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𝐒𝐈𝐗 : 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇

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I woke up in the gray.

I had been sure it was all one horrible dream until I opened my eyes and saw the cement ceiling staring down at me, mocking me. And the gray, the chilling, lifeless gray was all everywhere. It was like I was stuck in a black and white movie, forced to speak through subtitles. I held my hand out in front of me and my skin was duller, the color leeched out of me. It was the same with my clothes and my hair, all pale and gray and sickly.

This can still be a dream, this can still be all in my head.

I sat up, reaching into my back pocket for my phone and frowning at the time, waiting for the next minute to move on the digital clock, to tell me this was me just suddenly and drastically going colorblind. It never came. Time was frozen in the gray.

I got to my feet, using the wall to help me stand. The back of my head stung from where it had smacked against the ground and there was a familiar pain behind my eyes as I searched the new world around me.

"Good, you're awake."

The voice came from behind me and I whirled around, coming face to face with the woman. She had her arms crossed lazily and she eyed me suspiciously, looking me up and down. Judging me.

I opened my mouth to speak but found no works could come out. I swallowed, feeling her judgmental eyes. "Who-who are you?" I asked, finally, in disbelief because she didn't look real. Her body was almost completely transparent, her feet mere inches above the ground. She was floating, like a projection.

The woman had long hair that went past her shoulders and I couldn't tell if it was brown or a dark blonde with the gray warping my vision. She wore a long dress that ended above her dirty bare feet, the material torn and muddy around the ends like she had been running through the woods. The sleeves went to her elbows and besides the fact that she appeared to me in a world I was pretty sure I was hallucinating, she didn't look frightening. She didn't look like she wanted to kill me.

"I'm happy you and your little friend got my message," she said, looking at her nails for a moment before looking up at me. She was talking about the noises Pandora and I had heard, the noises that drove us down here with morbid curiosity and I still didn't know if what we did was a good thing or not.

"What is going on?" I breathed because this wasn't right. None of this seemed right. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"They said you'd know what you were doing," she told me, walking forward and giving me a good look over and frowning at my appearance. "And we certainly didn't think you would be a girl, at least not a teenage girl."

I gaped at her, offended. Why did it matter if I was a girl? Or a teenager for that fact? I shook my head, thinking to myself, you're still dreaming, Blaire. None of this is real, this woman isn't real.

"Is this your first time?" She suddenly smiled, it crept across her face, showing me a slightly crooked grin. "Am I your first?"

"Excuse me?"

I could barely think much less understand what she was talking about because it felt like she knew me, she knew of me at least. But how would she know about me or about any of this? How did any of this make any sense?

"Your first ghost," she said simply before smiling and saying, "Duh."

"My first what?"

"Spirit, ghost, specter, phantom, spook, blah, blah, blah. I thought you'd be smarter than this, come on, Blaire. This surely can't be your first rodeo."

How did she know my name? How did she know who I was? I took a step back, arm up in front of me for defense as I gasped, "Who the hell are you?" I could feel my breath hitch in my throat, how my lungs tightened and my chest restricted against me. "I don't know what the hell is going on, okay? I don't even know what's going on-what the hell is going on?"

I smacked myself upside the head, rattling my senses as if I would suddenly wake up. I was going crazy, that was it. Wasn't it? I was finally having a psychotic break.

The woman's features softened and she moved forward slowly, holding her hands out like she was trying to hold me. "Sweetie, I'm sorry-I didn't know. No one warned us you'd be so...new."

I had the sudden urge to cry, the stress, confusion, and shock eating me alive. I was still terrified out of my mind, like I was sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for a jump scare, and all I wanted to do was turn around and escape. "Please, tell me what's going on?" I murmured in between short breaths, a panic attack climbing up my throat.

"You're the necromancer."

I felt my eyes threaten to roll back into my head, my eyesight going blurry as I stumbled backwards and the woman groaned and muttered to herself, "No, not again--" She reached for me and I felt her hands grab me. How the fuck could she touch me? Her skin was cold, not as chilling as the walls in the tunnel but they were cool, misty. And frightening enough, she was solid against me as she held me upright until I could see again.

I blinked the blurriness away as she held me and I half expected her to smell horrible, to smell like rot. But she brought no scent, at least no scent I could smell or determine.

"You can't keep fainting every time this happens," she told me, like a warning. "Other's won't be as forgiving as I am."

