Episode 7 - Siloed

Chapter 31

Barren trees swayed in the wind, the last stubborn maple leaves clinging to life after death. The breeze had a different way of howling up here in Godwin, an hour and a half north of Westville. Not quite “up north” by Michigan standards, but far enough removed that you could forget yourself, forget where you came from.

As it happened, that was just what Casey wanted.

Five weeks since Millie Thompson was found—for the second time, alive. Five weeks since he’d ventured into that pipe with Reeves, since they’d found Liv Fischer and her friends in that impossible place beneath Prince Milling. Five weeks since he’d stepped through one of those red doors and ended up in the woods pursuing Ethan Crawley, only to put two bullets in Travis Johnson’s chest by tragic mistake.

He thought about it every morning, let it get out of his system, then did his level best to let the quiet mundanity and remoteness of his grandparents’ old house do its work. The place still smelled like them—pine and coffee and wood smoke—even though his parents had inherited it years ago.

Casey kept busy by chopping wood, building fires, taking the four-wheeler out through the back trails. December had been cold and brown so far, but word was a big system would blow down from the northwest next week, bringing the first proper shot of winter.

That particular morning, Casey sat on the edge of the guest room bed, staring at the bright clash of quilts against the persistent gray-green-brown gloom outside the window. The smell of coffee drew him out to the living room, where he found Dave and Beth sitting in their usual spots on the four-seasons porch. Their morning ritual, which he’d joined these past weeks.

He poured himself a cup of steaming black and walked out.

“Sleep good?” Dave asked.

“Better than I have.” Slowly but surely, the frustration and shame had been fading—until two weeks ago when the Chief called to update him on the investigation and set up an initial interview after New Year’s. Until then, he’d advised Casey to stay away from Westville. Casey didn’t argue.

“I’m glad,” his mother said. Beth Benson was wrapped in a shawl she’d gotten on her trip to New Mexico, another for her collection. “You should get out for a walk, nice morning. Think I might head out myself.”

“You feeling up for that?” Casey asked.

He was met with the usual ‘of course I am’ stare. She’d had invasive surgery mid-summer, and recovery hadn’t been easy.

“Alright, alright,” Casey said, throwing one hand up in surrender.

“I’ve learned the hard way, son. Don’t get in her way.”

Beth scoffed and playfully slapped her husband’s shoulder as she stood and walked back into the kitchen.

“Plans today?” Dave asked.

“You’re looking at ‘em.”

“Well come on then. Let’s get a fire going.”

They walked out to the fire pit. Probably mid-thirties, warm for the third week of December, and would climb to the forties. Good enough bonfire weather once you’d warmed up and been cutting wood for a while.

They split in silence, the cracks of their axes slapping against the treeline and echoing back. Casey had to fight off the memory of his magnum’s report in the woods that night, the impulse clawing its way back into his head. But after a few good splits, he blocked it out. Or tried to.

The longer he was up here, the harder it was getting. Dave Benson seemed to have something similar on his mind.

“So how much longer you thinking you’ll stay?” he asked.

“Dunno. Figured might as well stay through Christmas at least.”

Dave nodded and split another piece. “Hear from Aly?”

“No,” Casey lied. She’d sent a letter a couple weeks back, filling him in on how Millie and Liv were doing, how the town was coping with the roller coaster of events. The girl in the river had been identified retroactively as Jill Davis, sixteen, one of the missing girls from Iron Falls. No real explanation for the misidentification, which didn’t surprise him. Not with how they’d all been railroaded into silence about what happened beneath Westville—or wherever those red doors had led them.

“Well it’s a shame about you two,” Dave said. “Always thought you were good together.”

“There was a time we were, maybe. Things got complicated.”

“Listen son,” Dave said, setting down his ax and grabbing pieces to build the fire. “I’ve always tried to let you figure things out. Never wanted to be the overbearing one. But you can’t keep running.”

“I’m not running, Dad. I’m just—taking a break.”

“Sounds like what you said three years ago.”

“I needed some time.”

“That wreck was never your fault. You made a judgment call.”

“A bad one.”

“It’s called a mistake. I’ve made my share.”

“Nothing like getting a kid killed.”

Dave sighed, kneeling to arrange kindling beneath the logs. Casey shook his head, regret uncoiling in his gut. “Look, I know you’re just trying to help. It’s just right now I don’t want to think about it. Not until I have to.”

“Sure,” Dave said, standing. “I get that. Trouble is, when that time comes, you’ll be no further along in dealing with the past than you are now. And you can’t keep running.”

Casey stiffened. “If you think I’m running, then why invite me up here in the first place?”

“Your mother and I wanted to see you. Spend some time.”

“And dredge up the past.”

“To be here for you, Casey. To tell you what you might not want to hear, but need to.”

“And what’s that?”

His father looked him in the eye then, smoke from the starting fire swirling between them in the cold December air. “You need to let go if you want to move on.”

They sat by the fire until about noon, when Dave went in to make his usual lunch—either bologna or grilled cheese, no in-between with him. Casey stayed out and walked the back of the property, edging along the creek that ran through and eventually connected with a larger inlet that fed into the Slate River miles downstream.

