Page 14 of Hallowed & Haunted

“What?”

“Sit,” Niillas commands, pushing Sander down onto the sleeping bag with enough force that he has no choice but to comply.

“What the hell—”

“Stay put.”

Niillas is at the door in two quick strides and blocks it with a chair under the handle. When he seems certain the door won’topen, he settles on the armrest of the couch, close enough to Sander to touch but also looming above him. And blocking the way to the door. And the window. Niillas’ dark eyes never leave the window.

“You can’t just—” Sander tries again, but he’s cut off with a sharp gesture.

“Be quiet.”

The command sends heat rushing through Sander’s veins; part fury and part excitement, something he doesn’t want to analyze too closely. Who does Niillas think he is, ordering him around like some helpless—

He stops mid-thought, suddenly aware of exactly what Niillas is doing. He has put himself between Sander and every possible entrance to the room. Between Sander and whatever might want to get in.

Something cold settles in Sander’s stomach.

Either Niillas is playing a very elaborate game to get into Sander’s head, and it’s working…

Or there is something very,verywrong with this house.

Chapter 4

Niillas

He can still feel it. The presence in the shadows outside, still lurking, still waiting. Its wrongness is palpable in the October air, making Niillas’ survival instincts tingle with awareness. His muscles coil tight, hands clenching the armrest until the wood creaks in protest. But Sander sits just inches away, completely unaware of the danger they’re in.

Fuck.

Niillas’ nostrils flare as another scent hits him. Something inside the house this time. Old despair that clings to the walls like smoke, patient and hungry.

Whatisthis place?

He forces his breathing to steady, unclenches his fists before he leaves treacherous marks in the wood.

Sander glares at him. He’d yielded to Niillas’ commands so far, his submission sending an inappropriate thrill through Niillas’veins, but now he can practically see Sander pulling himself together.

“Will you relax?” Sander snaps. “It was probably just a moose or something.”

But Niillas can hear the slight tremor underneath Sander’s bravado, smell the spike of adrenaline he’s trying to hide.

“You know it wasn’t a moose. And it would be wise to be afraid.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Sander goes rigid, his blue eyes flashing with fury and fear.

“Stupid pretty boy doesn’t know real danger when he sees it, is that what you’re saying?”

Heat crawls up Niillas’ neck. He wasn’t calling Sander stupid, but explaining what he was really trying to say would require breaching topics Sander can’t know about. Like how the creature outside has claws that could gut a man in seconds. Like how something upstairs is drawn by Sander’s growing unease, pressing closer with every second.

“That’s not—” Niillas tries, although he has no idea what he could say to placate Sander.

“No, I get it.” Sander pushes to his feet, pulling Niillas’ flannel shirt tighter around himself. “This is all some elaborate joke, isn’t it? Get the spoiled captain out to a creepy house, make him jump at shadows, watch him humiliate himself. Maybe take some pictures for the team group chat?”

“You think I’m pranking you?” The idea is so ridiculous that Niillas almost laughs. “With what, hired actors in the woods? Special effects?”

“But you don’t need actors, do you? Are your guys from defense in on this? Henrik? Lars?”