Page 192 of The Monster and the Masochist

I was pulling out of the underground parking lot when I received a text from the last person I expected to hear from.

Ryan’s name flashed across the screen of my Audi, and I accepted the message, listening to the text as I drove.

Ryan:

You need to come to Fairview. Theo is here and… she’s out of control. I’ve never seen her like this before.

My heart dropped to my stomach, and I didn’t even take the time to respond.

I burned literal rubber as I punched the gas, ripping through Silent Hollow on my way to Fairview.

Theo was hurting, and whether or not she wanted to tell me about her past was no longer relevant to me.

I was going to get to the bottom of this, even if it fucking killed us both.

The full moon hung like a pearled orb as I screeched into Fairview’s front drive. The large, gothic manor loomed before me, looking every inch as haunted as I knew it was.

Even though I knew this place was soaked in death, it had never quite given me the sense of foreboding that it was now.

Usually, the ghosts that walked the halls of Fairview were harmless.

They were the spirits of the people Ryan worked tirelessly to help pass into the afterlife.

But as my hands closed around the brass handles of the ornate front doors of the funeral home, I knew that the house had always been haunted by something much more sinister.

It was haunted by Theo’s trauma.

As I stepped through the front doors, I could almost feel the ominous presence of whatever it was that relentlessly hunted the woman I’d fallen in love with.

It was a living thing, slithering through the halls–rattling pipes and flickering lights as it sucked and leeched whatever happiness and safety Theo might have found between these walls. I couldn’t tell if I was disturbed or furious that this thing dared to infect her childhood home.

The ominous feeling of dread intensified as I stepped into the grand entrance hall of the manor.

Surrounded by the familiar dark wood paneling and antique wallpaper that made up the overall aesthetic of the funeral home, I stalked silently past the massive, curved staircase that led to the upper floors.

My heartbeat was the only sound I could hear as I made my way deeper into the house. That horrible, inky feeling of apprehension only grew as I continued down the main hall toward the basement.

I was so caught up in the cloying feelings of dread that seeped like blood through the wooden floors that I nearly jumped in surprise when I found Iris standing at the mouth of the stairs.

“Iris?” I whispered, and the witch turned to look at me, her normally calm, dreamy eyes filled with tears.

In her long silver robe that pooled like liquid around her bare feet, she looked like one of the ghosts I knew Ryan often spoke to… but Iris wasn’t a phantom.

She was the mother of a child that had been damaged by a real-life demon, and I had never seen someone look so broken or afraid.

“Cassandra?” she choked, and I nodded, reaching out a hand to steady her as she wavered on her feet before me.

“Iris, where is Theo?” I asked softly.

“She’s downstairs. She’s… She’s fighting her demon, and I am afraid that she is losing.”

Iris clutched my hands tightly, and concern zinged through my chest at how icy cold her fingers were. “It’s hurting her, and she won’t let anyone help.” A thick tear spilled down the woman’s cheek, and she shook before me.

“Please. Please help my daughter,” she pleaded, and I felt all my fear, anger, and rage settle into a hard, unforgiving rock in my chest.

I gave her a firm nod.

“Tell me where she is.”