Chapter 3: Spirits in the Shadows

I’m just as lost, staring at the paper doll. It wobbles, almost glaring back at me. Suddenly, it convulses, as if an invisible hand grabs it, and then crumples into a tight paper ball. The change is subtle, but goosebumps race up my arms.

The air thickens—suddenly, the normal café sounds vanish, replaced by a dead, unnatural hush. As the paper doll is crushed, I hear a faint snap, like bones breaking, and beneath it, a chorus of muffled, anguished screams—raw, angry, desperate. The connection between the doll and Mariah’s soul is violently severed.

The paper ball spins on the floor like a tiny tornado. My instincts scream danger, so I whip out a lighter and torch it.

Whoosh—

A burst of flame leaps up, nearly singeing my eyebrows. I jerk back, but not fast enough; my forehead gets a flash of heat, and I catch the sharp scent of burnt hair.

The acrid smell of scorched hair lingers, sharp and nasty. When the paper ball finally burns out, all that’s left is a patch of black ash, shaped like an eye, staring straight at me. It’s a warning, loud and clear.

A wave of dread crashes over me—the kind you get when you realize the hunter has become the hunted.

Something out there has locked onto me.

“Wh…what just happened?” Savannah’s voice shakes as she hands me a stack of napkins.

I push her hand away, giving her a hard stare. “Cut the act, Savannah.”

She looks genuinely confused. “Cut what act?”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re a medium, right? You host spirits. When things go sideways, instead of calling your own people, you drag me—an outsider—into this mess?”

Savannah’s panic shows in her eyes, her words tumbling out. “What medium? If I was a spirit host, why would I need you?”

I don’t let up. “Because your spirit’s been detained.”