The Chess

— I can't understand why you're doing this charity work. — Diana leaned heavily against the doorjamb of the lab, using a crutch. It would have been a familiar sight to see a portable refrigerator filled with bags of cloned blood if she hadn't known exactly who it was for. — I understand that they're weak children, and you have a special relationship with them, but don't you think this is going too far? — Dear Breckley, do I really need to explain? — Vlad tried to keep his voice casual and slightly haughty, but the painful tremor in his fingertips betrayed his true state. — It's important that I... — You need the boy to trust you, and his hunter parents don't ask too many questions. I already know this story, — the woman interrupted Masters rudely, dragging her swollen limb behind her as she approached. The wounds on her body were healing at an unacceptably slow pace. After all, this was the expected reaction of an organism whose blood had been contaminated with lichen for many years. — You could rinse his mind out, just like you do with our investors and competitors. To push on the emotions in the end. He seems compassionate enough to be exploited. Wouldn't it be easier to do that, since it's a child? And his parents are ordinary people, — Diana said, sitting down carefully next to Masters. — He's an unusual child, — Vlad corrected her as he locked the camping cooler. — He's the son of the only woman whose thoughts I've never been able to control. That's why I'm using old-fashioned methods. Don't worry, we just need to gain his trust a little more, and he'll start helping us voluntarily. — You may not live long enough to get his help! — Breckley abruptly pulled up the sleeve of Vlad's cashmere sweater, revealing a cluster of small, phosphorescent inflammations on his skin. The pulsating blisters looked less like a paranormal rash and more like abnormal parasitic plants that had sprouted a network of thin, glowing roots beneath his skin, wrapping around his arm. — Judging by these things, you don't have much time, and according to the sample analysis, Fenton is your last chance. — There's plenty of time, — Masters calmly rolled down his sleeve, hiding the glowing inflammation under the thick, soft fabric. — And I wouldn't deliberately stretch it out if the situation was that bad. — Your clan is on edge, — Diana said, nervously drumming her short, neat fingernails on the cold metal tabletop. — It's because of the news that those two white-clad bloodhounds survived the 'car accident.' They did a good job, but unfortunately, the deserted highway was one car too many that day, — Vlad said in an almost annoyingly relaxed tone. He leaned casually against the counter, looking down at Diana with a slight smile. — We're going to Colorado for a while, until the agents and the eco-activists in Chicago calm down a bit. It's stressful for them, but it's not a problem. — Your hands are shaking. The infection has already spread beyond the bloodstream, despite our attempts to slow it down. If I've noticed it, they certainly have, — Diana said, irritably tapping her fingernails on the table one last time before clenching her fists. — This boy may be special, but he's not worth the time and resources you're investing in him, — she said, nodding towards the portable medical refrigerator. — He earned it all, — Masters said. — And maybe more. — By providing us with experimental rats? — Diana snorted, chuckling. — Don't make me laugh. You could have gotten those jelly-like green little imps from your portal yourself. ― Imps, yes, but not the shtriga, ― Masters smiled wider and walked over to a small safe, taking out a slightly dusty thermos with a monstrous lady inside and a small folder. ― Do you know what makes this entity different from the others? They don't feed on blood, but on people's vitality. If they consume everyone uncontrollably, they may also pick up a few diseases due to their lack of self-control. For this reason, as far as I know, this lady was very eager to work with relatively healthy children who were athletes and health-conscious people. Diana looked closely at Masters' face, trying to figure out if he was joking or serious. Was he really going to do what she thought he was going to do? In the bright light of the laboratory's fluorescent lamps, Vlad's white fangs glinted, and a red light flashed in his eyes. — You're not going to use that anomalous leech the way I think you are, are you? — Diana asked with a wary expression. — Grimley will be busy moving in my absence, I'll be working on the boy, and you'll take one of the girls as your assistant and run a couple of tests to make sure everything works as it should. In theory, you should be able to complete everything by the time I return, — he handed a nondescript folder to Breckley, who continued to stare at him in the same way she usually looked at crazy people. — If you succeed, Miss Breckley, we'll set my timer back in time.

