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Chapter

One

Erin

“ Y ou should call your newest piece Cornholed by the Cryptid ,” Tyler says, and I shoot him a dirty look. “It has a nice ring to it.”

This is why college kids are the worst.

Prime example, right here.

I shudder. “Ew. No.”

He lets out a groan as we continue through the woods, weaving between tree trunks and carefully avoiding above-ground roots. “Why not?”

“Because what I’m doing doesn’t involve cornholing,” I reply tartly.

There’s no way I’m including cornholed anything in my paranormal blog unless it involves haunted bean bags, and even then the chances are low. Besides, it’s not a spoof website.

I write about real paranormal activity that makes people afraid to go to sleep without the light on and has them checking over their shoulder if they’re caught outside late at night. The kind that chills your bones and makes your blood run cold. The kind that turns your dreams into nightmares.

Not getting railed by the creature that haunts these woods and terrorizes the townspeople.

Tyler has clearly missed the point of the assignment.

“You asked for my help.” He runs his fingers through his wavy blond hair, exasperated. “I’m just trying to do what you said.”

“Remind me not to ask next time,” I grumble. Stopping by one of the thinner tree trunks nearby, I drop to my knees to unpack a night vision camera from my bag.

It’s just a camouflage hunting camera used for capturing deer and other wildlife, but I’ve caught some incredible things on it in the past. Back before I moved to the east coast, I was hunting Bigfoot on the other side of the country and got some fairly distinct images of it before it disappeared.

Well, mostly distinct.

You could make out an arm and a torso, but there weren’t any footprints to back up my findings the next day. I didn’t care though. To me, the images spoke volumes.

Unfortunately, the Bigfoot piece that I’d dedicated several years of my life to didn’t take off the way I thought it would, but that’s neither here nor there. I’ve long since abandoned my quest to find Bigfoot in exchange for something much rarer and more terrifying: the Grim .

The lore surrounding the beast is scant but fascinating, setting every nerve in my body alight with curiosity. Supposedly, the Grim is seven feet tall and blends into the shadows, appearing twice a year to snatch prey from the woods.

However, it’s been hard to find anyone willing to talk about it.

The locals don’t even speak its name for fear it’ll show up on their doorstep and drag them back to whatever hell it comes from, so getting information about it has been tricky.

Tyler was the only local person to answer the questions I had.

My fingers fumble with the camera and I brush a thumb over the lens to clean it.

As a college student who’s a bit of an adrenaline junky, he didn’t mind explaining the Grim and the myths surrounding it to an outsider—after all, I’d just moved here and didn’t know much about the place. He thought the truth might dissuade me from going after it, but when he saw it only fueled my determination to find the monster, he joined my endeavor.

Now I can’t seem to get rid of him.

Besides, he’s the only one willing to speak to me, so maybe I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. That’s a real saying, right?

“Grab this and bring it around,” I say, handing Tyler the end of a long velcro strap.

He happily obliges, and we secure the camera to the tree. I check the angle several times before I’m satisfied and we move on to the second one.

They should be evenly placed along this stretch of woodland, where most of the stories place the location of the Grim every solstice. I want to make sure we cover the area properly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tyler asks as I scope out an ideal location for the other camera.

“I’m positive.”

In fact, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life. If I’m able to capture this thing on film, to expose it for the world to see, mine will be a household name in the world of cryptid hunting. You won’t be able to look up paranormal things without seeing Erin Roberts plastered everywhere.

The thought makes my heart flutter and my fingertips tingle with excitement. Yes . I can nearly taste the fame, and we only have one more day until the solstice when it all comes true.

I’m one of the lucky ones, with the financial stability to follow my dreams.

Most people aren’t so lucky.

Sadly, it was a trade-off. I got the money when my father died and left me a hefty inheritance, but I lost the one person I loved more than anything else in the world.

Sorry, Pop. Running my own business was better than college .

A lot of people don’t get the opportunities I do. Which is why I have to make this count.

The money won’t last forever.

I clear my throat, guilt sinking in my stomach, and flash a look at Tyler.

“I missed the last solstice because I was in bed dying with the flu,” I recall out loud, still pissed that I was forced to skip my first chance to find this thing. “I can’t wait another six months for my next shot at capturing photographic proof. I have to make a move, and it has to be tomorrow.”

I set my jaw and wait for him to argue with me.

