking about. I think she’s encountered hers already, many times.”
“Ah. I see. She suffered from psychological issues?”
“Yes. She had severe depression. Then there were times when she would hear and see things
that weren’t there. She became very delusional. There were times when…when she became
violent, towards me.”
Mr. Umbra’s lips curled up. “How do you know the things she saw weren’t really there?
Perhaps her perceptual lens is more evolved than your own. But that discussion is for another
time. We have more important matters to attend to.” He pulled out a round medallion. It had a
dark blue background with a dark gold serpent—the Ouroboros symbol—encircling a reddish-
orange sphere that looked like the sun with yellowish-orange coronal filaments. There were two

smaller golden spheres on each side of the center sphere. He set it down in the center of the table
and looked at Raymond. “Take your index finger and press it into the sun symbol in the center.”
Raymond rubbed his chin and then moved his hand toward the medallion. He extended his
index finger, placed it on top of the sun symbol, and pressed down. “Ooh…” He winced and
pulled his finger away. A large drop of his blood rested on the sun symbol. He watched as the
blood was absorbed by the symbol, his eyes like two saucers. He grabbed a tissue to clean his
finger.
“Now my turn,” Mr. Umbra said and pressed his finger onto the sun symbol. After the
symbol absorbed his blood, it changed to bright orange and then turned dark red. The two
smaller spheres on the sides merged with the center sphere. It shone bright red and then turned
dark again. “The binding is complete.”
Raymond had never seen anything like it before. It was as if the medallion, which appeared
to be made of metal, was alive. He thought it looked…organic.
Mr. Umbra picked up the medallion and put it back into his pocket. When his hand
reappeared, it was holding a worn, brown leather book. He placed the book on the table and slid
it across to Raymond. “You’ll find the ritual we discussed before, in the book.”
“I have to perform the ritual each time…?”
“Yes. Each time,” Mr. Umbra replied. “And the most important part…?”
Raymond’s face turned wan. He nodded. “Yes. As we agreed.”
Mr. Umbra smiled and stood up. “Well, Mr. Mallory, it has been a pleasure doing business
with you. I will be expecting a call from you in the near future. Until we meet again…” He
nodded and walked out of the parlor and then out the front door.

Raymond walked back over to the filing cabinet, opened the bottle of bourbon, and turned it
up. After he finished, he placed the bottle back inside the drawer and walked over to the table,
picked up the agreement, and glanced at it. He then folded it up and put it into the back pocket of
his blue trousers.
A red Honda Civic pulled up in front of the motel. A young woman got out and walked into
the office.
Raymond heard the front door open. He walked out of the parlor to greet the young woman.
“Hello, there.” He narrowed his eyes at the woman.
The young woman looked frazzled. Her hair and clothes were disheveled. Her mascara was
a mess. It was obvious she had been crying.
“Are you in need of a room?” asked Raymond.
Her eyes became moist. She nodded.
“All right then.” Raymond turned around and looked at the peg board that held the room
keys. None of the rooms were occupied, which had become a common occurrence over the past
few months. He grabbed the key for room number one. He set the key on the counter and opened
the guest registry book. “We only accept cash. I hope that’s okay.”
The young woman crossed one of her arms across her stomach and rubbed her other arm
vigorously. She looked down at the registry and back at Raymond, her eyes now drowning in
tears.
Raymond’s brows turn up in the middle. He looked compassionately at the woman’s dour
face. “Is there something wrong, young lady? You’re…crying.”
The young woman broke down and started to sob.

Raymond moved out from behind the counter and walked up to her and put his hand on her
shoulder. “What’s wrong, dear?”
The young woman fell into Raymond and wrapped her arms around him, still sobbing.
Raymond, unsure of what to do, gently placed his arms around her. He felt something he
hadn’t felt in years, an erection. Here was this beautiful young woman embracing him, pressed
tight against his body. He imagined her hand reaching down and grabbing his cock, rubbing it,
taking it out of his pants— Stop it, he told himself. You’re married. And you’re too damn old for
her. He wasn’t sure why he had developed an erection. The young woman hadn’t bumped or
ground him. She was sad and obviously in need of comfort.
“My boyfriend,” the woman muttered. “I’m sorry,” she said and pulled away.
“It’s okay,” Raymond said. “Here,” he said, leading her to a chair. “Please. Sit down.” He
sat down in a chair beside her. “Now. Tell me what’s wrong.”
The woman opened her purse and pulled out a tissue. She wiped her eyes and nose. She
looked at Raymond and shook her head. “I just caught my boyfriend with another woman. We
were sharing an apartment. He… He kicked me out. Two years together… That son of…”
Raymond rubbed her shoulder. “Oh. I see. He sounds like a real jerk. You deserve better
than that.”
“I just need a room for a couple of days…until I can find a place. I only have fifty dollars to
my name. I don’t get paid until Friday. I could help out around here to pay for—”
“Ah… Keep your money. The truth is, we don’t get much business anymore. We don’t even
need the money, really. Keeping this old motel open just gives me something to do. It gives me a
sense of purpose, you know?”

The woman half-grinned. “Yeah. Everybody needs a purpose…to live. But I am willing to
work off the debt if you have anything for me to do.”
“I won’t hear of it. There isn’t much to do anyway, to be honest. I change the bedding every
day, regardless of whether we have guests or not. Aside from some light cleaning…”
“Purpose,” the woman said and smiled.
Raymond grinned. “Exactly. It keeps me busy. Old people need to keep busy. Who wants to
sit around and wait for death.”
“You don’t look very old. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Raymond chuckled. “Too old. I just turned seventy-four.”
The woman’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t look seventy-four, that’s for sure. You’re a very
handsome man for your age.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. We do tend to lose our looks a bit with age. I’ve led an active life and kept
myself in shape. I eat healthy. I imagine genetics have something to do with it.”
“Thank you…for everything. When I walked in here, I thought I had things under control…
Obviously, not.”
“Well, considering what you’ve been through, I think you’ve handled things pretty well. A
lot of people in your situation would go off the deep end—do something they would later
regret.” Raymond grinned sympathetically at her.
“You have a kind face,” the woman said and put her hand on Raymond’s cheek.
There it was again, that swollen devil throbbing in his pants. He was surprised at just how
hard it was. He could feel it throbbing, pulled tight against his briefs. Lustful thoughts penetrated
his mind. He quickly pushed them away. “And you’re a beautiful, young woman. There’s

