Page 3

Chapter

Three

Erin

D espite this moment occupying my every waking thought for the past twenty-four hours, and even bleeding into my distorted dreams, nothing could have prepared me for it.

The moment when the sun dips behind the tops of the trees, chasing the horizon, and a navy blanket sweeps across the sky, tucking the town in for the night…it’s magic.

One by one, the lights in the distance blink out of existence, turning the closest buildings into smudges on the dark landscape, barely illuminated by the glow of a full moon. The gravel lot where we’ve parked is situated higher on a slope and gives us the perfect vantage point.

Tyler and I are huddled in my car, equipped with snacks, blankets, pillows, and emergency supplies. I also have my laptop with its own wi-fi that allows me to stream a live-action view from both night vision cameras to my blog, and we’ve blacked out all the glass except the driver’s side window as an extra precaution.

Now, the only thing to do is wait for something to happen.

My heart slams steadily in my chest, assaulting my ribs, and I’m glad I decided to stay in the car rather than hiding in some bushes somewhere. Every creepy crawly in the woods would hear how hard my heart is hammering—as it is, the blood in my ears beats way too loud, drowning out Tyler’s nervous breathing.

Excitement and adrenaline tangle together inside of me and I drum my hands on the steering wheel with nervous energy.

This is it .

This is what I’ve spent six months waiting for, impatiently begging the minutes and hours to slip by faster so I can have my shot at capturing images of the Grim. Or better yet, so I can see him in the flesh.

I need this win. I need to know the money left from my inheritance was put to good use, the right way.

Vindication for my past failures will erase the guilt scabbed over my heart.

A chill crawls across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and I take a slow, deep breath.

We’re several yards away from the woods, positioned just right so we have a clear view of the trees through my window, even without the binoculars packed in my bag. A halo of moonlight frames the tops of the trees, frosting the limbs and leaves up high, but it doesn’t penetrate past the first row of tree trunks.

Everything inside the woods is drenched in darkness. The utterly impregnable blackness of true wilderness.

“Spooky,” Tyler whispers, barely audible. “Isn’t it?”

Even though we’re far enough away to be out of earshot, and locked safely inside the car, any noise or sudden movement seems too risky. Adrenaline kicks up in my veins, and my eyes fall to the laptop sitting between us on the console to check the cameras. There’s nothing there but trees and underbrush, and I find myself wishing my savings was a little more hearty to buy a few more cameras.

What if we didn’t space them out enough? What if they’re in the wrong spot entirely?

A notification on the laptop screen proclaims there are now over a hundred live viewers watching the camera stream—nothing record breaking, but a decent turnout—and comments from them appear in a little pop-up in the corner.

My attention catches on a few of the comments as they whiz by.

MnsterFker001: What do you want to bet the Grim is bangable?

EatMyShorts: Waste of timeeee. Cryptids aren’t real.

LolliPOP: Find something safe to do…

MnsterFker001: 10/10 would smash

“Relax, Erin,” Tyler says, snapping my attention away from the live chat. He leans his seat back a little further. “You’ve done everything you can. There’s nothing left to do but wait.”

I force an unconvincing smile, my eyes darting outside toward the tree line. I stare a hole through the darkness until my eyes blur and burn.

“I hope so,” I mumble. Otherwise I’ll be waiting another six months to try again .

Who knows what else will change in six months.

Minutes turn into hours without so much as a hint of anything paranormal, and to break up the suffocating silence, I grab the small battery-powered radio I carry everywhere and flip it to our favorite AM talk show, the Paramorning, turning the volume down low.

While it’s only a repeat of this morning’s show, the show hosts’ hushed voices are comforting, reassuring in the gloom. Maybe when this is all over, they’ll want to interview me for my monumental strides in the paranormal world.

I smirk at the thought.

It would be the cherry on top of my accomplishments.

“This evening, we’re joined by paranormal investigator and psychic medium, River Scott, who just finished up their tour of Blackstone Cemetery,” the host states in a low, smokey tone. “They’ve brought some audio clips we’re going to share with you, really exciting stuff. Tell us, how are you, River?”

My thoughts haze over as the talk show continues, the voices bouncing around inside my head without me paying much attention. At least it’s better than the silence.

My eyes flit between the tree line outside to the laptop and back again, and my thoughts begin to wander. What will it be like to finally lay eyes on the Grim?

Although descriptions vary, and there is no concrete way to tell if any of them are accurate, the Grim is said to be a large, looming figure with glowing red eyes.

Supposedly, no one has ever seen the Grim up close and personal and lived to tell about it, but the rumors came from somewhere. I’ve never been able to validate the stories I’ve heard from supposed “survivors,” let alone find an actual person to interview regarding their experience.

“Firsthand” accounts exist for nearly every cryptid. In this case, maybe someone a long time ago had a really close call and the information has been passed down ever since.

Or maybe it’s a load of crap and the Grim is nothing like anyone has imagined.

Or maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t exist.

No. I refuse to believe that. My stomach twists into knots, and I squeeze the steering wheel until my knuckles go white.