This story needs to go right, and take off. If Tyler isn’t willing to do what I need him to do…then he needs to at least stop arguing. Or leave.

“Okay, okay,” he says, throwing up his hands. He rolls exasperated eyes at me. “I was just asking. Talking about it and actually trying to find it are very different. This is going to be really dangerous, especially if you’re outside to scope it out—”

“If you don’t want to come, it’s fine,” I snap, cutting him off. I blow a few silver strands of hair out of my face that have fallen free from my ponytail and wipe the back of my hand across my sweaty forehead.

I’d prefer if he took off.

I should have come out here earlier to avoid the harsh heatwave of midday, but Tyler had classes until lunchtime and he wanted to tag along.

“You’ve been more than enough help. I can handle tomorrow night alone,” I add.

He chuckles once and shakes his head in my direction. “Nice try, but I’m coming. You’ll stand a better chance if there’s someone with you.”

“A better chance of what?” We stop by another tree several yards from the first, and I unpack the second camera. I hand him the strap like before, and we secure it in place.

“Of not getting taken.”

There it is. The real reason everyone in town is terrified of the Grim.

If it were merely rumored sightings or eerie sounds coming from the trees in this part of the deep woods, people might not be so afraid. They might not bar their doors and windows at night this time of year or avoid being out when sunlight isn’t bathing the area. They might say the name of the monster out loud, instead of whispering in hushed tones about anything regarding the solstice.

But there have been more than just sounds and rumors of glowing red eyes in the darkness.

Every solstice when the Grim shows up, someone disappears without a trace. No blood, no evidence of a struggle, and no proof that it was the Grim that took them. Only second-hand tales of terror from people who might have seen something.

It makes the whole thing more bone-chilling to know that disappearances correlate to the night when this thing supposedly makes its appearance, and it ups the ante for me.

So much hinges on tomorrow night, and the possibilities make my heart thrum faster.

Become a well-renowned paranormal investigator, solve a mystery plaguing the nearby town, and find out what happened to all the people who disappeared. Pay off bills and make a name for myself so I never have to worry about the business going under again…

It’s all around a win for me.

During the last solstice, the one when I was too sick to get out of bed and set up my equipment, a boy was taken. A well-liked high school senior named Brandon Reese. There was even a modest search party to find him the next day, but very little information about the search was released.

All we knew was that he was gone. The central consensus: he was taken by the Grim.

Two solstices ago, it was an old woman named Ruth. The time before that, a girl named Amanda.

Whatever is happening, it doesn't discriminate. No one is safe from the solstice, and all we can do is follow the rules of the woods: don't stare into the trees, don’t go into them at night, and most importantly, never go looking for the Grim.

It’s always this area, too; a clear, arrow-straight path through thick woods, off trail.

“I’m not going to get taken,” I finally answer when my thoughts stop spiraling. “I just wish we knew more about what they found last time. Did they notice anything out of the ordinary? Surely someone saw something .”

I’m pressing him for more when he clearly doesn’t know any better than I do.

“Good luck,” Tyler scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’d have better luck getting information out of the secret service.”

I frown. Surely not. If they know we’re searching for the Grim so we can potentially stop it from taking more people, I hope they’d be willing to help. At least give us a tiny bit of information that could aid in our search. Right?

“I say we try to talk to them,” I say defiantly, knowing he’ll go along with anything I decide if I’m adamant enough. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“We’ve been over this already, Erin. They don’t want to be bothered. They’ve been through enough.”

“They might be willing to talk to us since we’re close to the solstice,” I argue, my desperation for information buzzing through my veins.

I want—no, need —to know more. Anything at all that will give us an edge and help increase our chances of snapping a photo of this thing.

I have one shot, tomorrow night, to get this right.

I can’t wait six more months for another opportunity…

Tyler glares at me, his mouth working back and forth and making his whisper of a blonde mustache wiggle. “Fine. But don't say I didn’t tell you so.”

“I won’t.”

A voice in the back of my mind says that Tyler is right, that this is a terrible idea and a waste of time, but I’m too hopeful to relent. I want answers, and if this is the only way I have a chance at getting them, then I have to try.

It’s in my nature, and what makes me one hell of a good paranormal investigator. I never stop delving for answers, even when things seem unlikely.

And I’m going to solve the mystery of the Grim.

No matter what.