My name is Kia Awara, and I am the owner (and sole employee) of K Exorcists. As the name implies, I exorcise ghosts for a living. Most of the time I’ll get called out to a house only to find out that the owner just got spooked by some creaky furniture, but every so often it’s a genuine haunting. That’s when I get to do my thing.



Unlike most exorcists, I’m not descended from any special bloodline. None of my ancestors were spirit mediums or shrine maidens or anything like that (though my great-grandfather was a professional rodeo clown, which is completely unrelated to anything but still amusing to me), I just happened to be born with strong spiritual power and decided to turn it into a career. It’s an interesting job, to be sure…long periods of boredom punctuated by occasional bouts of pure terror.



Today, like most days, the boredom is winning. I’ve been in my “office” (actually just the bedroom of my apartment) all day, surfing the web and staring at the phone. Sadly, psychic abilities don’t allow me to summon clients, so I’m just debating whether to keep watching YouTube videos of dogs running into things, or switch to porn. Yep, the life of an exorcist is thrilling.



Before I can decide, the phone rings. Brushing a strand of light blue hair out of my face, I leap over to it, praying it’s not another telemarketer, or worse, my cousin Sarah. She seems to think that just because we’re both girls, I enjoy spending hours shoe shopping with her. I usually spend most of the shopping trip debating which shoe to smack her with.



“Hello, K Exorcists, Kia speaking!” I try to sound as chipper as possible. A moment later, I slam the phone back down and groan. Telemarketer.



But as I walk back to my computer, something catches my eye. A small advertisement in the local newspaper, which I’d missed in my rush to find the comics. Demonstrate your psychic abilities - $10,000 reward! That got my attention.



This sort of thing happens now and then – even though the existence of ghosts has been acknowledged by scientists for decades now, many people remain skeptical. It makes sense – as one scholar said, “The average individual is more likely to be attacked by a kangaroo than to encounter a ghost.” While this was obviously intended to demonstrate the rarity of ghost encounters, some people took it to mean that ghosts are more common in Australia. Some people are stupid. My point is, since ghosts aren’t visible to most people, and science still hasn’t created a reliable way of detecting them, many people still don’t believe they exist. And some of these people spend lots of money trying to debunk believers with tests like this.



I skim the advertisement. Self-proclaimed psychics will go to an allegedly-haunted location, and will have to either prove that it is haunted, or that it isn’t. If someone proves it, they get $10,000. Otherwise, they get called a fraud.



It’s rigged against me, of course. Non-psychic people tend to be bad at telling whether a location is actually haunted or just creepy looking, and it’s next to impossible to prove that a place isn’t haunted. Still, $10,000 is a good amount of money for just one day’s work, and it’s not like I have anything better to do. I’m in.



~~~~~~~~~~



The location in the advertisement is an old high-rise on the edge of town, about a thirty minute drive from my apartment, twenty if I speed. I get there in twelve.



I look around at the other people already here. I count about thirty people total, plus some spectators standing apart from the group. Of the self-proclaimed psychics, most are women, and the majority of those women are over 60. Out of all of them, I only sense spiritual power from five others – three girls, one shriveled old woman, and a teenage boy who looks like he’s having second thoughts about this whole thing. Out of them, the old woman has the strongest aura – the boy and two of the girls have very weak auras, and the other girl is average at best. Cute, though. I make a mental note to ask for her number later (and maybe one of these days I’ll actually follow through on those mental notes, too).



I turn my attention to the high-rise, and feel my body give an involuntary shudder. There is definitely something there. Describing the sensation is as impossible as describing the feeling of cold to someone with no nerves, but it’s a feeling any exorcist will instantly recognize: the sensation of a powerful spirit nearby, or maybe multiple spirits. Whatever is inside that building, though, it’s far stronger than the average ghost. Not the most powerful I’ve encountered, but definitely in the top five. I mutter a protective spell under my breath, and look back at the other psychics I noticed.



The old woman has definitely noticed. She’s speaking to one of the girls – her granddaughter? – in a serious tone. The other two girls seem unnerved, but they don’t appear to have realized exactly why. The boy apparently made his exit while I was distracted. Probably a good choice.



“Fools.” I jump. Someone came up beside me while I was distracted. I turn to look at the speaker. He’s tall, and the sort of guy I’d describe as “generically handsome”. Jet-black hair frames his green eyes, and I get the uncomfortable feeling that he can see every bad thing I’ve ever done. He smirks, and gives a slight bow, tipping his black hat. All his clothes are black, I notice – black pants, black tie, black suit. There’s a pin of some sort on his suit, over his heart – a black bird within a red circle, surrounded by shadowy flames. He gives me an emotionless smile. “Pardon me. I was not referring to you, of course.” His voice is low and silky, with a vague accent I can’t quite trace. “You feel it, do you not?” He nods towards the high-rise. “This is more than they can handle.”



I feel a sudden chill. “You mean the spirit in there?” He smirks again. “Indeed. The sponsor of this event seems to have summoned these people to their doom, though I shan’t say whether or not he realizes it.” He gives a faint chuckle. “And these fools that attend…how many of them truly believe themselves to have powers? How many are simply scam artists, who do not even believe in spirits at all?” He raises an eyebrow. “And how many genuinely want to free the poor souls trapped within? They are the most foolish of all.”



I take a step back, away from him, but he doesn’t seem any farther away. “I don’t feel any power from you, either.” I mutter. It’s not entirely true – I sense something, but I’m not quite sure what. He laughs again. “Indeed. But while I may not have the gift, I do have knowledge. I can recognize the telltale signs of the supernatural, perhaps even better than any psychic.” He grins. It’s a cold, predatory grin. “You, though…You certainly have the gift, Miss Kia. I look forward to seeing it in action.” The air around me feels heavy. “How do you know my name?” I ask. In response, he laughs again. “Is that so odd? Well, in the interest of fairness, I shall introduce myself.” His voice has a mocking tone to it. “I am a businessman, of sorts. You may call me Frost. It’s not my name, but it’s good enough.” With that, he gives an exaggerated bow. I don’t know how to respond, so I turn to look at the high-rise. When I look back, he’s gone.