I looked at her, how she hovered slightly taller than me, her face an ashy pale and her eyes were dark. "Who are you?"

"I'm a ghost," she said and her body began to fade as she spoke. "You have to help me pass over, it's your job. The necromancer has finally been born, you've finally been brought to us. You have to help us."

She disappeared completely and I fell back, surprised she had been holding me up so well. Color began to seep back into my eyesight, the gray fading. I took my phone out and watched the screen, the clock finally moving to the next minute. It was as if no time at all had passed.

I had been stuck in an entirely different world and no time had passed. How long could I have been here before time moved again? Would I age and return back to-to...to the human world old and gray with age? Gray like the walls, like something cold, gray like something dead.

I scrambled back to the trapdoor entrance, reaching up and grabbing onto the ledge. I kicked my feet against the wall, using it to help me up and out of the tunnel. I slid my flashlight across the stairs as I pulled my body completely out of the hole with more strength than I expected. When I turned around and looked down into the darkness, I watched the flashlight I had left slowly roll into the square of light that shined down against the cement. It stopped rolling once it hit the middle of the light, flickering on then off completely.

I should've gone down for it but instead I slammed the trapdoor shut, not surprised to hear my wheezing breath as I closed my eyes. I counted to ten in my head, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to slow my breathing.

One, two, three, four...

I started over when my breath hitched, my heart clenching.

One, two, three...

When I opened my eyes, I found that my lashes were wet and I didn't know if it was from closing my eyes so tightly or that I was crying. But I wiped my eyes and reached for the floorboards. Once everything was back into place and I was putting my flashlight away in the kitchen, I heard the front door open.

Mom walked in with a heavy smile, the bags noticeable under her eyes. She dropped her purse in the chair by the door and I gave her a forced smile and said, "Thought you'd get home later."

"Me too," she smiled, coming into the kitchen. She found my note and opened the microwave and she sighed happily, taking a slice of pizza into her hands. "But Annie said she could cover my last patient so I could get some sleep." She took a large bite into the pizza and she frowned when she saw me standing where I was, my hands fumbling together and I couldn't help my eyes looking off towards the stairs. "What's wrong, honey? Did something happen with Pandora this afternoon?"

I shook my head, surprised to hear how shaky my voice was when I spoke, "No, nothing's wrong." 

A nervous laugh that forced its way up and out my throat told her otherwise and she dropped the pizza back down on the counter and came forward and asked, "Honey, what's wrong? What happened?"

Could I just straight up ask her? Would she tell me the truth? Would she know what I was talking about? I didn't know what would be worse, if she didn't know about the tunnel or if she did.

I couldn't stop myself. "Why is there a freaky tunnel under the stairs?" I blurted out, feeling my eyes widen at my outburst.

Louise Lake did not speak. She only stared, like a part of her didn't know what I was talking about but the other knew exactly. God, she knew, she knew, she knew--

"Pandora and I heard noises coming from under the stairs and found it," I said, rubbing my face before running my hands through my hair. "I went back down there after Pandora left and I saw-I saw some woman!"

My mom braced herself against the table, moving to the chairs. She sat down heavily, staring at her feet with a look of shock and disbelief. Was this shock because she hadn't known the secrets built underneath us? Or was this shock because I found out?

"Mom, what the hell is going on?" I said, pleading with her to tell me what was going on. I needed answers, I needed some form of peace so I could sleep tonight. "Why do we have a tunnel under the house?"

"I didn't believe your father when he said you might have the gene," she whispered, turning in her seat to face away from me. She rested her elbows on the counter, running a worried hand through her hair.

"What gene? What are you talking about?"

She sighed loudly, like she was the one having trouble trying to comprehend what was going on, not me. "I could never see them, so I didn't know whether to believe him for so long. Until he started working for the church, I understood. I just didn't think you'd have the same--"

"Mom, talk to me, please," I begged, moving to the side so she could see me. "You have to tell me what's going on, what are you talking about? What do you mean you didn't believe dad? Believe what?"

"That he could see the ghosts."

I couldn't breathe, just for a moment, it was like time had frozen again. Yet, this time, the world didn't fade to gray and it was just me and mom. Sweet, caring, lovable mom. Secretive, lying, deceitful mom.

