Chapter Fifty-Five
The fog follows us to the edge of the property. It pulses like a soft, glowing heartbeat, then stops, as if the ancestors are saying, We'll guard this place for you. The rest is yours.
Agent Williams drives us to town under the cover of darkness. City Hall rises ahead, cold and silent, its security lights sweeping the lawn like searching eyes. The streets are empty, every house shut tight for the night, and the stillness makes it feel like the whole town is holding its breath.
"Okay… so this is happening. We're really committing a crime tonight?" Uncle Donovan whispers, staring at the large, ominous building.
"Focus, Donovan," Zeke tells him, elbowing him.
"I am focused," Uncle Donovan hisses. "Focused on not dying."
Agent Williams parks behind the east wing of the building. The city hadn't gotten around to putting cameras up on this side. "Masks up. No names once we're inside."
We move swiftly, staying in the shadows. The rusted maintenance door is partly hidden behind a dumpster. All four men gently shift it leftward away from the access door. I tried to help but was brushed aside, as if I were too fragile to push the heavy object. I rolled my eyes and waited until they finished. They didn't dismiss me out of chauvinism; they genuinely cared about what was happening to me—my uncle, dad, and Zeke, at least. After it was moved, Agent Williams kneels and starts bypassing the alarm panel.
Uncle Donovan hovers over him, twisting his hands together, obviously nervous as the rest of us. "Please tell me you're disarming it. I don't want to get tased."
"I'm disabling the primary alarm," Agent Williams says without looking up. He finishes the bypass and pushes the rusty door open to a long stretch of darkness. "Stay close. Security rotates every fifteen minutes. Here, everyone take one of these," he tells us as he pulls a flashlight out for each one of us. "Be careful and stay together," was his last words as we slipped inside. The corridor is narrow, dim, and smells like dust and old paper. Pipes rattle overhead.
"This place just feels wrong," Andy whispers.
It is," I say, nodding. It doesn't feel wrong because of anything supernatural. It's because Dunhill's presence lingers here. Making the building feel oppressive. We move deeper into the building-quietly, steadily-each in a single file line.
Agent Williams checks his watch. "Cameras in thirty seconds. Move." We hurry down the hall, following close behind him.
"Okay, so far so good. We haven't run into any ghosts or guards. We're—" Uncle Donovan starts.
"Don't jinx it," Zeke mutters, shooting him an annoyed look. Uncle Donovan, being the mature adult that he is, sticks his tongue out at him.
"I'm not jinxing it," Uncle Donovan whispers.
We reach Dunhill's office door, and the oppressive feeling becomes more intense, overwhelming me. Agent Williams kneels, pulling out a smaller toolkit.
"How do you know how to pick locks? I thought you were an FBI agent. You don't do things like this. Come to think of it, how did you know how to surpass the security system at the other door? Who even are you?" Uncle Donovan asks.
"I wasn't always an agent. My upbringing was a little unorthodox. Let's leave it at that." Agent Williams says. I can't imagine what his life was like before the bureau.
Andy stays on guard, watching for security. Zeke stays glued to my side.
Uncle Donovan paces in tiny circles, whispering, "I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm not calm."
Agent Williams works quickly; the tension is thick enough to choke on. Then we hear it — click. The office door unlocks. Agent Williams pushes it open just enough for us to slip inside.
"Go quickly. Quietly," he says, looking at Uncle Donovan the whole time. My uncle puts his hands up like he is offended to be singled out.
We enter Dunhill's office. It's dark, cold, and immaculate. The air feels heavy with the weight of his secrets. Uncle Donovan stays by the door, and Andy waits just outside in the corridor. Agent Williams moves straight to the desk, kneels again, and begins working on the drawer lock.
"Round two. No pressure. Just the fate of our universe weighing on your shoulders," Uncle Donovan says.
"Please shut the hell up," Zeke begs. Uncle Donovan just smiles.