~~~~~~~~~~



After a few more minutes, the doors of the building open, and everyone is ushered in by a haggard-looking woman. We’re shown into a dimly-lit lobby and told to make ourselves comfortable. I select an old wooden chair with purple cushions. As I sit down, a cloud of dust rises out, triggering a sneezing fit.



I look around the room. Well furnished, but run down. The furniture looks antique, but not in good enough condition to be worth anything. The floral wallpaper has started to peel, revealing walls of rotting wood. Only one of the three cobweb-ridden chandeliers actually provides any light, and not much of it.



An old wooden door in the back of the room opens, and a man strolls in. He’s a tall, lanky man, with pale skin that makes me think of a street mime. He walks strangely, like his movements are all exaggerated. He wears a tailored suit, the sort you’d expect from a government employee, or maybe a Mafia enforcer.



The man looks around the room, then claps his hands loudly. It echoes around the cramped space, causing dust to cascade from the ceiling. “Hello, everyone!” His voice reminds me of a children’s TV show host – false excitement mixed with condescension. “I’m your host for this little competition, and I’d like to explain how this will work. First, I’m going to have you come up here one at a time and demonstrate your abilities to me. If you can convince me you have psychic powers, you’ll be granted the master key to this building. Bring me proof that there’s a spirit here, and the money is yours! First come, first served, as it were – once the prize is claimed, that’s it.” He smiles. It’s clearly not an expression he’s accustomed to making, because he looks less like he’s happy and more like the Joker. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Frost in the shadows, leaning against a wall. Combined with his all-black ensemble, the darkness renders him all but invisible. He notices me looking and smirks.



The host calls the first person forward. An elderly woman shuffles over to him and kneels in the center of the room. She begins mumbling to herself, then jumps to her feet and stares forward, her eyes bulging. “Who dares disturb my rest?” she asks, her voice ragged. I sigh to myself. This woman has clearly learned everything she thinks she knows about psychics from movies. The host seems to know this too. He shoos the old woman away, interrupting her performance. She curses at him as she walks out.



The next person fails in a similar way. Then the next, and the next. Finally, the host calls up one of the girls I sensed power from earlier. She walks up to the host and closes her eyes in meditation. I hear muttering from the people nearby as she stands silently, her body rigid. My suspicion was correct – she is completely untrained. She doesn’t know how to use her powers. Nonetheless, it seems like she has indeed made contact with something, because she begins to shiver. A moment later, she collapses, unconscious. Several people rush forward to help her, and she is carried out. I look around for Frost, and see him grinning. He’s enjoying this.



I hear the girl’s friend asking if she will be OK. I want to reassure her, tell her that the girl only collapsed because she was inexperienced, but before I can, our host calls me forward.



I look around the room, then close my eyes. Ignore the outside. Ignore the living. Shut out all outside noise. Don’t think of anyone else. Nobody is watching me. Nobody is listening. I am alone. Reach out. Feel the spiritual energy around me. Follow the current. Find the source. Find-



Something grabs me. Something dark, hateful. Suffocating. I feel myself being pulled from my body, my soul screaming in agony. I let out an involuntary yell and jump backwards, crashing into a nearby pillar and falling to the floor. I open my eyes to see everyone staring. Someone mutters something about “bad acting”. They think I’m just pretending. I have to prove myself. I get to my feet, feeling that my legs may suddenly give out.



“Avane.” I begin, uttering a charm of sight. The influence is still closing around me, pushing at me. This will expose it to everyone, if only for a moment. “Kevis. Elemai. Torev Narei Akanel. Ov Hatan. Delas!” I make a symbol with my hands, a gesture representing the Route of Souls, a concept from ancient myth referring to the pathway to the next world. I don’t actually believe in that mythology, but I can’t deny the symbol is usually effective. And it is effective now.



Around my body, shadowy images appear. First, they are merely smoky tendrils, but then they take the form of countless hands, reaching out for my body. The hands, as if sensing their visibility, retract suddenly into the ceiling and vanish – along with all light in the room.



Someone screams. Then another voice joins them, and then another. Before long the entire room is panicking. I press myself against the pillar, hoping I won’t be trampled if the crowd tries to run for the door.



“SILENCE!” The voice of our host rings out, overpowering the screaming. “Please, calm yourselves, everyone.” A light appears, illuminating his skeletal figure. He has drawn a flashlight from one of his pockets, and now shines it around the room, before focusing the beam at me. The light is almost blinding, rendering him an indistinct silhouette. “I am quite impressed.” The shadows on his face writhe as he contorts his mouth into a smile. “But I cannot accept that demonstration alone as proof.”



