A Second Heartbeat

A pool of carbonated liquid bubbled and popped, creeping across the grime-caked white tile. The syrupy stream oozed from a toppled stack of punctured cola bottles, winding around scattered snacks and debris. It slithered toward a thicker, darker puddle—red and viscous. Brown met crimson, merging in a sickly, organic swirl.

Outside, at least a dozen officers surrounded the convenience store in the frosted chill of night. Cracked windows—webbed with bullet holes and spattered with blood—flashed erratically under the pulse of red and blue lights. Inside, the faint glow of beverage coolers cast long, twitching shadows across the chaos. Officers crouched in formation: one squad by the front, another flanking the rear, weapons drawn.

Behind the cashier counter sat the lone suspect: a young woman trembling violently. She pressed a pistol against her temple, the barrel twitching with each breath. Her finger hovered near the trigger. The officers’ muffled commands bled into the high, static ring screaming in her ears.

Her other hand clutched her stomach. Blood seeped between her fingers in slow, sticky pulses. On the other side of the counter, bodies were strewn across the floor like discarded mannequins.

A homicide detective pulled up to the scene, met immediately by a younger officer who fell into stride beside him.

“Suspect’s a white female, mid-twenties. Long black hair. Around five-ten, one-forty. She’s armed, unstable. At least three confirmed dead inside. One surviving witness—Anjali Krishnan, the cashier. Suspect’s threatening to shoot herself if we move in.”

Detective Keeley exhaled sharply and flicked his cigarette to the curb, grinding it beneath his heel. “Christ.”

He made his way to the ambulance where the witness sat, shivering and blood-flecked. Anjali wore a silky button-up and a thin gold chain that glinted in the emergency lights. His face was buried in his hands. Blood speckled his knuckles, his shirt, his jeans. His legs dangled over the edge like dead weight.

Keeley placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe now, Mr. Krishnan. I’m Detective Keeley. I need you to walk me through what happened. Every detail helps.”

Anjali slowly looked up. His bloodshot eyes met Keeley’s. “That girl… I’ve seen her before. She came in all the time. Bought energy drinks, junk food. Quiet, polite. Never thought she’d—”

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “Three guys came in wearing masks. Guns out. One of them jumped the counter and cracked me with his shotgun. Told me to open the register. I was trying—God, I was trying—but before I could, she just… started shooting.”

Keeley’s tone softened. “Do you believe she was trying to protect you?”

Anjali shook his head slowly, his expression haunted. “No… I don’t think that’s it. At first, maybe. But that girl… she’s a psycho.”

Keeley’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

Anjali’s hands trembled as he spoke. “Those guys, they were just some punk kids. After she shot the first one, the other two froze. Dropped their guns. Raised their hands. One even begged—said, ‘Please, don’t shoot.’” He stared past Keeley, as if watching it all again. “She just smiled. Smiled—and shot him twice in the face.”

Keeley cursed under his breath. “Alright… go on.”

“I dove behind the counter with the last guy. He was just as scared as me. He kept yelling for his friend, ‘Marcus! Are you okay?’ But all we could hear was her laughing. That laugh…” Anjali’s voice cracked. “It didn’t sound human. Like she was enjoying it. I don’t know if he panicked or just got mad, but he stood up and started shooting. That’s when I ran. Crawled out the back.”

Keeley scribbled into his notepad, silent.

Anjali buried his face again, words muffled. “The way she killed them… like she was playing. His face… filled with holes…” He stared at his shirt, suddenly nauseous. Tears welled up. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Inside the store, Riley sat trembling behind the counter. She pressed her pistol against her forehead, then abruptly moved it under her chin, then up to her temple. She gritted her teeth, tears escaping her tightly shut eyes.

Chaotic whispers bounced off the walls of her consciousness: Demon… Murderer…

“I’m not a murderer,” Riley whispered, her voice shaking. “I saved this place.”

She rocked back and forth, her finger caressing the trigger. “I’m not a murderer.”

A sharp, involuntary laugh burst from her lips, saliva spraying through her clenched teeth. Her breaths quickened, her chest heaving as her heart slammed against her ribs. Blood oozed from the wound in her abdomen, soaking her shirt.

With a shaking hand, she reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a bottle of pills. The childproof cap was too slick for her blood-slicked fingers to grasp. The bottle slipped from her grasp, rolling across the floor. It bumped against the lifeless boot of one of her victims, stopping cold.

All the while she was whispering to herself. “I saved this place… I saved them…”

The back door exploded open. Officers stormed in, shields raised, flashlights cutting through the dust. Upon spotting Riley crouched behind the counter, an officer shouted, “Drop your weapon!”

Riley’s eyes snapped open.

BANG!

Drops of Scarlett

A Second Heartbeat

Chapter 1

“Wow, Kiki, you actually saved Riley’s life? You’re a legit hero.” Scarlett leaned back in her antique chair, legs crossed in faded jeans, an obscure band tee hugging her frame. She scratched absently at her hideous cat, its tongue lolling comically out the side of its mouth. With her free hand, she lifted her tea, the afternoon sun catching strands of her caramel ponytail.

Across from her, Kiki sat as poised as ever, wrapped in a sleek black turtleneck. She cradled her cup in both hands, her posture effortlessly graceful. “Hero’s a bit much,” she murmured. “But yeah… it was the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever lived through. I keep replaying it in my head, and honestly? I don’t know if I could do it again. Making it off that mountain… it felt like a fluke. One-in-a-million odds.”

Scarlett’s bright hazel eyes widened, her expression a mix of awe and unease. “Jeez, Kiki, that’s terrifying. I don’t even know if I should be pissed at Riley or not. It kinda feels like she knew you’d be in danger up there.”

Kiki’s gaze dropped to her tea, and she shook her head slowly. “Don’t be mad at her. She’s already paid for it, tenfold. The pain she went through—physically and mentally—it’s unimaginable.”

Scarlett shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “Oh god, you’re right. Poor Riley.” She paused, staring into her cup. “Thanks for telling me the whole story, though. I totally get why she doesn’t want to talk about it. I mean, I totally get it.”

Kiki managed a faint smile, her gaze drifting to the glass walls of the bookstore. “She said something weird on our way to the hospital, though.”

Scarlett perked up, head tilted. “Yeah?”

Kiki leaned forward, voice lowering slightly. “She said—and I quote—‘You were right. Demons are real.’ Then she pointed at nothing, like thin air, and said, ‘He’s here with us. He’s always been here.’” Her eyes locked onto Scarlett’s, watching for a reaction. “What do you make of that?”

Scarlett froze mid-sip. She set her tea down with a sharp clink. Her cat bolted from her lap, startled. For a split second, she glanced over her shoulder before turning back to Kiki. “Damn spooky,” she muttered. “You said she was passing out, right? Maybe she was dreaming. Or delirious.”