someone out there who will appreciate you. Well now… Let’s get you into a room.” He stood up
and walked over to the counter to grab the room key.
The woman stood up. “I apologize. With everything going on in my head, I completely
forgot to introduce myself. I’m Lilly. Lilly Moran.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lilly. My name is Raymond…Mallory. You probably figured out that
last part from the name of the motel,” he said and chuckled.
Lilly grinned wide. “Yeah.”
“Follow me and we’ll get you all set up.” He led Lilly into room number one.
“Wow. This is nice. No offense, but I didn’t think it would be, considering…”
“Yeah. I know the outside is a little rough. I plan on adding a coat of paint in the next couple
of weeks. I’m afraid I’ve neglected the outside. I’ve spent the last couple of years updating the
rooms.”
“You did a wonderful job,” Lilly said.
“Do you want me to get your luggage?” asked Raymond.
“No. That won’t be necessary. I only have one suitcase. I just grabbed enough clothes to last
me a couple of days. I plan on going back to get the rest of my stuff one day when he’s at work.”
“That’s a good idea. No need to get into a confrontation. You’re young. You have your
whole life ahead of you. It’s not worth throwing it all away for some jerk,” Raymond
encouraged.
“No. You’re right. I know. But I’d give anything if I could just cut his…” Lilly chuckled.
“Listen to me. I’m not a violent person. I’m anything but violent.”
Raymond flashed a grin. “I understand. We all have those thoughts from time to time. We’re
human.”

“Yes, we are.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, just pop into the office. If I’m not in the
office, the number to the house is on the door,” Raymond said and started to leave.
“Mr. Mallory,” Lilly called out.
Raymond turned around. “Call me Raymond.”
“Raymond. Is there a restaurant close by—a cheap one?”
Raymond rubbed his chin. “I tell you what. Why don’t you have dinner with me, up at the
house? My wife… She’s been sick for a while. She stays upstairs. I haven’t had the pleasure of
someone’s company at dinner in a long time. It would be more for me than you.”
Lilly could see the loneliness in Raymond’s eyes and the desperation in his request. “Why
not?”
“Well, then. How about you come on up around six? I make a mean lasagna.” He smiled.
“I’ll see you at six then.”
“Okay,” Raymond said and walked out.
Later that evening, Lilly and Raymond were sitting in the dining room eating lasagna and
drinking red wine. Like most guests who first enter the home, Lilly was taken aback by how
beautiful and elegant it was.
“This house… I’ve never seen one quite so beautiful. It’s delightfully haunting if that makes
any sense,” Lilly said.
“It does. Yes. That was one of the reasons we bought the house. We both had always wanted
to own a Gothic-style home. This style of home is not endemic to this area. We never imagined
we’d find a house like this in Black Hills.”

“What happened to your wife? You said she was sick?” asked Lilly and then took a drink of
wine.
Raymond sighed. “She…uh…had a stroke a while back. It was bad. There are times I wish
she’d just… I shouldn’t say that.”
Lilly developed a wistful look on her face. “I’m sorry. It must be hard on you, having to take
care of her.”
Raymond nodded. “Yes. It is. I was going to put her into a home, but I just couldn’t bring
myself to do it. She would never forgive me if I did.”
“I understand what you’re going through. My grandfather had dementia. It got so bad that
my parents had to put him into a nursing home. They just couldn’t take care of him anymore. It’s
so sad.”
“Janet. That’s my wife. She had mental issues—dissociative disorder. Losing one’s mind…
Well, you know. Dementia is a devastating disease. It is…sad.”
“How do you do it? How do you continue to take care of your wife without losing your
mind? I’m sure you get lonely.”
“Oh yes. My wife can’t talk. She can write, but she struggles with it. She doesn’t want to go
outside. She just sits in that bedroom upstairs staring out the window,” Raymond revealed.
“You’re a good man, Raymond. From my experience, good men are hard to find. I know. I
know. I’m only twenty-seven. What do I know? But I’ve had a couple of boyfriends in the past,
before that jerk that just cheated on me. I have two sisters. I’ve seen some of the men they were
with. Bad. Bad. Bad. Sorry. I’m sounding like a man-hater.” She chuckled.
Raymond grinned. “No. I understand. You seem like a level-headed young woman. You’ll
find your way. The right guy will come along.”

“I hope you’re right. I’m going to find me an older man. Older men are different. Younger
men are so immature. It’s like dating a teenage boy.”
“Women do mature much faster than men,” Raymond commented.
“So true.” Hannah took a drink of wine and then swirled the glass in her hand, sloshing the
wine around. She looked up at Raymond, narrowed her eyes, and lips her lips. “If you were
single right now, would you date a younger woman?”
Raymond grinned and shrugged. “I suppose. It depends on how young.”
“Let’s say she was really young…like in her late twenties or early thirties.” Lily cocked one
brow.
“I don’t know. I guess you can fall in love with anyone, but thinking practically, it doesn’t
seem like a good idea for the woman. She’s going to outlive me by many years, more than likely.
At some point in time, I might get so old that I need someone to take care of me. Would I want to
burden her, take time away from her young life to do that? I don’t think it would work.”
“But if you love someone… When you love someone, you’ll do anything for them.”
Yes. Yes, you would. “That’s true. Love can make people do things they wouldn’t normally
do.
“Do you love your wife? I mean. Do you love her the same now as you did when you were
first married?” asked Lilly.
Raymond cupped his mouth for a second and then took a drink of wine. “I think the love is
still there, but after all that we’ve been through together, it’s not the same kind of love that it
once was. It’s difficult to explain.”
“I understand. My parents went through the same thing. When I was a little girl, they were
really affectionate with one another. They kissed, hugged… But now, they act more like good