I resist the urge to slap him. “Why not?” I ask, as politely as I can. It doesn’t come out sounding very polite. He shrugs slightly. “Call me a skeptic. I’d just like to see a bit more of your ‘powers’. If you do possess psychic powers, surely you can do more?” He smirks slightly. I really don’t like him. The lights are still out, but I can feel everyone else staring at me. “Fine. How about this, then: I go exorcise the ghost. You can see the actual exorcism. Those are usually pretty flashy, so that should be proof enough, OK? But in return, you pay me my standard exorcism fee along with the prize money.” I stand up as tall as I can and try to look strong, a gesture that would probably look more impressive if I were taller than 5’5’’. He grins. “Very well.” He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a rusty key. “This will let you into any room in this building. I shall remain here and observe the rest of these good people in their own attempts. Any of them that succeed, I will send after you. We’ll make a race of it.” With that, he flicks off the flashlight, leaving me in darkness once more.



~~~~~~~~~~



I stumble through the darkness, my only guide the flashlight app on my phone. Once again, I regret buying the cheapest model they had, because the light barely even reaches the floor. They say that evil spirits can drain the light from their surroundings, and while that may be true, I’m pretty sure that in this case it’s mostly just a crappy phone. First order of business for me, then, should be to get the lights back up. I assume there’s a fuse box in the basement, so I start looking for a way down.



I walk slowly, cautiously. The rotted floorboards creak loudly with every step, and my mind fills with images of the floor giving way and sending me plummeting into an endless black abyss. I flick my flashlight across the walls, exposing thick lines of black mold and peeling, yellowed paint. Foul-smelling dust billows from the floor with each step I take, and the shuffling sounds of unseen rodents occasionally emerge from the walls. I feel a cobweb become tangled in my hair, and I pray that the spider wasn’t hitching a ride.



“Looking for the basement?” I make a strangled squeaking sound and jump higher than I ever remember jumping before, dropping my phone to the floor. A pale, well-manicured hand picks up the phone and holds it aloft, the light from the screen illuminating Frost’s face. “I thought you might need directions.” He hands the phone back to me, smirking. “W-“ I stumble over the words. “Why are you following me?” He shrugs in response. “The same reason I do anything: it amuses me.” He chuckles. “As for the basement, you’ll want the third door on the left. The steps down are quite narrow, so watch your step.” He leans against the wall, somehow finding the one spot not covered in mold or cobwebs. “Why do you know so much about this place?” I ask. He shrugs. “Who can say? Perhaps I just enjoy reading architectural plans for old buildings. Perhaps I sent a friend to explore this place last night. Perhaps I’m actually the owner of the building. Personally, I find possibilities far more interesting than facts.” I stare at him a moment longer, then turn and start walking. After taking a few steps, I turn around and shine the light behind me. As expected, he’s gone.



I turn back the way I was walking and grope my way down the hall, ears straining for any stray noise. As I near the midway point of the hall, I feel a sudden chill. I shine my light around, and see a rusted metal door to my left. I look behind me. Two doors. This one is the basement, then. Time to go down.



I push open the heavy door, a horrible screeching noise filling the hall as the rusty hinges resist me. I squeeze my way through, and find myself at the top of a long, narrow metal stairway. On all sides, rusted metal walls push in on me. I step down carefully, trying to sense any malicious presences. The chill surrounding me grows even colder, and the light of my phone begins to flicker. Rather than risk damaging the battery, I flick the light off, and focus on feeling my way down. I can feel several dark presences flitting about, but none of them the presence I felt earlier. These are lesser spirits, then, drawn here by the malice of whatever is waiting for me up above.



It’s a funny thing about basements – they really do attract ghosts, at least the basements that actually go underground. I’ve heard several theories about why this is, but in the end the simple fact is that they do.



Knowing this fact doesn’t make me any more comfortable. I brace myself and take another step forward. Unfortunately, I’ve made a mistake – under the assumption that there are more steps before I reach the bottom, I’ve overextended my step. I stumble forward and fall to the dusty, ice-cold floor. My phone falls from my hand and skids across the floor. And the air becomes even colder.



I brace myself against the floor and hold my breath. I was careless, and now I’ve drawn the attention of the spirits. A faint moaning sound fills the air as the darkness begins to press in on me. I want to speak a protective charm, but right now there’s still a chance I haven’t been noticed. If I speak, that chance disappears. And depending on the number of ghosts here, a charm may well be ineffective. My eyes dart from side to side, but all I see is utter blackness. I feel my heart beating hard against my ribs, my chest pressing into the freezing floor. I try to take a deep breath, but cannot. The air is like a solid mass, somehow both ice cold and yet oppressively hot. My lungs burn as I struggle for breath, my heart pounding harder and harder. In the back of my mind, my inner voice of reason tries to tell me that I’m fine. Intellectually, I know the air is fine. But my body doesn’t believe my mind. I see spots appearing before my eyes, lighting the darkness in pulses of blue and green. I can hear my blood pounding in my ears, and I start to believe that the spirits can hear my heartbeat.



I feel a scream begin to build in my throat, and bite down hard on my tongue. I need to control myself, to calm down, or I have no chance of survival. I remind myself that I am an experienced exorcist. These are just weak ghosts. I can handle them. I almost believe myself, too. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see it – a faint blue light. I turn my head slowly, and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear the spots from my vision. When I open them again, the light is still there. I smile faintly. My phone survived the fall. Cautiously, I reach out with my senses, checking if any spirits are lingering around it. I don’t feel anything. Slowly, I begin to crawl along the floor, almost numb to the cold. After what seems like an eternity, I stretch out my hand and wrap it around my phone, sliding it into my pocket. Fighting back a sigh of relief, I pull myself to a seated position. Somehow, having my phone back is enough to comfort me.



I slowly work my way to a standing position and close my eyes, shutting out all distractions. I reach out with my senses, trying to feel where the ghosts are. In my mind, I try to make a mental map of the basement. I don’t know exactly what shape the basement is or how large, but I can at least try to pinpoint the spirits. I sense four – no, five – of them, moving aimlessly around. I press one hand against the wall. If I just keep to the wall and avoid the spirits, hopefully I’ll find the fuse box before long.



I take a step forward and walk directly into a concrete pillar. I stumble backwards, my head pounding. And I feel the attention of the spirits move to focus on me. Fighting back a rush of panic – and dizziness – I drop to my knees, spreading my focus out. To my left, I feel an intense malice flying towards me.



“Ahir!” I exclaim the charm, surprised by my own volume. It echoes around the dark basement. Placing my left hand atop my right, I intertwine my ring and index fingers and shove my hand in the direction of the incoming malice. “Ahir ta koveh iteh. Lein giien falrijo.” One of these days I’d like to look up what these charms actually mean, as they don’t seem to relate to any known language. But I cannot deny their effectiveness. As I hold my hand outward and continue muttering the charm, I feel the dark presence before me fading. But I can’t rest yet. Four more spirits, coming at me from all sides.



I push my feet off the floor and run to my right, hoping to throw them off. Miraculously avoiding running into any other pillars, I skid to a stop and spin around again, preparing another charm. Then, I notice it, a faint red light off to my right. Reaching out my hand, I feel the cold, wet stone of the basement wall, then metal. The fuse box. Keeping my senses sharp in case the spirits attack, I reach around until I feel a switch, and pull it.



Instantly, a bright light illuminates the room. I see four vaguely human shapes floating, confused, in the air around me. “Asi ghen fotora, lumi no torosi ka bel roh quiti.” I speak this charm as boldly as I can, extending my left hand towards the spirits as I cross the fingers of my right hand into a shape resembling the Vulcan salute. With a bizarre hissing sound, the remaining spirits vanish from my senses. I hope I have given them some measure of peace, but if I can’t deal with the source of the darkness in this building I’m sure they’ll remain trapped here, in this disturbingly moldy basement. How long has this structure been empty?



Regardless, my job isn’t to question. All I need to do is exorcise the source of the evil. With the power back, hopefully that will be a bit easier. Somehow, though, I feel like the real trouble has yet to begin.



I groan and lean back, stretching. My shoulder pops far more loudly than I expected, causing me to flinch. Before the ghosts can begin to reappear, I turn and climb back up the stairs, half expecting to see Frost waiting at the top. But the only thing that greets me is more dust. Fighting back a sneeze, I turn and look around. I had hoped that the building would be less disturbing with the lights on, but I was wrong. In the dim light, every object casts disturbing shadows that seem to flit across the moldy, rotted floor and walls with each flicker of the old, dying lights. The few bulbs that don’t seem about ready to die are instead busying themselves with creating the most obnoxious buzzing noise I’ve ever heard, and the addition of this noise and light seems to have disturbed the many insects and rodents nesting in the walls. A small mouse runs over my foot, causing me to yelp and jump backwards. I trip over my own feet and crash into the wall. With a sickly crunching sound, the wall gives way, and I feel myself falling into blackness. I barely have time to scream before I hit the ground, and the world fades.