***

The ghost eel darted around the cramped aquarium, twisting and turning in a figure eight, occasionally crashing into the thick walls of its cage, sending greenish electric sparks across its body. As the friends engaged in their usual conversation about the upcoming holiday, their daily lives at school, and the recent literature test, as if they weren't in an otherworldly realm, Sam occasionally glanced at the creature. When the flat muzzle once again bumped into the glass wall, the girl, making sure that the interlocutors were busy talking and eating homemade onigiri, tried to get up from her seat, reaching out to the aquarium. But bumping into an invisible wall, she turned sharply to Danny. The boy just gave her a quick look with a smile and a sly squint, before returning to her conversation. May didn't seem to notice the awkward exchange, and simply poured her some more fragrant tea into her almost empty cup. The teenagers sat on soft cushions on the floor, their legs tucked under a low table with an electric blanket. The open window of the Jigoku building let in the chill of late autumn, the smell of dampness and rusty iron. Thin wisps of steam rose from the cups of hot tea, and Danny's ghostly senses remained surprisingly silent in an otherworldly realm filled with unknown demons and spirits. — Don't you like it? — May asked, slightly upset, pointing to the Gothess's plate of untouched food. — There's no meat or fish. If that's a concern for you. — It's delicious... I was just thinking, — Sam replied awkwardly, trying not to look at her classmate's neck. It was a normal, human-sized, slender neck, adorned with a starched white shirt with the school's emblem on the breast pocket. The uniform was optional, and all the free-thinking individualists, except for May, seemed to be against it. However, in her starched shirt and classic plaid skirt, she stood out among the students at Casper High just as much as Manson herself. There were a lot of Goths, but in the school uniform only one... Sam turned around at the eel's dull thud against the glass. In the enclosed aquarium, it looked helpless and doomed. A trapped animal. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous spirit that had made their hair stand on end earlier in the day. It was astonishing what captivity could do to a powerful creature. The girl sighed briefly, realizing that it was futile to try to convey her thoughts to her friends. They did not see the same thing she did. As she tried to stand up, head hit the invisible ceiling, and she let out a loud oomph as she back into her seat. ― Enough already! ― the gothess could not stand it, rubbing her bruised head. — What happened? — May tilted her head to the side in surprise, causing one of her thin braids to almost dip into her cup of tea, which she held with both hands. — Danny knows perfectly well what it is, — the girl snorted, glaring at his innocently smiling friend, who was eating an onigiri as if nothing had happened. — Let me get up and go to the bathroom. I'm not going to touch that poor eel! — Well, I'm sorry, Sam. I have to play it safe, — Danny said, barely able to contain his laughter as he watched his friend carefully rise from her seat and feel her way around the invisible wall between her and the aquarium. — Catching him was more difficult than it looked. I don't really want to repeat that. — When did you even learn that? — the girl grumbled irritably, making a show of slamming the bathroom door loudly, so that the steam over the cups of tea rushed towards the open window. — She's so nervous, — May remarked, looking in surprise at the narrow hallway, with the front door at the end and a bathroom on the left. — Don't pay attention, it's her Greenpeace part, — Tucker waved his hand, taking a bite of his rice treat with a warm meat filling. — Few people understand that about her. — She's a good person, once you get to know her, — Danny said as he sipped his tea, allowing the Ghost to enjoy the otherworldly treat. It was amazing how quickly his ghostly side adapted to the new environment, no longer perceiving everything as a threat, even when he wasn't entirely sure himself. — Just don't bring up the topic of food. — I noticed that in my experiments with school lunches, — May said, taking a large bite of the rice triangle. The cheese filling stretched out behind it, reminding of her own neck. It seemed as if it could be stretched indefinitely without endangering her. — I'm sorry about that, — Danny said quietly, so only those at the table could hear. — I should have realized that the situation might get out of hand. I hope it didn't hurt you too much. — Don't apologize for others, — May said as she filled the teenager's cup with a smile. The tea had a delicate, honey-floral aroma. It was subtle, but it stood out against the otherworldly scents of Jigoku outside the window. — If only because the actions of others are beyond your control. At least if you want to be a good person who doesn't treat others as their own property, obligated to do as you wish. Everyone will still do what they think is right, without looking at the others. Tucker looked out the open window. From the side of May's apartment, the huge burning cross that served as the sun in this world was not visible, but its red light still penetrated the windows. If it weren't for the color scheme and the endless black skyscrapers, towers, and bridges, the view from the window would be indistinguishable from a typical densely populated metropolis. In some of the buildings, you could see the squares of light in the windows, and in the closest ones, you could see shadows behind the thin curtains, which looked like people, but weren't. — Besides, regular food