Chapter Fifty-Six
Mayor Dunhill steps out smiling. His movements were not rushed, panicked, or surprised. He stands there calmly assessing each one of us. His security detail fans out behind him, forming a line across the street on either side. His movements felt orchestrated, like he had been waiting for us. Everyone was tense, not knowing what to expect. We know he was unhinged.
Zeke steps in front of me: "Rocky, stay behind me."
"You bastard," Andy spits angrily, clenching his fist. All his guilt and grief rose in him, ready to lash out at Dunhill.
"Well, hello, son-in-law," Dunhill says, his smile widening as he taunts Andy, who freezes at his words. "Nice to meet you finally. It's a shame my Sharon's not here to see this grand introduction," he adds, laughing softly.
Andy recovered quickly and lunged with pure rage and grief fueling him. Zeke and Uncle Donovan grab him, holding him back.
Donovan grunts, "Dude, I am not strong enough for this emotional and physical labor."
"Andy, stop! Don't do this. It's exactly what he wants," Zeke hisses in his ear.
"You killed her! Your own daughter. How could you do that?" Andy asks, screaming and shaking with fury. He wanted answers. No, he needed them.
"She disappointed me. You know how it is," Dunhill says, shrugging, acting like it was nothing.
"No, actually, we don't know how it is, you psycho discounted bond villain," Uncle Donovan snaps.
Agent Williams shoots him a look: "Donovan, now is not the time."
"What he started it," Uncle Donovan mutters.
Mayor Dunhill ignores him. His cold, hungry, evil eyes slide to me. He's a predator wearing a human smile that made my skin crawl.
"Roxanne," he says softly. "Sweet Roxanne, you've caused me quite a bit of trouble here tonight. Don't you think?" The Grey Book pulsed violently in my arms. His gaze flicks to it briefly. "Ah, so, you found it, just like she did," he says, tilting his head.
"Who?" I ask my stomach, flipping.
His smile sharpens like the predator he was. "Your grandmother, of course." As soon as his words hit me, my whole world tilted.
"What did you say?" Zeke asks, stiffening. Dunhill was unfazed by the question and took a slow, deliberate step forward. Instinctively, I took a step back, everything in my body telling me to get away from this man. As far away as possible. Nothing good comes from his presence.
"Your grandparents ran halfway across the country to escape me," he says just loud enough for me to hear. "They thought distance would save them." The fog rippled behind us furiously. "But I found them. I always do," he taunts, making my breath catch. "You don't belong to this town," Dunhill continued. "You belong to the gift, to the veil, to the power, and to me. Your family tried to hide from me." The grey book throbbed in my arms, reacting to him. Dunhill leaned in just enough for his voice to cut like a blade. "Your grandmother didn't escape me, and neither will you," he says, his smile widening.
"Okay, cool. That's definitely going off with nightmare vibes. Thanks for that," Uncle Donovan whispers.
The fog surges forward, swirling around my legs, protective and fierce. Dunhill's smile falters. Just slightly like he hadn't expected the fog to answer me so fiercely, he stepped back, raising his hand.
"Take them," he yelled. His security detail surged forward, and Agent Williams pointed his gun at the men, but there were too many.
"Move," he shouts.
Zeke grabs my wrist, and Andy grabs my other arm. Uncle Donovan grabs Andy's hoodie because he refuses to be left behind. We ran as the security closed in. Their boots pounding on the pavement behind us, their shouts echoing off the brick walls.
"STOP! HANDS UP!" One of the men yelled. No way in hell were we doing that.
"We're trying to stop, but you idiots keep chasing us." Uncle Donovan yells loudly.
"Donovan, shut up and run," Zeke hisses.
A flashlight beam slices past my face as a bullet cracks against a dumpster. Andy and Zeke pull me faster.
"GO! GO!" Andy yells.