~~~~~~~~~~



I open my eyes slowly. All I can see is a tiny pinprick of light about thirty feet above me – the hole I fell through. My head is pounding, and a loud ringing echoes in my ears. My whole body is bruised and battered, but miraculously I don’t seem to have broken any bones. I climb unsteadily to my feet and check my pocket. Another miracle – my phone somehow avoided being shattered into a million pieces.



I flick on my phone’s flashlight and look around. I seem to have fallen into a sort of storage room. Rotted wooden crates are stacked haphazardly around, along with some newer-looking boxes marked with the logo of the Thorne Corporation. At first, I don’t find anything odd about this – Thorne is the biggest producer of industrial and technological equipment, after all – but then something strikes me: this building has clearly been abandoned for decades. Why, then, does this underground room have equipment from a company that’s only existed for a few years?



Curiously, I approach one of the crates and try to lift the lid. No good, it seems to be locked. What would be worth hiding down here? I look around again, and spot a door in the far wall. It looks far newer and more well-maintained than any of the other doors I’ve seen in this place. Slowly, I approach it, and press my ear against the door. On the other side, I hear a faint electronic humming, but nothing to indicate the presence of any humans, and I don’t sense any particular spiritual presence nearby.



I cautiously press the door open, and enter into a stark-white room. Bright lights fill the area, almost blinding me. A series of computers sit on a plastic desk, connected to all sorts of expensive-looking equipment and monitors. One of the monitors catches my eye. On it is displayed an infrared image of the chamber where our host had tasked me to demonstrate my power. The image blinks, and changes to a depiction of an unfamiliar hallway, where the old woman and her granddaughter are slowly making their way, the girl in front, guiding her grandmother.



My breath catches in my throat. Someone has been watching us. I don’t know why, but we’ve clearly been set up. But before I can decide how to react, my attention is drawn to the monitor once more. Behind the old woman, I see something shift in the shadows. The old woman gestures to her granddaughter, signaling to her to move faster, and the darkness in the hallway seems to rush forwards towards them. And then…the camera blinks off.



I shake the monitor, as if that will bring back the image. No luck. I need to hurry. The two of them are in danger. The old woman might have decent spiritual power, but her age will leave her slow and unable to react in time. And her granddaughter is too inexperienced to have any chance against anything but a weak spirit. If there are more than one or two spirits there, the two of them are doomed.



I turn and look around for an exit. Spying a door on the left-hand wall, I dash towards it and fling it open. I run through, and find myself back in the basement. Behind me, the door swings shut, looking from this side like just part of the basement wall.



