Page 78 of Grave Beginnings

“You see me, too,” he added, his head snapping up again to pin me with that inhuman gaze. His eyes were wrong. They seemed to stretch and pull, the edges of the irises blurring into a faint glow of black and purple that flickered like distant lightning.I clenched my hands into fists under the table, forcing myself to stay seated.

“What are you?” I asked.

“What are you?” he shot back, mimicking my tone. His lips curled in something too sharp to be a smile. A faint crackle of purple light sparked around him, curling like smoke, as if my question had drawn some hidden power to the surface.

“Did you open the Veil?” The question spilled from my lips unbidden. It was absurd, but my instincts wouldn’t let it go.

“They wanted to play with me.”

“The kids from the Veil? The zombie kids?”

“No one else likes Jonah Thayerson. But that doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice dipped, heavy with something far older than his years. “They were hungry, and I wanted to play.”

“Great. A playdate with the undead. They should have brought their own snacks,” I muttered under my breath. “Am I speaking to the real Jonah Thayerson?” My stomach roiled with unease, certain that whatever this thing was, it wasn’t Jonah. Was it the thing I’d met?

“He wants you,” Jonah said, his voice dropping into a guttural whisper.

“Who?”

“He’ll add you to his collection until you’re nothing more than another broken shadow.”

My chest tightened. “Is that where Jonah is?” I asked.

Jonah’s gaze darkened further, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might answer. But instead, his face crumpled. He let out a bone-shattering wail and collapsed onto the floor, thrashing and screaming.

“Mamma!” he shrieked, his cries stabbing through the oppressive tension like a knife.

His mother rushed in with her husband and Angel right behind her. Jonah flailed on the ground, his screams wordless andraw. I stood quickly, backing away from the table as the parents tried to calm him.

Angel’s questioning gaze met mine, but I could only shake my head, unable to explain the icy dread crawling down my spine.

“Please leave,” Mr. Thayerson said, ushering us out of Jonah’s room.

I gave them space and stepped into the living area, my eyes tracing the strange, flickering purple energy spreading across the walls like cracks in fragile glass. Not artwork. Was it something from across the Veil?

“Has he been talking a lot lately?” I asked Mr. Thayerson, careful not to touch the strange markings. One thing homicide taught you: never tamper with something that could be evidence.

“Since the daycare incident? A little,” he admitted. “His therapist says it’s trauma from the event.”

Trauma improving symptoms? That didn’t sound right. From what I knew, it usually made conditions like autism worse. I’d have to reach out to some old contacts in mental health to dig deeper.

“He’s different now. Better, even if it’s just a little,” Mr. Thayerson said.

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Better how?”

“Sleeps through the night, has fewer meltdowns. They don’t last as long,” he explained, gesturing toward Jonah’s room where the sound of crying had stopped. “And sometimes, he talks. Just a word or two here and there.”

Through the open doorway, I caught sight of Mrs. Thayerson cradling Jonah. He clung to her, his head buried in her shoulder, but his piercing glare landed squarely on me. I stared back. The boy’s silence raised questions I couldn’t answer. Meanwhile, the purple fissures faded into nothingness.

Possession? Was that even possible? And if it was, who would believe me?

Mr. Thayerson stepped forward and opened the front door. “I hope this is the last we see of the SED. We’d like to put this whole nightmare behind us and work on getting Jonah the help he needs.”

I suspected the kid needed an exorcism.

Angel studied me as I headed to the door. “Please call us if anything else happens,” he said. “Events like this can stir up nightmares in young children.” Angel handed him a business card.

Mr. Thayerson took it with a nod. “That’s why we want this over with.”