Kiki didn’t blink. “Yeah… maybe,” she said, though her voice was far from convinced. She exhaled through her nose, leaning back. “I’ll be honest. It’s been eating up all my free time. Researching, reading… going down the paranormal rabbit hole. But every source contradicts the last. It’s like chasing smoke. I don’t think I’ll ever find a real answer.”

“Huh,” Scarlett said softly, her voice trailing into an uneasy silence.

After a moment of quiet, Kiki glanced away. “Anyway… enough of that. How’ve you been?”

Scarlett stretched her legs out in front of her, some of the tension breaking. “Better. You know how it is—my birthday always sucks fat dick, but once it’s over, I bounce back. Oh, and Cheng? He pulled his usual manipulative reverse-psychology crap, so I’m done talking to him for a while.”

Kiki smiled—just a touch. “So, back to normal?”

“Yup.” Scarlett leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. “Normal enough for me.”

DING

The front door chimed, and Scarlett’s face lit up at the sight of their approaching friend.

Riley strode in, clad in a sleek black jacket, tactical combat boots, and cargo pants. Her confidence was palpable, but Scarlett’s eyes immediately darted to where Riley had parked her motorcycle.

“Come on, Riley. You know you can’t park on the sidewalk,” Scarlett groaned, half-scolding, half-amused.

Riley grinned as she cheerfully dropped into the antique chair next to Scarlett, throwing an arm around her shoulders. The old chair creaked under their combined weight. “What are you gonna do, call the cops on me?”

Scarlett shot her a flat look. “You do realize this chair’s an antique, right? If you break it, you buy it.” She wrinkled her nose, catching a distinct scent. “Ugh. Your arm still smells all… casty.”

Riley slipped her arm out of her jacket and proudly flexed her bare elbow. “Guess who just got their cast off literally an hour ago? Pretty sweet, huh?”

Scarlett grimaced but leaned closer, grabbing Riley’s wrist and sniffing her elbow. “Hmm. It’s… kind of gross, but also weirdly familiar. And… comforting? Intoxicating?”

Riley tilted her head and joined in, making loud, exaggerated sniffing noises.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kiki said, standing to tug Riley up by the hand. “Congrats, by the way. Must feel liberating to have your arm back.”

“It’s a start,” Riley said, letting herself be guided to the couch. “Still stuck with physical therapy three times a week for a couple more months.” She flopped down and kicked her boots up on the coffee table. “So what were you guys talking about? Planning Kiki’s birthday party?”

Scarlett rubbed her chin dramatically. “Yeah, we should. The 22nd’s only a couple days away.”

Kiki wagged a finger. “No need for that. We’ll just meet here and exchange gifts like we always do.”

Riley sat upright, digging through her jacket pocket. “Speaking of gifts… I actually got you something. Like, an early birthday present. Here.” She dangled a small object in front of Kiki’s face.

Kiki went cross-eyed trying to focus, then snatched it and turned it over in her hand. It was a dented bullet, strung on a chain.

Riley smirked. “Pretty cool, right? That’s the bullet they pulled out of my rib.”

Kiki’s bright blue eyes widened behind her glasses. She opened her mouth, but stayed quiet for a few seconds until she found the words. “I’m… not sure how I’m supposed to feel about this… but thanks?” She gave the bullet a small squeeze and slipped it into her pocket. “I’ll… take good care of it.”

“Oh, come on. It’s badass.” Riley gave Kiki’s shoulder a light punch. “If I knew you’d be weird about it, I would’ve given it to Scarlett instead.”

“Yeah, it’s super cool,” Scarlett said, giving a thumbs-up. “Kiki, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it. I mean, I get not wanting to hold onto bad memories.”

Kiki turned and pulled Riley into a tight hug. “Bad memories or not, Riley’s alive. I’d rather have that bullet in my pocket than still in her chest.”

Scarlett held out her hand. “Can I see it? I can’t believe they let you keep that thing.”

Kiki handed it over, smirking as Scarlett examined it like a rare gem.

“They didn’t let me,” Riley said, arms folded smugly. “It’s technically mine. Under Alaskan property law, that bullet was involuntarily left in my possession for over thirty days without anyone claiming it. So, I claimed it.”

Scarlett burst out laughing. “A bullet was ‘involuntarily left in your possession’? That’s the most hilarious way I’ve ever heard someone say they got shot.”

Kiki’s smile dimmed, replaced by a pensive frown. “Speaking of Alaskans and their claims—I still haven’t gotten my camera back from the Starport PD. I need those photos to figure out where those Phrixothrix-hirtus-like beetles fit into my revised monophyletic grouping. With so few terrestrial bicolor bioluminescent species, this could actually be huge.”

“Those bastards,” Riley muttered, clenching her fist dramatically. “We should totally go back and break into their evidence room to get it back. Along with my dad’s rifle.”

Kiki shivered in excitement, her shoulders wiggling. “Oh, I would love to go back. I need to confirm their green glow, since I only observed red myself.” She suddenly grabbed Riley’s shoulders, her blue eyes wide with urgency. “You’re absolutely sure you saw them glowing green? You’re positive?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty much sure.” Riley’s gaze shifted to Scarlett, mock-fearful.

Kiki sighed and slumped into the couch. “Then anecdotal evidence will have to do. We can’t go back. I know that.”

Scarlett exhaled in relief. “Phew. I’m glad you’re not actually planning on going back.”

Kiki shot her a sharp glare. “I just want to study beetles! Is that really so much to ask? Stupid people with their stupid rules and beliefs always get in my way. Humans are the worst animal…”

“Mhm, true that,” Riley said with a nod, leaning back into the couch. Her voice dropped, tinged with venom. “Especially those dirty tribal pigs. I think I’m finally ready to leave that cabin behind for good. They can burn it down for all I care.”

Scarlett’s expression stiffened. She stood abruptly, glancing around the store. “Okay, guys. Let’s dial back the weird comments.” Her tone shifted, lighter. “Hey—wanna see something cool?”

Kiki and Riley exchanged looks and followed her to the counter. Scarlett tapped at the computer and grinned. “Check it out. A window display shelf. I’m thinking of ordering a bunch of manga to show off here—tons of kids walk past on their way home from school.”

Scarlett clicked through images of the sleek shelf. “See? “You can display books facing out to lure people in and still use the back side for normal stock. Super efficient.”

“Looks slick,” Riley said, peering toward the front window. “But won’t it block your view outside?”

Scarlett shook her head. “It’s only four feet tall. Even Kiki can see over it.”

Kiki folded her arms. “What do you mean by that? I’m not that short.”

Riley snickered and reached over to ruffle her hair—then froze, her hand dropping as pain jolted through her chest. “Oooh, that… don’t feel good.”

Kiki was at her side in a flash. “Riley? What is it? What happened?”