I brace myself, expecting the spirits to reappear and attack me. But nothing happens. The basement is cold and empty, devoid of any abnormal presence. This worries me. Ghosts, in my experience, tend to find a single area to haunt and just stay there. If they’ve left, that means one of two things: they’ve been fully banished, or something has summoned them elsewhere. I doubt that anyone here has the ability to completely exorcise them, at least not with that dark aura still lingering over the building. But if the spirit responsible for this malicious presence is strong enough to control lesser spirits… I feel my throat begin to tighten, as if my body is preparing to vomit. If the spirit here has that sort of power, then we’re all in far worse danger than I’d thought.



No time to worry. The old woman and her granddaughter might already be dead. I need to hurry and find them. I dash up the stairs, nearly tripping at least twice, and run down the hallway, skidding past the hole in the wall created by my fall. I feel my heart pounding against my bruised ribs, my battered arms and legs aching, a pulsing ache inside my skull. No time. Need to move.



I remember the small icon in the lower-right corner of the monitor. Third floor, hallway D. I need to find the stairs.



I dash through a massive cobweb, swatting at my head to dislodge any lingering spiders as I continue to run. There. The stairs. I fling open the door and run up the stairs two at a time, hearing the rotted wood creak dangerously beneath my feet.



I run through the door at the top, spots filling my vision, and dash down the nearest hall. The lights on this floor have not aged as well as the lights on the first floor, and I struggle to make out where I’m going. One more floor to go. Need to find the next staircase.



I run into a promising-looking room and trip over something. I crash to the floor in a heap.

Coughing, struggling to breathe, I pull myself into a sitting position and look around. I’ve tripped over the rim of an old carpet, which must have looked quite ornate when it was new. Now, moth-eaten and covered in dust and mold, I can’t even imagine what it originally looked like. The room is illuminated by a single cobweb-covered chandelier, its dim light flickering faintly, leaving much of the room filled with shadow. A single wooden table sits in the center of the room, a wooden chair on each side. One of the chairs is empty. In the other, calmly sipping a cup of tea, is Frost.



“Quite an entrance.” He says, his smirk barely visible in the dim light. I struggle to my feet. “No…no time. I need…need to…” I can’t get the words out. There’s not enough air in my lungs. I hear Frost’s distinctive chuckle. “I doubt you can help the two of them in your current state. Sit. Take a deep breath. You have time. Let’s talk.” I don’t have the energy to argue. Something in his voice makes me feel as if everything he says is obviously true. A small voice in the back of my mind is telling me that he can’t be trusted, but it’s as if my thoughts are drifting through a thick fog. Idly, almost dispassionately, I wonder if I have a concussion. I sit in the chair opposite Frost.



“You’ve provided me with quite a bit of entertainment so far, Miss Kia. And I have high hopes for the rest of the night, as well.” He smirks. I try to respond, but my thoughts are too scattered. In the end, all I’m able to say is “Where did you get that tea?” Not the question I wanted to ask. Frost chuckles again. “I have my ways. Let’s talk about something more important, shall we? Let’s talk about the reason you’re here.” I struggle to collect my thoughts. “I’m here…because of that advertisement. Prove the supernatural and get money.” Frost shakes his head. “Is that so? Seems to me that your host is already quite certain that the supernatural is indeed a reality. After all, he went to all the trouble to entice spiritually-sensitive individuals to come here, separated you, and set you loose in a building containing quite a powerful Amalgam.” I feel my blood run cold. My lungs feel like they’re filled with ice.



An Amalgam. An exorcist term for a ghost made up of multiple other spirits. Normally, one dead human equals one spirit, but in cases where large numbers of people die all at once in close proximity to each other – such as in a horrible accident – their spirits may cluster together and fuse into an Amalgam. Amalgams are far more dangerous than normal spirits, capable of summoning lesser spirits to themselves and absorbing them to become even stronger. And with the dozens or even hundreds of fragments of individual wills thrashing in torment within the spirit, an Amalgam is truly unpredictable. I’ve only faced one before, a fairly weak Amalgam, and even then I nearly died. If an Amalgam is here, a powerful one, then… “They sent us here to die.” I mutter. Frost grins. “Indeed. Or rather, they sent you here to be added to the Amalgam. Quite an interesting science project they’re running, wouldn’t you say? Creating powerful spirits for the purpose of weaponization.”



I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. My vision is black. My intestines are tied in a knot, and I feel bile rising in my throat. I feel my strength give out, and I collapse, my face pressed against the cold warped wood of the table. Frost continues to talk, calm and collected as ever. “So what will you do, Kia Awara? Will you play the hero? Exorcise the Amalgam, save your fellow exorcists, and bring the man waiting in the lobby to justice? Will you run? Or will you die, and become one of a thousand tortured souls trapped in a vortex of eternal agony? I look forward to seeing your performance.”