doesn't fill me up much anyway, — May added with a sly smile. — It's not the most desirable meal for Rokurokubi. — What do you eat then? — Tucker turned away from the window, returning to the conversation. ―With fear and secrets, of course. That's one of the reasons I work for the school newspaper,― May giggled merrily. — When you saw my neck, your screams were delicious, Tucker. — I didn't scream! — The teenager's cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment and indignation, almost matching the color of his red beret, making Danny smile as he remembered his friends hiding behind him. — Yes, you did, — Sam said in her usual slightly haughty manner, closing the bathroom door, behind which she could still hear the sound of water filling the toilet tank. — Your fright was very satisfying too, Miss Manson, — the Rokurokubi head turned 180 degrees with a loud crack of vertebrae. May looked at Sam directly, smiling broadly and capturing every emotion from the sight of her broken neck. Her wide-open eyes behind the thick lenses of her large round glasses gave her a crazed appearance. Tucker almost choked on his tea at the sight of the creature that had just broken its own neck. Danny patted his friend on the back to help him cough. His human part was also shaken by the sound of the bones cracking, but for a different reason. It was too similar to the sound that usually accompanied fights with spirits and school bullies. And that was not a good thing. ― Naturally, you're lucky. I... I rarely get scared, ― Sam turned pale even under her makeup, but she tried hard not to show it, not wanting to feed her demonic classmate. Avoiding eye contact, she walked back to her seat and sat down again, immediately picking up her cup of tea. — Of course, — May's voice was too clearly mocking. Her neck had returned to normal. As the last vertebra clicked, there was the sound of keys jingling in the hallway, followed by two female voices, one of which was clearly the voice of Miss Ishiyama: — May, I'm home, — a woman in a formal suit with a pencil skirt entered the room, carrying bags of groceries, and her daughter rushed to help her with the shopping. It was almost as strange to see the strict headmistress in her slippers as it was to watch May pretending to be an obsessed owl. — Good evening, children. Danny, someone's here to take you back. ― W-Who? ― the teenager asked in surprise, getting up from his warm spot. The ghostly sense was silent, not foretelling any danger or threat, but lately, due to the constantly open portal, he had begun to distrust it. Carefully peering into the hallway, he saw a rather young woman in a white suit with straight shorts up to the knee with small tucks. Short-cropped to the shoulders, the square somewhat reminded Danny of his mother's haircut. Her hair was so light that thin, sparse eyebrows were almost not visible, but on the forehead there were two symmetrical dark spots, like on old engravings on the exhibition of Japanese painting in the local art museum. The comic replacement of eyebrows was partially hidden by a lush bang. — Good evening, master Daniel. I hope you've had a pleasant evening, — the stranger's voice was soft, almost purring as she stretched out the consonants. However, there was something ghostly about the seemingly kind woman. — And you are...? — Danny asked awkwardly, staring into the blue eyes lined with red pencil. — I've been sent by Mr. Masters to make sure you don't get into trouble again in the Otherworld, — the woman said, her gaze sharp and dangerous. The Ghost either ignored or didn't notice it. A brief thought: "I wish I hadn't told him anything," was interrupted by the headmistress's voice: ― I didn't know you knew Mr. Masters, Mr. Fenton. — He's my... — Danny thought for a moment about how best to introduce this person without making it seem too strange. With all the events that had occurred over the past month, was it appropriate to say that he was just an acquaintance? A friend of the parents? Someone you turn to when you're struggling to cope with your own strength and problems? — My teacher, in a sense, — Danny finally decided. — It's nice to see someone taking such good care of their ward, — the headmistress's head on her elongated neck floated smoothly into the hallway, while her body continued to monotonously unpack grocery bags in the kitchen, causing Tucker and Sam to hastily tie their shoelaces. — The elevator operator is clearly in a bad mood today, so it's a good thing you have a guide. See you at school tomorrow. — See you tomorrow, Danny, — May said as she went out to see the guests off. No one asked any questions about the strange escort. Danny put his feet into his sneakers. As he tied his shoelaces, he couldn't take his eyes off the expressive blue eyes with sharp vertical pupils. They were watching him, observing his every move with the same attention and grace as a small, small mouse. "Why is the Phantom remains silent?" he thought as he followed the undead creature Vlad had sent to him. — Did Masters really hire someone to take us home? — Danny asked as the door to Ishiyama's apartment closed. — Only to the World of Humans, — the woman replied readily. — He's confident that you can handle the rest on your own. He also asked me to remind you that he'll be in town for a couple of days before Halloween, and you should stop by this address, — she handed Danny a small, minimalist business card. As the elevator ascended to their floor, the teenager looked from the business card to his companion, while his friends prepared to meet the elevator operator and clung to him once again. — What's your name? — the teenager asked. — Madeline, — the woman said with a smile and a slight bow.