He watched the current carry a freshly fallen maple leaf, rigid and crisp, until it disappeared where the stream dipped and deepened. Like everything else, swallowed by dark waters.

Casey still could barely believe Millie was alive. Ever since they’d found Harry Meyers in that church bus, with a bracelet identical to Millie’s in his pocket, he’d dreaded the inevitable. Fears that came true, if only for those few surreal days of the visitation and funeral.

Until she’d wandered onto the train tracks, alive. No one could figure out from where. She barely spoke, according to Aly’s letter. She was breathing, but Casey wondered how much of that bright-eyed girl remained after what she’d seen. His one hospital visit on the way up north, she’d been locked in catatonic sleep, Erin standing vigil like a mournful statue. Joe hadn’t been there. Joe wouldn’t speak to him since she’d been found—just caught his eye at the station, nodded something like thanks maybe, before leaving without a word.

But there was the irony. Casey didn’t deserve gratitude. He hadn’t even found Millie. He’d just chased conspiracy theories with Heiser. Granted, they’d turned out to be true, even if that truth was buried now, locked away in whatever vault the D.C.B. used for things the world wasn’t ready to know.

He turned back toward the house. Dave was napping, and his mother had run to the grocery store. The quiet pressed in, broken only by the wind in the pines.

Then came the knock.

Casey moved to the front door, opened it to find a plain cardboard box on the step. No return address. Just his name.

He knelt to pick it up when the crunch of tires on dirt caught his attention. An unmarked sedan pulling away—definitely not a delivery vehicle. For a moment, he fought the urge to chase it down, catch a plate number.

Instead, he took the box to the guest bedroom, cut it open with his pocket knife. Inside lay a stack of documents and manila folders. On top, a handwritten letter.

It was from Heiser.

Chapter 32

The last week of school before Christmas break was always pointless. Teachers and students were checked out, ready to be done, which was why Olivia couldn’t understand why her mother thought it was so crazy that she wanted to ditch.

“You’ve been distracted enough these past couple of months,” Kathy said. “And you need to give them time to be with her too.”

“They don’t mind having me there, Mom.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t want you to overdo it, that’s all.”

Olivia begrudgingly agreed to attend the last three days of school before break. It was Wednesday, the 21st—just two more days until Friday. That didn’t stop her from pleading with Aly to take her to the hospital after school. Surprisingly, her sister agreed with little protest.

They drove down M-23, listening to the cassette version of Jagged Little Pill along the way.

“Is it weird for you being there?” Olivia asked, noticing how Aly glanced toward the wing where Travis Johnson was being treated.

“Why would it be?”

“Usually, you’re the one calling me out for being withholding.”

Aly snorted. “Fair enough. Look, I don’t know what happened. Casey thought he had a knife. Saw Travis raise it behind me.”

“But there was no knife,” Olivia filled in.

Aly shook her head.

“So where is Casey now?”

“Went up north. To his parents’ place.”

“You guys talk?”

“Not really.”

Olivia glanced out the window, drumming her fingers on the door as the heat blew her hair through the vents. As they banked left onto Lion Street toward the hospital, her stomach churned. In part, she’d asked Aly if she felt uncomfortable being there because, well, she did.

Something about it all didn’t feel right—least of all the fact that no one had been able to figure out where Millie had come from.

Olivia had some idea about that. The tunnels they’d followed beneath Westville, the facility full of red doors. It all felt so fuzzy, like a fever dream she was forgetting hour by hour as the days passed.

The feds who’d interviewed her made it seem like it was all trauma-induced. Reeves, the woman she’d been with and escaped through the pipe with, asserted that she and Casey had gone in after them and that a chemical leak had made them pass out. Hallucinations during dreaming were common with that sort of chemical, Reeves had claimed.

Olivia knew all of that was complete and total crap.

“How are you doing with everything?” Aly asked as they pulled into the five-story parking garage, beginning to wind their way through the concrete spiral.

“Fine, I guess. Just trying to remember everything.”

Aly nodded and turned into an open spot. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know. It’s just... most of what I’d talk about, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Try me.”

Olivia glanced at her sister, saw that she meant it. For once, after all of this, maybe Aly wasn’t just trying to control her or judge her.

So she told her everything: the pipe that led to the tunnel, the facility, the red doors, the red light in the woods. Their research about the Skadegamutc, and Arthur Thompson’s pact or curse or whatever it had been.

“The night I came to pick you up at Casey’s,” Aly said, “that’s what you were talking about.”

Olivia nodded. “And that Greg guy who was coming to your café—he’s some kind of scientist, I guess. He works for the feds.”

“The Dimensional Containment Bureau,” Aly breathed.

Olivia looked at her, puzzled.

“Casey mentioned it. I saw Greg in the café the day after he left town. I sat down and asked him what had really been going on. He wasn’t shy.”

“Why would he tell you?”

“I don’t know.”

The elevator dinged open on the third floor, and they made their way down the familiar hallway to Room 312.

Olivia entered the hospital room, her breath catching in her chest. The bed was empty. The faint indentation of Millie’s slight frame in the mattress was the only proof she’d ever been there. The heart monitor stood silent, its wires neatly coiled, and the IV pole stripped bare.