Click. The drawer slides open, and there it is: The Grey Book. It is old, heavy, and bound in cracked leather. A symbol is burned into the cover. I recognize it immediately. It's the same one Yurei wears on a necklace around her neck. I reach for the book. The moment my fingers touch the cover, it pulses just like my grandma's journal did. It feels warm and alive as if it recognizes my touch. A second pulse travels up my arms and settles behind my ribs, syncing with my heartbeat. The veil stirs inside me, brushing my mind like a familiar hand, whispering, You're not alone. My breath catches. The book isn't just reacting — it's welcoming me.
"It's pulsing in my hands. I think it knows me," I whisper.
Agent Williams nods. "That's good. Now—" Footsteps cut him off. Everyone freezes. A flashlight beam sweeps across the hallway outside. Andy slips into the office and quietly shuts the door. "Hide. Now," Agent Williams orders.
We move fast. Uncle Donovan, Andy, and Zeke slide beneath the picture window overlooking the hallway. Agent Williams grabs my arm and pulls me under the massive mahogany desk with him. He reaches up, closes the drawer, then pulls the desk chair in front of us, blocking the view.
His shoulder presses against mine, steady and controlled, but I can feel the tension vibrating through him. My pulse is so loud it fills my ears. The veil coils tight inside my chest, ready to lash out if the guard steps even an inch closer. I press my hand over the book to quiet its faint, frantic pulse.
Floorboards creak outside the office. The flashlight beam sweeps across the room — over the window, over the desk, over us. Uncle Donovan's breathing is so loud I'm sure the guard will hear him. Zeke swiftly presses his hand over Uncle Donovan's mouth, trying to quiet the sound. A cold ripple slides down my spine — the ancestors watching, waiting.
The guard lingers too long. Then he steps back. His footsteps move toward the elevator. We wait until the ding of the elevator doors closing.
"Move quickly, but stay quiet," Agent Williams whispers.
We slip out of the office without a sound. We've made it only ten feet when we hear another click. Uncle Donovan freezes midstep.
"Uh… guys?" he whispers.
"What did you touch?" Agent Williams asks, snapping his head toward him, irritated and worried.
"I don't know! My elbow grazed something! My elbow's a traitor!" Uncle Donovan whispers.
A faint red light blinks on the wall — a silent alarm. Security will be converging on us soon. The veil spikes inside me, sharp and urgent, like a warning bell rung directly against my ribs. The Grey Book warms in my arms, its pulse quickening.
"Move. Now," Agent Williams growls.
"I hate my life," Uncle Donovan squeaks.
"Donovan, not now," Andy hisses.
"Okay, okay, just trying to lighten the mood," he mutters.
We sprint down the hallway, and the old carpeting muffles our footsteps. The Grey Book is heavy in my arms, warm against my chest, pulsing faintly like it recognizes the danger.
We round a corner and stop. There's voices, many of them, and they're close. Too close.
"They're coming up the stairs," Andy whispers.
"We need another route. Quickly," Agent Williams says, and then swears under his breath. The veil pulses behind my ribs — sharp and urgent.
"This way," I whisper, pointing right. The veil tugs at me like a hand gripping the back of my shirt, pulling me toward the correct path. It's not a thought — it's instinct, ancient and absolute.
Agent Williams doesn't question me. He trusts me now.
"Go!" he snaps.
We run down the long stretch of hallway; it is dim and empty. We don't stop or hesitate because the sound of boots pounding behind us is terrifying. Security is moving faster than we expected.
"Why are they so athletic?" Uncle Donovan gasps.
"Because they're trained. Probably military," Zeke says, yanking him forward.
"Well, that's just rude and unfair," Uncle Donovan complains.
We reach a T-intersection. Left leads to the main stairwell. Right to a narrow service corridor.
"Split up!" Agent Williams orders.
"What?!" Zeke spins toward him.
"They'll expect us to stay together," Agent Williams yells. We split; we divide their forces."
"He's right," Andy says, breath shaking. "It gives us a better chance of surviving this."
"Andy, Zeke, and Roxanne — service corridor," Agent Williams points in its direction. "Get to the alley. Keep her and the book close. We'll distract them. I'll get Donovan out the other way."