He’s real, out there somewhere, and I’m going to find him. I just have to be patient a little while longer. Although patience has never really been my thing. Probably a bad quality for a paranormal investigator.

As the minutes tick by, each one longer than the last, my eyelids grow heavy. They sag, despite my efforts to hold them open, and one long blink is all it takes for me to slip into unconsciousness.

Images fade in and out of my dreams. The Grim, Bigfoot, being interviewed by every TV station about my work. Tyler chastising me for never being cautious enough, and the look on everyone’s faces that doubted me when I change the world forever. I’ll make my father proud. Make this crazy endeavor worthwhile.

And then it all fades abruptly when a loud thud jolts me awake.

I shoot upright, nostrils flaring and searching frantically for the source of the sound. The radio has faded to white noise at some time during my ill-timed nap, and Tyler is snoring softly in the passenger seat, his baseball cap pulled low over his face to shield it from view.

I check the night vision cameras, searching the screens for anything unusual, but all I see are the same tree trunks and slowly swaying underbrush as before. Nothing new.

Next, I scan the tree line, scouring the darkness for any sign of movement. I mentally trace each trunk, my gaze lingering on the gaps between them, but again, there’s nothing.

So what the fuck was that noise?

Maybe Tyler’s phone slid out of his lap and hit the floorboard. That’s probably what it was.

The whole situation has me spooked, and I’m just desperate to blame it on something unseen without any proof, but it seems like it was nothing. I might have dreamed the noise for all I know.

I settle back in my seat, heart racing like I’m sprinting toward a finish line, and take a few calming breaths. It’s almost midnight—meaning I slept a lot longer than just the few minutes I thought I had—and the moon is shining high and bright against the dark backdrop overhead.

Everything is still and quiet, unnervingly peaceful.

As my gaze creeps back toward the woods, a spark of glimmering white light snags my attention, making my breath hitch in my chest. A sliver of illumination nestled into the pitch black landscape, flickering and shimmering, mostly obscured by the trees in front of it.

Okay, there is definitely something out there.

With a sharp inhale, I grab for my camera on the dashboard and fumble with the on switch, fingers trembling as my pulse picks up speed.

I hurry, not wanting the light to disappear before I’m able to get a picture of it, but it doesn’t wane. However, even zooming in as much as possible, the image isn’t very clear. We’re too far away for me to get a decent view.

What’s the source of the light? Where is it coming from and why is it stationary? Even an ATV traipsing through the woods would distinctively move.

“Tyler,” I hiss, slapping him on the thigh to wake him up.

He jumps, knocking his baseball cap off, and it takes a second for him to get his bearings. “What? What is it?”

“Look, quick.” I lean back for him to get a glimpse through the window, and his eyes grow wide.

“Oh, shit. What is that?”

“I don’t know.” I keep my voice low. “But I can’t get a clear picture of it.”

He glances down at the computer between us. “And it’s not showing up on the cameras. It’s probably too far north. Have you seen anything else?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I was thinking about getting closer—”

“No.” Tyler interjects, eyes widening even more. “Erin, that wasn’t part of the plan. We’re supposed to stay in the car, not go looking for it. Don’t go outside.”

I huff out a sigh and look back at the tree line, my gaze drawn toward the flickering light. It could be something set up by a local to ward off the monster, or it could be from the Grim to lure its next victim into the woods.

Either way, I’m desperate to get close enough to find out.

The fine hairs on my forearms prickle with awareness.

“You can stay in the car then,” I say, looping the neck strap of my camera over my head. “I won’t go far. I just want to know what it is, and there’s no way to find out by hiding here.”

“ It’s a trap, Erin ,” Tyler whispers harshly, pointing out the window toward the woods. “That’s probably bait, and you’re the prey walking right into the monster’s den.”

He’s panicked, his chest rising and falling harshly.

“I won’t go too far into the woods,” I assure him, not entirely sure if I believe the words I’m saying.

So far, there’s been no sign of the Grim, nothing to make me believe I’m in imminent danger.

Besides, the car won’t be far away. I can always run back if I see anything, but I won’t forgive myself if I don’t take this chance. If I don’t get out of the car and get close enough to photograph whatever the light source is.

“Erin,” Tyler says sharply as I reach for the door handle. “Don’t do it. Please. I’m begging you.”

But I’m not listening.

An invisible hook has caught behind my belly button, drawing me toward the trees. My curiosity is too potent to shake. This is a paranormal investigator’s dream come true, and I’m not going to miss out because I’m too afraid to get closer.

There are numerous stories about ghost lights in the woods, those strange floating orbs of light in the middle of wilderness with no source. Could this be one of those?

The stories come from all over the world and people from vastly different cultures. They all tell the tale of lights that are said to be evil or mischievous, luring unsuspecting people toward their doom.

My stomach settles, and my gut tells me this isn’t a typical ghost light.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, and before he can continue arguing, I push open the door and step out into the night.

Tyler doesn’t reach out to pull me back.

Despite being the middle of summer, there’s a chill clinging to the air that makes my skin crawl with goosebumps as I pause beside the car and scope out the area. There’s nothing amiss, no movement nearby, and no noise other than the racing pulse pounding in my ears.