"He started to see them before he turned eighteen and when you didn't? I just assumed you couldn't see them, that he was wrong about the gene being passed on to you. That everything we had been told was just a mistake--" She turned suddenly, her older hand grabbing onto my wrist, startling me. I wanted to break away, run right out the front door but I stayed put, listening to what she had to say. This was mom, this was my mom. "--you saw a woman? In the tunnel?"

I nodded but I couldn't help but bring it up again, "Why is there a tunnel under our house? Mom, I don't understand what's going on. Like, what do you mean dad could see them?"

The word echoed in my head, how the ghostly figure had told me what I was, like I was a god, like I was the messiah they were all waiting for.

"Was dad a-a-necromancer?"

Her eyes met mine instantly and her bottom lip began to quiver, the tears already filling her eyes. "He should be the one here to tell you what's going on, I told him to wait--to see if any of it was even true--" She released her grip on me as she cried, like something had finally broken inside her, the realization was so daunting all she could do was bury her face in her hands and sob.

"Please, just tell me what's going on--" Mama, I'm scared--

She cried for another moment and I let her, watching her shoulders hunch over as her small body shook with the emotion. Her face glistened in the dim lights of the kitchen and when she looked up at me, I could tell how fragile she was. She was just as scared.

"The tunnel was built as an extra precaution for your father's job at the church--"

"The Clandestine Church, right?"

She nodded, wiping her cheeks as she sniffled. "He worked there for so long, way before you were born."

"I knew that--"

"He was a necromancer, your father," she interrupted me, a distant look in her eyes. "He could see the ghosts around us, he even told me about the woman who moved through our house. When things would go missing and how I'd find you as a baby babbling about a nice woman in your room, it was her. But now--" Her voice broke and she began to cry again, harder. "--now-now you can see them, too!"

I wanted to pry her open, find out everything I could because it wasn't like she was lying. It wasn't like I couldn't believe her because I had seen one. I had seen a ghost, apparently just like my father had. I didn't know how it was possible, how it could've been me, how it had to be me.

She stood suddenly, holding onto the counter as she moved away from me. "I-I need some sleep. I'm sorry, honey, I just can't do this right now."

"But, mom--"

"I'll explain tomorrow, I promise."

When she looked at me, I trusted her. How open she was, standing by the staircase. There were no secrets between us, just her trying to fix the broken pieces of a mystery my father left her with. She didn't deserve him, I thought to myself, like I often did. She was too good.

When I heard her bedroom door shut, I cleaned up the kitchen, hoping that would soothe my fried nerves. Because, funnily enough, I had no clue what a necromancer was and I didn't even know my father was one to begin with. I didn't know any of this even existed.

How could I have known ghosts actually existed? That my forgetful father was someone who could communicate with them? How, so far, we were the only ones I knew who could see them?

When I was young, I wanted nothing more than the other side to be real. The thought of something better waiting for you after you died was something I clung to, to make all this living and dying worth it. That, after it all ended, there was something good waiting for you. But as I grew, my ideas of gods and death and an afterlife didn't seem believable once I began to for my own opinions. I just hadn't expected it to be more than a fruitless wish, a pipe dream to sleep better at night.

I grabbed my backpack and went up to my room, passing by my mother's closed door. I couldn't hear anything inside and I wanted more than anything to open her door and confront her, to beg her for answers. I was willing to get on my hands and knees, to kiss her feet, to stroke her face and ask for something real, for something believable. I knew better, though, I knew I needed to give her time to come to terms with whatever secrets that had been held within her.

She had been cracked open just like me.

Once inside my room, I closed my door and threw my bag to the floor by my bed. The walls of my room were a light gray that I suddenly found detest for it the longer I stared at it. It reminded me too much of the gray my eyes clouded over with, how foreign it all was to me. The urge to rearrange my room blasted through me like the chill of the tunnel, to move my bed from the wall, to tear down my posters of bands and beautiful men and women, to tear it all to shreds.

I grabbed my laptop from my bag instead and sat down on my bed, going to Google. I had a lot to learn if I was anything my mother said I was, if I had what my father passed down. I wanted to chant to myself that this was all still a dream, that I would wake up and it'd be my first day of school again, but I knew better.

I knew all good things came at a price, and this was mine. My cost for a friend, my payment for a loving mother, my fare for living.