friends. They no longer show one another affection. It’s like… It’s like they’re just comfortable
in the situation, the way it is. They have their own separate lives. They’re like roommates.”
“Relationships need to be nurtured. I think people get complacent. Not to mention, we all
change over time. The person you loved turns into someone you don’t even recognize. My
wife… She changed for the worse over the years. It wasn’t her fault. Having a mental illness
changes a person, especially when that person won’t take their medication.”
“Is that what happened with your wife?”
Raymond nodded. He took a drink of wine and stood up. “Would you like a tour of the
house? Of course, I can’t show you the bedroom my wife is in, but there are plenty of other
rooms.”
“Yeah. That would be great,” Lilly said.
Raymond took Lilly through all the rooms downstairs, showing her the living room, his
study, the kitchen, and a small den. He then took her upstairs to the bedroom across the hall from
his and Janet’s bedroom.
“I love the bed,” Lilly said. She walked over to it, admiring the ornated posts. “So
beautiful.” She bent over and then plopped down face-first on the mattress.
Raymond’s eyes were fixed on the back of her tight jeans. He could see her ass curve up
from her legs to her back. He felt himself getting hard again. No. Stop that.
Lily rolled over and then scooted off the bed and stood up.
Raymond was jolted by a dark thought. The agreement he made with Mr. Umbra flashed in
his mind. Not her. He tried to resist the depraved thoughts.
She’s young. Your wife doesn’t have long. Do it.

Lilly walked over to Raymond and wrapped her arms around his neck. She lay her head on
his chest and muttered, “Thank you, Raymond, for being so kind.”
He felt that throbbing in his pants, bursting at the seams. He wanted her. He wanted her
badly. No.
Do it, Raymond. Your wife is waiting.
Raymond knew what he had to do. He knew the consequences if he didn’t do it. He pushed
Lilly away and hit her with a right hook, staggering her. She fell to the floor. He straddled her
torso and wrapped his hands around her throat. His tears washed over her face as he tightened his
grip.
Lilly gasped for air. She grabbed Raymond’s hands, trying to pull them away, but his grip
was too strong for her. She kicked her legs and squirmed, and then her body went limp.
Raymond continued applying pressure for several more seconds and then let go. He stood up
and then started pacing the room, talking to himself. “What have I done? Lilly…”
You did the right thing, Raymond.
“Shut up. Shut up. Get out of my head,” Raymond screamed.
No time to waste, Raymond. Take the body to the basement.
Unable to resist the dark voice, he did as he was told.

Chapter 4
Revelations
Hannah returned to her room. David had just gotten out of the shower and was sitting on the
bed talking to Roger, his boyfriend.
“I’ll call you on the way back home tomorrow. Don’t give Carly too many treats. You know
it makes her stomach upset. Okay. Love you, too. Bye.” David looked at Hannah. “How did it go
with Ms. Mallory?”
“She remembered Amy. Of course, Amy didn’t say much. I don’t know, David. I just can’t
shake this feeling I have. It’s almost like… This is going to sound crazy.”
David walked over to Hannah and put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen. We’ve been friends
for a while now. I’ve seen some crazy shit on some of the trips we’ve taken. Out with it.”
Hannah sat on the bed.
David sat beside her.
Hannah looked down at her hands and then at David. “I think Amy is trying to tell me
something.”
“What’s so crazy about that? You’re psychic.” David grinned.
“Yeah, but I’ve never communicated with the dead before. The things we’ve encountered,
are psychic forces, not spirits.”
“What do you think she’s trying to tell you?” asked David.

“I don’t know. You know the recurring dream I’ve been having, seeing Amy under the ice.
Then on the way here, I saw this motel in a vision. When I was in the office, I saw Amy at the
counter talking to Ms. Mallory and then saw her go into a room. I think something happened to
her here, in this motel.”
“Do you think Ms. Mallory had something to do with it?”
Hannah’s eyes gleamed with tears. “I don’t know. But when I was near her, in the house, I
felt his oppressive force weighing on me.”
“Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe something happened in the house, something traumatic, that
you picked up on. She is in her seventies. I don’t see her as being a physical threat to anyone.
She probably doesn’t weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.”
“A black mamba weighs less than five pounds, yet it kills thousands of humans every year,
Mr. Baxter,” Hanna informed.
“Are you calling that sweet little lady a snake?” David grinned, thinking how silly it all
sounded—Ms. Calloway, a murderer.
“No. It is hard to imagine Ms. Calloway hurting anyone. I can’t even see her swatting a fly.”
***
On Saturday night, only minutes after her eyes closed, another vision rolled into Hannah’s
mind like dismal gray clouds. She had entered that liminal state—a state where two realities
merged—a waking dream, as she called it.
It was a familiar setting, a lake of ice. Her body moved across the icy surface as it always
did when she had this vision. She could feel the frigid cold prickling her skin like thousands of

tiny needles. The sensation was more intense this time. As she moved along, face down over the
surface of the ice, she could see other women trapped below the surface, women she didn’t
know. Their pale faces bespoke a great terror once endured; their mouths gaped open with one
final, agonizing scream; their eyes languished in perpetual despair. Then her movement started to
slow, as it always did before she stopped over Amy’s body. There she was again, her friend,
trapped in that frosty hell, staring up at her. Then something happened, something that never
occurred before during the vision. Amy’s body started to crack like concrete struck by a
sledgehammer. It broke into several pieces and then melted away, underneath the ice. Something
else was moving toward the surface. Another pallid form emerged from the depths. There was
something unhuman about it. Its eyes were flaxen, slightly upturned at the outer corners—with
only hints of irises. Its skin was pulled taut; it was very smooth, like marble. It had high
cheekbones, a Grecian nose, thin lips turned down, and short, dark hair. The chin came to a sharp
point. There was something familiar about that face, Hannah thought. The pale being brought his
hand up and produced scribblings on the ice: reverof eno era ew. Then the words and the being
disappeared.
***
“Hannah,” David said, looking down at his friend. He shook her arm. “Wake up, sleepy
head. It’s time to roll up out of this joint.”
Hannah sat up in bed and rubbed her face with the palm of her hands. “What time is it?”