Scarlett’s grin vanished, replaced by a furrowed brow. She watched as Riley hunched forward slightly, one hand pressed to her ribs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just stretched the wrong way or something. It happens.” Riley zipped up her jacket, her face pale. “I should probably head home and lie down. I worked all night and could really use a nap.”

Before she could take another step, Riley stumbled backward, knocking a cup of pens off the counter.

“Nope. You’re not driving anywhere,” Scarlett said, moving quickly to Riley’s side. She looped an arm under hers, steadying her. “Kiki, help me get her upstairs. She can crash in my bed, and I’ll drive her home once I close up.”

Together, they guided Riley toward the stairs at the back of the store, passing a few concerned customers along the way. Riley took slow, careful steps, her breathing shallow.

“I thought I was past this,” Riley murmured, frustration creeping into her voice.

Scarlett glanced at her zipped-up jacket. “You don’t have to act tough for us, kiddo. Don’t forget you’re the baby of the group.”

Kiki smiled gently. “Yeah, it’s always funny that you’re both the tallest and the youngest.”

Riley exhaled, then carefully nudged herself free from their arms. “Thanks for letting me crash in your bed, Scars. I’ll take it from here.”

Kiki and Scarlett exchanged an awkward glance as Riley trudged up the stairs, her boots thudding against the wooden steps.

Kiki whispered, “Let’s just let her rest a bit.”

Scarlett nodded with a crooked frown and turned back toward the register. A customer was already waiting.

Kiki grabbed her fluffy tan jacket from the coat rack. “It was a nice visit, Scarlett. I should get back to it, though. Between schoolwork and work-work, it’s going to be a late night.”

“That sucks,” Scarlett said, stepping out from behind the counter to offer a hug. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Kiki leaned into her, voice muffled in her hair. “Mmm, thanks. You can help by making sure Riley doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Hah, sure. Maybe I’ll just bring peace to the middle east and solve world hunger while I’m at it.” Scarlett scoffed. “Any other impossible requests?”

Kiki covered her mouth as a deep yawn escaped, her other thumb tapping on her phone to call for a ride. “You can try, at least. I’ll move Riley’s bike to the back, then head out. Bye-bye.”

“Thanks, Kiki.” Scarlett waved as the bell on the door chimed. Her chest tightened briefly, but her focus promptly shifted to the towering stack of books a customer had placed on the counter. She forced a cheerful smile. “Oh, my favorite kind of customer! Thanks for choosing Azurie’s Literary Emporium for literally all your literary needs.”

Outside in the cold winter air, Kiki mounted Riley’s motorcycle and wheeled it carefully around the shop to a gravel lot behind a chain-link fence. She parked it next to Scarlett’s car and dismounted.

She took slow steps forward, the crunch of her boots against the frosty ground breaking the silence. The sun was high, but the cold air bit with a sharp sting. Kiki raised her bare fingers into the breeze, letting the cold settle deep into her skin. Her icy blue eyes narrowed.

Horrifying memories stirred, but she stood stoic as she relived the gruesome nightmare in her mind. She could see it. An aura, a presence clinging to Riley’s back like a parasite. A massive entity of darkness, its outline shapeless but vast. A predator that fed on fear.

Her jaw tensed. She rubbed her thumb against her cold, numb fingers in the air. In the back of her mind, she began mentally noting Riley’s behavioral shifts: defensive posture, sensory reactivity, territorial withdrawal, sleep fragmentation. She’d seen it before. In traumatized wolves. In injured primates. But in Riley’s case, there was something more. Something deeper.

A sudden buzz in her pocket jolted her back to the present. Her ride had arrived.

Kiki turned and walked toward the street, her steps crisp, her thoughts racing. She decided that she needed answers. She needed to understand what Riley had brought back from that place. And most of all, she needed to confirm that she wasn’t insane.

Upstairs, Riley lay flat on her back in Scarlett’s bed. Her boots rested by the nightstand, and the room was cloaked in a hush of shadow. Pale winter light seeped between the curtains, but it didn't reach her.

Her chest throbbed with a dull, persistent, rhythmic ache. Each pulse of pain matched the beat of her heart. One hand absently clutched the front pocket of her jacket, her thumb pressing against the outline of concealed steel. There was a wild, irrational urge to reach inside her own flesh and snap the aching rib loose.

She rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball, small and tight. With her eyes shut, the sweet relief of sleep beckoned her between pulses of pain. Each passing minute brought duller aches, so she patiently waited for it to end.

Slowly, gently, the pain began to recede, leaving behind a cold and hollow pit in her chest. She unzipped her jacket with care and let it fall to the floor. Beneath it, a faded black tank top clung to her skin. The neckline was low enough to reveal the scar running across her chest—jagged, raw around the edges, still healing. Her constant scratching hadn’t helped.

Then, she turned her face into Scarlett’s pillow and sighed—a long, shaking exhale that carried away the shame of weakness inside her.

The warmth of the bed, the faint scent of lavender detergent, and the worn softness of the blanket all wrapped around her like a shell.

Her body relaxed. The last flickers of pain dulled to memory. She let herself drift, breath slowing, tension easing, until sleep finally took her.

Meanwhile, Kiki offered her driver a polite smile and waved him off before turning to face her place of employment: the Sulland Zoo. Cold wind tugged at her coat as she stepped toward a locked side entrance, already fishing her I.D. badge from her handbag. She flashed it at the security guard and passed through the gate into the parking garage. A scanner then read the badge and buzzed her inside the building.

The corridor beyond was clean and corporate. Motivational posters—TEAMWORK BUILDS TRUST, PERSEVERANCE IN THE WILD—covered the beige walls wherever they’d fit, framed by artificial plants stationed outside every office. The sterile cheerfulness made her shoulders sag.

Eventually, she reached her door. A brushed steel nameplate gleamed under the fluorescent lights:

Kolbeck

With a click of her key, she entered and locked the door behind her. Inside, her office reflected her personality: shelves lined with neatly labeled binders, a few framed photos from zoological conferences, and a mug filled with pens arranged by ink color. She plopped into her executive chair, spinning it once before facing her dual monitors.

Her fingers danced across a row of manila folders in the cabinet beside her desk. She pulled one free and opened it.

“January’s assignment,” she read aloud in a flat tone. “Addressing lethargy in large African mammals. “While the elephants in the room—so to speak—have been thriving and displaying lively behavior, our rhinos and hippos are lagging behind. Due to their consistent lethargic behavior, zoo customer attention is at an all-time low near their exhibits, with visitors spending just 2-3 minutes in viewing range per customer on average. That’s a decrease of over 25% compared to last year’s winter numbers. While the ethology department’s suggestions have improved behavior during the warmer months, we’re still struggling in the winter season. Some would say even more so now than before.”

Kiki rolled her eyes. “Gee, I wonder why,” she muttered.

