Page 1 of Devil’s Night (Vinduthi Captured Mates #7)
NICOLE
“ G et a grip, ,” I muttered under my breath, tightening my grip on my satchel. “This is the scoop you’ve been waiting for.”
I’d spent months chasing down leads, sifting through online forums and urban legends about the most haunted places in Detroit. This mansion kept popping up, the stories growing wilder and more disturbing with each retelling. It was the best chance I’d found for making a stunning scoop and getting out of my dead-end retail job.
Slipping through a gap in the rusted gate, I picked my way across the weed-choked yard toward the house’s shadowy maw. Dry vines clawed at my boots as I climbed the creaking steps to the porch. The door hung open, its hinges groaning in protest as I shouldered it wider.
Inside, a musty scent hung heavy in the air, like a damp blanket smothering me. Dust motes danced in the fading light filtering through filthy windows. Cobwebs draped tattered furniture, and the floorboards creaked underfoot, as if the building itself was holding its breath.
“Okay “ I exhaled shakily. “Let’s do this.”
Clutching my phone’s flashlight, I started my exploration on the ground floor, sweeping the beam across peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceilings. In what must have once been a parlor, broken ornaments were strewn over the fireplace mantle. Beside it, an overturned end table lay next to a shattered mirror, shards of glass glittering in my light like diamonds.
As I moved deeper inside, a strange energy thrummed through the air, raising the fine hairs on my arms. It felt like the charged calm before a thunderstorm, that heavy expectant silence. My pulse quickened as I climbed the main staircase, each step protesting with an ominous groan.
Upstairs, the hallway stretched into darkness, doors opening onto vacant bedrooms. I poked my head into each one, the beam of my light cutting through the gloom to reveal empty dressers, bare mattresses sagging onto the floor. Layers of dust and cobwebs coated every surface.
It was as if the house’s former occupants had simply vanished. Without a struggle or any sign of their departure. An uneasy feeling coiled in the pit of my stomach.
At the end of the hall loomed the entrance to the attic, the doorway yawning like the maw of some great beast. I hesitated, my hand trembling on the doorknob. Taking a steadying breath, I turned the knob and shoved the door open.
Weak shafts of dying sunlight filtered through the small attic windows, casting a dreary pall over the cramped space. Trunks and boxes were piled haphazardly, spilling their contents across the bare floor - dolls with sightless eyes, tattered books, a rusted bicycle
My light settled on a strange object nestled among the discarded bric-a-brac. It appeared to be an antique mechanism, brass fittings and glass tubing tangled in a perplexing array. At its center, a dull violet glow pulsed steadily.
Captivated, I knelt beside it, angling my phone to get a better look. “What are you?” I murmured, extending a hand toward the strange device.
No. I shouldn’t touch it. But I did want to get a photo of it.
I hit the button, and as the flash went off, a violent jolt of energy arced through me, like I’d been struck by lightning.
I cried out, stumbling backward as I clutched my stomach and fumbling for my phone as it slipped from my grasp. There was a blinding blaze of violet light, and then darkness swallowed me.