"Wait, why am I going with him?" Uncle Donovan asks, pointing at Agent Williams.
"Because you're loud. You'll draw attention," Agent Williams says flatly as he pushes Uncle Donovan in the opposite direction from us.
"That's fair," Uncle Donovan agrees.
"Come on. Stay close to me," Zeke says, grabbing my arm.
"I'm not letting go," I say, tightening my grip on The Grey Book.
Zeke, Andy, and I sprint down the service corridor. Pipes rattle overhead. The Grey Book pulses in my arms — warm, insistent.
"They're right behind us," Andy whispers.
"Faster!" Zeke urges as he grabs my arm. We burst into a stairwell. Footsteps thunder above us. Zeke pushes me toward the stairs leading down. "Go!" We fly down the steps. The book throbs like a heartbeat.
"They're coming down the other side," Andy warns.
Zeke slams into the exit door. It doesn't budge. "Are you kidding me?!"
The veil flares in panic, a hot spike behind my ribs. The book pulses so hard it almost slips from my hands. Something is wrong — terribly wrong.
Andy shoves past him, grabs the bar, and slams his shoulder into it. After several hits, there is a loud crack. The door bursts open. Cold night air rushes in. We stumble into the dark alley behind City Hall.
"Rocky, stay close," Zeke says, grabbing my arm.
"They're coming! Hurry!" Andy yells, slamming the door shut behind us.
We run. The alley is narrow and dark, lit only by a flickering streetlamp. Behind us, the stairwell door bursts open again with another loud bang. Security pours out.
"STOP! HANDS UP!" One of the men yell.
"Keep moving," Zeke says, pulling me forward with Andy close behind us. We sprint toward the far end of the alley — and nearly collide with Agent Williams and Uncle Donovan.
"Go! They're right behind us!" Agent Williams shouts.
Security floods the alley from both ends, blocking our only two escape routes. We're trapped. Zeke pulls me close. Andy steps in front of us. Agent Williams raises his gun. Uncle Donovan grips a metal pipe like it's the only thing keeping him alive. The Grey Book pulses violently in my arms. A golden light shines from the cover. The veil surges.
Fog rolls in from the street — thick, glowing, alive. It doesn't drift — it charges, racing toward us like a living thing answering a scream. The air crackles. The temperature drops. My ancestors aren't just coming — they're furious. The fog curls around my legs first, warm and electric, like a protective embrace. The security men panic. The fog is not normal. It is thick, glowing, alive — and moving with purpose. Shapes ripple within it: shoulders, hands, silhouettes of those who walked the veil before me. The fog surges faster, filling the alley and forming a wall between us and security. It slams into place with the force of a closing fist. The ground trembles beneath my feet. The ancestors are done hiding. The officers slam into it as if it's solid stone. The fog ripples like muscle beneath skin, absorbing the impact and pushing back.
Zeke pulls me close. "Rocky, they can't get through. The fog is shielding us again."
Uncle Donovan stares at the glowing wall of fog. "Okay, ancestors… love the dramatic entrance. Very cinematic."
My ancestors have come. The book calls them to protect us. To protect me.
"We need to move before they regroup," Agent Williams says.
We sprint down the alleyway, the fog rolling behind us like a living shield. The night air is cold, sharp, and electric. Our adrenaline is thundering through our bodies, keeping us moving when we would rather stop from exhaustion. I am scared, unsure if we will make it back to the safety of our house or if our efforts will die here.
"Where do we go?" Andy gasps.
"To my SUV. It should be close. Move!" Agent Williams shouts.
We round the corner — and stop.
A black SUV idles in the middle of the street, blocking our escape. Its headlights slice through the fog curling protectively around us. The Grey Book goes still in my arms — completely still — as if holding its breath. The veil recoils so sharply it knocks the air from my lungs. Whoever is inside that SUV… the ancestors don't want me near them. None of us moves. None of us speaks. The back door opens. A single boot steps out — slow, deliberate — and the fog shivers like it recognizes the threat.