I take a deep breath, and lift my head up. The room is empty. I am alone.



~~~~~~~~~~



In the sudden silence, the room feels far darker and colder than it had a moment earlier. Slowly, as if in a trance, I rise to my feet and turn back to the door. I still have somewhere to be. I step through the door and walk. The last few lights have gone out, and the hallway is pitch black, but somehow I know where I must go. I’m finally completely serious about this. No distractions. No diversions. And so my spiritual power has opened my mind. I close my eyes and continue walking, as though pulled by an invisible string. Stepping past a series of rooms, I place my hand on the handle of another metal door, and push it open. Up the stairs, my feet barely touching the steps. I step out into the hall, and hear a scream.



Snapped out of my trance, I turn and run down the hall, in the direction of the scream. This floor, like the one below, is fully dark, and as I run I smash my knee into a small table carelessly placed in the center of the hallway. I crash to the moldy carpet, cursing, and clamber back to my feet. Kicking the table away, I turn and run – well, limp quickly – in the direction of the scream.



Rounding a corner, I see the silhouettes of two people pressed against a wall, a swirl of transparent shapes undulating in the air before them. I quickly hold out my left hand, bending my ring finger downwards and pressing my thumb behind the knuckle of my index finder, as I turn the fingers of my right hand towards the floor and press my palms outwards. “MEKII!” I yell the charm as loud as I can, and see the floating shapes twist in on themselves. For an instant, everything is perfectly silent and still. Then, in a burst of shrieking winds, the shapes blast towards me at high speed. I dive down to the floor as the spirits fly past me. Rolling onto my back, I curl my spine forwards, reaching my arms towards the spirits once more. “Iiyili Atah Lesvi Ak-“ a sudden blast of cold darkness crashes into my chest, smothering the words of the charm within my throat. I hear, more than feel, one of my ribs snap, and feel a warm, metallic liquid in my mouth. I roll back onto my side, spitting blood to the floor, as a mass of cold hands grab me by my waist. I kick wildly, pushing myself against the wall. A sharp, stabbing pain erupts in my hip.



Through blurred eyes, I see five human shapes reaching out for me, and feel myself lifted into the air. I don’t even have time to scream before being hurled into the wall. Dust, bugs, and shards of rotted wood sprinkle down on me, and I squeeze my eyes shut before anything has a chance to land in them. With a horrid moaning scream, the ghosts fly towards me once more. I feel the rush of cold and pressure as the air is sucked away from me by the advancing malice. And then, I hear a pair of voices, old and young, calm and panicked, but speaking in unison. Between the howling of the spirits and the pounding of my own heart, the words are unintelligible, but I know them to be some sort of charm. The pressure above me lifts, and once again my consciousness fades.



I dream.



At least, I think it’s a dream. When it comes to the supernatural, it can be difficult to tell.



I’m standing in a dimly-lit room. Looking around I see it to be an office, well-furnished with expensive wooden furniture and velvet-cushioned chairs. On one wall is a simple calendar, and I notice the date to be nearly two months ago. This is the past, then?



Behind the desk sits a tall, thin man. His long, narrow face is clean-shaven and wrinkled, with pronounced, high cheekbones and thin lips. His pale, baleful eyes look out from behind thin silver glasses, perched atop a long, sharply-pointed nose. His grey hair is long and tangled, reaching past his shoulders. He wears an expensive brown suit, but one that has been weathered by many years of use.



On the desk in front of him is a golden nameplate, but for some reason the letters are meaningless to me.



Across from him sits another man, a man I recognize. Our host, the man responsible for luring us here, to perish as a sacrifice to strengthen the Amalgam.



I realize the old man is speaking. His voice is strong and emotionless, the voice of a man who can order hundreds to their deaths without batting an eye. I concentrate on trying to pick up his words.



“I’ve just gotten off the phone with Agent R. The Fleur Project has failed. This presents an opportunity for you.” His eyes narrow even further, until his eyes are barely a sliver. “Agent R is the sort of man who always has two plans, one that he is given and one that furthers his own interests. I have no doubt that he is concealing information about what occurred at the Fleur Asylum. And so, while he recklessly pursues his own agenda, you have the opportunity to impress me. Show me that your Amalgam will do what I need, and Agent R’s position is yours.”



The other man stands and bows. “Of course, Mister Thorne. You will not be disappointed.”

He turns and walks out of the room. I feel my consciousness returning, as one of the most powerful men in the world reclines back in his chair. “We shall see, Agent L. We shall see.”



The sudden pain throughout my body provides a clue that I am now awake.



I blink, my vision blurry. A pale light illuminates me, the dust sparkling in my muddled vision. Two figures are vaguely visible above me. Slowly, the forms take shape, revealing the girl and her grandmother, concerned expressions on their faces. The girl holds a small flashlight in her left hand, slightly pushing back the darkness.



“Uhhh.” I groan, slowly forcing myself to a seated position. My vision briefly darkens, and I feel pain shoot through my chest and back.



“Careful!” The girl says, placing her hand on my shoulder. I wince. “What happened?” I ask, or at least attempt to. It comes out sounding closer to “Whaumped?” “You distracted the ghosts long enough for grandma and I to recover.” The girl says. Her voice sounds like its coming from a long distance, and possibly being spoken into a block of cheese. The incoherence of that last simile suggests to me that I may have hit my head harder than I’d thought. “We were able to exorcise the ghosts while they were attacking you. I thought…I thought you’d…died…” the girl’s shoulders heave. Her body shudders, and her grandmother places her hands soothingly on her shoulders. She’s clearly overwhelmed. “You…you need… need to get out of here.” I mutter, breaking into a coughing fit as I speak. Once I catch my breath, I try again. “There’s…there’s an…am..agm…amal…” I start coughing again. “Don’t talk.” The grandmother says, her voice stern but warm. “We’re leaving. We’re taking you to the hospital.”



“N…no…” I force the words out. “Need to…to…stop…I…I have…to…” My vision blurs again. I try to struggle to my feet, but a sudden spike of pain shoots down my spine, sending me to my knees. My vision blackens again, and my mind is lost in a red haze.



“Go.” My voice is barely a whisper. “It’s…it’s targeting me. I have to be the one to…to face it.” I brace myself on the wall and slowly, agonizingly, drag myself to my feet. “You…you need…to…to find the other exorcists.” My breath is slowly, if painfully, returning. “Take care of the other spirits here. I don’t…don’t want the Amalgam summoning help. Make sure everyone is safe. And don’t…don’t let that man…get away.” Ignoring their protests, I close my eyes and walk, reaching out with my mind, moving towards the malicious presence above. A sudden flash of pain informs me that I have just walked into the wall, and I decide that I should probably keep my eyes open. Leaving the girl and her grandmother looking worriedly after me, I walk down the hall and slowly step through a door into the next stairwell.



As I step through the threshold, I hear footsteps approaching behind me. Turning, I see the girl following behind me. “Please, wait!” She runs up to me. “You’re hurt, please-“ I shake my head. “It’s fine. For whatever reason, I’ve been chosen for this. And I’ve exorcised powerful spirits before. As long as you and the others can clear out the rest of the lesser spirits and then get out, I can handle this. Please. Stay with your grandmother.” Saying that many words leaves me slightly winded, but the girl seems to understand. She nods, then turns. “Wait.” She stops, and looks back at me, curious. I try to choose my words carefully. “There’s someone else here. Not one of the exorcists, but I don’t think he’s working with the ones who trapped us here either. He’s…I’m not sure, but if you run into him you should be careful, OK? He’s wearing an all-black suit with some sort of bird symbol over his heart. Just…I don’t think he can be trusted, so be careful.” She nods, then turns and goes back down the stairs to her grandmother.



If all goes well, the other exorcists will clear out the ghosts on the remaining floors, meaning I can focus on reaching the Amalgam. I can still sense it in my mind, a writhing, hate-filled maelstrom above me. The highest floor, most likely. Thankfully this stairwell seems to go all the way up, but I can’t be sure. Only one way to find out.