“Millie?” Olivia whispered, her voice thin against the sterile quiet. She glanced around the room, her pulse quickening. Where could she have gone? Her heart thudded heavily as she stepped closer to the bed, her eyes scanning for some clue—anything to tell her Millie hadn’t vanished again.

She spun toward the hallway, her sneakers squeaking on the freshly waxed floor. A nurse breezed past, balancing a tray of medications. “Excuse me!” Olivia called after her, but the woman was already halfway to the next room.

Liv turned the other way, craning her neck to see down the corridor. Her mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. What if Millie had wandered off? What if something worse had happened?

Then she saw them.

Millie, pale and frail, shuffled slowly down the hall, her arm looped through her mother’s for support. Erin’s face was drawn tight, her movements deliberate, as though she were walking on a sheet of cracking glass. Relief surged through Olivia, and her feet moved before she could stop them.

“Millie!” she called, her voice cracking. She jogged toward them, her shoes barely making a sound against the linoleum.

Millie turned her head slowly, her sunken eyes catching the overhead light. She managed a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach her lips. Erin stopped walking and adjusted her grip on Millie’s arm, her own gaze softening when she saw Liv approach.

“She’s awake,” Liv said, her voice trembling with relief. “I didn’t—when I saw the bed—” She swallowed hard, forcing her words into coherence. “You’re okay.”

Erin offered a small smile, though it seemed brittle. “She’s better. Weak, but the doctors said she can go home today.”

“Home?” Liv asked, her eyes darting between them. “Already?”

Erin nodded. “She’ll need rest. And... there’s not much else they can do here.” Her voice wavered on the last word, and she quickly turned her attention back to Millie, smoothing her daughter’s hair with a trembling hand.

“You’ll come see me, right?” Millie’s voice was barely audible, the question carried more on a breath than spoken.

“Of course,” Liv said, stepping closer. She reached for Millie’s hand, feeling how cold and frail it was. “Whenever you want.”

“Whenever she’s rested,” Erin cut in, her tone sharper than she likely intended. She glanced down the hallway, where Joe leaned against the wall near the nurses’ station, staring at nothing. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a rigid line.

“Dad doesn’t want me going anywhere,” Millie said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Liv glanced at Joe, her brows knitting together. “Why?”

“Because she’s not ready,” Joe answered before Millie could. His voice startled Liv—gravelly and cold, like he hadn’t spoken in days. He pushed off the wall and walked toward them with slow, deliberate steps. His presence filled the hallway, the air seeming heavier with every step he took.

“She’s been through enough,” Joe added, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Liv. “And I don’t think running off to see friends is what she needs right now.”

“Joe,” Erin said, her voice low, cautious. “We talked about this.”

“Did we?” Joe shot back, his tone sharper now. His eyes flicked toward Erin, and for a moment, Liv caught a tension between them that felt too raw to be about Millie alone. “Because I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”

“Not here,” Erin hissed, her grip on Millie tightening protectively.

Liv took a small step back, the unease in her chest growing heavier. The tension wasn’t just palpable—it was suffocating. She glanced at Millie, whose eyes darted nervously between her parents.

“I’m just saying,” Joe continued, his voice quieter but no less sharp. “She’s not ready to be out there. Not after what happened.”

“What happened?” Liv asked before she could stop herself.

Joe’s eyes snapped to hers, and for a moment, Liv wished she’d kept her mouth shut. His gaze was piercing, unnerving in a way she couldn’t quite place. “She doesn’t need to talk about that. Not now.”

“She might,” Erin interjected, her voice firmer now. “Eventually. It’s going to come up whether we want it to or not.”

Joe took a step closer, his face inches from Erin’s. “Not if we don’t let it.”

The air seemed to shift, a faint hissing sound reaching Liv’s ears. She froze, her heart racing as the sound grew louder, more insistent. It wasn’t just air escaping from a vent—it was deeper, layered with something she couldn’t name.

“Do you hear that?” Liv asked, her voice trembling.

“Hear what?” Erin asked, glancing at her with confusion.

Joe’s head turned sharply toward Liv, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, the tension in the hallway felt unbearable, like the walls themselves were pressing inward. The hissing stopped just as abruptly as it had started, leaving behind a silence that felt almost worse.

“Nothing,” Liv said quickly, shaking her head. She looked at Millie, who stared at her with wide, frightened eyes.

“Let’s go,” Erin said, pulling Millie gently toward the exit. “We’ll talk at home.”

Joe lingered for a moment, his gaze still fixed on Liv. Then, without a word, he turned and followed Erin and Millie down the hall.

Liv watched them go, her stomach twisting. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t just about Millie’s recovery. Something was wrong—something deeper, darker, and far more terrifying than she could explain.

As the elevator doors closed, the faint pressure in Olivia’s ears returned, followed by a whispering hiss that sent a shiver down her spine. She glanced at Aly, who didn’t seem to notice.

Olivia stood frozen, her chest tight with unease. “What was that about?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Aly said, her eyes fixed on Joe as he disappeared into the elevator. “But something’s off with him. He’s... not just stressed.”