The word necromancer was a common enough word that dozens of articles and definitions loaded up on my screen. The word itself meant a person who practices necromancy; a wizard or magician of some sorts. 

I swallowed a chuckled. Blaire Lake, the magician. The little teenage witch. Sabrina would be shaking.

I laughed fully, it was all I could really do because it was hard to imagine my father being a wizard, much less a little closet magician with a top hat he pulls a rabbit from. Oh, to be a magician, a wizard, by blood. To be passed down the gene of tricks and schemes and lies.

The next definition made a little more sense, so much more that it made my blood run cold as I read. It made things seen more real, deriding completely from the childish whims I had been snickering about before.

Necromancy: the supposed practice of communication with the dead, sometimes with help to predict the future. It is also in relation to the use of witchcraft, black magic, or sorcery. It is used in conjuring the spirits of dead people in order to speak with them and has even been known to be involved with fairy-lore. Originating in Greece, Rome, and Persia, and mostly used by people in the Middle Ages. Although condemned by the Catholic church and was outlawed completely by the Witchcraft Act of 1604, the best known necromancer went by the name of Endor and according to the Bible, was able to summon the spirit of Samuel to answer Saul's questions.

Everything made sense to a point until I clicked a local website about the information and I barely read the title of the page as I scrolled through the paragraphs written in what I could've guessed was the font, Papyrus. It was a website that could've easily been made by a child but the information held true.

Necromancer's have been around since the beginning of the Middle Ages, spawning off seers and witches from its origins. Seers, or ones who are able to see and speak to the dead, are an evolved type of necromancer designed in only communicating with the dead. While witches bring magic and lore, they have also been able to communicate with the dead. But, necromancer's have been around for the sole purpose of raising the dead. Not all have been able to master this skill, but there have been a lucky few who can bring a soul back to their designated body. There have been very few through the centuries who are able to bring the dead to life, to raise them from their graves. A necromancer is a powerful being, one who is able to communicate to the other side and help ease those spirits into a calm passing over, to pass them onto heaven or to hell, as smoothly as they can. The transition for a spirit can be difficult, even more so for a poltergeist.

Although most of it just seemed like the ramblings of a desperate man trying to spark fear and wisdom, it got to me. It pushed past my reason and logic and fed straight into my own delusions

My mind was whirling, everything I was reading made me want to throw up. It made me want to kneel over and hyperventilate in between my knees, to heave through my nose and out my mouth, to dig my nails into my skin. Even if what my mother was saying was true and the facts on this little unknown website were true as well, how the hell was I supposed to do any of this? How was I supposed to figure any of this out on my own?

I was alone, just as my father wanted.

~

I woke up to my alarm blaring, not even realizing I had fallen asleep.

Still wearing my jeans from the day before, my laptop laying off to my side with the screen black, I rubbed the thick sleep from my eyes. I groaned, reaching for my charger and plugging the beast in while I got out of bed, running a hand through my tangled hair.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I passed by made me grimace, looking away instantly as I grabbed clean clothes to wear. I didn't feel much of the urge to look that presentable for classes as I grabbed a pair of worn jeans and a black shirt. I paired that with an old wool jacket because it was always cold out. The weather was never warm here, like the sun didn't dare to make an appearance, hiding low behind trees for sunsets and sunrises, then cowering behind the thick clouds the rest of the day.

Once I had myself looking a little less sleep deprived, I grabbed my things and headed downstairs to grab something quick for breakfast. It didn't surprise me not to find my mom downstairs in the kitchen but it did surprise me to find her car in the driveway as I exited with an apple in hand.

Maybe she got someone to cover her patients this morning, to get some more sleep, I thought to myself as I unlocked my car. Yeah, maybe that's it.

It started to rain slightly once I turned my car on, backing out of the driveway and onto the road. A soft song played on the radio and for the first time in a while, I found no urge to turn it all the way up and sing. I felt tired, slow, reeling from the events of yesterday. I felt like I had been the ghost all along, slow and lugging a life's worth of dead secrets on my back.

It was easy to get to school, fighting myself to think of the English assignment I had to turn in rather than the ghostly woman who had spoken to me in the secret tunnel my family had under our seemingly normal home. I pulled into a parking space and instantly feeling at ease when I saw Pandora's car in the parking lot already.

Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and got out, hearing the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the tops of cars. I ducked my head as I walked, hoping to shield my face and eyes of the rain beginning to grow harder. Once safely inside, I could hear the storm beginning. The crack of lightning followed by the deafening boom of thunder.

