She needed air. The oppressive heat inside Billy's house clung to her like a second skin, thick with the metallic scent of blood and something else—something that reminded her of the tome's unnatural warmth. Sam stumbled from the crime scene, her mind reeling with images: the bloody symbols, the charred sigil, the way touching it had pulled her into Billy's final moments of terror.
Lilly waited in the crowd, police lights washing her features in alternating red and blue. Sam reached her sister on unsteady legs, words tumbling out before she could stop them.
"It's our fault, Lilly," Sam admitted, the confession scraping her throat raw. "All of it."
The guilt was a living thing, clawing at her chest. She looked down at her hands—hands that had opened the tome, hands that had somehow set this nightmare in motion.
"It was everywhere," she continued, her voice shaking. "In every room. The same symbols, the same..."She couldn't finish. The memory of Billy's terror, experienced as if it were her own, made words impossible.
Lilly pulled her away from the crowd, her grip firm and grounding. "You really think it's from the book?"
Sam nodded, unable to meet her sister's eyes. "The air inside was so warm, just like at the bookstore. And the writing—" She shuddered. "It was blood, Lilly. Written in blood."
"This is bad," Lilly said, panic flaring in her voice. "This is really bad. We've got to stop it, Sam, before anyone else gets hurt."
Sam felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders like a crushing burden. "But how?"
"We opened that book," Lilly said, her eyes searching Sam's face with desperate intensity. "There has to be a way to close it. To undo what we did."
"Okay," Sam interrupted, the word heavy with reluctant acceptance. "Okay." She drew a shaky breath, trying to center herself. They couldn't change what had happened, but maybe—maybe they could prevent it from happening again.
Lilly watched, hopeful but anxious, as Sam lifted her phone.
Sam's hands trembled as she scrolled through her photos on her phone. They felt like evidence of a crime—images of the tome's pages, symbols that matched exactly what she'd seen carved into Billy's house.
"Look," she said, showing Lilly the pictures. "It's all the same. Every symbol, every mark. We did this."
Lilly's face went pale as she studied the images. "So what do we do?"
The answer came to Sam with crystalline clarity, even though it terrified her. "I have to tell Tyrone everything."
"Are you sure?" Lilly asked, concern etching her features. "What if he—"
"I know," Sam said, cutting her off. "But we can't let this happen again." She pressed Tyrone's number before she could lose her nerve.
When he answered, Sam's voice was strained with urgency. "Meet us at Bert's Grill. There's something you need to know about the book I found."
"Sam, what are you—"
"Noon. Please." She ended the call before he could argue, her hand shaking as she lowered the phone.
"What did he say?" Lilly asked.
"Not much," Sam replied. "Not yet." She looked at her sister, uncertainty clear in her eyes. "But he'll come. He has to."
***
Bert's Grill felt like a time capsule, its chrome fixtures and checkered floors a stark contrast to thenightmare unfolding outside its walls. Sam carried her guilt through the door like a weight, the familiar scent of fried food doing nothing to settle her churning stomach.
Tyrone was already there, tension evident in the rigid set of his shoulders as he stared into a untouched cup of coffee. He looked up as they approached, and Sam saw her own fear reflected in his eyes.
They slid into the booth across from him, like fugitives seeking refuge, and Sam didn't waste time with pleasantries.
"We opened something we shouldn't have," she began, the words rushing out. "An old book that belonged to the Ravencrest family. I thought it would just be history, but it's not. It's something else entirely."
"I know how this sounds," Sam said, leaning forward. "But it can't be coincidence. We opened the book,and then—" Her voice caught. "Then strange things started to happen and now someone is dead."
Tyrone set his mug down with deliberate care. "So you're telling me that an ancient book is responsible for someone's death?" His skepticism was armor against the impossible, but Sam could see cracks forming.
"No!" Sam's voice was sharp with frustration. "We did something when we opened it. There's a force, or an entity, Nyxalloth I think" She hesitated, struggling to describe the unknown. "We awakened something."
Tyrone rubbed his jaw, his thumb tracing a line of doubt. "Sam, there were bloody footprints at the crime scene. Someone was there, and the victim had cuts. A person did this, not a book."
Sam pulled out her phone, scrolling to the photos with urgent fingers. "Look at these symbols. They're from the tome's pages." She turned the screen toward Tyrone. "Now tell me they don't match what you saw at Billy's house."