I glance at Tyler a final time through the window, noting the conflicting look of disapproval and fear on his face, before turning toward the woods. A whisper of regret snakes through me, curling up my back, but I ignore it and slowly head toward the trees.

My hands shake, despite clinging to the camera around my neck, and my breaths stutter as I move quickly and quietly to the woods. I keep my eyes peeled, scouring the still landscape for anything suspicious, and my nerves calm the slightest bit when I again find nothing out of the ordinary.

I chew the corner of my mouth, thoughts spiraling as my feet move on autopilot.

Is there any merit to these rumors about the Grim?

Because so far, it seems like a lot of hype with nothing to show for it.

Aside from a flicker of light, which becomes clearer with every step I take, I haven’t seen or heard anything unusual. It’s just a quiet, peaceful night in the wilderness, with the town laying sleepily behind me.

If this were a typical will-o-the-wisp, it would move.

Feeling a little braver, I pick up my steps, my eyes glued to the slice of piercing light coming from the woods.

The closer I get, the more I can tell it’s farther in than I initially thought—at least fifteen yards or so. The light stretches and lengthens, until I’m able to make out an almost complete circle of white.

A ring, or what looks eerily like a portal.

Oh, my god. My heart skips a beat and I fumble with my camera, snapping several pictures and holding my breath. It’s beautiful, mesmerizing. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

I can already imagine posting these pictures to Hooked on Spooks in the morning and the feral reactions they’ll get from the paranormal community. The clarity is startling, the proof irrefutable.

I’ve struck gold just by getting to this point, but I want more. I want to get just a little closer, to get a picture of this thing without all the tree trunks blocking portions of it. The night air is still and silent—there’s not even a hint of movement within the woods.

It can’t hurt to take a few more steps.

After all, I’ve come this far and nothing has happened. What’s a bit further?

With a deep, anxious breath, I take a step forward, a twig snapping beneath my tennis shoe as I enter the woods. I pause, waiting for something to jump out at me, but nothing does. After several seconds of my heart racing frantically, I take another step. Then another.

When I’m a couple of yards from the ring of light, I stop to marvel at it.

The white glow flickers silently, shifting like a candle flame but burning nothing around it. Inside the hole is more darkness, but I realize instantly that it doesn’t match the woods around it. Everything is a deeper, darker black, the trees through it twisted and gnarled. The ground looks sharper, sticking up at odd angles.

It’s a portal . It has to be. A gateway or an entrance from this world to another one.

I snap several pictures, not daring to get any closer. I’ve already risked so much by coming this far—I don’t want to disturb whatever force has caused this portal to open. I’m curious, but not greedy, and I’ll take what I can get in terms of evidence. I have at least fifty pictures; that will be more than enough for my subscribers.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, the sound barely audible to my own ears.

A prickle of nerves dances along the back of my neck, making my hairs stand on end, and warning bells sound in my head.

You’ve seen it, Erin. Now it’s time to go.

The voice in my head is adamant and logical. I need to head back to the car. I need to show Tyler these photos.

He isn’t going to believe that we found a real-life fucking portal. This has just rocked everything I thought I knew, and I’ve seen a lot of interesting shit over the last few years.

My hand curls around the strap of the camera and I tremble.

This is earth-shattering, and it’s my discovery. The discovery of a lifetime, the jackpot I’ve been waiting for.

And it’s mine .

Despite my curiosity reeling, I turn on my heel as my skin begins to crawl; the sudden need to get away shoots through me, and I focus on a clear path out of the trees. Despite the limited lighting, I can see a small piece of my car through the tree trunks, and Tyler’s ball cap peeking out over the top of it as he waits for me to return.

But I only make it a few steps before something shifts ahead of me.

Stepping out from a tree trunk on two legs, morphing itself from the darkness, is a looming figure, at least eight feet tall. Taller than the stories .

The words in my head flicker into existence with terrible clarity before disappearing behind a wall of sheer terror.

I swallow hard, breath stuttering, my senses struggling to catch up to my brain.

Icy chills seize my muscles, sinking down to my bones.

The figure is wide, a solid wall of charred skin and fur, with gangly, muscular limbs and long fingers tipped with sharp claws.

I stagger back a step, forcing my gaze to climb higher to where the thing’s face should be.

Instead of fur or skin, there’s an elongated white animal skull with sharp teeth and horns spiraling out to the sides. A set of glowing red eyes laser in on me, lighting my insides with fear and making the alarm bells in my head scream at an all time high.

It’s a beast, a demon straight from the depths of hell, and it’s staring at me like I’m its next meal.

“Oh shit.” The words are ripped from my lips before I can stop them.

A deep, rumbling growl rolls in the monster’s chest, the sound shooting straight through my chest like an arrow. Reality slaps me harshly in the face.

This is the Grim that everyone has been terrified of, that they feared would come for them on the solstice. The embodiment of the horror stories that plague the town of Great Oaks, death incarnate.

And I’ve offered myself up to it willingly.