The gods are laughing at you, they will haunt you just like all the dead things cooped up in your heart. They're all the same, the dead, the gods, the life you thought you knew.

I got to my locker twenty minutes before the first bell would ring and I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was approaching slowly, almost with caution and I had a sickening feeling that his locker was next to mine because, of course it would be, right? When he opened his locker, the one directly to my right, his voice was low when he spoke, "You ask your mom about your dad yet?"

His words burned my ears and I wanted to turn and face him, shout at him to never talk to me again but I saw the look in his eyes. He was pleading with me, he wanted me to believe him more than anything and with what Pandora had told me the day before, I felt sorry for him. 

"Sorta," I said back, replacing my French binder with the one for math. "But not about you or the church."

"So, does that mean you don't believe me yet?"

"Not sure."

"Not sure?" he laughed, deep from his throat almost as if he was scoffing. Arrogant, angry, just like you.

I nodded, closing my locker and looking at him. "For all I know, this could be you trying to haze the new girl. So, don't be so surprised that I don't believe you about whether--" Someone walked past us and I instantly lowered my voice. "--whether or not my father worked with killers, got it?"

"I need you to believe me," he said, closing his locker to lean against it. He eyed me, crossing his arms and with a low voice, said, "Because there are some things you need to know, about your dad and where he worked. You have to trust me--"

"I just met you and I barely even know you, so how could I even begin to trust you?"

"I need you to trust me before I tell you everything that I know, you need to believe me--"

I laughed, pushing away from the lockers. "All I know about you is that your name is Ace and you're my bio partner, there's nothing else to go off of. Like, come on, seriously? How am I supposed to put my full trust into you when we barely know each other?"

"I knew your dad, doesn't that count for something?"

Right now? Probably not.

"I don't even know if that's true, so--"

He followed me down the hall towards my first class. "Your dad, he used to wear, like, one of those long trench coats? Kind of like that guy on Supernatural, and he introduced himself as Cage, not Mr. Lake when we met with him--"

"That doesn't mean shit," I found myself snapping, an image of my unforgiving father burning in my mind. "You could've seen a picture of him from online and you could've guessed with his introduction. None of this proves anything to me."

"I met him, alright? And I know things about the people he worked with--" He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the nearest room which happened to be the very dark printer room. He slammed the door shut and spun around to face me, what he said next made my stomach plummet, "Your father didn't die in that car crash."

"Huh?"

"He didn't die in a--"

"No, no, I know what you said." I held my hands up, I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to listen to anything he was telling, he was just trying to freak out the new girl. That's all he was attempting to do, in a sort of twisted and fucked up kinda of way. "Can you just stop with all of this constant--"

"The day my family came in to talk to your father about joining the church, I went to find the bathroom and overheard two men plotting how to kill him," he rushed out, like I would interrupt him again, but I wasn't to hear where this was going. I crossed my arms impatiently and waited for him to continue. "The car accident was staged, I heard them say that. I mean, doesn't it all seem weird? Didn't any of it feel suspicious?"

Didn't it all feel wrong? When they courted his body off like he was nothing but another meaningless job? Just another reason to fill out paperwork and get a pay check? I shook my head, playing along as I said, "My mom didn't talk much about the autopsy report or the cause of death, I just assumed it was dead on impact."

"Blaire, you really have to believe me on this, okay?" he pleaded, taking hold of my shoulders. I eyed his hands and then searched his face, brows furrowing as he continued with, "I overheard these two guys planning it all out and they mentioned the Morticianers like a dozen times--" He noticed the look on my face and snapped, "I promise that I'm telling you the truth. I swear to god, Blaire, I'm not making any of this shit up."

I didn't know whether or not this was the craziest thing I'd heard in the past two days. It was either this or the fact that I got passed down the necromancy gene,  and if I had to pick one, I'd choose the necromancy one for sure. 

A sliver of curiosity did pick at my brain, though. I couldn't resist a good murder mystery, especially one with dark family secrets.

He let go of my shoulders and rubbed his face, his blue eyes dark in the printer room. He ran his ringed fingers through his hair and in that moment, a dangerous thought pushed through me. He was kind of handsome for a crazy guy.