Tyrone studied the images, his frown deepening with each picture. Sam watched understanding dawn in his expression—reluctant, unwilling, but undeniable.
"The symbols are identical," he admitted slowly. "But that doesn't mean—"
"It means everything," Sam interrupted. "Someone—or something—is using what we unleashed. And it's getting stronger."
“Maybe it’s a copycat thing,” he suggested, grasping at the straws of reason. “Or someone found out about your mom, knew you’d freak—”
“It’s not,” Sam interrupted. “It’s all connected, Tyrone. It has to be.” She reached for her bag, pulling out the tome, the heavy presence of it shifting the air between them.
Lilly watched, her eyes darting from Sam to Tyrone and back. “You know how this town is,” she said, trying to mediate. “Weird stuff happens all the time.”
Tyrone’s laugh was short, humorless. “Weird stuff, maybe,” he said, pointing to the book. “But not this.” He pushed the tome away.
“Fine,” Sam snapped, frustration overtaking her guilt. “So what’s your theory?”
“Maybe someone’s trying to scare you,” Tyrone said, the words coming slower, more deliberate. “Or get you to leave. You know how it gets when outsiders start poking around.”
“I grew up here!” Sam shot back, the tension between them rising. “It’s not like I’m—”
Lilly raised a hand, trying to break the cycle of accusation. “So what if we’re both right?” she suggested, her voice a bridge over their divide. “Someone found out about the book, and now they’re using it?”
Sam hesitated, the possibility gnawing at her conviction. She wanted to dismiss it, to stand firm, but Tyrone’s doubt had taken root.
They overheard voices at a table close by as it cut through the silence. “That place is haunted now!”
The sisters exchanged a glance, startled and curious.
“You sure?” another voice asked, skepticism and interest lacing the words.
“My cousin works maintenance,” the gray-haired woman replied, her voice pitched loud enough to carry. “Says there’s lights flickering and cold spots. Doors opening by themselves!”
They turned to each other, the impact of the words striking like lightning.
“That’s not all,” the woman continued, her voice a hushed shout. “He heard voices!”
“Ravencrest,” Sam said, disbelief and urgency blending into one. “They’re talking about Ravencrest.”
Lilly was already gathering her things, the need to know sparking in her eyes. “Did you hear them?” she asked, the question pointed at both Tyrone and Sam.
Tyrone nodded, a new edge of urgency cutting through his doubt. “Looks like we’re going to the same place,” he said, his words carrying both acceptance and resolve.
The sisters slid out of the booth, their movements quick and determined. Sam clutched the tome to her chest, the feel of it both reassuring and terrifying.
“We need to check it out,” Sam said, her voice firm.
“We need to be careful,” Tyrone replied, falling into step with them as they headed for the door.
“Yeah, yeah,” Lilly said, her excitement evident despite the danger. “Just like always.”
Sam paused at the door, “Wait, I have a plan.”
***
The urgency that drove them from the grill carried them straight to the library. Sam moved with the focused intensity of a scholar on a mission, gathering books and documents with practiced efficiency. But this wasn't academic curiosity—this was survival.
"This is where we find answers," Sam said, spreading materials across their claimed table. "If there's a way to stop what we started, it'll be in here."
Tyrone watched her work with growing respect. "You really think some old papers will tell us how to fight this thing?"
"These aren't just papers," Sam replied, her fingers already dancing across yellowed pages. "They're Emil Ravencrest's legacy. His warnings. His failures." She looked up, meeting his gaze. "And maybe his solutions."
Lilly’s chair creaked as she shifted, her fingers still a blur on the keyboard. “She’s always like this,” she said, her voice teasing but affectionate. “Sam could find a needle in a haystack made of other needles.”
The table filled with history, maps and journals spreading out in all directions like an uncharted sea. They each took a section, the rhythm of their search a symphony of crinkling pages and digital clicks. It was a dance Sam knew well, but the stakes had never been higher.
Tyrone lifted a faded drawing, eyeing it with reluctant interest. “What are we even looking for?” he asked, his tone more resigned than dismissive.
Sam’s fingers brushed the spine of an ancient book, a thrill of discovery rushing through her. “Something,” she said, the word full of promise and portent. “Something that makes sense of all this.”