“What do you mean?”

Aly shook her head. “Casey felt like something was going on with him.”

“You mean more than just the drinking?”

Her sister glanced at her with a look of surprise. “You knew about that, huh?”

“I’m not blind. I can smell, and I spent a lot of time over at Millie’s place the past couple of years. So yeah, I could tell.”

“Right,” Aly said, offering a not-so-reassuring smile. “I’ll see if I can talk to Erin.”

Olivia looked up at the red digital letters of the elevator, ticking down one by one.

Millie was here. Alive, and now awake. Olivia had thought maybe this nightmare was over.

But as she watched the red numbers drop lower, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still very wrong.

And that maybe, Millie wasn’t out of the woods just yet.

Chapter 33

As luck, fate, or Michigan’s delayed winter wrath would have it, Olivia got out of the last two days before break thanks to a snowstorm.

Overnight, a few good inches had fallen, covering the entire town in tufts of white that melded into pale gray, then brown on the streets, where the scraping plow that woke her from a fitful sleep had carved its way through the slushy mire, dumping salt as it went.

She couldn’t get the way Millie’s dad had looked—the way he talked—out of her head. Least of all, the way her friend had looked genuinely frightened when her own father came in. They always had such a sweet relationship before all of this. One Olivia often found herself envying. She and her own dad didn’t spend much time together, and when he and Kathy—Mom, she corrected herself—split, it hadn’t made matters any better. So she’d gleaned much of her fatherly presence from Joe Thompson.

Sure, she knew about the drinking. But most adults she knew drank. Just maybe not a case of beers in one night. She could tell it embarrassed Millie sometimes—maybe even made her nervous.

It must have gotten worse, just before she went missing.

Olivia desperately wanted—more than anything, really—to believe the drinking was all this was. But even Aly had noticed it. She might not have heard what Olivia had—the awful screeching, static hiss from the woods and the facility at the end of the pipe—but she sensed it.

Olivia wondered if talking to Erin would do any good. She hoped so. She wanted to see her friend, be there for her through all of this. Millie looked so different now—skinny, pale, and her arms all marked up.

Millie still didn’t remember anything about what had happened to her. She only said she’d been in a dark place and, after a while, couldn’t even tell that. It had felt like a dreamy sleep, pressure in her arms—not unlike the IVs she had been forced to wear in the hospital, or so she’d said.

Olivia walked into the living room and flipped on the TV to the local news on Channel 17. Westville Public was closed. Tomorrow—Friday—marked the start of break, so she was free.

But she had other plans. She needed to call an emergent study session.

Olivia dialed Austin’s home phone first. Turned out he and Kyle had slept over, anticipating the snow day.

Austin’s mom went to his bedroom to rouse him from sleep and hand him the phone.

“Liv?” Austin’s groggy voice crackled through the receiver.

“Hey. Fischer’s this morning. 9 a.m.”

“Isn’t the whole point of a snow day to sleep in?”

“Don’t care. Get Kyle up. And have him get ahold of Eli.”

“What’s this about?”

“All of this—it’s not over. Something’s wrong with Millie. With her dad. I’ll explain. Just meet me there, okay?”

Austin grumbled in agreement. Olivia heard Kyle groan in the background as the phone clicked off.

She gathered the now far-overdue forensics books, Westville history volumes, and Native American lore texts she’d checked out from the library. Stuffing them into her backpack, she threw on layers—a long-sleeve Green Day sweatshirt, a coat, and jeans.

Heading downstairs, she caught her sister just as she was about to leave. Aly was slipping on her gloves, clearly heading out for errands.

“I’m not on this morning, but I can drop you off,” Aly offered.

“Where are you going?” Olivia asked, curiosity piqued.

“Have to run a few errands,” Aly said. “Hop in.”

The four of them commandeered a corner booth in the restaurant. Olivia had convinced Eli to join them after Kyle called him, and his dad only agreed to drop him off once Kathy promised to keep an eye on the kids.

Every square inch of the table was covered: half-eaten plates with the remnants of pancakes and sausage, stacks of books ranging from local history to mythology, and scattered pages of Eli’s meticulously handwritten notes.

Olivia glanced out the frost-rimmed window, watching the snow-covered world outside while the din of the café hummed in the background—a soundtrack of clinking dishes, murmured conversations, and the hiss of the espresso machine.

Austin leaned back against the booth, arms crossed, his long dark hair still damp from trudging through the snow. Kyle sat next to him, drumming his fingers against an open book. Eli, across from them, was hunched over, flipping through a dog-eared notebook.

Eli slid a piece of paper across the table, his handwriting cramped and precise. “Here. I found this in an old journal at the library. It belonged to one of the original settlers in the area—a Thompson, actually.”

Olivia’s stomach tightened. She glanced at the others before reading aloud: “‘To break the shadowed curse, the debt must be repaid in threefold: the skin of the hunted, the bones of the guilty, and the blood of the innocent.’“

The words hung in the air like frost.

Kyle shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, that’s creepy as hell, but what does it mean?”