We could see the mouth of the alley ahead of us. Just a little more, and we might make it out of this alive. My relief is short-lived. Dunhill steps into our path. My brain overloads. How did he get there so fast? He didn't shout or look winded. He raises a hand, signaling us to stop.
"You can't run from me forever, Roxanne." He says his voice is like steel.
The Grey Book pulsed violently in my arms, almost burning them. The fog behind us surges forward like a tidal wave. The security men are shouting as they stumble back. Then the fog slams into the alley like a living storm. The wind was roaring, making windows rattle, and the ground beneath our feet trembled.
"Oh my god, it's like a ghost tsunami! Go ghosties! Go!" Uncle Donovan screams.
"No-…" Dunhill shouts.
The fog wraps around our legs, then our arms, and our waists. It isn't pulling us down – it's pushing us forward. It was guiding and shielding us. Dunhill lunges through the fog, reaching for me, the book, my gift. He wants all of it. He believes it belongs to him. As if I'm not even a person – just a thing he owns. His fingers brush the edge of the fog wall. It burns him. He recoils with a snarl, clutching his hand.
"You think they can protect you forever?" He roared. 'They can't. You and your gift are mine." The fog surged again, slamming into him like a physical blow. Dunhill staggers back, hitting the hood of his SUV.
"GO!" Agent Williams shouts.
The fog opens a narrow path just wide enough for all of us. We run through it. Dunhill's security tried to follow, but the fog closed around them, trapping them on the other side.
"THANK YOU, ANCESTOR FOG! I OWE YOU A FRUIT BASKET!" Uncle Donovan Yells.
We burst out onto the street. The fog roars behind us, swallowing the alley, the guards, the SUV, and Dunhill's shouts. None of us stopped until we reached Agent Williams's SUV. I clutch the book tightly as we speed off into the night, leaving the chaos behind us.
By the time we reach the house, the fog had thinned enough for us to see the porch lights, but it didn't disappear. It follows us. Clings to us. Garding us. Agent Williams parks crookedly in the driveway, barely cutting the engine before turning in his seat.
"Everyone out. Move. We don't know how long the fog will hold them," Agent Williams tells us.
Uncle Donovan tumbles out of the backseat. "I swear my soul left my body at least twice tonight."
Zeke helps me out gently, one hand on my back, the other hovering like he's ready to catch me if I so much as blink wrong. Andy stays close to me, too, his jaw tight, eyes scanning the tree line. He's a man who has lost too much and refuses to lose anything else.
We hurry inside. The moment the door shut behind us, the house exhaled. Not literally, but it felt like it. It was as if the walls recognized us and the air shifted. Agent Williams locks the door, checks the windows, then checks them again.
"Everyone accounted for? Any injuries?" He asks us all concerned.
Uncle Donovan raises a hand. " Emotionally? Yes. Physically? Also yes. Spiritually? Absolutely not."
"He's fine," Zeke says, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not fine," Uncle Donovan insisted. "I'm traumatized; I need snacks like now."
"Andy ignored him, turning to me. "Rox… are you sure you are ok?" He asked
I nod, though my hands were still shaking around the book. I think I was still in shock from everything that happened tonight. "It's warm," I stammer. "It hasn't stopped pulsing."
"Does it hurt you?" Zeke asked, stepping closer to me.
"No, it doesn't. It just feels alive and awake.
I say.
"Does it react to anything else, like light, sound, or touch?" Agent Williams asks, approaching. His hand on his hips and his eyes sharp.
"Does it react to snacks? Because I have a granola bar," Uncle Donovan says, leaning over my shoulder.
Zeke shoves him away from me gently. "Donovan, stop trying to feed the cursed ancient book."
Agent Williams ignores both of them. "Roxanne, can you set it on the table?" He asks.
I do. The moment it touches the wood, the house shifts again. A low hum vibrates through the floorboards, and the air thickens. The fog outside the windows surges, pressing against the glass.