"I have to get to class--"

"Just, try and look into it, okay? Ask your mom or-or--" He rolled his eyes. "--or go to the church, they might have answers. As much as that place is bad news, it might help you finally trust me, alright?"

He walked out before I could and when the door shut behind him, my eyesight began to go gray. No, no, no, no. The headache I had experienced the first time when the world went gray was not all that present, thankfully, just slightly bothersome behind the eyes like a slow building pressure. I watched my hands go gray, the color evaporating and I had the sense that someone was behind me and I didn't want to turn around. Whatever it was behind me could talk to my back, I wasn't in the mood for a panic attack this early in the day.

"Trust him," a little voice said and I cursed under my breath, panic attack be damned.

I turned and found that the ghost before me was a child, a little girl in fact. Her cheeks were chubby and she wore a plaid dress, faded and pink in the gray. Her hair was in small pigtails, pulled tightly against the sides of her head. She reminded me almost of the little girl from Matilda, who was thrown by the ends of her hair like a rag doll. 

She held her hands behind her back, swaying softly where she stood. She almost seemed sweet. "He can help you, with everything."

"Who are you?"

The little girl ignored me. "You should trust him, he knows what he's talking about."

"How would you know?" I countered and I stopped myself from saying anything more because I didn't need to start an argument with a child. A ghost child. 

"We see a lot from over here," she explained, tapping her little feet against the ground. She didn't bother to float like the spirit from last night, she stood proudly with her two feet on the ground. "And we hear stuff, too."

That sparked my interest and I leaned down as I asked, "Like what?"

"You're supposed to help us, you know," she said, looking up at me. Her eyes were so dark I couldn't tell where her pupil began and where it ended. "You're the one who has to help us pass over."

I didn't even know the first step in doing that, but I found myself saying, "It's easy, it's beautiful over there." It was easier to lie, to keep the hope alive.

"It may be beautiful, or it might be hell." She looked around the little room before saying to me, "You have to send us home, that's why you're here, after all."

"Honestly... I don't know how to send you home," I said, hoping she would go away and I could go to class. She was making my day longer than it should've been and even though she sure was cute, I didn't like the way her eyes glared, the way they narrowed. "I just found out about all of this, I don't know the first thing about passing you over."

"For what it's worth, you're a lousy necromancer," she spat, glaring. "Find out what really happened to your father, Blaire Lake. The church has some answers for you, you'll hopefully be able to determine if they were helpful or not but considering you can't even help me, I doubt you'll something's useful until it smacks you in the face. Maybe, then, you might be able to help us." With that, she disappeared.

Her presence had left a chill in the room as I backed away and to the door, color returning. I threw it open as the warning bell rang and I headed down the hall towards English. I entered the room and got out my small writing assignment and placed it on her desk with the others piling up. I went towards the back of the room, sitting in the last row so I could sit against the walls. I felt like a damn robot, dancing around like I hadn't just been insulted by the little girl hiding in the printer room.

I sat down in chair, thankful to be pressed against the wall. No one would be able to see what I was doing on my laptop back here, no one would notice me absentmindedly staring off into space as I finally and hopefully dissociated from this world entirely.

The class started once the last bell rang and I wrote notes in the margins of the book we were supposed to be reading. I scribbled things here and there but I couldn't focus. I couldn't even comprehend thinking about class when it felt like everything I thought I knew came crashing down around me. My brain was a maze and the answers were at the center, but I was trapped between tall hedges of laughing, ghostly faces.

The little ghost in the printer room wanted me to trust Ace, but a part of me knew I wouldn't be able to do that until I had hard evidence thrusted into my hands. I already knew his family was killed, that was a truth I could get behind but my father? 

I scowled. Faithless, ruthless, vacant Cage. An absent father with something foul crawling underneath his painted on smile.

I needed to get out of here, to drive up to the church and see what was truly going on behind those closed doors. I had never really met any of my father's coworkers so I had no idea what to expect if I went. I didn't even know who I'd meet when I walked in, would there be other people there? Hell, would there be a church service going on right now?

As Ms. Port continued her lecture on the symbolism found in the book chapters we had read for homework, I let my eyes travel to the clock. I watched the hands move, ticking slowly and it felt like I would be here for an eternity. Like this was the gray all along and time was standing still.