***

Jack had also seen Charlotte, but he couldn't make her out well enough to describe her in detail. A small white silhouette would appear in the periphery of his vision and disappear as soon as he turned his head in its direction. It would flash across the edges of mirrors, in the curves of bulbous flasks and test tubes. On one occasion, Jack even mentioned seeing a pale child's face reflected in the surface of a coffee, hidden beneath the milk foam. He told her about it with the enthusiasm of a first-time explorer, because he had never seen a ghost in person; he had only studied samples of fabric retrieved from the portal using drones, and he had seen a blurred image of a ghost boy in black and white clothing on the news a few times. Maddy didn't share his enthusiasm. The light shadow evoked a sense of unease, bringing back memories of sharp claws threatening to tear through her jumpsuit and cold hands wrapped around her waist. The small wooden doll, with its remnants of ectoplasm, was now carefully placed under the glass of the largest airtight cup they had, glowering faintly green in the light of the electric lamps. The situation in the house quickly spiraled out of control just an hour after the children left. It started with a flickering light, a common occurrence in the Fenton house after the portal was activated. This was followed by a series of random malfunctions in the measuring devices and a couple of leaking batteries. The voltage fluctuations intensified, and eventually, the entire house went dark. The Portal emitted a powerful burst of energy, preventing the airlock doors from fully closing after the emergency mode was activated. For a couple of minutes, the dark laboratory was illuminated only by the otherworldly green light from the funnel of the portal, which had not fully closed. The airlock quickly covered with a thin layer of whitish frost, and the tiled floor began to fill with a thick fog, which actively poured into the world of the living from the otherworldly poisonous-green hell. The portal continued to work more out of spite than any logical reason, releasing a hellish cold into the laboratory, which made even the hardened Maddy shiver slightly. — The backup system will shut down the portal in fifteen minutes, — Jack said, pulling off a glove that had been burned by electrical sparks. — It's a good thing that the backup generator wasn't affected by the flash. It would have been destroyed by the impact. — Turn off the portal completely, and I'll go see what's wrong with the electricity, — the woman said, taking off her protective goggles and picking up a prototype anti-ghost stun gun that she was more or less confident in. It was a small device that looked like a combination of an air gun and a taser, and she put it in her hip bag. — I don't want the lab freeze in next fifteen minutes. Jack nodded, heading for the control panel. Thick, otherworldly mists were already reaching into the boxes of waste paper, covering them with shiny ice. The temperature was rapidly dropping. The liquid specimens in the flasks and Petri dishes were beginning to crackle ominously. Only the samples of greenish ectoplasm collected from the small, crude puppet made of twigs remained untouched, emitting a greenish glow. In this cold and dark place, they seem to have multiplied. Or perhaps it is just an illusion created by their bright glow, which is more noticeable in the dark. Maddy turned on her shoulder flashlight as she climbed the stairs to the first floor. From the kitchen, she could see the spacious living room. The half-closed curtains allowed narrow strips of crimson sunset light to enter the room. Familiar objects cast long shadows, and the second floor was almost completely hidden in the impenetrable darkness. It seemed as if the wide staircase led not to the familiar bedrooms and guest rooms, but to an endless black void where something evil lurked. As she walked through the kitchen to the back door, she couldn't help but reach for the gun in her hip bag. Just to make sure it was still there. She and her husband had moved the electrical panel to a separate room in the shed behind the garage, since they had children who were always curious and trying to touch everything. Maddy's thoughts drifted to Jess and Danny. They should have sent the children away while they dealt with the uninvited guest from another dimension in their home. But where should they go? To a hotel to be close by and continue with their more or less normal lives? To her husband's relatives? To her sister? The problem was that they wouldn't be truly safe anywhere. In Amity Park, they would still be too close to the source of the otherworldly threat that had attached itself to their family and home. In Alice's house they would be in dangerous proximity to the place where the threat first appeared. And her husband's parents... Maddy still remembered her last visit to the elder Fentons with a shudder. They were old-fashioned people who didn't shy away from the truly terrifying methods of the original Pilgrims and the Salem Witch Hunters. Leaving Danny with them during his sleepwalking episodes would have been a bad idea. A very bad idea. The fuses were completely burned out. Pungent black smoke poured from the electrical panel, making my eyes water and my throat scratch with a dry cough. — It's a good thing nothing caught fire, — Maddy said to herself as she disconnected their panel from the main power supply to replace the burned-out components, waving away the clouds of black smoke that smelled like burnt metal and melted plastic. As she walked between the rows of shelves in the barn, looking for the right tools and spare fuses, she noticed her husband's silhouette standing on the porch. — Have you figured out the portal yet? — she asked, rattling the toolbox. There was no answer. The black silhouette swayed slowly from side to side, like a small tree in the wind. Only then did the woman notice the thin streams of black smoke coming from her husband's obese figure. — Jack, have you been electrocuted?! — Maddy dropped everything, running out of the barn and into the street, but the dark figure disappeared as soon as she lost sight of him for just a moment. She stood in the doorway of the barn. The brain analyzed what it saw with a creak. As soon as she took a step outside the small house, the door slammed shut behind her, almost pinching the hood of her jumpsuit. The woman pulled a gun out of her bag and headed towards the house with only one thought in mind: "I hope I don't hit anyone at home." The gun don't had been tested a little due to the fact that children react very bad to anti-ghost weapons. Her fingers froze on the doorknob. "Maybe I shouldn't? Maybe I should turn on the lights first?" Maddy thought for a moment. Otherworldly entities are cunning. Without the ability to directly interact with flesh-and-blood humans, they are capable of many things to achieve their goals, and a dark room where people's vision is bound to malfunction will play into the hands of a small, malevolent ghost. The muffled cry of her husband behind the closed door made her abandon her thoughts and rush into the house. Jack was hanging from the ceiling of the living room, almost at the level of the second floor, with a ball of colorless yarn wrapped around his neck. Maddy aimed and fired darts at the ceiling near the largest ball of yarn. She pulled the trigger again, and a bright flash of greenish electricity illuminated the ceiling, revealing the outline of a small body writhing in agony. A painful, heart-wrenching cry echoed through the room as Jack fell down, shattering the glass table. — To the operation center, — the man croaked as Maddy used a folding knife to cut the unusually strong threads from his neck. — To activate the house's defenses. Shouldering her husband's body, Maddy hurried up the stairs, glancing back at the little spirit's sparking form. The ball of gray thread unwound and unwound, as if it were endless. Even though Charlotte was injured by the discharge, she continued to emit an ominous greenish glow and weave an otherworldly web across the living room, like a demonic arachnid. The threads caught up with them at the top of the stairs. They blocked their path and knocked them to the floor. "Did you think you could escape?" — The ghostly echo of a child's voice sounded so loud in their ears that it made them wince and cover their ears with their hands. There was no escape in the dead-end corridor with the blocked staircase. The prototype anti-ghost stun gun only had one shot. ― I'm home! ― Danny's voice came from the first floor. Charlotte disappeared like a bad dream the moment she blinked. It was as if the spider-like creature in the form of a little girl in the hallway had never existed. Maddy jumped to her feet and rushed downstairs, but she froze at the top of the stairs. The hall was empty. The only reminder of the recent incident was the broken glass table. — Why is it so dark in here? — Danny asked, flipping the switch. The lights came on as if there had been no power outage in the last couple of hours. There were no blown fuses or black smoke in the electrical panel. — What happened here? — Jess looked around the room in horror from behind her brother, pointing to the broken glass table, which was scattered all over the living room. — Pack your things, you're not staying here tonight, — the woman commanded.