Agent Williams motions for all of us to get back. Zeke and Andy stood in front of me while Uncle Donovan hid behind me. He was so brave, I thought, laughing at him in my head. Agent Williams steps in front of us all, his gun drawn. The fog wasn't attacking. It was shielding us. Protecting us. A shape forms in the mist. At first, it was just a human outline with no face. Then it stretches into a cloud shape.
"Roxanne, what does it want?" Andy asks. I close my eyes, quiet my mind, and listen. The faint whispers brush my thoughts, guiding me.
"It's warning us," It's warning us, I say, my voice shaking. "Dunhill is on his way. They will do what they can to help."
The fog presses harder against the glass. The storm still swirls inside its depths. The Grey Book throbs again. A deep resonant pulse that echoes through the room. Zeke put his arm around me as Andy positioned himself on my other side. Uncle Donovan, in all his bravery, is now hovering behind us, broom raised like a knight with a very questionable weapon.
"Everyone, listen carefully," he says. "Because whatever happens next …we need a plan."
No one touches the book. Too afraid of what could happen. They didn't calm down after the book opened. If anything, it seemed to electrify the air. The fog outside clung to the windows, thick and unmoving, like a warning or a countdown.
Agent Williams stands in the center of the living room, hands on his hips, eyes sharp and calculating. He looked like a man preparing for a siege.
"We need a plan," he said. "Tonight, we stay hidden. Tomorrow I'll contact the Bureau.
"Can the plan also include snacks? Because I'm ninety percent sure I burned through all my calories screaming." Uncle Donovan babbles.
Zeke didn't look away from the windows. "Donovan, shut up."
"Yeah! Yeah! I know," Uncle Donovan smirks.
Andy crosses his arms. "Where do we hide? Dunhill knows this house inside and out."
"Which is why we use the one place he doesn't know," Agent Williams says.
"The hidden room," I say, my stomach tightening. "Under the office floor."
"Yes," Agent Williams says. "It's secure. No windows. No direct access, and Dunhill doesn't know it exists. Plus, we can monitor the cameras. They'll alert us as soon as someone comes on the property."
Uncle Donovan blinks. "Wait, we are sleeping in the murder basement."
"It's not the murder basement," Zeke mutters
"It feels like it," Uncle Donovan states dramatically.
"Donovan! It is safer than being upstairs, where anyone can break in and attack us." Andy says, sighing.
"Is it though? Is it really?" Uncle Donovan argues, "Because I've seen horror movies…"
"Donovan, man, come on," Zeke begs, grabbing his hoodie.
"Okay! Okay! Fine, I give in. The murder basement it is," Uncle Donovan huffs out. Agent Williams has gotten good at ignoring the chaos of my uncle. He just shakes his head and continues talking.
"We'll take shifts. Two are awake at all times. Minimal noise. Dunhill's men will be searching the woods and watching the roads. We stay hidden underground until morning." He says, pausing for a minute to look at each one of us in the eyes. The seriousness of the situation settles over us. We were now in a fight for all our lives, not just mine. They had crossed Dunhill, too, helping me.
"We need to gather snacks so Uncle Donovan will shut up," I say.
"Yay, snacks. My best friends," Uncle Donovan cheers.
Agent Williams ignores him and continues. "As I was saying, we need to get anything we will need for the night: Snacks, drinks, personal items, the book, etc."
We all nod and say, "Okay," in unison. Everyone starts gathering items and putting them in the office.
Zeke touches my shoulder gently, "Rocky…you sure you're alright?" I wasn't, but I nod anyway. We have too much to worry about right now. My emotions had to be pushed to the side.
Andy steps closer to me: "We're not going to let him get anywhere near you."
"Or near me. I'm fragile," Uncle Donovan jokes, smiling at us
"You're not fragile," I say, smiling, grateful for his humor.
"I am emotional!" he says, placing his chin in his hands.
Agent Williams clears his throat to get our attention. "Let's move."