She dropped the report and began typing furiously on her keyboard, mumbling as she composed the email. “Maybe if they'd listen when I say these species respond differently to temperature variations and enclosure design…”

She grabbed the corded desk phone and dialed three digits. After a couple of rings, a recording played, followed by a beep.

“Hey, Steve. It’s Kirsten. I assume you’ve seen the new assignment. Can you please compile the enrichment schematics I sent back in September—specifically the updated interior layouts? The ones the dev team conveniently ignored? I’m behind on this, thanks to… external factors, so speed would be great. I owe you a coffee.”

She hung up and leaned back with a sigh, then opened a drawer and pulled out a thick folder labeled: Enclosures.

Flipping through blueprints and habitat schematics, she compared them with photos on her monitor. Images of empty exhibits filled the screen—glass walls, bare dirt, minimal stimulation. She frowned.

One by one, she circled locations on the printed diagrams, places that could benefit from puzzles, new scent trails, or redesigned viewing angles. Items that would stimulate curiosity and reduce cold-season sluggishness. Her pen moved with a sense of urgency.

The rhythmic scratching of her notes filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional sigh of frustration. Despite the monotony, Kiki’s passion for her work shone through, even in the face of the bureaucracy threatening to stifle it.

After finishing the first round of annotations, she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

“Time for something else,” she mumbled.

Sliding her laptop from its case, she flipped it open. The screen lit up, and the last project she’d worked on appeared: Monophyletic Groupings Modified Based on Behavioral Traits: Lampyridae and Other Glowing Beetles.

She stared at it for a moment. Her fingers hovered over the keys. Then, instead of resuming, she minimized the window. Behind it was a browser window open to a low-budget webpage. The page loaded was a low-budget site on cryptids and folklore—black background, white text, odd green accents.

Kiki scrolled down, scanning names and brief descriptions until her cursor paused over a link. She clicked it. A page appeared, text wrapping around a crude digital sketch of a gaunt, antlered figure. Kiki leaned forward, glasses catching the glow of the screen.

“A Wendigo is a fearsome cannibalistic monster associated with the harsh winter months. Often depicted as a monstrous demon, it is also believed to be a malevolent spirit capable of possessing humans, driving them to madness and transforming them into murderous cannibals…”

“Just like Atshen,” she whispered. “I wonder what Riley's dad learned about this thing.”

Her eyes lingered on the text, the words harsh winter and possession. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, thumb tapping against her elbow. Something was stirring in the dark spaces between science and myth. The pieces didn’t quite fit—but they were uncomfortably close.

Chapter 2

A stocky man sat before the crackling fire in a desolate log cabin, his broad shoulders hunched as he carved a stick with a massive hunting knife. Behind him, a small girl sat curled on the couch, her heart pounding. Her long black hair framed a face drawn tight with unease.

“Dad?” she asked softly. “I’m hungry.”

The man’s head jerked toward her.

His eyes were hollow, bottomless pits—black and empty. A grotesque smile split his face, revealing two rows of jagged, unnatural teeth. He rose without a word. His joints cracked and twisted as he grew, muscles contorting, bones stretching and breaking with sicking pops. His mouth stretched wider and wider, tearing his cheeks until it cleaved his face in half.

The cabin trembled under the weight of his transformation.

Little Riley froze, a deep, gut-wrenching fear pooling in her stomach.

“Hungry…” His deep, guttural voice rumbled.

Riley scrambled backwards over the couch, her small body trembling. Her father’s monstrous figure lumbered toward her, his skin stretched tight over bones that creaked like an old house in the wind. His mouth—an abyss of sharp teeth—lunged at her.

Riley lifted her arm instinctively to shield herself, but it was no use. The monster’s teeth sank in deep, ripping into her flesh and bones, crushing her ribcage like brittle twigs.

“Stop it!”

Riley’s voice cracked through the dark as her eyes shot open. Despite the nightmare, there was a powerful sense of ease enveloping her. Warmth surrounded her, Scarlett’s blankets soft against her skin. Her pulse slowed. A gentle hand stroked through her hair, soothing her. She relaxed, drifting.

A soft giggle, followed by the sound of someone whispering close to her ear. It was a familiar, comforting presence.

Riley’s lips curled into a sleepy smile. “Hey there, Scars…” she muttered, voice dry with sleep.

She rolled onto her side to wrap an arm around Scarlett. But her fingers found only empty space—nothing but cool sheets.

Her heart skipped. She opened her eyes, and there, inches away from her face, was a pale, translucent face. It stared back at her with wide eyes and a cold, eerie smile.

Riley gasped, her body jerking upright, nearly tumbling off the bed in her panic. Her gaze darted around the room, but it was empty. No one was there.

“What the?”

Her pulse raced as the darkness in the room seemed to deepen, swirling just beyond the light’s reach. She scrambled out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor with loud thuds. She dashed for the stairs, her mind spinning in disbelief.

“Scarlett, your house is haunted as fuck!” Riley’s voice rang out, breaking the silence of the empty store.

Downstairs, Scarlett peered up from behind a book, confused. “What happened?”

Riley pointed dramatically toward the ceiling. “Your damn sister was haunting me! That’s what!”

Scarlett glanced around the store, relieved to see no customers. “I thought you said you made all that up. Are you trying to trick me again?”

Riley shrugged, brushing hair out of her face. “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe I tricked you before, maybe not. I don’t really remember. The point is, someone was up there messing with my hair and breathing in my ears. I thought it was you at first.”

Scarlett gave her a look—half confused, half amused.

Riley caught it and flushed. “Not like that!”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow, her smirk turning mischievous. “So, you're trying to tell me my sister’s ghost was upstairs turning you on?”

Riley crossed her arms, still wearing nothing but a tank top. “Forget all that. Is this place haunted or what?”

Scarlett’s smirk lingered for a bit, then slipped away into something flatter, more guarded. “I don’t know, Riley. Ask my therapist—apparently I’m a delusional retard who can’t accept reality. Last time you said something like this, it messed me up for weeks. I can’t do that again.”

A bolt of guilt struck Riley. She relaxed her shoulders and unclenched her fists. “Ah, shit. Sorry about that.’

Scarlett took a steadying breath, both hands flat on the counter. “It’s all good, homie. The truth is, you already feel creeped out by this place. That’s probably why you’re more likely to imagine ghosts than… you know. Normal people. At least, that’s what Cheng says.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Normal people? Are you saying I’m not normal?”

Before Scarlett could reply, both girls turned in unison toward the back corner of the store. A slender, feminine silhouette ducked just out of sight behind a shelf.

“Did you just see that?” they both asked in unison.

A chill crawled up Riley’s spine. She ducked behind the counter beside Scarlett, eyes locked on the shadowy corner.

Scarlett stared, her expression tight. “Normally when stuff like that happens… I’m the only one who reacts. So… yeah… huh.”