***

The night stay at Tucker's house had to be abandoned. The father's rambling account of crazy spirits during the short drive was far less informative than the marks on his neck, which only a blind man would not notice. The realization that the Phantom hadn't been reacting to the open portal all these days had a painful effect on the nervous teenager. Father tried to reassure them, saying with his usual energy and optimism that they would be able to handle it and that the spirit would not bother them by Halloween. It was a bold statement from someone who was clearly being choked by an invisible force. The Phantom felt from this words nothing but boasting. Mom maintained a tense silence as they packed their things, only breaking it to give instructions on what to take and how to defend themselves in case of an emergency. She spent most of the drive to the motel staring at the kids in the rearview mirror. ― Can you tell about what kind of ghost it is? ― Danny couldn't stand the silent trip. ― I don't think you'll believe it. But I'm pretty sure it's Charlotte Webster. The one that is usually invoked during pajama parties is just a little less common than the Bloody Mary. At least that's how she introduced herself, — Maddy sadly looked away from the children and down the road. — It doesn't matter what her name is or what she's up to. What matters is how to get rid of her, — Jack snorted. — Today and tomorrow, we're going to clean the house thoroughly. We'll exterminate this otherworldly creature like a cockroach, and that's the end of it. — Maybe you should go to the hospital first? — Danny asked cautiously, looking at the lines of bruises on his father's neck. — We can stay at a hotel together, and you can sort everything out in the morning. — That would be great, but I'm afraid that this ghostly creature might gain strength and take to the streets during the night. We can't allow that to happen, — Jack said as he turned into the parking lot of an affordable hotel. Mom looked lost and tired, while her father was filled with a sense of purpose. — We'll help you get settled in your room, set up the necessary equipment, and you can spend a peaceful night. In the room, sitting on the unmade bed, nervously fiddling with Vlad's business card in his hands, Danny tried to come up with a plan in his head on how to help his parents and at the same time not to end up under their scalpel himself. The situation seemed to be a stalemate. Whoever the ghost was, he did not manifest himself in front of him, either out of a sense of competition, or out of a very peculiar sense of solidarity. The latter would have been much more desirable to believe in. The teenager ran by corner of the business card under his thumbnail, wiping away the remnants of the liner ink that he had used to sketch a scary room earlier that day. How could things change so drastically in such a short time? — Stupid Ghost Portal, — Danny said, throwing the business card on the bedside table and flopping down on the bed with his face in his hands. — I agree, — said Jess, who had been silent for the past half hour, scribbling in her notebook. — If it weren't for him, we'd be at home, trying to play normal. The girl sat down on the bed next to her brother and gently stroked his hair. — Do you want me to share something with you? — She whispered, bending low over his ear, as she usually did when they were trying to hide something from their parents. — I think I saw this Charlotte last night when you were sleepwalking again. — And? — Danny asked, sitting up on the bed again to face his sister. — I'm not sure you'll believe me..., — Jess clutched the folder a little tighter in her hands, debating whether to give it to her brother or not. ― When mom brought you back to the room, I noticed, just for a second, a little girl, about eight or ten years old, appeared at your door. At the time, I still thought I was imagining things, but... Do you remember last month there was a celebration in honor of the centennial of the school? — she asked, deciding to come from afar. — How is that related? — Danny sat down next to his sister impatiently. — Almost all the students were given the same assignment that's given almost every year - a report on their family's past. Dad's ancestors lived in Salem, and for the sake of authenticity, I decided to contact local authorities for information about the Salem Witch Trials, — Jess handed Danny an open folder filled with photocopied documents. — He once told me about his distant ancestor, Jeremy Fenton, who was one of the experts involved in the Salem Witch Trials. Dad said he could supposedly identify a possessed person by their Dreams, — Jess paused, looking into her brother's frightened eyes. — I haven't told my dad anything about you, honestly. Danny began to quickly scan his sister's report. It was as precise and well-organized as she was. On the neatly lined pages, there was a copy of the transcript of the trial of the witch with the double surname "Webster/Fenton." The familiar word caught his attention, prompting him to read the illegible handwriting of the stenographer. At that moment, he was grateful that his mother had insisted on teaching him cursive writing, which was useless in today's world of computerized writing on tablets and keyboards. — I thought I just felt the name of this ghost was familiar, — Jess continued, tautly braiding her long red hair into a plait. — But apparently, several centuries ago in Salem, our ancestor sent his wife Esther to the stake. Their daughter, Charlotte Webster, disappeared under mysterious circumstances, but I think during the witch trials, everyone just forgot about her and eventually something happened to her. On a sheet of paper pasted into the report, there was a copy of a pencil drawing of a little girl. She looked no more than nine years old. She had curly blond hair, a round face, and a simple dress, similar to what all the pilgrims wore at the time. The drawing was quick and rough, but it was done with love or at least effort. — She looks like what I saw that night,― Jess's voice dropped. She started wheezing abruptly. Danny looked up from the copy of the pencil portrait at his sister. The girl was not herself: the brown freckles contrasted sharply with the unhealthy pallor of her skin. His blue eyes searched his brother's face anxiously. ― But it's probably impossible. If spirits exist, what is the probability that an offended random victim of the Salem trials will cling to a family of ghost hunters? Yes?... Isn't that right? Danny silently digested what he had heard. Ghosts are strange creatures, in the human sense. He knew this for a fact, for his dead self was full of surprises that he was certain he still didn't know about. What was the chance that many years ago, one of his ancestors had created a monster that had been waiting and growing stronger for centuries, with a single purpose in mind? For revenge. — Did you show this to our parents? — Danny looked at his sister seriously. — No. I thought it was just a coincidence, and to be honest, I was hoping you'd confirm it, — Jess said, looking dejected. Her shoulders were slumped, and she had the haunted look of someone who had just been robbed of their lunch money by school bullies. A chill ran down his back. The ghost inside almost let out a cloud of cold steam from his throat, which would have settled on his sister's long eyelashes. — I won't be long. I'm taking this thing to parents, — Danny jumped up from the bed and rushed to the coat rack by the front door, attaching the Fenton thermos to his belt as he went. — Wait! — Jess grabbed her brother's windbreaker, which he was putting on, and looked worried. — Let's just call our parents. They should be home by now. — And they had to turn off the electricity and the phones. If you remember the processing procedures, according to the parents' scheme, they had to turn off all the electrical appliances, — Danny reminded me, buttoning up his windbreaker and wrapping a worn gray scarf around his neck. — I'll be back in no time, — Danny smiled, closing the front door. — Danny, you're not going there alone, are you? — Jess managed to shout as the door slammed shut in her face. — That's not something you should leave to your little brother, — she scoffed, hastily pulling on her autumn coat and running after her brother, closing the hotel room door with only one turn of the key. The teenager had already disappeared at the end of the corridor, but he wasn't running towards the elevator, but towards the fire escape, which was discreetly hidden behind a turn. "Wait for me," the girl managed to say, but her brother had already disappeared. When she pulled the door handle, she was surprised to find an empty passage leading to the stairs. Her brother was neither on the way downstairs nor outside, behind the railing of the small open staircase. A black-and-white shadow flashed across the sky above the girl's head, a shadow she recognized from newspaper clippings in her parents' lab, which her father kept in a special folder. An unnamed ghost boy who had become a small landmark in Amity Park, appearing in places where something inexplicable was about to happen or had already occurred. Her father referred to him as a harbinger of misfortune, similar to the Point Pleasant man-moth, whose blurred photographs their grandfather had collected. But as she watched the thin figure of the spirit speed away from her at a relatively close distance, Jess was not thinking about the misfortunes it supposedly brought.