“A few minutes before seven. We need to get moving if. Chattanooga calls, darling. We’ll
have time to stop for breakfast,” David said. They still had close to six hours of travel left before
they reached Chattanooga.
Hannah didn’t want to leave the motel, but she had no choice. She had an obligation to the
Sinclairs. There was more to the story, of Amy’s visit to Mallory Motel, and she knew it. There
was no doubt in her mind that something happened to Amy there. She knew this wouldn’t be her
last visit there. She finished packing her suitcase and joined the others outside.
David grabbed Hannah’s luggage and put it in his SUV.
As they were pulling out of the parking lot of the motel, Hannah looked back up at the house
one last time. She saw the silhouette of a person standing in a window upstairs. Who could that
be? She noticed Ms. Mallory’s car was gone.
David’s Yukon spun gravel as it pulled out onto the main highway, creating a small cloud of
dust. He looked over at Hannah, who was now staring pensively straight ahead. He touched her
arm. “You okay?”
Hannah turned and forced a grin. “Yeah. I haven’t cleared the cobwebs yet. I’ll be okay once
I get some coffee in me.”
***
Hannah and her friends arrived at the Sinclair’s house around quarter-after-two. Robert,
Diedre, and their daughter, Chloe, were sitting on the porch waiting.
“They’re here,” David said. He pulled up beside the Sinclair’s car in the driveway. He
looked over at Hannah and then back at Tommy and Shana. “Are you ready?”

“I was born ready,” Tommy said and grinned.
“Let’s do this,” Shana said.
Hannah nodded and got out of the vehicle. She moved up the sidewalk to the porch. “You
must be the Sinclairs.”
“Yes. Are you Hannah?” asked Robert.
“I am. It’s nice to meet you all,” Hannah said and then shook their hands. She turned around
and looked at the others and introduced them.
“Would you all like to go inside to discuss—?” Hannah started to say.
“We’re not going back in that house, not until you tell us that thing is no longer in there,”
Robert said with an obstinate tone.
“Okay. Sure. I understand. We can discuss it out here,” Hannah said, seeing the fear on the
family’s faces.
Robert and Diedre mentioned other events that had occurred when they were living in the
house, events they hadn’t mentioned in the email exchange with Hannah.
Hannah explained how they would be conducting their investigation in the house to the
Sinclairs.
“You all are more than welcome to spend the night in the house,” Robert offered. “But I
wouldn’t recommend it,” he admonished.
“Why is that?” asked Tommy.
Robert looked at his wife and then back at Tommy and the others. He pointed to the bandage
on his head. “This is why. That thing… It can become…violent.”
Tommy nodded.

“I think we’ll be okay, Mr. Sinclair. This isn’t the first time we’ve encountered a presence
like this,” Hannah assured.
“With that said, I’ll need you to sign some papers,” Robert said and grabbed a folder off the
banister. He pulled out a three-page document and handed it to Hannah. “Feel free to read it all.
It’s just a basic agreement stating that we are not responsible for any harm that may come to you
while you’re on the property.”
“Of course,” Hannah said. This was a first. She and her team had never had anyone request
them to sign a contract before. But she understood their concerns. After discussing it with the
others and reading through the contract, she signed it and had the others sign it.
Robert informed them that there was some food in the cabinets and the freezer, but the food
in the fridge would probably be out of date by now, given that they hadn’t stayed in the house for
a while. Then he and his family left, leaving Hannah and her team to start their investigation.
David and Tommy unloaded the equipment and took it into the house.
Shana followed Hannah around the house, scouting the layout, and coming up with a game
plan for the investigation. They were standing in the middle of the hallway upstairs.
“Tommy and I could start upstairs if you and David want to take the downstairs,” Shana
suggested.
Hannah was unresponsive. She had that look she gets when her psychic functions quicken.
Shana touched Hannah’s arm. “Are you picking up something?”
Hannah nodded and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes again, she looked straight
up.
Shana followed Hannah’s gaze. “Attic.”

Hannah looked at Shana. “There’s something… Let’s check it out.” She reached up and
grabbed the string to pull the attic door open. She then pulled the steps down and ascended, with
Shana right behind her. There were two small windows at each end of the attic, through which
light wafted through. Right above her was another string connected to a hanging light. She pulled
it.
“This is a nice attic,” Shana commented. The attic had wood planks, spaced a quarter of an
inch apart, from one side to the other. The roof slanted in on both sides, creating an inverted V
above them. There was ample room to walk around without bumping their heads on the slanted
ceilings.
Hannah walked a few feet to the left and paused. Her eyes darted around at the boxes, and
totes strewed about on the floor; they stopped, fixing on an old trunk. “There,” she said, pointing
to the trunk.
Shana moved past Hannah and started to open the trunk.
Hannah moved to the other side of the trunk, anxious to see what object lay inside that had
been beckoning to her psychic senses.
Shana pulled the lid back, revealing a trunk full of old books. But there was another item
that escaped her eyes.
It didn’t escape Hannah’s attention. She reached in and pulled it out—the Ouija board used
by Chloe.
“Shit,” Shana said, eyeing the board. She reached in and found the planchette. She handed it
to Hannah.

Hannah moved her hand over the board and closed her eyes. “This is it. This is what started
it all. The girl, Chloe… She used it.” Hannah opened her eyes. “Come on. Let’s take this
downstairs to show David and Tommy.”
David and Tommy were unpacking the equipment when Hannah and Shana came
downstairs. They had several EM meters that produced a sound when there was an
electromagnetic disturbance near it, two handheld EM meters, and one FLIR infrared camera.
“Guys. I think I found the culprit,” Hannah said, holding up the Ouija board.
“Whoa,” Tommy said. “Where did you find that?”
“She found it in the attic,” Shana replied.
David stabilized the tripod with the FLIR camera on it and walked over to Hannah. “What
kind of impressions did you get from it?”
“The girl, Chloe, used it. I saw her sitting in her room with it,” Hannah replied.
“What do you think happened?” asked Tommy, looking at Hannah.
Hannah set the Ouija board and planchette down on the coffee table and sat down on the
couch.
David sat beside her. Tommy and Shana continued to stand.
Hannah became entranced for a few seconds and then snapped out of it. She looked at the
others and said, “Something happened in this house, before the Sinclairs moved in. Someone
took their own life, an older man. But that’s not all. There was a little girl here before. She also
died. She was murdered. The psychic force that’s here… It’s a part of that man’s consciousness,
maybe his Shadow.”
“Did he kill the little girl?” asked David.