Eli tapped his pen against the table. “Think about it. The skinned deer found in the woods? That’s the skin of the hunted. The Thompson graves being dug up—those are the bones of the guilty. And the blood of the innocent...”

“Millie,” Olivia whispered. “It’s her blood.”

“Exactly,” Eli said. “She’s the first girl born in the Thompson line in two generations. There’s a reason she was taken, why they drained her blood. She’s the final piece.”

The realization hit like a gut punch, leaving the group in stunned silence. Olivia’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory: Millie’s pale skin, the marks on her arms, Joe’s unsettling behavior.

“This curse,” Austin said, breaking the silence. “How do we stop it? Or break it?”

Eli hesitated, his face grim. “I don’t think we can. It’s not about stopping it—it’s about fulfilling it.”

“That’s not happening,” Olivia said firmly. “We’re not letting anything else happen to Millie.”

[Section 5] Kyle frowned. “But why Joe? Why would he let this happen?”

“It’s not about letting it happen,” Eli said. “The curse isn’t just a curse—it’s a compulsion. The Skadegamutc, or whatever it is, gets into your head. It warps you.”

“Joe’s acting like he’s not even himself,” Austin muttered. “Like he’s being... controlled.”

Olivia stared at the notes on the table, her chest tight. “What about Janus Global? How do they fit into this?”

Eli flipped through his notebook and pulled out another page. “I found an old article in the library archives. Janus came to Westville in the ‘50s, supposedly to build infrastructure for Prince Milling. But there’s a theory they knew about the ley lines under the town. They’ve been using the energy for their own experiments.”

Kyle scoffed. “So now we’re throwing in some corporate conspiracy?”

“You saw what we saw down there,” Eli shot back. “The tunnels, the red doors, the way space bent. Janus isn’t just some logistics company. They’re involved.”

Kyle leaned back, rubbing his temples. “This is insane. We’re supposed to fight off some ancient curse and take on a secret corporation? What are we even supposed to do?”

“We start by protecting Millie,” Olivia said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

The determination in her voice silenced the table. She didn’t have all the answers—none of them did—but she wasn’t about to let Millie become another victim. Not while they still had a chance.

The group sat in tense silence, the weight of their realization pressing down on them like the heavy snow piling outside.

“We can’t let them have her,” Olivia said finally. “We protect her. No matter what.”

Eli nodded, though worry creased his eyes. “It’s not going to be easy. If Janus is involved, they have resources, people...”

“We’ve dealt with worse,” Austin said defiantly.

Kyle pressed his hands to his face. “This is so beyond us.”

A shadow passed over their booth. Olivia looked up to see Dr. Gregory Heiser standing beside their table, his dark overcoat dusted with melting snowflakes. His sharp eyes scanned the mess of notes, books, and half-eaten breakfasts before settling on Eli.

“Impressive,” Heiser said, his voice calm but tinged with admiration. “You’ve connected threads most people wouldn’t even notice, let alone understand.”

Eli blinked. “Uh... thanks?”

Heiser tilted his head. “I’ve spent a long time researching phenomena like this. The ley lines, the Skadegamutc... even the Thompson family’s peculiar history. It seems you’ve done your homework.”

The group exchanged nervous glances. Olivia instinctively pulled some of the papers closer. “Who are you?”

“Dr. Gregory Heiser. I’m with the Dimensional Containment Bureau, though you may know me as the guy Benson’s been running around with lately.”

Eli frowned, but curiosity won out. “Why are you here?”

“To observe,” Heiser said simply. His gaze drifted back to Eli. “You’ve uncovered some critical truths. It’s no small feat to untangle history, myth, and corporate deception into something coherent. Well done.”

Eli flushed slightly but held his ground. “Thanks... I guess.”

Heiser gestured toward the booth. “Do you mind if I join you? I’d like to hear more about your findings. And perhaps,” he added, glancing at the others, “I can fill in a few blanks of my own.”

Olivia hesitated, looking at her friends. Austin shrugged, and Kyle muttered, “Might as well.”

After a moment, Olivia slid over. “Alright. But if you’re here to feed us more lies, we’re not interested.”

Would you like me to continue with the next sections? The dialogue becomes particularly crucial as Heiser reveals more about the nature of the threat they’re facing.

Heiser’s smile widened slightly, though his eyes remained serious. “Fair enough. Let’s see where the truth takes us.”

As he sat down and began skimming the notes, the storm outside grew heavier, pressing against the café windows.

“The three keys,” he muttered.

“Keys to what?”

“To an unopened door. Or many doors.”

“Shit,” Kyle blurted, slamming his fist on the table. Everyone looked at him. “Those red doors in that warehouse.”

“Ah, I heard about your stumbling onto Janus’s facility. It sounds more expansive than I’d imagined. Just like I tried to tell them,” Heiser said, gazing out at the whipping snow.

“What’s behind those doors?” Austin asked.

Heiser looked at each of them in turn. “Understand that what I’m about to relay may frighten you. It may change how you view the world. But if I’ve had one goal in my career, it’s that—to open people’s eyes to dangers that can no longer be ignored.”

Olivia exchanged glances with the others. “Go on.”