~~~~~~~~~~



My breath is ragged, and I still see a few spots floating before me, but my strength is definitely returning, and I seem to have become mostly numb to the pain. That’s either a good thing or a sign that I’m near death. I choose to be optimistic.



As I continue to climb, the air slowly grows cold and thin. Even with my eyes open, the stairwell has become pitch black, and the light from my phone seems to be instantly swallowed up by the darkness. I brace one hand against the wall and climb as slowly as I can, carefully feeling out the next step with my feet, but even so I nearly fall several times. Once I hit my head on something cold and wet protruding from the wall, and let out a short yell, but the sound is instantly absorbed by the icy blackness enveloping me.



I climb.



Time loses all meaning. Seconds stretch out forever, a black abyss of endless, slow movement, silent and cold. My body shudders with each movement, my muscles struggling to propel me ever upward. A cold, sickly sweat coats my flesh, and once or twice a sudden coughing fit nearly causes me to topple backwards. On these wet stone steps, falling would be fatal. Worse than fatal – if I die here, my soul will surely be absorbed by the Amalgam, doomed to spend eternity in a writhing vortex of wailing agony.



I climb.



An intense pressure surrounds everything. I’ve only felt this sort of pressure once before – in an old mine in Nevada, recently reopened under supervision of the Thorne Corporation, where a sudden earthquake had killed the workers and unearthed a Hellgate, one of the countless stone doorways, older than any known civilization, that lie scattered around the world. The Hellgate had been open, if only slightly, and the entire mine was filled with the distinctive orange and purple glow of Hellgate Radiation, the mysterious energy responsible for the existence of ghosts. I was one of five exorcists hired by Thorne to push back the ghosts of the miners and rebury the Hellgate before the radiation could spread, and even with all our charms and protection the immense pressure of the Hellgate nearly crushed me.



Here, in this stairwell, I feel as though I’m back at the entrance to that mine, the faintest traces of that unspeakable energy leaking out and warping my soul. An Amalgam is nothing compared to a Hellgate, of course – it would take tens of thousands of ghosts to equal the energy output of even a mostly-closed Hellgate – but the pressure is unmistakable. This Amalgam is even more powerful than I had feared.



I want to speak a charm, but all sound is absorbed by the darkness, pressing in from every side, and I have an irrational feeling that if I open my mouth, that darkness will flow in and fill me as well, choking me and hollowing me out until I’m nothing but a vessel for the malice of the dead.



I climb.



I smell metal. The frigid air brims with electricity, frozen, waiting to be set off. A sudden sense of great distance envelops me, like I’m standing atop a cliff so tall that the Earth resembles a marble. The top step. And beyond it, a horror from the grave awaits me.



It feels as though I’m moving through molasses. The air itself is like a solid mass of ice, pushing back against me. It takes all my strength to climb up that last step, and push open the rusty door.



I step through, and find myself in a large, empty room. The only light comes from a flickering red emergency light, nearly drained dry from exposure to the nightmare lurking nearby. The silence gives way to an electrical humming, an irritating, disorienting buzz that seems to come from behind me no matter which way I turn. In the dim red light, I see that the dust on the floor has been disturbed, like a large table or similar object was recently removed. This must have been a meeting room before the building was abandoned, then.



As I step forward, the air before me seems to warp and bend, and then, as if it had been there all along…the Amalgam appears before me. I feel a sudden urge to vomit, and the ache in my bones returns in full force. I feel the air being quickly sucked from my lungs, a cold wind in my mouth. My vision twists, the world turning into something from a funhouse mirror. The chill in the air is now matched by an agonizing burning within my blood. There is an electrical crackle in the air, a faint orange and purple glow across my skin. The thing before me is a pulsing mass of hands and screaming faces, undulating and twisting, agonized faces breaching the surface of the mass only to be dragged back in by countless twisted arms, replaced by another face, and another, one morphing into the next, torn and tortured by the endless writhing hands.



The Amalgam.



I stumble backwards quickly, pointing my palms outward, fingers facing the ground. “Evei Kla-“ The Amalgam swarms towards me, endless hands grasping desperately, indistinct faces moaning and screaming in torment. I roll to the side, gasping and choking as my broken rib hits the floor. Shutting my eyes against the pain, I try to stagger to my feet, turning my left hand upside down and outwards as I point my thumb and pinkie in the general direction of the Amalgam. “T’si hveti!” I stumble over the words, feeling a small trickle of blood leave my mouth, but they still have an effect, as the Amalgam recoils with a sound like a thunderclap.