“I think so. But he did more than that to her. He…” Hannah’s face turned wan. “He raped
her and tortured her.”
Shana brought her hand up to her mouth. Her brows shot up. “Jesus,” she muttered.
“That’s it then… Chloe connected with him through the Ouija board,” Tommy asserted.
Hannah nodded. “His Shadow was trapped inside this house. She opened the door for him to
manifest into this reality. I don’t sense his presence right now. He’s dormant again.”
David rubbed his chin. “Are you thinking—”
“Yes. I think we’re going to have to open that door again. Once he’s out, we can trap him.”
David’s face turned sour. He remembered the last time they performed a ritual to remove a
psychic force from someone’s house. It was a dangerous proposition. Psychic forces, like the one
in the Sinclair’s house, didn’t go quietly. David ended up being hurled several feet across a
room, cutting his head on the corner of a table.
“This might be a good opportunity to get the proof we’ve been looking for,” Tommy said.
Hannah had a quizzical look on her face. She knew how elusive psychic forces could be.
There was a precognitive aspect to them, giving them the ability to sense human thought before
the action took place. She had reasoned that psychic forces were capable of doing this, like the
one in the Sinclair’s home, because it was no longer tethered to a human body. There was no
delay between thought and action. Some studies had shown that there is a half-second delay
between conscious thought and actual perception—what we perceive with our unconscious mind.
“We can try, but you know as well as I do, psychic forces always stay a step ahead of us.
They anticipate what we’re going to do,” David reminded Tommy.
Tommy nodded and scratched the side of his head. If only there was a way to confuse the
psychic force, to trip it up.

“I think we should set the FLIR camera up in Chloe’s room. That’s where she used the
board. We can perform the ritual in there,” Hannah said.
“Which ritual are we using this time?” asked Shana.
“I brought the cleansing crystals. We’ll use the Spiritus Emundare ritual,” Hannah replied.
The Spiritus Emundare ritual was one that Hannah had learned from a parapsychologist
named Dr. Alexander Engel. Dr. Engel had developed the ritual based on older rituals that he had
discovered in occult books from the eighteen-hundreds. He discovered that crystals, soaked in
water, attracted psychic forces. Water being a conductor of electricity, would pull the negative
forces inside the crystal. Once they are attached to the crystals, the crystals would then be placed
in a small box lined with several layers of aluminum foil and then buried. It was essentially a
Faraday box that would weaken electromagnetic fields. Psychic forces could manifest if there
was a sufficient amount of electromagnetic energy. They could use natural earth forces, and
geophysical forces, to manifest into our reality. Hannah and her team had successfully used the
Spiritus Emundare ritual on several occasions. David had built a larger Faraday box and buried it
in his backyard. The box was roughly three feet long and three feet wide. Once they had the
entity trapped in a smaller box, he would place that box inside the larger one in the ground and
seal the lid. The top of the door was covered in artificial turf that looked like a discolored patch
of grass. A person could walk on top of it without knowing the box was there.
Hannah and the others set up their equipment, scanning the house for any signs of
paranormal activity. They moved into every room with the EM meters, but there didn’t seem to
be any unusual fluctuations. Around seven-thirty, they decided to head out for dinner. David left
the FLIR camera running, in the event that activity was to occur while they were gone. They

returned around nine. Hannah convinced that they would have to draw the psychic entity out,
suggested they set up the Ouija board in Chloe’s room and perform the ritual there.
Later that night, a few minutes before ten, Hannah and the others moved into Chloe’s room.
Tommy created a circle, three feet in diameter, with crushed lavender. Inside the circle would be
the Ouija board and four small bowls filled with water, each containing one crystal. The lavender
would deflect any psychic force from leaving the circle. It would be forced to enter one of the
crystals. Once it manifested inside the circle, there was no way out. Psychic forces had magnetic
properties. The crystals along with the ritual would cause the force to enter one of the crystals.
They each took their place around the circle.
Hannah placed the planchette on the Ouija board. She rested her index finger on it and
closed her eyes.
The others placed their right index finger on the planchette.
Hannah called out to the psychic force, addressing it as a person, because most psychic
forces—the ones that were part of someone’s consciousness, believed that they were a person. “I
am calling out to whatever spirit is in this house. What is your name.”
The planchette moved immediately, sliding across the letters, spelling out, JOSEPH.
“Did you die in this house, Joseph,” Hannah asked.
The planchette slid to, YES.
“Why are you still here?”
Again, the planchette slid across the letters and spelled out, SEARCHING.
“What are you searching for?”
CAROLYN.
“Why are you searching for Carolyn?”

WE HAVE FUN TOGETHER.
“Fun? What kind of fun?”
There was a brief pause.
“What kind of—?”
SHE MAKES ME HARD.
“I can find her for you if you’ll come into the circle.”
The planchette started to vibrate.
Hannah told the others to remove their hands from it. She retracted her finger.
Now the planchette was moving erratically on the board. A wispy white vapor appeared
above it. It continued to grow into a humanoid form, standing close to six feet tall.
Hannah and the others looked up at the form, which was solidifying. They could see a face
emerge, the face of an old man with a thick head of gray hair and a short gray beard. He turned
his gaze to Hannah.
Hannah, looking up at the man’s face, said, “Carolyn has passed on from this place, Joseph.”
The apparition spoke in a tremulous, raspy voice, “You lie.”
“No, Joseph. I am not lying. She’s waiting for you in the next realm. You need to move on.”
Hannah hadn’t lied before, but she was lying now. Carolyn wasn’t waiting for Joseph. She had
moved on, far from him.
Joseph’s face shone with confusion. He began to cry, bringing his hands up to his face. “I…
I killed her.”
“Yes, Joseph. You killed her. But she’s not really dead. She’s waiting for you.”