“Your theory about the shaman and what Native American lore calls the ghost-witch is compelling. In fact, much of what people dismiss as legend or superstition is quite real. Or rather, made real by what lies beyond our plane of existence.”

“These doors are more like pathways to other dimensions. Dimensions where different sorts of energies reside.”

“Interesting,” Eli chimed in. “Solar, nuclear, kinetic? That sort of stuff?”

Would you like me to continue with the next sections covering Heiser’s explanation of the Seethe and its connection to Westville?

“Quite different,” Heiser said. “These are resonances. They even seem to have some level of thought and intent. One might say they’re alive—various sorts of hiveminds. The Bureau calls one such force the Seethe.”

Even the word set Olivia’s teeth on edge. She thought of boiling water, that hissing sibilant static—

“The Red,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve seen—we’ve seen a red light. In the woods. And then pulsing in that tunnel.”

“Very interesting. It seems the Seethe is merging with the inherent energies of the leylines here in Westville. Which explains Janus’s interest.”

“It does?” Kyle blurted. “Because I’ll be honest, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps this will help.” Heiser grabbed Eli’s pencil and pulled a notebook toward himself, drawing a flat line across the middle. “The Bureau—or rather, yours truly—dubbed this dimensional energy ‘the Seethe’ because that’s precisely what it does. It bubbles to the surface under extreme pressure, or in this case, severe mental and spiritual tumult. It seems to feed off negative human emotionality, granting a foot in the door, if you will.”

He wiped his face and removed his glasses. “This is the part of my research I was mocked for, forced to resign my position as head of research. And perhaps, rightfully so. Look at me now.”

“No offense,” Kyle said sarcastically.

Heiser collected himself. “In any case, your friend Miss Thompson had a part to play in all this, if unwillingly.”

“What part is that?”

“It seems you’re already onto it,” he said, pointing to Eli’s notes.

Would you like me to continue with the final sections, including Heiser’s warning and arrest?

“Blood of the Innocent,” Olivia muttered. “They were drawing her blood.”

“So it could be used in a ritual rite, presumably to bring the Skadegamutc back to some form of physical life.”

“No way,” Kyle breathed.

Austin swallowed. “My grandfather always talked like this stuff was real. I just never believed him.”

“And that’s just it,” Heiser said emphatically. “It is sheer belief that first makes these things real, when the situation and location is right. Where leylines converge and the depth of human cognitive and even metaphysical energies align in just the right—or often very, very wrong—ways.” His voice darkened, sending a chill through Olivia.

“So Janus wants this ghost-witch to be what, resurrected?”

Heiser shook his head. “The entity is just a tool for them. Whatever it wreaks is simply collateral damage. But the energy it will create in the leyline system as it comes through that door—that’s what they’re after. What they want to harness.”

Eli’s eyes widened. “And use it for...”

“That’s something the Bureau has been trying to figure out for a long time. But Janus is a worldwide, ever-changing beast, working all too well in the shadows.”

Olivia felt suddenly aware they were being given information most of the government probably didn’t have access to. “Why are you telling us this?”

Heiser sighed and checked his watch. “Because unfortunately, I’ll be tied up for a while. And someone has to do something. Keep an eye on Miss Thompson—they’re not finished with her yet. And it won’t be long now. Perhaps even tonight.”

The bell chimed at the front of the restaurant. Two men in navy blue coats with FBI emblazoned on the sleeves strode in through a flurry of snow, heading straight for their table.

Heiser pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and placed it on the table. “Well, I fear I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He stood and grabbed a leftover liege waffle from Olivia’s plate, taking a bite.

Turning to the men with a sarcastic flourish, he said, “Gentlemen. Don’t worry, I’ll come quietly.”

He looked back at the group with a nod. “I wish I could help more. I’m sorry.”

Olivia watched them leave as confused murmurs rippled through the restaurant.

“Well that was weird. The guy really is crazy,” Kyle said.

“I don’t know about that,” Eli replied. “He seemed pretty brilliant to me. And everything he said made sense.”

“On what planet?” Kyle retorted.

[Section 24] Olivia ignored their arguing and pressed her hands to her head. What did he mean they weren’t done with Millie? Janus had let her go. She was home.

Then she thought of yesterday at the hospital. How her dad had been acting. What if she wasn’t safe—with her own family?

“Guys,” Austin said, shifting in his seat. He picked up the twenty dollar bill. On the back was a single word scrawled:

PRINCE.

Then, four numbers: 1-8-9-8

“What do you think it means?”

“It means we have to stop whatever’s going to happen at Prince Milling,” Olivia said.

“Us?” Kyle remarked. “You do recall what happened last time?”

“Which is exactly why we need to go. If the Red—the Seethe—whatever it is gets loose, things will get a whole lot worse. You heard him. Plus, I’m not going to let them hurt Millie anymore. Or anyone else.”

“What about these numbers?” Eli asked. “Some kind of code?”

An image flashed in Olivia’s mind from the morning Millie first went missing. When she’d been standing outside the loading dock and was stopped by that creep Crawley. There had been a door—an elevator—with a numbered keypad beside it.

“I think it’s a password,” she said. “And we’ll need it.”