Riley’s heart pounded. She shuddered, her body tense with adrenaline. “What do you mean? What the hell was that?”

“I think it’s Azurie, but she’s being shy right now. Sometimes she hides like this, other times she’ll walk right out in the open.” Scarlett kept her gaze glued to the shadowy corner, scanning around the edges of the bookshelves. “But like I said, usually I’m the only one who sees her, so I figured I’m probably just crazy.”

Riley’s eyes widened while her eyebrows furrowed. “Fucking hell… this place is haunted for real? I knew I saw a ghost before.”

Scarlett’s deep hazel eyes narrowed as she shifted her gaze toward Riley. “Hey, you said it was just your imagination and that you were messing with Kiki!”

Riley scratched the back of her head, looking guilty. “Well, actually, I may have kind of downplayed it a bit… I didn’t want to make you feel worse, you know? That’s why I told Kiki to keep her mouth shut about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was real, anyway.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened, her hand balling into a fist in front of her face. “I knew it! I’m not crazy at all! Cheng’s been gaslighting me this whole time, making me think I’d gone completely cuckoo.”

Riley’s pulse quickened. Her eyes darted around the room as though expecting to see something—anything—that would prove Scarlett’s claims. “Holy shit. So, is she dangerous?”

Scarlett’s voice was calm, but there was a subtle edge of caution in her tone. “If you see her, don’t make any sudden movements. Hold your hand out so she can learn your scent, and don’t make direct eye contact.”

Scarlett pointed down at her pet cat, whose eyes seemed to gaze off in different directions. “Look at Snuggle Muffin. That’s what happens when you make eye contact.”

Riley blinked with her mouth hanging open. “How the hell are you not taking this seriously?”

“I don’t know, man,” Scarlett sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ve been living with this for most of my life. I still get scared when I see her, but I doubt she’s dangerous. If she were, I probably wouldn’t have lasted this long. That’s assuming she’s even real…”

Her voice trailed off, the doubt creeping back in despite everything.

Riley pressed her fingers to her temple, her mind racing. “I think it’s real. I saw someone upstairs—one hundred percent sure. No way I imagined that.”

Scarlett rubbed her chin, eyebrow raised. “Oh Azurie! Want me to introduce you to my friend?”

Riley stepped back, taking a defensive pose. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Probably,” Scarlett shrugged. “But don’t worry. She almost never responds when I call her. It’s always when I least expect it.”

Just then, the lights flickered. A loud thump echoed from upstairs, followed by a small plume of dust that drifted downward from the ceiling.

Scarlett held up a finger. “That was weird.”

Riley held her breath, every nerve in her body on high alert. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for any other signs of something unnatural.

Scarlett glanced up at the clock on the wall, her casual demeanor returning. “Hey, it’s almost six. Do you want me to give you a ride home? Don’t go hopping on your bike if you’re not feeling safe enough to drive.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Riley’s forehead. “Crap, I have to be at work at eight. I need to go shower and get ready, but is it really okay for me to leave you alone like this with a damn ghost on the loose? I can call off if I have to.”

Scarlett pondered her options for a moment, then shook her head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. If anything I’m feeling relieved by all this. Now it seems more likely than ever that I’m not crazy,” she said, crossing her eyes and swirling a finger next to her temple.

Riley let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Okay, okay. I’m going to go to work and think about all this. Like, really think about it, you know? Then we can talk about everything after.”

Scarlett gave a firm nod. “Okay, sounds like a plan. I’ve been dying to talk to someone about all this.”

Riley’s gaze drifted uneasily toward the stairwell. “Uh… would you mind grabbing my stuff for me?”

“Aww, no problem, L’il Riri.” Scarlett smirked but restrained herself from teasing further. She jogged upstairs and spotted Riley’s jacket and boots beside the bed. Carefully, she lifted the blankets and checked every corner of the room. No sign of Azurie.

When she returned, Riley exhaled in relief. “Sheesh, I don’t usually feel this jumpy. Is this what Kiki feels like every day?”

Scarlett handed over the clothing. “I think so. The poor girl’s jumpier than a porcupine in a balloon factory.”

Riley bent down to pull on her boots. “At least you’re in good spirits. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but if anything bad happens, get out and call me. Seriously, you can stay at my place if you need to.”

“Got it, thanks.” Scarlett gave her a lazy wave. “Can’t wait to unpack all this with you tomorrow. I’ve got a ton to say.”

Riley hesitated near the door. “Alright. See you soon, Scars.”

The chime of the door rang as Scarlett locked it behind her. The silence that followed felt heavy. She flipped the sign to Closed and watched as Riley walked around to the back lot. The motorcycle engine rumbled to life, echoing through the building, and then faded as Riley disappeared down the road.

Scarlett turned, feeling something shift in the air. Movement caught her attention.

In a blink, Azurie was there, slamming silently against the glass with wide, desperate eyes. Her gaze was fixed on Riley, vanishing into the distance. A swirling torrent of shadow burst from behind Azurie, seeping through the windowpane and out into the evening, racing after the bike like smoke carried on wind..

Azurie pounded against the glass, her actions still not making a sound. Then, as quickly as she appeared, she vanished.

“Azurie?” Scarlett whispered, but the store remained still and silent.

Scarlett turned her gaze back to the road, but the stream of darkness had already vanished as well. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and began typing a message to Riley, muttering the words as her fingers moved across the screen.

“Hey, I’m not trying to freak you out, but I think Azurie wants to say something. I also saw some creepy shadows following you—”

She stared at it, then groaned, thumb holding down the delete button.

“Okay, no way I’m sending that.”

Kiki remained hard at work, still holed up in her office. One monitor displayed a sprawling flowchart of names and locations. The other was cluttered with dozens of browser tabs, each headline more disturbing than the last:

Man Kills Family of Four, Then Himself!

Mass Shooting Leaves 8 Dead, 11 Injured!

Investigation Into a String of Serial Murders Carried Out by Trusted Family Doctor!

The headlines went on endlessly. In front of her, a notepad bore a list of possible motives, each marked with tally lines. ‘Motive Unknown’ had far more marks than any other.

A deep yawn forced its way out as Kiki stretched her arms over her head. The silence of the office was shattered by the sudden ring of the desk phone. She jolted upright, knees slamming against the underside of the desk. A stack of papers tumbled to the floor as she scrambled to steady everything.

She glanced at the caller ID and quickly picked up. “Good evening, Jackson. Thanks for returning my call.”

A rough male voice crackled on the other end. “No problem. What can I do for ya?”

Balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, Kiki’s fingers flew across the keyboard, logging the call. “I found your contact info on CryptidsRevealed.com. I tried emailing, but the address didn’t work, so I figured I’d try calling instead.”