Joseph’s face turned darkly. He realized what they had done—trapped him. His eyes burned
like hot coals. He bent over, bringing his face to within six inches of Hannah’s, staying just
inside the circle. “You tricked me. You filthy cunt.”
Hannah looked at the others. They all joined hands and started to recite the Om mantra.
Joseph’s etheric body started to become hazy. He developed a scowl on his face. He turned
his eyes upward and let out a gut-wrenching scream.
Hannah and the others continued the mantra.
Joseph was now being pulled into one of the bowls with a crystal. A moment later, he
disappeared.
David pulled his hand away from Hannah, grabbed the Faraday box, and then placed the
crystal inside. He closed and sealed the box shut.
Everyone sighed, except Hannah. She was staring blankly ahead, with a warm smile on her
face.
The others looked in the direction Hannah was looking but didn’t see anything.
“Hannah,” David called out, touching her arm.
Hannah’s smile faded. She turned to David. “It’s done.”
“Yes. You were still in a trance,” David informed.
“Oh. Was I? You sealed the box?”
David held up the box to show her.
“Well, I guess our chance at getting evidence is shot,” Tommy said with disdain.
“Maybe next time,” David said and patted Tommy on the back.

Chapter 5
Nourishment
It had been a week since Mallory Motel had seen any guests. Only one person had stopped
in at the motel since Hannah, David, Tommy, and Shana had left, and they weren’t looking for a
room—only directions. But it was no skin off Janet Mallory’s back. She didn’t need the money.
Like her husband, running the motel gave her something to do. She changed out the bedding
every day and cleaned the rooms thoroughly at least once a week.
Saturday afternoon a car pulled up in front of the motel. A young woman, in her early
twenties, walked inside the office.
Janet was sitting in the backroom reading when the young woman entered. She walked out
of the parlor and greeted her. “Hello, there.”
“Hi,” the woman said and grinned. “I need a room. Just for the night.”
“Well, you came to the right place. As you can see, we have plenty of vacancies.” Janet
laughed.
“It is kind of a quiet road, isn’t it?” I didn’t pass one car on my way here.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t much traffic on this road anymore, not since they built the bypass. I
don’t get many guests either. They built a hotel just a few miles up the road a couple of years
back—one of those cheap, foreign-owned hotels. It’s a good thing I don’t need the money, else
I’d be looking for work.”
The woman grinned.

“Let’s see here,” Janet said, looking at the peg board of keys. She grabbed one. “I’ll put you
in room three. It’s nice and clean.”
The woman brought out her wallet and pulled out some cash. “How much do I owe you?”
“Forty dollars plus tax.” Janet took the woman’s money and gave her the change back. “Oh,
there are fresh towels, soap, and shampoo. Not many people use our soap or shampoo. I guess
people like bringing their own. Either that or they like to walk around like filthy animals.” She
laughed again.
“That house on the hill. Is that yours?” asked the woman.
“Yes, dear. My husband and I, God rest his soul, bought that house many years ago.”
“It’s lovely. I thought I saw someone in the window when I pulled in.”
“Oh? No. There’s no one up there. I live alone. It was probably just light and shadow
playing a trick on you,” Janet suggested. “If you would please, just sign the registry for me.” She
flipped the book around and handed the woman a pen. She looked Alicia up and down as she
signed the registry, not once looking down at the book.
“Thank you,” the woman said and started to walk out.
“Young lady,” Janet said and walked out from behind the counter. She was fidgeting with
her wedding ring. “I was wondering… And don’t feel obligated when I ask. Would you like to
have dinner with me this evening? I…uh… The truth is, I don’t have anyone. My husband and I
never had children. I’ve been alone now for over a year. I’ve only had a couple of guests visit
since then. A woman gets lonely.”
The woman looked sympathetically at Janet. “I’d love to, on one condition.”
“Yes.”
“You give me a tour of your house,” the woman said and smiled.

Janet grinned wide. “Oh, dear, I would love to give you a tour. I’m Janet, by the way.”
“I’m Alicia. Alicia Baker.”
“Oh, Alicia. Thank you so much. I hope you like Chicken Bruschetta.”
“Are you kidding? That’s one of my favorite dishes,” Alicia said.
“Good. You come on up to the house then around six. We’ll have a nice dinner and then I’ll
give you a tour of the house.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll see you at six.”
“You’re welcome, dear. See you then.”
***
As promised, Alicia came knocking around six that evening.
Janet invited her in and led her to the kitchen. “Please, have a seat. Would you like wine
or…? I have tea and apple juice, if—”
“Wine, please.”
Janet poured two glasses of wine. “There you go, dear.” She walked over to the stove and
made a plate for both her and Alicia. “I hope you like it. It’s an old family recipe.”
“Ooh… It smells so good. I’m sure it’s very tasty,” Alicia said.
Janet set Alicia’s plate down and sat down on the other end of the kitchen table. She waited
for Alicia to take a bite, grinning and staring at her.
Alicia got the hint. She took a bite. Her eyes grew wide. She swallowed and then said,
“Janet. This is like the best Chicken Bruschetta I’ve ever had. That’s the truth.”
“I used to cook it for Raymond. That was before I got sick.”