“Listen to this,” Lilly said, breaking the silence that had settled over their intense work. “The house was built in 1863 using imported materials. All the way from Egypt and Eastern Europe.” Her eyes shone with excitement, the details fitting too perfectly to ignore.
Tyrone leaned over her shoulder, his interest piqued despite himself. “That mean something?”
“Found it!,” Sam exclaimed, her voice cutting through the library’s ancient hush. “The layout of the house. Look.” She spread the documents across the table, her enthusiasm contagious.
Lilly and Tyrone moved in, their focus shifting to the drawings Sam had uncovered. The lines formed strange patterns, unsettling and oddly familiar.
“It’s a symbol,” Lilly said, awe creeping into her voice. “The whole house is a freaking symbol.”
“An occult symbol,” Sam confirmed, the reality of it hitting her with the force of revelation. “Emil built the entire house for this. It’s all in the architecture. I knew it. I told you.” Her confidence flared, fueled by the validation of her deepest suspicions.
Tyrone’s resistance crumbled as he studied the drawings. “That means he built it to do... what, exactly?”
“To contain something,” Sam said, pointing to a handwritten note in the margin of the blueprints. “Look. His writing. It matches the book.”
“‘Containment architecture,’” Lilly read, the words a chilling echo of the symbols they’d seen. “And binding stones. What the hell does that mean?”
“It means Emil was trying to trap something inside,” Sam replied, the truth burning brightly now. “Or keep it from getting out.”
Tyrone clicked his tongue, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with alarming clarity. “And now it’s loose,” he said, his disbelief melting into something else. Something darker. “Now it’s killing people.”
Lilly broke the quiet, her voice tinged with awe and trepidation. “We’ve got to see it,” she said. “We’ve got to see the house.”
Sam nodded, her agreement quick and sure. But before she could respond, the crackle of Tyrone’s radio interrupted them, cutting through the library’s thick, scholarly air like a warning.
“Sheriff Shaw,” the voice came through, distorted but urgent. “We’ve got another one.”
Tyrone looked at Sam and Lilly, his expression a mix of frustration and duty. The choice was clear, but that didn’t make it any easier.
He hesitated, the pull of responsibility at war with the pull of the mystery that consumed them. “Keep digging,” he said, the words reluctant but firm. “I’ll meet you at the manor when I’m done.”
Sam nodded, understanding the strain he was under but knowing she would never be able to ignore this. Not now.
“We’ll be ready,” she said, her voice filled with both determination and dread.
Tyrone rose, leaving the sisters with the weight of their discovery and the urgency to act.
“Be careful,” Lilly called after him, her concern obvious.
He paused at the door, the silhouette of his figure a reminder of how much they had at stake. “You too,” he said, then disappeared into the unknown.
***
They continued their work, the absence of Tyrone both freeing and unsettling. Sam pulled out another set of papers, her eyes widening as the connections became more and more apparent.
“It’s all in the book,” she said, the realization almost too much to contain. “These symbols. The ones from the tome. They’re protective.”
“Are you serious?” Lilly asked, her disbelief slowly giving way to awe.
“Yes,” Sam replied, her certainty unshakable. “It’s exactly what Emil was doing. It’s what Mom was doing too. Protecting us.”
Lilly moved closer, her need to know as intense as Sam’s. “And now they’re gone.”
“Not all of them,” Sam said, pointing to a detailed sketch that matched the inside of the tome. “We’ve got to get to Ravencrest. We’ve got to put this together before it’s too late.”
Lilly’s agreement was immediate, the sense of urgency building like a storm.
“Call Tyrone,” she urged. “Tell him what we found.”
Sam reached for her phone, the weight of the decision settling into her bones. She dialed, the anticipation sharp and electric.
“Tyrone,” she said, the words spilling out with urgency and fear. “We found it. It’s in the book.”
She paused, listening to his response, her hand clutching the phone as though it might escape her grip.
“Meet us at the manor,” Sam said, her voice a mix of determination and dread. “We’re on our way.”
Lilly looked at her, a fierce and loyal spark in her eyes. “We’ve got this, right?” she asked, the question more than just words.
Sam hesitated, the enormity of what they were about to face pressing against her like a tide. “Yeah,” she said, more certain than she felt. “We’ve got this.”