I make it to my feet, spots appearing before my eyes. The Amalgam shivers and writhes, spinning rapidly as it flies towards me, a twitching blob of arms and mouths and hollow empty eyes. I brace myself and push my arms forward. “Hol’Itra Zjui Liriti Asza!” I take a step forward, and another, muttering under my breath. My breath is dry, ragged, my voice the buzzing of a dying bee. In the back of my skull, I feel a slight lightening of the pressure. It recedes, slowly, then more quickly, as my fellow exorcists dispel the spirits from the other floors and make their way out. The malicious aura is weakened, but the Amalgam remains, and it is focused entirely on me.



I continue moving forward, feeling the clutching hands grasping at me, the frigid breath of the damned cutting through my innards. The spirits rush me, their arms reaching down my throat to stifle the words. I continue muttering, my eyes closed, my heartbeat slow and quiet. My movements are now almost imperceptible, fighting against the tornado of screams pressing at me from all sides.



And then, suddenly…silence. An immense pressure, like falling into a black hole, then nothing, a fragile calm, electricity pulsing through the air. I dive to the ground, pressing my hands over my ears, as a fierce gale fills the room with the sound of a gunshot. And then, nothing.



Slowly, shakily, I climb to my feet once more. The darkness has lessened, the soft red glow of the emergency light now spreading gently across the floor. The malice and pressure is all but gone, faded into the background hum of the world. I take a slow breath, the cool night air filling my bruised chest. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but at least a day. But the spirit is gone. Its suffering is over. My job, however, is yet to end.



As I watch, the door opposite me slowly opens, and he walks in, silhouetted in pale red light. Tall, gaunt, an expression of barely disguised rage upon his skeletal face. Agent L. The man responsible for this.



“Well, well, well. I see.” His voice is low and snakelike, a hiss of dark contempt. “It seems you succeeded in exorcising the spirit within this building. Well done.”

“How many.” My voice, too, is low. Unlike him, I make no effort to conceal my anger.

“Pardon?” He asks, not moving from the doorway.

“How many deaths? How many people did you sacrifice to create that thing?”

His hand moves to his pocket. “I haven’t the faintest idea-“

“Shove it.” I spit the words at him. Behind my back, I slowly curl the fingers of my right hand, extending the ring and pinkie of my left. “I know what you did…Agent L.”

“I see.” There is a glint of metal from his side, as his thin hand wraps itself around the pistol. “And what do you intend to do with this new knowledge, little girl?”

My voice is quiet, low. “Nothing. I won’t do anything. But the dead have long memories, Agent L. And they never forgive.”



In a flash, his pistol is in his hand, pointed at me. In the same instant, I speak. The charm I speak is forbidden, dark, the antithesis of what it means to be an exorcist. And it works. Before the words have fully left my mouth, the air around Agent L twists, and as the crimson light finally burns out completely, the dead surround him, enveloping him in their cold embrace. I hear a single shot, see the spark as it hits the ceiling above me. Then the spirits are gone, and him as well, dragged away to cold oblivion.



“Rest in peace.” Now, perhaps, the rage of the souls here is satisfied, and the darkness can fade away entirely. But that same darkness now drips down over my eyes, and the world vanishes.



~~~~~~~~~~



When I come to, I am in a hospital bed. By my bedside is a card from the girl I’d met in the building. She’d waited outside with her grandmother, and when I didn’t come out, they’d come back to get me, and found me collapsed on the floor where I’d faced the Amalgam. They’d brought me to the hospital and left, though the girl had hastily written her number and email on the bottom of the card, with a request that I let her know when I’m feeling better.



The doctors tell me it was mostly exhaustion that finally took me down, and that I simply need rest. I sign a few papers, and prepare to leave. Apparently, my hospital bill was already covered, though the man who paid didn’t leave his name. I have a suspicion, though.



I head outside and hail a cab, making a mental note to go back to the building and collect my car tomorrow. As we drive, I flip through my unread messages on my phone. Three texts from Sarah, asking me to go shopping. A reminder for a dentist’s appointment. And…a message from my bank. $16700 was added to my account, courtesy of the Thorne Corporation, for ”Services Rendered.” Hush money, more like it. Regardless, I’ll accept it. I’m not stupid enough to try to fight Thorne on my own anyway.



The cab drops me off outside my apartment, and I stagger upstairs to my room. Unlocking the door, I prepare to collapse in my bed…and freeze. I know for a fact that the doors and windows were locked when I left, and they’re still locked now. Nobody but the landlord has the key, and he’d never let someone other than me in without informing me first.



So…why? Why is there a box on my bed?



Slowly, with trembling hands, I pick it up. It’s heavy, made of smooth wood. It clearly has something in it, but I don’t see any sign of any way to open it. Turning it over, I see the note.



As thanks for the entertainment. You’ll know what to do when the time comes.

-Frost



With a shudder, I place the box in a drawer and slam it shut.



~~~~~~~~~~



Frost raised the teacup to his lips and took a slow sip, his face impassive, hiding his revulsion. He hated the taste of tea, but he had decided that it fit the persona he had adopted, and so he drank. Behind him, Ann Villae stood waiting, a tall, thin girl, her pale flesh nearly transparent, her eyes hidden behind her dark hair.



As if sensing the call coming, Frost reached over to his phone, placing it to his ear before it even began to ring.



“I was wondering when you would call.” Frost smirked, and gestured for Ann to refill the tea. “So, tell me, Mister Thorne…What can the Black Phoenix do for you?”