***

The house was dark and quiet. The light from the chemical lamps barely illuminated the rooms and corridors with an unhealthy blue and green glow. As Jack began setting up the equipment, Maddy began to think that the idea of the children staying at a hotel and the father going to the doctor might not be as bad or cowardly as Jack had made it out to be. She was plagued by headaches and a constant feeling of cold. The basement had become a place she didn't venture into during equipment setup, without the work jacket with its many reflective patches, blinding Jack in the glare of the chemical lamps. Although the portal was already closed, the thick layer of ice was melting too slowly. It also reminded her of her grandmother's scary stories, which she used to tell her mischievous granddaughters. "If you feel cold in the forest, run back immediately. You're too close to the border of the world of the dead," the stern woman would say, instilling fear in her children about the forest. Maddy used to think that it was just a silly story to keep kids from wandering too far into the woods, but when the temperature started to drop so much in her own house that she could see her breath, her grandmother's words took on a whole new meaning. She called Alice on her way home, when the children were already at the hotel. Her older sister listened to her surprisingly calmly, advising her to prepare some salt with rosemary and to close all the mirrors if possible. The silly superstitions from her native remote village sounded a little more soothing now, even though the scientist in her stubbornly continued to insist that it was all heresy and would not help in any way. — Do as you like, but I'm certain that the ghost could only have come from our portal, — Jack said confidently in response to her suggestion to get rid of the mirrors. The thought that her uncertainty was due to the possibility that stereotypes were correct and that men were better suited for the role of skeptical scientists was extremely unpleasant. However, it was inevitable that she would appear, considering that her professors had repeatedly told her where she belonged in a passive-aggressive manner. "Don't worry so much. You know that superstitions usually don't come out of nowhere," a soothing voice in his head sounded too much like Vlad's voice from their college days. "When people in the past said that rosemary and wormwood repelled evil spirits that carried diseases, they were partially right. At least in the fact that the smell of these herbs repelled blood-sucking insects that carried diseases. Nothing comes out of nowhere. And the more often you follow them with a cold mind and sharp attention, the more likely you are to understand why they appeared." Surprisingly, there wasn't a single mirror in Danny's room. The only reflective surfaces where the windows and his computer monitor. While this explained why her son wasn't particularly neat and often neglected to comb his hair, it also raised questions. Wouldn't a teenage boy want to feel confident in his appearance to attract girls? Wouldn't he want to look at himself in the mirror to assess the changes in his body? There were a lot of drawings and posters on the walls in his son's room, but none of them had people on them. They were just images of deep space by artists and pictures of NASA satellites. It was as if Danny wasn't interested in himself and people. Maddy limited herself to lowering the blinds and covering the monitor with a waffle towel, which her son often used to wipe his hands clean of glue and paint while he was building a model of a spaceship from a recent science fiction movie. Jess's room, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. There were mirrors everywhere: on the closet door, on the dressing table, on the windowsill, on the bedside table, and on the desk. It was as if Jess wanted to make sure she looked her best at every moment. However, none of the mirrors were large enough to capture her entire body, from head to toe. The largest mirror, located on the closet door, only allowed her to see her face. Jess was a smart girl, and she was very self-reflective. Her bookshelves were filled with books on psychology by various authors, both respected and not so much. It was much more difficult to account for and notice all the reflective surfaces in her room. It seemed that every object was chosen to constantly reflect its owner's face. It was even surprising that with such an abundance of reflections, Charlotte appeared in the bathroom rather than in her room. In her and Jack's bedroom, there were two distinct types of mirrors. Jack's mirror was a large wall-mounted mirror that stretched from the floor to almost the ceiling. He enjoyed looking at himself in the mirror every morning, wearing his orange jumpsuit, which was bright and eye-catching. It made him look like a vibrant flower. It was simply a way for him to assess his overall appearance before rushing off to work. Her mirror, on the other hand, was a smaller mirror. A small mirror stood on the windowsill, next to a carelessly discarded tube of lipstick, a black eyeliner, and mascara. Maddy in fact, she didn't use these products very often. The last time she did was at her high school reunion and her own wedding. It was more of a habit than anything else. Her grandmother often referred to looking in the mirror as a sign of vanity and tried to discourage her granddaughters from doing so. In fact, she was even more strict about it than she was about smoking or drinking. — Are you ready, dear? — Jack's bass voice reached her through the earpiece just as Maddy was covering the last mirror in the house with a cloth. — Yes, — she replied curtly. Her husband had been in the operations center for a long time, eager to press the button to activate the cleanup system. The anti-ghost shield they had activated ensured that Charlotte had no chance to escape and cause trouble for her neighbors. Maddy often remembered the face of the otherworldly visitor, which had been firmly etched in her memory since childhood. It was round, cute, and slightly smudged with dirt and soot. It was difficult to think of her as a cockroach that needed to be exterminated without asking anymore questions. It was easier to view her as an object of study, yes, but she did not want to see someone so human-like on a dissection table. Back in university, in her anatomy classes, Maddy realized that it was too difficult to see only a body under her scalpel and not think of it as someone's loved one, someone who had been missing for months or years. On the faces of the corpses, she always saw the traces of relentless time, which left the most vivid and frequent emotions, such as anger, joy, or grief. Sometimes she would remember Vlad's burned face. The blisters, the singed eyebrows, the discolored hair, and the smell of burnt flesh mixed with salty tears. It was an agony that lingered in her memory, whether she wanted it to or not. Every time she thought about it, she cursed herself for her cowardice. She had never had the courage to visit him in the hospital after what had happened. Mirrors mean too much. They have more power over people than they would like to give. In ancient times, people believed that mirrors reflected the human soul. The reflection looked different to the observer and to the person being reflected. Today, this can be explained by the personalities of the observers, but as Maddie made her way to the operations center, she began to question whether the shape of the reflection was merely a quirk of perception. Maddy wasn't sure of anything anymore when Jack pulled the lever and there was a distinctive screeching sound of electrical discharges and a child's scream. Telling her husband that she doubted the effectiveness of the cleansing would have made her a bad scientist. Telling him that she doubted the need to cleanse her home of evil spirits would have made her a bad hunter. Or a bad huntres. Maddy was trying hard to ignore the otherworldly scream from the lower floors. She had already heard the scream and the screeching of electricity at the University of Wisconsin, and she was hoping to avoid a repeat. She was trying to keep her composure and not show any sympathy for the child who was calling for her mother so desperately from below, knowing that she would never respond. Jack, on the other hand, seemed calm. Even satisfied with the results of the cleanup. For just a brief moment, Maddy remembered the moment when her husband was being strangled by a small, angry ghost. But the illusion faded away with the sound of her husband's cries. It was foolish to believe that the dead had the right to take the living with them. Maddy pulled the switch off a little before Jack. Just a second before him. Her husband's hand was on top of hers as the purge system was turned off. They must have looked like a happy couple of real-life demon hunters. — Let's go, we need to check everything out, — Maddy gently freed her hand from Jack's grip. — Right! We need to make sure this ectoplasmic creature is definitely dead and collect some of its remains for study, — Jack said as he opened the airtight hatch of the operations center leading into the house. From the darkness of the corridor, there was a smell of ozone and heat. It was like the smell of the underworld. The first circle, according to Dante's description. The smell of human sweat, blood, and tears shed in endless attempts to wash one's soul clean of sins. Attempts that were futile and foolish from the perspective of a self-satisfied god. Maddy slapped her cheeks, trying to banish the blasphemous thoughts. Jack's footsteps faded into the darkness of the passage until the light came on. Warm, soft, and dim. The light of their home, safe and secure, before the arrival of the otherworldly entity. — You can go down, Maddy! — Jack's booming voice stirred the worm of conscience that had been gnawing at her since university. She should have gone first. She had wanted to, but afraid of stealing her husband's initiative. She was scared again. The hallway is bright and warm. There is not a single sign of the otherworldly coldness in the walls of the cozy house that she has so diligently cleaned every time spring arrives, a month before she and Danny go on their traditional camping trip. From the kitchen, the familiar smell of over-roasted coffee wafted out of the coffee machine. From the bathroom, there was a subtle scent of lemon soap, which she, Danny, and Jess would occasionally use to remove their tan and avoid being called "dumb rednecks" by their neighbors and classmates. — Mom! — A familiar shout came from the first floor, making her run to meet him. Danny stood on the doorstep, sweaty and out of breath. A slight haze rose from his disheveled hair, filling the air with the scent of burnt hair. He handed her a folder, indicating that Jess had found something. He pointed to a familiar pencil sketch of a child's face. The daughter of the Salem witch who had been executed years ago stared back at her from the pages of Jazmine Fenton's school report. A stubborn reminder of another stuffy and suffocating admonition from a domineering grandmother: "Don't be afraid of witches, demons, and ghosts. Be afraid of those who want to burn them alive."