“You were ill?”
“Yes. I had a stroke almost two years ago. It nearly killed me. I couldn’t walk, talk, hardly
do anything at all. But my Raymond… He got me back on my feet. Oh, yes. Now, look at me…”
She grinned and then took a drink of wine.
“That’s…amazing. My grandmother had a stroke. She never got better. She died not long
after.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Losing someone you love can be…very trying.”
“What happened to your husband?”
Janet flashed her brows and swirled the wine around in her glass. She looked up at Alicia
with a deadpan stare. “He killed himself.”
Alicia’s mouth slid open. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have asked if—”
“It’s okay, dear. After he died, I was able to get back to my old self, and then some.”
“You do look pretty good for your age,” Alicia said and then immediately realized she’d
said it. “That didn’t come out right.” She grinned.
“How old do you think I am?”
Alicia was hesitant to ask. She didn’t want to insult Janet. As most people do, she fudged the
numbers, thinking Janet was probably in her early fifties. “Forty-nine?”
Janet laughed heartily. “My goodness. You’re very kind. I’m actually seventy-four.”
Alicia thought she was joking. There’s no way she’s in her seventies. “You’re kidding,
right?”
Janet shook her head and took another drink of wine. “No. That’s the truth.”

Alicia studied Janet’s face, looking for signs of plastic surgery. Then she remembered seeing
Janet’s hands in the office. She didn’t have any age spots. Her hands didn’t show her age. Plastic
surgery can fix a face, but the hands are a dead giveaway when a person is older.
“You’re wondering if I had surgery, aren’t you?”
Alicia looked surprised. “Uh… Yes. How did you know?”
“The way you looked at me just a moment ago. It’s okay. I’d be skeptical too. I have a
secret.”
“Let me guess… It’s some type of herbal elixir you make yourself.”
Janet shook her head. “Well, you’re close, except I don’t make it all myself. Tell you
what… After the tour, I will reveal my secret to you.” Not that it will do you any good.
“I can’t wait,” Alicia said.
After dinner, Janet gave Alicia a tour of the house. She started upstairs and brought her back
down to the living room.
“Thank you for everything, Janet. Dinner was amazing. The house… What can I say? It has
such character.”
“You’re welcome, dear. But the tour doesn’t stop here. You just have to see the basement.
And we still have the matter of me revealing my secret to you.”
“Okay.”
“Yes. You won’t believe your eyes. Most basements are dull. Not mine. Come.” Janet led
Alicia back through the hall and turned to the right and descended a small flight of stairs. She
opened the basement door and let Alicia walk in first. She flipped on the light and closed the
door behind her.

Alicia paled. Her eyes swept across the room. “Was this a funeral home at one time?” She
could several coffins in the basement, lined up against one wall—five total.
“Yes. It was. Some of those coffins are quite old.” Janet walked past her. “Come. I want to
show you something.” She moved over to a dark blue coffin at the end.
Alicia walked over. “My goodness. Look at the carvings on it.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“When you said your basement wasn’t boring, you weren’t kidding. How many people have
coffins in their basement?” Alicia grinned as she ran her fingers over the hand-carved angels on
the coffin. She was so busy admiring the craftmanship, she didn’t notice that Janet was standing
behind her, holding a two-inch metal pipe. “This is such beautiful work.” Something glinted off
the silver handle on the coffin. She turned to look and—
The pipe struck her on the top of the head, staggering her. It came again, but this time she
had her hand up to defend herself. The pipe struck the middle of her ring and pinky fingers,
breaking them, and causing them to bend back unnaturally. Her eyes were terror-stricken. She
cried out, “Please… Don’t—” The pipe came again, this time hitting her in the left cheek. She
moved back again, up against the coffin. Again, the metal pipe smashed into her skull. She slid
to the ground, dazed, nearly unconscious. She could see the pipe hanging above her until the
blood washed over her eyes. She felt herself descending into darkness.
“You wanted to know my secret. Now you know. Young blood, my dear. That’s my secret. I
would like to thank you for your donation,” she said callously and slammed the pipe down again
onto the top of Alicia’s head once more.

Alicia’s eyes fluttered. Through the haze of blood and tears, she saw Janet standing a few
feet away from her. She wondered how Janet was able to walk on the ceiling. Then she realized,
Janet wasn’t walking on the ceiling. She was hanging upside down.
Janet walked over to Alicia, standing only a foot away, holding a ten-inch, silver, Dalstrong
butcher’s knife.
Alicia tried to scream but realized something was restricting her lips from opening. She tried
to move her hand to touch her mouth, but they were tied behind her back. She tried to scream,
but it only came out as muffled grunts through the duct tape.
“There’s no need for all that sulking, dear. What will be, will be. Don’t worry. I’ll make it as
painless as possible. I apologize for having to strike you with the pipe. I haven’t fully realized
yet. If I had, I could have spared you the trauma. I would have just snapped your pretty little
neck. But my time is coming. Yes. Just a few more donations…” She rubbed her hand on
Alicia’s cheek, looking at her adoringly. “Nature has blessed you, dear. You are a very pretty
girl. Good and healthy too. Not too skinny, not too fat. Genetics. Yes, indeed. You inherited
good genes. You’re just perfect, I tell you. Your blood … Umm… It should work just nicely in
my body. That’s right, dear. Your blood is going to make me younger. So many young girls…
Their contributions are most appreciated, just as yours is.” She raised the knife to Alicia’s throat
and started to slide it across, but stopped. She had a pouty look on her face. “Oh, dear. How rude
of me. Everyone should have a chance to speak their final words. Would you like to say
something before you die?”
Alicia’s eyes grew wide. She nodded.
“Okay, dear.” Janet ripped the duct tape off Alicia’s mouth. “Go ahead.”

Alicia cried and then started to cough. She tried to speak, but her words came out
stammered. “Please…duh…don’t…kill… muh…me.”
“Death is not the end, dear,” Janet said and smiled. “Trust me. I’m actually doing you a
favor. Do you want to grow old, get all wrinkly, get sick, and then die a long, agonizing death? If
you knew what I was sparing you from, you’d be thanking me right now.” She put her hand back
on Alicia’s cheek. “Goodbye, Alicia.” She slid the knife across Alicia’s throat, cutting into her
neck several inches, spilling her blood into a large Rubbermaid tote below. Alicia’s body jerked
several times as the light faded from her eyes.
After Janet was finished with Alicia, she pulled the dark blue coffin over, the one Alicia was
looking at earlier. She had Alicia suspended in the air with an automatic pulley system. She
lowered her into the casket, guiding her head toward the top. She then undid the leather strap
around Alicia’s ankles. Alicia’s face was a crimson mask, her brown hair soaked with blood.
Janet rolled the coffin into another room; the room was roughly thirty feet long and twenty feet
wide. There were four other coffins in the room with the lids closed. Each had a placard on the
side with the names of the victims. It was Janet’s memorial for the young women who had
donated, unwillingly, to her cause: help make Janet younger again. But it wasn’t just youth that
Janet wanted. It was an enhanced vitality, something beyond the normal human capacity. She
wanted to be young forever, in the flesh. She looked down at Alicia’s face and smiled. She used
the butcher knife to sever Alicia’s head. She then took the head back over to the table and put it
into a metal container. She put the knife on the table, picked up the container, and walked out of
the room.