When class did finally end, I grabbed my things and headed to my locker. I had French in five minutes in the opposite direction of my locker so I walked with a little more pep in my step than usual. I caught sight of Ace at his locker and I slowed my pace, I didn't want to talk to him, not yet at least. I didn't need to be corner and snapped at again.

I didn't want to think my dad would've possibly been killed any other way than a car accident, but I couldn't just dismiss what he was saying entirely. And currently, with everything that has been happening, another family secret falling out of the woodwork wouldn't be that much a shock. The car accident was just the easy way out and all I needed was something easy to fall into. I wanted it all to be wrapped up in a nice bow, forgotten about.

I watched Ace walk down the hall and away from the lockers as I approached, grabbing my French textbooks and binder. I made it to class with a few minutes to spare, even beating Mrs. Shell to the room. I knew we had a test today but it wasn't too difficult, everything on the exam was something I had gone over in my last school. Thank god for my years of useless French studies.

From where I sat, I watched the rest of the students trickle in, making awkward eye contact with Cherry. She gave me a snarl of a smile that sort of seemed genuine and I watched her flip her curly hair from off her shoulder and sit down towards the front. When Mrs. Shell arrived, she handed us the tests and explained that if we finished with time to spare, we could leave. I always hated when teachers told us this because it only made me want to finish my work quicker and the mistakes I made were ones that I could have prevented if I had sat down and taken my time.

It seemed, now more than ever, that I was rushing through everything. 

So, twenty-five minutes into the test, I was finished. I stood, taking my belongings with me as I turned my papers in before hastily leaving the classroom. I had a free period next before lunch started, one that I shared with Pandora and believe it or not, Ace.

I exited the classroom and was surprised to find myself running into Pandora who was out of breath. She laughed when she grabbed onto my arms and said breathlessly, "I'm ditching music, let's get out of here--"

I didn't think she'd be one to ditch class but the look in her eyes told me she needed to get out here. She grabbed onto my arm and began to drag me out towards the parking lot, I was having a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Go where?" I asked once we opened the school doors and froze at the rain. It was coming down in hard sheets, leaving the outside world looking white.

"Thinking we go investigate the church," she said, reading my mind, and I smiled. I couldn't think of a better time to do it then now. "Rain's coming down hard but if we make a break for it, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"My car or yours?"

"Yours, I don't think mine could withstand the rain as well as yours," she laughed and we broke out into a run once I had my keys in my hand. I unlocked my car as we ran up before jumping inside to escape the rain that flattened our hair against our faces in sticky strands.

My truck started smoothly, the windows fogging up. We sat for a moment, letting the car defog the best it could. Pandora sat uneasily quiet and I looked over at her, raising an eyebrow and asking, "What's wrong?"

"Do you smoke?"

Asking me that wasn't a shock because, granted, my truck didn't smell all too great. It had a week old cigarette smell, the way the it was faint and so light but it was definitely still there. Like a haunting, a distant presence that wasn't entirely there.

"Trying to quit, actually," I laughed, hoping to ease the tension. Hoping she wasn't judging me as I hastily asked, "What? You've never done it before?"

She shook her head with a laugh and it eased the tension. "No, those things'll kill you."

Won't be the only thing to kill me, I thought to myself as I nodded in agreement as I started my car, the soft sound of music filtering in. I shifted gears and backed out of my parking space as she spoke, "Saw you talking to Ace earlier, good things I hope?"

"Almost the opposite," I said as I drove out. "Said I should go to the church, might help me trust him more."

"Like what? Make you believe him when he says your father was murdered?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes as I caught a quick glimpse at her. "We'll just see about that." I turned left onto the main road that would take us towards the highway and onto the road that would take us deeper into town. "What happened after I went home last night? Did you talk to your mom about what we found--"

"Yeah, I did and it didn't end up well."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

I laughed, sitting more relaxed in my seat. I propped my knee against the door, flipping my windshield wipers onto the highest setting as we passed through a green light. "Just found out some things about my family I didn't know exactly--"

"Like?"

"Weird stuff."

"How weird?"

"Pretty weird."

"Weirder then Ace or more so?"

"Definitely more so."

Pandora threw her hands up and groaned out, "Just tell me already! You're killing me over here."

I sighed, pressing on the breaks as we stopped at a red light, our next turn would be the second right from where we sat. I was nervous to go into the church but I was even more nervous to explain to Pandora what the hell was actually going on. There was no way she'd believe me, hell, I wouldn't even believe me.