***

There was a complete darkness around, the smell of rotting leaves, the cold, and the animalistic growls of her pursuers. She was running, stumbling, and gasping for breath from exhaustion. Voice had been lost the moment she had last called out to her mother, inhaling the sweet smog in Salem's main square. Her mother was gone. Her brother had never loved her, and her father had set fire to the brushwood under her mother's feet. All that remained in the world was her, the endless dark forest, and the wolves, starving after the long winter, chasing her. The dry branches tore at her hair, clinging to it like the fingers of the cannibals that the Indians believed in. The hem of her dress and her legs, covered in light woolen stockings, were torn by the thorns of the prickly bushes as she fled. The wolves were growling, driving their small prey. The humans had harassed the pack last winter. They had taken away their food and their home. And now one of these two-legged creatures had come to their forest, a reward for their suffering. Foot caught on a thick tree root and she fell to the ground. She tasted the salt of blood on her lips and felt the sting of it on her palms. Her world had become even smaller and was now tinged with the color of blood. The skinny wolves surrounded her on all sides. Their hungry eyes and sharp fangs shimmered bright yellow in the sparse moonlight. Wolves are not the kind of creatures that will wait for their prey to die before they start eating. Especially when the pack is hungry. They began to feast, tearing off chunks of flesh and crunching through bones. They ate everything, and the little girl was unlucky enough to witness the end of her life, watching as the animal's teeth tore off her fingers one by one. She listened to the crunch of her own bones, drowned out by her own hoarse screams.