Chapter 6
Savior
Since Hannah returned home from Chattanooga, she had been doing investigative work for
close to a week, looking for information on Black Hills and the Mallory Motel. She couldn’t find
much information on the motel, other than it was once owned by a William Tinsdale, prior to the
Mallorys moving in. The Mallorys didn’t have much in the way of an internet footprint. There
was one article about them, when they first took over the motel, showing a picture of Raymond
and Janet standing in front of it. She decided to expand her scope and search in other towns
around Black Hills, including the city of Richmond, which was only a little over thirty minutes
away. There were three articles about missing women, last seen in and around Black Hills. The
police had rejected the notion of there being a connection between the missing women. They
didn’t have any evidence to suggest the women had been murdered. The women’s cars were
never found. But the last place they were seen or heard from was in and around Black Hills.
Hannah was haunted by the visions she had of Amy when she visited Mallory’s Motel. She had
felt that oppressive force inside Janet’s house. It wasn’t the same feeling she got from people.
And she was dumbfounded that she couldn’t sense anything about Janet when she was there. She
always sensed something when she was around a person. The feeling might not be profound, but
there was always something there. Janet, however, emitted nothing, not even “static.” That’s
what Hannah called it when she picked up psychic energy from a person when the signal was
disturbed by some type of electromagnetic interference.

Hannah’s cell phone buzzed. She picked it up and looked at her messages. There was a
message from David. She opened it.
Check your email, darling. It’s important.
Hannah opened her email on her phone. There it was, the message from David. She could
see there were two attachments—video clips. She played the first video, as instructed by David.
The screen faded in, revealing the Mallory Motel. David had taken some video of the motel and
the house. Anytime they went on a road trip, David would take videos of the places they stayed
and the places they investigated; a type of video diary. The camera moved from the motel to the
house. David ascended the steps, walking up to the house. He stopped at the angel statue and
pointed the camera up at the face. He then swept the camera to the house. A flicker of pale
orange light flashed from the upstairs window. David moved the camera down to the front porch
of the house and then swept the lens around and proceeded back down the steps. The video
ended when he reached the bottom step.
She opened the second video. It was part of the first video showing the upstairs where the
flicker of light occurred. David had slowed the video down and zoomed in. He put a rectangular
box around the window with a red arrow pointing at a specific location—toward the center of the
window, just a foot down from the top. The video continued. Hannah’s jaw dropped as she saw a
pair of glowering orange-red eyes staring at the camera. Then the flash occurred. As the flash of
light diminished, she could clearly see the outline of a dark, humanoid form.
Hannah immediately called David. She asked him to come over when he could.
David arrived an hour later. He and Hannah sat in her living room.
“When you were taking the video, you didn’t see the flash?”

“No. Not at all. Maybe I was looking away from the camera at the time or it just happened
so fast...”
“Maybe that’s the presence I felt in the house. I’m curious to know if Ms. Mallory has ever
experienced unusual phenomena in the house,” Hannah wondered.
“You said you did some research on the motel, right? What about the house? Did you find
any information on it?”
“Not much. But I didn’t really focus on the house,” Hannah admitted.
“Maybe we should do some digging.”
“It’s just a house. I doubt there’s much information on the internet about a random house.
However, I did find the previous owner’s name.”
“There you go,” David said and grinned.
Hannah cocked her head at David. “You want me to just call him up and ask if he ever saw a
spook in that house when he lived there? I’m sure that would go over well.”
“I’ll call him. You know me. I’m as wily as they come, darling.” He cocked one eyebrow
and pursed his lips.
Hannah giggled. “You nut. Okay. If you want to call him, go right ahead. But I don’t think
you’re going to find out much. If he, and his family—if he has one, experienced paranormal
activity, do you think he’s going to tell you about it, a stranger?” She huffed.
“Honey. I can charm a snake,” David said and flicked his tongue at Hannah.
“I bet you can,” Hannah joked, making a lewd gesture with her mouth and hand.
“You know it,” David said and winked. “Okay. Get me the number, woman. Let’s do this.”
After a few minutes of searching, Hannah found William Tinsdale’s phone number and his
Facebook page, which was private.

David made the call. He spoke with William for close to twenty minutes, all the while taking
notes. It was obvious that David was able to beguile William into talking about his experiences
in the house.
“What did he say?” asked Hannah.
David handed her his notes.
“Interesting,” Hannah said, reading the notes. “It was once a funeral home.”
“Keep reading.”
“I can’t read this last part, the one about his wife having dreams,” Hannah said, pointing to
the notes.
“Sorry. I was trying to listen and write at the same time. He said his wife started having
horrible dreams. This went on every night for close to two weeks. Then she started having
visions, seeing things in the house. She was in the basement doing laundry one day when she
saw a woman hanging upside down from the ceiling with her throat cut. Then there was another
time when she woke up in bed one night and saw a different woman standing at the foot of the
bed, holding her head in her hand.”
“Is that why they sold the house?”
“Yes. But he never told the Sinclairs about his wife’s visions,” David replied.
Hannah wondered if any of this had anything to do with Amy. She knew that certain
locations could produce visions in people who were sensitive to geophysical forces. The visions
that Mrs. Sinclair experienced could have been premonitory dreams or visions of past events. But
there was still that nagging feeling inside of her that something happened to Amy at the motel.
She wanted to go back to Black Hills, to the motel. She wanted to walk inside every room. But

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