“Yup,” the man muttered. “Deleted the email.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Kiki replied. “Anyway, my name’s Kirsten. I’m an ethologist with a special interest in undocumented species. If we can study their behavior, maybe we can predict their movements, increasing our chances of finding them. Right now, I’m researching something called the Wendigo—or possibly the Atshen, depending on the origin. Do you have any field research or personal accounts to share? Even simple anecdotal experiences would help.”

There was a pause, followed by a sharp scoff and the unmistakable sound of someone spitting.

“You one of them scientists?” the man growled. “I got nothin’ to say to you folks.”

“I understand why you’d feel that way,” Kiki said calmly. “But I take this seriously. My colleagues might scoff, but I intend to prove them wr—”

Click

Kiki blinked, staring at the phone. “He hung up on me…”

With a sigh, she scratched her head and slumped forward, resting her cheek against the scattered papers. Her tired eyes drifted to the bottom corner of her screen.

“Getting late,” she mumbled.

Riley pulled up to the zoo’s parking garage, the hum of her motorcycle fading as she coasted toward the small guard shack by the entrance. A semi-automated barrier arm twitched when she parked. She swung her leg off the bike, unfastened her helmet, and shook out her hair. Adjusting the tan button-up beneath her black jacket, she tapped her name badge against the card reader above the door’s lock. It caught the orange glow of a flickering streetlamp as the lock beeped open.

Inside, the older security guard on duty greeted her with a grin. “Perfect timing, Riley. Another quiet day, like always.”

Riley smirked, stuffing a rolled-up fast food bag into the fridge. “A quiet day’s a good day, right Bobby?”

“That’s right. But stay vigilant. It’s quiet here, but there’s chaos brewing nearby.” He tapped a folded newspaper on the desk. The bold headline read: ‘Gang Violence Terrorizes South Sulland.’

Riley rolled her eyes. “Get with the times, old man. Nobody reads newspapers anymore,” she said with a wink, then took his seat as he grabbed his things.

But before stepping out, Bob paused. His grin faded. “Be careful, kid. Word is those thugs are targeting young women. Snatching ‘em up, hurting ‘em… God knows what else. Just… stay safe, alright?”

For once, Riley didn’t have a snarky comeback. She simply nodded.

Once he was gone, she glanced at the security monitors—empty lots, motionless alleys, static stillness. Nothing out of place. Her eyes drifted back to the newspaper, now spread open across the control panel. That headline stared back at her like a stark warning.

…reports of escalating attacks have left police scrambling. Among the department’s many failures is the case of a Sullen University student who was assaulted, stripped naked, and left wandering the streets bloody and battered for over an hour—despite managing to call 911 before her phone was stolen…

Riley swallowed hard. Her fingers curled into fists. She crumpled the page and tossed it into the trash.

Her knee started bouncing. Her chest tightened. Her thoughts spiraled—ghosts, criminals, the fear dragging its claws across her mind. It was getting harder to breathe.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

She jolted, coffee sloshing across the desk. Her pulse thundered in her ears—until she saw Kiki waving through the glass, grinning. Riley exhaled sharply, opening the door.

“Hiya!” Kiki chirped, wrapping her in a tight hug before Riley could speak. “I just wanted to swing by on my way home.” She squeezed tighter, her voice softening. “I’m worried about you. Please… take it easy. And if you need time off, don’t be afraid to just go home.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Kiki. You’re the one I’m worried about. Be careful getting home. Stay out of the bad areas. There are some seriously fucked-up people out there.”

“I go to work and school, that’s it. I’ll be fine.” Kiki winked, then turned on her heel.

Riley watched Kiki go, her friend’s bag overflowing with crumpled papers. She climbed into the back of a waiting car and disappeared around the corner.

Chapter 3

Riley exhaled and dropped into the chair, wiping the spilled coffee with the sleeve of her jacket. She had just started to settle when a low, chest-rattling bass shook the windows.

A sleek, low-riding car crept down the street, its tinted windows solid black.

Riley tensed up. Her eyes followed its slow crawl. Her mind spiraled through worst-case scenarios—an ambush, a drive-by, a last stand. She imagined herself in a cinematic firefight—outnumbered, dodging bullets, taking down armed assailants like an action hero.

Then darker thoughts slithered in. A flash of Kiki on her knees. A gun to her head. Riley paralyzed, restrained and helpless. Forced to watch.

“No,” she snapped aloud, shaking her head violently. She slapped her cheek. “I’m not some feeble victim.”

She stood abruptly and yanked open her locker. From within, she pulled out her standard-issue 9mm handgun. With a sharp motion, she racked the slide. The click echoed in the small room, the weight in her hands grounding her. Power surged through her veins, replacing the creeping dread.

She holstered the weapon with care, clipped her radio mic to her chest, and pressed the call button. “Hey Bravo, you got a copy? This is Delta. I’m making a round on the south wall. Suspicious vehicle spotted.”

A burst of static answered, then a garbled reply crackled through. “Copy, Delta. Report in ten.”

With a final glance at the security monitors, she locked the door behind her and stepped out into the night. The frigid air hit her hard, the temperature had plummeted with the sun. She stuffed her hands into her jacket, then fished out her leather driving gloves and slipped them on as she walked.

The sidewalk traced the towering concrete walls of the zoo, bathed in the unnerving orange glow of streetlights. Splashes of graffiti—some fresh, others scrubbed into ghostly smears—decorated the walls, evidence of an ongoing battle between taggers and maintenance crews.

What stood out most was the silence. No distant engines. No chatter. No city hum. Just her own bootsteps breaking the quiet.

Thump, thump, thump.

The deep bass returned. The car was back.

She glanced up as it rounded the block. The tension in her shoulders unwound just slightly, but her hands were still shaking.

Who the hell were they? she wondered. Gang members looking for an easy target?

A devilish smirk curled across her lips at the thought of them trying to jump her. Her fingers brushed the pistol grip at her hip as she neared the end of the southern wall.

Suddenly the muffled bass returned. She turned to see the same car creeping toward her, even slower this time.

Inside, shadows moved. She could make out grinning faces, male voices laughing, jeering, their words lost in the pulsing beat.

The passenger’s window rolled down with an ominous hum, and Riley’s stomach knotted up.

“Ey girl,” The man in the passenger seat called out, his elbow resting casually on the door. “What’s your name?”

Riley’s expression went dead.

She took a step back, drew her weapon, and fired three rounds. The passenger collapsed, half hanging out of the window.

Riley pivoted and shot through the windshield at the driver—five more rounds into the webbed, shattered glass. The car peeled out in response, jolting away with a screech of tires and swerving madly before slamming into a streetlight with a metallic crunch.

The rear door flew open and someone bolted away.

Riley held her gun up in front of her right eye, her hands finally steady. One, two, three more shots echoed out in the quiet streets, and the man fell onto the sidewalk like a sack of bricks.

Then there was only silence.

Pointing her gun at the ground, Riley ran up to the wreck.