***

Jack jumped up from the bed. The strange dream about the little girl and the wolves was too disturbing to continue lying in bed. He brushed a wet strand of hair from his forehead, breathing heavily. The clock on the bedside table showed three o'clock in the morning. It was already too late, so it wasn't surprising to see his wife dozing off at the desk. Sitting sideways in the chair, and her breathing was even. There were a lot of books around, a tablet with the Salem Library tab open, and a bookend with a report that Jazmine had brought Danny earlier. For some reason, Maddie thought it was important to know the identity of the person they were dealing with, even though he personally thought it was a terrible idea. Who cared who it was? The only thing that mattered was how they could get rid of them. — Stupid school report, — the man thought, — That's what got my imagination going. Children have always been up to something. That's what children are for. The whole point of their existence until the age of twenty-one is to do charming follies, make up things, and be nice. Isn't it? Jack adored his children, but sometimes, when they started to be too creative and get involved in serious research... On the one hand, he was happy that they were interested in the family business, but on the other hand, they showed an excessive and inappropriate interest in ghosts and evil spirits, and sometimes, like now, they even seemed to have compassion for them. Compassion for an otherworldly something that tried to drag a living person to the next world! Isn't that childish? Ghosts and undead are evil. And evil should burn, just like the witches of the past. After all, no one would send an innocent person to the stake who truly had nothing to do with evil. Witches communicated with the Other Side. They had connections with those they shouldn't have, and perhaps even helped people in the human world to adapt and disguise themselves as real people. For this alone, they should be punished. Even with regular immigrants, many people still struggle to understand them, let alone the supernatural. Who knows what to expect from them, and what is considered normal in their dirty homeworld? Kindness or eating babies? Jack sighed and got out of bed, walking over to the large mirror out of habit. Still draped with cloth, at Maddy's insistence. A strange whim of a woman, who explained that in their home, the so-called "Charlott" had appeared from the bathroom mirror. "Superstition," he was sure of it, but he didn't unwrap the mirror, contenting himself with blindly patting his disheveled hair. The hallways were dimly lit with the warm, emergency night light bulbs at the floor level of the hallways. It was dim, but it was enough to see everything clearly. The devices in the bedroom and the hallway were silent. The dials were at zero. Although there was no more paranormal activity in the house, he and his wife decided to keep the children at the hotel for a couple of more nights and perform a few additional cleaning sessions. Ghostly entities had a lot in common with cockroaches and bed bugs. It was better to be safe. The room was just as quiet. The only thing that stood out was the absence of the glass coffee table, which would have cut his back with shards if it hadn't been for the sturdy fabric of his jumpsuit. Even after the crazy creature stopped trying to strangle him, it still tried to harm him. Remembering the concern and compassion in his son's eyes, Jack tried to suppress his resentment towards the child. After all, children are known for their charming foolishness and naivety. It's not a betrayal to be expected from them, right? The instruments showed nothing but a slight deviation of half a division, which was most likely a simple error of the instrument, which sometimes reacted to people due to its sensitivity. It would be worth recalibrating it once morning came. The man did not want to trust the cleanliness of his own home to even such a small error. In his peripheral vision, he noticed a glint of light near the couch. As he leaned closer, he realized it was a small piece of tabletop that they had missed during their cleaning. The piece was shiny and smooth, and as it lay on the dark carpet, it reflected the soft and warm glow of the night light, resembling a small mirror. Jack picked up the piece and twirled it in his fingers, glancing at his reflection in the glass to assess his appearance as a habit. Along with his face, the shard reflected Charlotte's dark shadow with her burning blue eyes. The little beast stood right behind him, accompanied by a swarm of greenish entities baring their sharp teeth as they peered at him from behind their mistress.

***

With difficulty opening her eyes, Maddy realized to her shame that she had fallen asleep during her own shift, right at her desk, something she usually never did. The pages of the book she had been reading were crumpled, and judging by the smudges of ink, some of the text had clearly been smeared on her cheek. Her back was stiff and aching. Sleeping in such a position, hunched over the desk like a question mark, was a bad idea at any age. Her neck cracked as she turned her head towards the empty bed. The heat and slight numbness made it take her a while to realize that the bed was empty. Jack was not in the room. It was already six o'clock in the morning. It was time to get up and check the appliances. That's probably what her husband was doing while she was asleep, having disturbing and incomprehensible dreams about her children. — Jack, — she called as she stepped out into the corridor. — I'm sorry, dear, I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep. What about the readings? The answer was silence. The devices in the bedroom and the hallway showed a strict zero. There was no reason to worry. Not a single one. Except for the silence. — Jack? ― the drowsiness was lifted by hand. Maddy went downstairs, almost slipping on the foam that had been spilled on the stairs. The slimy substance stretched to the ground floor like the trail of a giant snail. — Jack? ― she called nervously, trying to get down as soon as possible and not fall. The entire living room was covered in green foam from floor to ceiling. Lush, phosphorescent globs of ectoplasmic weaponry slowly slithered down the walls like greasy slugs and dripped from the ceiling in thick globs. Jack was in the kitchen with a blaster, cautiously surveying the area. The ecto-foam dripped from the weapon's barrel directly onto the dining table. — They're everywhere. In every corner, — the man muttered, looking around. — Our house is full of that otherworldly monsters. Maddy looked at the readings in the kitchen, cautiously approaching the man with the gun. All the readings were zero. It was completely silent. — Jack, the instruments say there are no ghosts in the house, — Maddy said, looking at her husband carefully. His skin was pale, and there seemed to be more gray hair on his temples, but his eyes... His eyes were darting around the kitchen, and he was occasionally looking into the living room behind her, barely paying attention to her. His black pupils were as small as a pinhead, and they were pulsating nervously, as if he were under the influence of adrenaline. ― That's what they want us to think. But I've seen through them. I'll get them all out of here. I'll destroy them molecule by molecule. The appliances were silent, refusing to confirm the man's words. Everything in the house was as usual, except for the mess and dirt from the ecto-cleaner. Outside, the familiar sounds of occasional passing cars and birdsong in the garden could be heard. Everything was as it had been before the spirit's intrusion. Except Jack.