Chapter 34

The drive back to Westville was slow going, even in his truck. The storm system was making good on its promise to dump days’ worth of snow in a single day. Casey gripped the wheel tight as he headed down the southbound highway, nothing visible but a wall of swirling white. With Christmas Eve tomorrow, the main highways would be packed with holiday travelers, so he’d opted for back roads.

Everything Heiser had sent flew through his mind like the icy powder around him. It had all been there—laid out in black and white—the connection between Janus Global and Prince Milling that Casey had suspected. Accounting sheets, contracts, statements that painted the picture he’d feared but couldn’t prove.

Jack Thompson knew. Had known all along.

Legacy. We have to deliver.

The question remained: What did they deliver, or still have to? If Janus had taken Millie only to release her, why?

The answer had hit him last night as he recalled his conversations with Heiser. Blood ritual. Three keys to open the door. And Millie had only been the first.

Casey had driven in silence the first hour. He turned up the radio—Christmas music playing until a weatherman cut in to report on the blizzard. Power outages expected. Travel only if necessary.

Well, Casey had to. He needed to figure out what had been going on—what was still going on—in Westville. He had to confront Joe or Jack. The evidence Heiser had presented was too damning to ignore. Given the conversation he’d overheard between father and son, there was no way they didn’t have ties to Janus. God forbid either of them had known about and sanctioned Millie’s capture, or what was likely a cover-up framing Harry Meyers.

Then there was Ethan Crawley. Were they protecting him? If so, why? None of it made sense. The truth these days seemed more like a web of lies that had wrapped him in confusion and frustration. But no more.

A news flash cut across the radio: “We bring you a breaking story from Iron Falls, where an attack at Mary’s Heart Memorial Hospital has left one nurse dead and two staff wounded. The assailant was a patient—Westville police officer Travis Johnson, who was recovering from wounds sustained in a tragic friendly fire incident in Westville last month that put another officer on mandatory leave. Police say the suspect is armed, dangerous and unstable. He should not be approached. Contact local authorities with any information.”

Casey stared at the radio as if it had grown a mouth and eyes. His chest clenched as he processed the news. He knew Travis had been trying to kill Aly. The Seethe. It had gotten to him. Just like Crawley.

He had to slam on the brakes when brake lights appeared ahead. An accident blocked the road. So much for back roads.

Casey revved the truck and made a U-turn toward the nearest highway on-ramp. Passing through Iron Falls, he could see Mary’s Heart faintly through the snow, lit by the orange and white glow of city lights. Two radio towers atop buildings blinked red through the darkness.

Travis would have gone back to Westville—Casey felt it in his gut. He was involved in all of this too. Thinking it through, Casey realized Travis must have been the second man in the graveyard that night, when the Thompson bodies were exhumed.

Casey’s knuckles whitened on the wheel as he tore through the storm toward Westville. Prince Milling would be his first stop.

Chapter 35

Erin Thompson hadn’t shown up for lunch with Aly that afternoon.

At first, Aly figured maybe Erin couldn’t find someone to watch Millie. The weather was bad too—maybe she’d forgotten. But Aly couldn’t shake the sour feeling in her stomach that something was wrong. She tried to dismiss it, running by the restaurant to take care of a few things. Kathy said they were closing down early, that Olivia had gone to stay at a friend’s for the night.

Back home, Aly tried calling. No answer at the Thompsons’. She showered, trying to relax, but couldn’t. After getting dressed, she stepped out into the 5 p.m. darkness, snow starting to fall again as the wind picked up.

She drove to the Thompsons’, snow building up in deep pockets along Westville’s side streets. At the door, there was no answer. Only then did she notice—no Christmas lights or house lights shone on any house along the street. The power must be out.

She tried knocking again, then tested the doorknob. It clicked right open.

She called Erin’s name into the dark house as she stepped in from the cold. Then Joe’s name. Then Millie’s.

By the time she reached the kitchen, her heart was pounding. She continued down the hallway, glancing left into Millie’s room. The bed was empty. But the room wasn’t.

A body lay sprawled in the corner. Erin. She was breathing, but unconscious. Beside her lay a syringe and a half-full vial of pink liquid. Morphine.

Aly ran for the kitchen phone, but the line was dead.

She swore, made sure Erin was still breathing, then jumped back in her car. Where was Millie? Had Joe done this? Had he taken her?

Aly sped as fast as she dared along the side streets until she reached Harrison, careening through the white toward the police station. Then she saw Joe Thompson’s truck, parked haphazardly in the abandoned high school lot.

She slammed on her brakes and nearly spun out. Turning into the lot, she got out. The front doors stood cracked open. As she grabbed one to pull it wider, hands seized her from behind. She felt a prick in the back of her neck.

She struggled and kicked, stumbling forward through the doors into the empty, rubble-strewn entry hallway before falling. Looking up, she saw Travis Johnson standing over her. Haggard and pale, his eyes glowed red. He wore a blood-stained white t-shirt and pants, shaking and shivering oddly as he held the syringe.

A familiar voice echoed from down the hall. Joe Thompson. “Make sure she doesn’t leave.”