The driver wheezed, blood bubbling at his lips. Several bullet holes dotted his chest, his limbs twitching weakly. She watched, cold and stoic, until the last bit of life drained from his eyes. Only after he went perfectly still did she holster her weapon.

Stepping backward, she turned away from the massacre and walked briskly along the southern wall. As soon as she rounded the corner, she broke into a sprint, her boots pounding against the pavement as she approached the guard shack. Once inside the shack, she slammed the door shut with trembling hands.

Riley squeezed her radio, then held her heavy breaths as she spoke.

“Delta here,” she said, her voice level. “Round complete. Nothing exciting to report. Heard a vehicle peeling out near the east wall. Might be something for Charlie to check on later.”

Riley collapsed into her chair, gasping. “Fucking scumbags,” she muttered between breaths.

A storm of emotions churned inside her—rage, terror, exhilaration—but she couldn’t stop smiling. Her knees bounced beneath the desk as she clutched her chest, trying to steady her breathing. She glanced at the monitors. None of the feeds covered the far east stretch of the southern wall.

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, tension leaking from her body.

For a few long minutes, the world was still. Her grin remained as she leaned back, boots propped on the desk. Then sirens in the distance pierced the quiet. A blur of flashing red and blue streaked past the window as police cruisers and ambulances roared down the street.

Riley’s grin vanished. She straightened, her fingers tightening around her weapon. Moving quickly, she crossed the room to Bobby’s locker. The old combination locker popped right open after a few quick yanks and a boot to the bottom corner.

In a blur, she swapped her gun for his and shoved her gloves into the locker. She slammed it shut and returned to her seat, boots back on the desk—casual, relaxed, like nothing had happened.

The knock came sooner than expected. She glanced up as an officer stepped up to the guard shack, his uniform crisp, notebook in hand.

“Evening, officer. What can I do for you?” Her tone was cool, almost amused.

“We had a shooting up the road. Just asking around,” he said, flipping open his pad. “Your name?”

Riley blinked, feigning mild surprise. “Damn. For real? Uh—Riley Driscoll, sir.”

He jotted it down. “Alright, Riley. See or hear anything strange tonight?”

She tapped a finger against her chin, letting the silence stretch just long enough.

“There was a car that kept driving by, playing loud rap music. Looked a little sketchy, but nothing crazy. And when I finished my patrol around ten, I heard a car peeling out to the east,” she said, then shrugged. “That’s about it. Didn’t hear any gunshots or anything.”

The officer scribbled down notes, face unreadable.

Riley crossed her arms. “Day shift guard was saying there’s been a lot of gang violence around here lately. Think this was related?”

He shook his head and relaxed his posture, almost as if he was speaking to a colleague. “Doubt it. Three college kids got shot. Nothing stolen. They still had their cash and weed.”

His eyes suddenly widened, realizing he’d already said too much. “But hey, don’t go repeating anything I just said. This is all confidential information.”

Riley smirked. “My lips are sealed.”

The officer slid his notebook into his pocket. “Mind if I take a look at your sidearm?”

“Nope.” She handed it over without hesitation.

He checked the serial, dropped the mag, gave it a quick once-over, then handed it back. She returned it smoothly to her holster.

“Alright, just need a quick swab for gunshot residue and you’re free.” He took out a gunpowder particle test kit and slid on some rubber gloves.

Riley’s heart skipped a beat as she held out her hand. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from shaking. A million excuses for why the result would come back positive coursed through her mind while he swabbed her hand.

He swabbed her palm and knuckles, then shook up the test tube.

She carefully watched the liquid swirl.

“All clear,” he said, sealing the kit. He handed her a card. “Call if you remember anything.”

She hesitated half a second before taking it with a bright smile. “Phew. Thought I was gonna have to explain that I went to the range yesterday.”

The officer paused mid-step. Slowly, he turned back to her. He stopped and more closely examined the room, her jacket pockets, her boots, her eyes. “Not this time…”

He knows.

Riley flinched and smacked her ear.

The officer squinted. “You alright?”

“Yeah, thought I heard a mosquito or something.” She leaned back again, arms behind her head. “Good luck catching those bad guys.”

“Not many mosquitos in January.” The officer lingered for a moment longer, glancing across the series of surveillance monitors. He then nodded and tilted his hat before turning to leave.

“Good night,” the officer said as he stepped out into the night.

KILL HIM!!!

Riley doubled over, her stomach twisting into knots as the violent whisper ripped through her head. She clawed at her temples, sweat breaking out across her skin. Gagging, she yanked the trash can from under the desk. Nothing came out, just dry, painful heaves that left her gasping.

Her fingers found the grip of her holstered weapon, almost as if they were moving on their own.

The officer was still in view. Her thumb flicked off the safety.

The urge to draw and fire into his back screamed through her body. But somehow, she stopped herself.

“What the fuck is going on…” she whispered, blinking away tears. Her vision blurred.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

Bass rattled the window again. Her eyes widened and her breaths sharpened.

In front of her was the very same vehicle, black tinted windows, rolling by like nothing had happened. She reached for her radio—then realized it wasn’t on her. Her gaze then shot up the street. There wasn’t a single squad car, no flashing lights, no blaring sirens. It was just an empty, quiet street on a cold winter evening.

A high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Her breath shortened into shallow gasps.

She stumbled over her chair, grabbing the radio off the table and switching it on.

“Bravo, Bravo, this is Delta. Do you copy?”

A burst of static. Then: “Copy, Delta. Go for Bravo.”

“I’m sick. I—I have to leave. It’s an emergency.”

A painfully long pause followed.

“Copy. Sending a unit to your location.”

She had no intention of waiting.

Riley burst out of the shack, mounted her bike, and roared down the street. The cold night air stabbed into her skin, but it did nothing to ground her. As soon as she reached the eastern intersection, she slowed to a stop. There, she killed the engine and stepped off.

The four-way stop was deserted. The silence was peaceful, the air still. A few stray snowflakes twirled and glinted as they tumbled beneath the orange streetlights.

Her stomach twisted again, and this time, she couldn’t hold it back, so she unleashed her anxiety onto the pavement.

Scarlett kept herself busy crunching numbers, assembling an order list for February. She added a few batches of new romance novels and self-help books to her cart, but the final total drained what little enthusiasm she had left. She hovered a moment—then, with a sigh, placed the order anyway and shut the tab.

Behind it, a shipment tracker blinked for the new shelving unit she’d ordered. A flicker of excitement lit her tired eyes. She stretched her back and hurried downstairs.

Pacing the length of the glass storefront, she mentally rearranged displays. Maybe she’d highlight indie authors this month. Or stack the self-help section near the door—new year, new you, and all that.

Before she could decide, the low rumble of an engine cut through her thoughts. Riley’s motorcycle coasted around to the side of the building.

