Happy 2018 everybody! If the first bit seems boring, that's because it is. It's just a filler bit. I've decided to make the story supernatural from now on, so dear readers you have a hell of a lot of weird stuff going on.

He couldn't give up. If he gave up every time someone threatend him... He wouldn't be anywhere near where he was.

For one thing he'd be dead in a ditch.

He's finished off the day by tracing the number the assassin had given him. It had been hard work to keep Brooks and Stevens from knowing, something he'd never imagined he'd ever have to do.

The phone call had been traced to an ordinary suburban house. Dacanery had looked it up in the files. No suspicious activity. Except it was within walking distance of the two murders that had recently occured. Dacanery highly doubted the murderer would live and work at the house, but it was a good starting point.

He had settled on taking the two best police officers in the force. They were the strongest and had never failed any task they were set. Hopefully they would be enough protection from whatever lurked in the house.

They took a disguised van, but was bulletproof. The van pulled up a few hours later at the house. There were no residents to be seen on the street. Dacanery pulled up to the curb, cutting the engine but leaving the keys in the car for a quick getaway. And he was pretty sure no one would from this neighbourhood would try to steal the van.

The two police officers, Tern and Cliff walked around the back of the house to guard any exits. There was a car in the drive, but that was no indication to whether the person was in or not. He could have two cars, after all.

Dacanery knocked on the door and waited patiently, checking the time on his watch. 10 minutes past twelve.

Dacanery knocked again. No answer.

Dacanery knocked a third time. No answer. No commotion from the back either.

Dacanery knocked a fourth time, and this time he decided to call out. "Open up in the name of the law."

The house was silent and still. The calm before a storm.

The door flew open as if a gust of wind had rocketed through the house.

But there had been no gust of wind.

And there was no wind.

The trees rustled violently, leaves swaying almost at once. Leaves that swayed in the non-existent gale force winds. Dacanery was in the middle of a hurricane. In a place where there was no hurricane, never had been and never will be.

He peered at the door, which was now banging harmlessly, compared to the gale surrounding him. Dacanery gulped and waited. Surely this was all a nightmare. Surely he'd wake up and find this was all a dream. That the spider killer hadn't returned from the unknown.

"Come in." A voice of a million voices whispered enchantingly. "Come in." It was barely audible over the noise of the trees, but the combined power made the world disappear, and all that was left was the house in front of him.

"No." Dacanery finally found his voice.

The trees stopped moving. Nothing stirred. It was a ghost town. Yet the door kept banging in the non-existent breeze.

A sudden gust of wind pressed itself on Dacanery's back and he found himself being catapulted towards the door, scrabbling at the frame for purchase yet finding none.

The door slammed shut, and all was silent.

Days, hours or even mere minutes could have passed, yet Dacanery would have had no idea the length of time he had been standing frozen, waiting for anything to introduce itself.

"Hello?" He called out. "Anyone home?"

A familiar voice called out. "Detective?"

"In the front hallway."

"Thank God." A police officer appeared. It was Tern.

"Don't thank God just yet." Dacanery warned. "We still don't know what just happened."

"What just happened then?"

"No idea. We seem to be in a normal house, yet what just happened? Not normal. Not normal at all."

"What should we do?"

"Have you tried radioing you're partner?"

"Can't get a signal."

"Everywhere? That's impossible."

"No signal in everywhere I've tried."

"Well that's just perfect isn't it? Can you contact anyone?"

"Too be blunt, no."

"Well, the time is..." Dacanery looked at his watch and frowned. "10 minutes past midday. Which it was earlier." Dacanery checked his phone. The same time appeared on the screen. "Great. Something's happened to make the clocks stop, and there's no signal. And following our luck if we try to open the door something unnatural will happen."

"Have you tried opening the door."

"Of course not. Something bad and unusual will probably happen."

"It would probably be a good idea to check though."

"Possibly."

Dacanery tried the door. It was locked. The only sound ringing through he house was the sound of the rattling handle.

Then a wind ran through the house, and the voice of a million spoke again "You will never leave..."

Elsewhere Enrico Gaast sat at a desk eating lunch, marking a test and listening to the strange conversation in his house.
A student knocked on the classroom door.
"Come in." He called out.
The door opened and a student walked in.
"Dr Gaast? I was hoping you could help me with my homework."
"Of course Melissa. What do you want help with?"
The student, Melissa, was one of his best students. Which was more than could be said for her best friend, Emily Morefield...

Dacanery's watch hadn't moved one second. And not had the time shown on his phone. According to them it was still 12:10. 8th June.

But Dacanery was sure three or four hours had passed. But it was difficult, as time had seemed to slow down. The curtains were shut, and when Dacanery had tried to open them they remained shut, no matter how hard he pulled. This house was definitely warped, full of things that could never exist. He left them well alone after that brief encounter.

The house was a normal suburban house, with nothing surprising. There was a study with a lot of paperwork, so Dacanery went there to look for anything useful.

And even as he was looking through the owner of the house, Enrico Gaast's paper, he ran through his head how everything could have happened. Because it was not normal. Nowhere near normal.

The voice could have been a recording as the only two people in the house were Tern and him. As for the clocks radio waves could be used to interfere with the signals. Or something like that. Time could just seem to slow down because that could be how the brain viewed it as happening. And everything else? Probably his brain just processing things weirdly.

As the mound of paper he had searched through grew, Dacanery was becoming more and more sure that Enrico Gaast was a boringly normal Latin teacher with a boringly normal life.

Dacanery took out another sheaf of paper, and a sliver of another sheet caught his eye. It was a map. He pulled it out and saw a detailed map of London, covered in dots, even a helpful key printed neatly beside the map.

Red for victims house
Blue for the victims murder location
Green for possible victims.

He noticed two green stickers which had red stickers over the top, and a number. Which correlated to two blue stickers. Which were the two murder locations he had visited in the past few days.

He studied the map, the locations growing in familiarity until he realised what the locations were of. The spider killer's kills. He folded the map and put it in his pocket. What would secondary school Latin teacher, Enrico Gaast, have to do with the spider killer?

His search bore no more fruit until the last stack of paper. It had been more mundane tax reports and receipts, until he had reached the last piece of paper.

Two lists of names. One with the past victims of the spider killer, Dacanery noted, and one with a list of about twenty names he had never heard of, with two crossed of. The most recent victims of the spider killer, Angela Johnson and Scott Gunner. One name was circled and underlined twice.

Emily Morefield.

Dacanery noted the name as well. She would have to be watched, possibly taken into protection. As well as the other seventeen names.

He leaned against a filing cabinet and studied the rest of the names. He had heard of none of them, and hadn't the foggiest clue who they were. He recognised a few of the surnames, but lots of people shared the same surnames. Take Smith for example. Or Jones, even Williams. There was aloud click and Dacanery immediately stepped forward. The filing cabinet moved sideways, and then there was silence. Then a piece of the wall slid back silently to create a hole in the wall.

Yep, I'm going to be annoying and leave you with a cliffhanger here!

I wanted the next part to be a seperate chapter for some unknown reason, even to me so.....