"Blaire?"

I gave her a forced smile as I said calmly, "I saw a ghost last night."

"A ghost?" She paused and I saw her begin to nod out of the corner of my eye as the light changed. "Not what I expected but also not entirely crazy. What type of ghost?"

Okay, better reaction than I expected. No screaming. No laughing, yet.

"Just a ghost...in the tunnel."

"The tunnel we were in last night? That very tunnel?"

"Well, yeah."

She buried her face in her hands as she grumbled out, "I knew that place was bad news, I knew it!"

"You're taking this surprisingly well," I noted, feeling even more at ease with the situation.

"I mean, it's insane, you're kinda crazy but if I like you so much then it must mean I'm crazy, too, right?" she chuckled. I looked her over as I took the turn we needed to get into town and I smiled at what she was wearing. It was an eye catching outfit with her bright pink tights paired with a deep purple t-shirt dress. "I'm not even sure I believe you about the whole 'seeing a ghost thing' but I might as well because who else am I going to be friends with?"

I pulled into the large parking lot across the street from the church. It was the oldest building in town, the first place to be built when the town was founded. It stood tall but I knew it was only the main floor with a basement, it wasn't as eerie as Ace made it out to be. It seemed normal, at least on the outside.

"So, this is the great Clandestine Church, huh?" Pandora grinned, leaning towards me to look out my window. "I won't lie, I'm kind of terrified to go in. Feels off, doesn't feel right."

"You said there were a bunch of rumors about the place being a hot spot for cults back in the day?" I asked, following her gaze towards the building, taking in its gothic architecture and the two great big windows on the front. Inside, I could only assume, would show us beautiful stained glass work.

She nodded next to me and I heard her open her car door, "That's just one of the reasons it's scary."

I turned the car off and opened my door, jumping out and shielding my eyes from the rain with one hand as I slammed the door shut with the other. I made sure to lock my car and partially look both ways before taking off across the street.

We jogged up the slick stone steps and I stopped in front of the great big oak doors. They were taller than both me and Pandora, standing over seven feet tall. The entire building was made of gray stone along with the few red bricks hidden here and there when some of the older stone must've given way or cracked.

I pushed open the doors and we stepped inside, brushing rain water from our faces. The church was darker on the inside, a large aisle down the middle separating the rows of deep brown pews. There was an alter at the end of the aisle and behind it was the gigantic organ, taking up most of the back wall.

"What else makes this place scary?" I whispered as I noticed a few random men and women sitting in the pews, scattered.

The ceilings were tall and arched and I turned my attention to the windows. The stained glass was beautiful, reflecting rainbows against the ground from what little light shined in. They depicted pictures of Jesus, one of him nailed to the cross and other's of him with his disciples. They were beautiful, if not slightly frightening, their eyes following us as we walked.

"A string of murders happened," Pandora murmured next to me, keeping her voice low. "All that connected them was that they were members of the church. They apparently never caught the killer, either."

We made our way towards the altars before going towards the small table before a long hallway to the right. The table was three tiered with rows of candles, some lit with small flames and other barren. There was a small vase filled with small matches we could light for our own candles. Next to the table against the wall was a bulletin board with photos of some of the members of the church.

I shifted to the side, allowing Pandora the space to light her own candles as my eyes traveled over the board. There were smiling faces and sullen ones amongst the photographs. I didn't recognize anyone outside of the photos I had seen of some of the priests on the church's website. But I couldn't help it when my eyes were drawn to the middle and my stomach dropped and it felt like someone was watching me.

But wasn't there always something watching? Lurking behind the veil?

I reached forward and tore the photograph from the board and stared up at the smiling faces. The two men had their arms around the other, eyes squinting from how big their smiles were. I stared at them and I felt how my hand shook slightly and Pandora was coming to my side but I could barely hear her other the white noise gathering in my ears.

It's you, it's you, of course it's you.

My father smiled up at me from the photo and as I flipped it over, my fingers covered in red. I saw my name written boldly, like a warning.

It was always going to be a warning.

oop lot happened here omfg blaire first ghost :,)

blaire's mom is also 100% hiding something and....random...but i hate her dad. idc idc you'll find out more but like...idk i hate him.

hope this wasnt all just me rambling for like 8k works lmao

vote/comment or ace will attack u w accusations about ur family next