As red eyes glowered over her, Aly felt a dreamy haze overtake her chest-clenching terror, until the last light faded.

Chapter 36

The storm intensified as night fell, snow whipping through the streets and blanketing Westville in a suffocating silence.

Olivia sat cross-legged on the worn carpet of Kyle’s living room, her backpack by her side, stuffed with a flashlight, snacks, and a roll of duct tape—something she wasn’t sure they’d need but felt better having. The others were scattered around the room: Austin flipping a knife nervously between his fingers, Eli thumbing through one of his notebooks, and Kyle sprawled across the couch, looking like he regretted every choice that had brought him there.

“We good on alibis?” Olivia asked, breaking the silence.

“Mom thinks I’m at Eli’s,” Kyle said with a shrug.

“Dad thinks I’m at Kyle’s,” Eli added.

Austin smirked. “My grandma doesn’t even care as long as I’m back before sunrise.”

Olivia pulled her sleeves down over her hands. “Alright. We wait until the roads are dead, then we go.”

By 7 p.m. the snowstorm had swallowed the town whole. The roads were deserted, the only sounds the howl of the wind and the crunch of their boots on the snow-covered sidewalks. Main Street stretched before them, streetlights casting eerie white halos through the swirling flakes, accented by the warm yellow of christmas lights entwined in the red and green tinsel decorations, blowing in the wind.

“This is insane,” Kyle muttered, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his face.

“No arguments here,” Eli said, gripping his crutch tighter as he struggled to keep up.

Olivia led the way, head down against the biting wind, until the towering silhouette of PRINCE MILLING loomed ahead. The neon sign buzzed faintly above them, its red glow bleeding into the night and making the snow look like it was falling through bloodied air.

The group huddled at the edge of the parking lot, staring up at the mill’s concrete facade.

“Last chance to turn back,” Olivia said, not really meaning it.

Kyle snorted. “Yeah, because you’d let us hear the end of it.”

They approached the loading dock cautiously, their footsteps echoing off the metal steps. The keypad beside the elevator door was coated in frost, but Olivia brushed it clean with her sleeve and punched in the numbers: 1-8-9-8. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a faint beep, the elevator doors slid open.

“Everyone in,” she whispered, stepping inside.

The freight elevator groaned as it descended, a low hum filling the cramped space. The air grew colder the deeper they went, and Olivia’s chest tightened with the memory of their last visit there. She glanced at the others; they all looked the same—nervous, but determined.

The elevator shuddered to a stop. The doors opened to a long, dimly lit hallway. Pipes snaked along the walls and ceiling, and the faint scent of something metallic lingered in the air.

“This is where we escaped from,” Eli said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia nodded. “Let’s move.”

The group stepped out of the elevator, their flashlights cutting thin beams through the dim hallway. The hum of machinery was faint but ever-present, vibrating through the metal walls and floors like a pulse. Pipes crisscrossed overhead, condensation dripping occasionally and echoing softly against the floor.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Kyle muttered, clutching his backpack tighter. “I don’t even care if this is for Millie. We shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re already here,” Olivia shot back, keeping her voice low. “Let’s focus.”

They moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled by the hum of the facility. The red emergency lights flickered intermittently, casting strange shadows that danced along the walls. Olivia led them around a corner, her breath fogging in the cold air.

Ahead, a door stood slightly ajar, faint red light spilling through the crack. Olivia gestured for the others to follow as she pushed it open slowly. The room inside was small and sterile, dominated by a single hospital bed. Tubes and wires dangled from IV stands, their clear plastic catching the crimson glow. A monitor blinked faintly in the corner, its screen cracked and unreadable.

Olivia froze, her stomach tightening. She didn’t need anyone to say it—she already knew.

“This is where they kept her,” she whispered.

Austin stepped forward, his face pale. “Are you sure?”

“She told me about the IVs, the needles.” Olivia’s voice shook as she pointed to the equipment. “This is it.”

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, and the sheets on the bed were rumpled as if someone had only recently left. Olivia ran her fingers over the bed’s edge, her mind flashing back to Millie’s pale face in the hospital.

“But no one’s here,” Eli said, glancing around. “If they brought her back, wouldn’t there be... I don’t know, guards or something?”

Olivia shook her head. “Maybe they haven’t yet. Or maybe—”

A faint scuff of boots on metal cut through her words. The group froze, their eyes darting to the door. Another step, heavier this time, echoed down the hallway.

“Someone’s coming,” Kyle hissed, backing away.

Olivia motioned for them to turn off their flashlights. The red emergency lights painted the room in shifting shadows as they pressed themselves into corners, barely daring to breathe.

The footsteps grew louder. Then, the door creaked open.

Ethan Crawley stepped inside, his eyes glowing an unnatural red. His face was slack, his movements eerily smooth as he scanned the room. Behind him, two other men entered, both wearing flannels and gray Prince Milling uniforms. Their eyes glowed the same vivid crimson.

Olivia’s heart sank. She glanced at the others, their faces pale and terrified. Crawley turned to the other men, his lips curling into a grim smile.

Ethan raised pulled a radio from his belt and pressed the button.

“Found them.”