Scarlett flinched with a pit in her stomach, then ran to the back of the store and unlocked the backdoor. She pushed it open, and a flood of frigid air poured into the building. Riley stumbled through, dragging her feet.

Her helmet hit the floor with a dull thunk. When she finally lifted her head, Scarlett recoiled. Riley’s face was ghostly-white, her eyes sunken deep into dark, sleepless circles.

“Holy shit. Are you alright?” Scarlett instinctively stepped back. “Do you want tea? Or—I dunno—something?”

Riley shook her head, slow and mechanical, like the motion itself hurt. When she finally spoke, her voice was dry and cracking. “Something is seriously wrong with me. I don’t know what’s goin’ on anymore, man.”

Scarlett didn’t ask questions. She grabbed Riley’s arm and guided her toward the front of the store, where the familiar sofa and armchair waited. “Geez Louise, you’re freezing! It’s way too cold to be riding your bike. You really oughta invest in a car.”

Riley didn’t respond. She just kept sniffling through her stuffy nose, breaths shallow and uneven. Her eyes darted around on the floor while her mind churned.

Scarlett’s pulse quickened. “You look like you need a hospital.” She eased Riley onto the couch. “At least let me get you some water.”

Riley gave a small, delayed nod. “Thanks. I just… I really need to talk to someone.”

Scarlett bolted upstairs, grabbed two bottles of water, and was back within seconds. She pressed one into Riley’s hands. “Alright. Talk to me.”

Riley twisted off the cap and chugged. Water dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“First, can we skip the part where I say how crazy this sounds?” she rasped. “All things considered, you’re probably the only person I can say this to without getting locked up in an insane asylum.”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “Uhm, should I be nervous?"

“Maybe.” Riley wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

“While I was at work, I had the most unimaginably realistic hallucination ever. I killed three college kids thinking they were gangsters or something. The cops showed up. They questioned me, tested my hands for gunpowder, searched everything…”

Her fingers clenched around the water bottle until it crackled. “Then suddenly—none of it happened. No bodies, no cops, no crime scene. Just me, sitting in my guard shack, losing my fucking mind. Now I’m like, what if other shit I think happened is fake too? I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Scarlett held up a finger and closed one eye, deep in thought. “Wait a minute. Wait… Almost got it. I know this…”

Riley frowned and cocked her head. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to remember the term.” Scarlett scratched her head. “It’s, uh… you’re dissociating from reality. No, wait—that’s not it. Damn it, I know this one.”

Riley exhaled sharply. “Scarlett, I’m not joking.”

Scarlett snapped her fingers. “Aha! You’re muddying the waters of your memories. Distancing yourself from what happened in Alaska.”

Riley’s mouth hung open. A slow, stunned silence stretched between them.

“No,” she finally said. “I’m not doing anything. This isn’t some psychological shit.”

Scarlett crossed her arms and looked away, sighing. “Jeez. Remind me to punch myself in the face if I ever start talking like Cheng again.”

She sat back in the armchair, gaze drifting. “Look, I didn’t mean to invalidate you in any way. What I meant to say is—I might know what you’re going through. I’ve experienced similar thoughts, myself.”

Riley shook her head, her voice rising with panic. “No, no, no. This isn’t some mental thing. Something weird is going on. This is unnatural. I don’t know if it’s ghosts or demons or what, but it’s real.”

Scarlett’s shoulders slumped as she sank into her seat. “I… used to have these daydreams—or hallucinations, I guess—about killing my sister.”

Her voice was quiet, hesitant, but she pressed on. “When I was a kid—before you and I met—I’d see her. In our room. Like she was still alive. She’d talk to me. She’d say she was going to tell on me to our parents. About what, I don’t know.”

Scarlett’s lips twitched, forming a bitter smile.

“I would suddenly get so angry I couldn’t even see straight anymore. Then I’d kill her again, over and over. Stab her. Choke her. Smother her with a pillow. And the thing is… I thought it was real every time. The memories and hallucinations got so mixed up, so warped, I couldn’t even remember how it really happened anymore.”

She drew in a breath—but it trembled on the way out. “I’d forget the details, then remember them, then doubt them again. Eventually, I didn’t know what was real. Not for years.”

Riley stayed quiet, staring at the floor as she listened. The only sound in the room was the ticking of a large antique clock on the far wall.

“Cheng says it’s a defense mechanism,” Scarlett murmured, shifting in her seat. Then, to Riley’s surprise, she wiped away a few stray tears and smiled. “I know I must sound like a total psychopath, but honestly? It actually feels good to say all this out loud. To someone who isn’t my annoying therapist.”

Scarlett leaned forward. “Look, Riley. You had to do something horrible in Alaska—you had no choice. Of course you’re dealing with trauma after that. But you protected Kiki. That’s what matters most.”

Riley winced at those words, her throat tightening as she squeezed her half-empty water bottle. Her gaze stayed locked on the floor, heart beginning to ache. “I…”

Scarlett’s voice softened. “I’m really glad you came here tonight. Going through all that alone was hell for me. But you don’t have to. You get to be crazy with me. And lucky for you, I’m a certified expert.” She smirked. “I’ll show you the ropes, noob.”

Riley finally looked up. A small trace of color had returned to her face, but her bloodshot eyes, rimmed with deep, dark circles, still held the weight of exhaustion.

Then she met Scarlett’s gaze. The kindness behind it cut through everything, and she felt her walls cracking.

Riley burst into tears, and Scarlett flinched.

“Oh—oh! Okay, that’s happening.” Scarlett sprang to her feet and circled the table, pulling Riley into a tight hug. “There, there. Let it out.”

She rubbed soothing circles on Riley’s back. “I’ll even lend you some of my anxiety meds,” she added, her tone warm. “I don’t need them until next November anyway.”

Riley was choking and gasping between uncontrollable sobs, her body shaking. The quiet bookstore filled with her broken cries as Scarlett held her, unfazed by the tears and mucus soaking into her shirt.

“Ah, sheesh,” Scarlett muttered, smiling gently as she stroked Riley’s long hair. “You really are the baby of the group.”

Several hours later, Riley was fast asleep in Scarlett’s bed, breathing slow and steady.

Scarlett, however, sat hunched over her computer, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of tea warming her hands. Her screen glowed with a video of an orangutan driving a golf cart—a mindless distraction—but her eyes kept drifting to the corner clock.

The washing machine had gone silent.

She shuffled down the hall to the machines and clumsily transferred the damp load to the dryer. Riley’s black jacket landed on top. Scarlett hesitated for a moment, fingers brushing the heavy fabric, then shoved it in with the rest and started the cycle.

Back in the bedroom, Riley lay sprawled across the mattress, mouth slightly open, snoring softly.

Scarlett lingered at the doorway, a strange warmth pressing against her senses. Nothing seemed unusual, yet something felt different. It wasn’t just an eerie feeling; it was gentle and familiar. It was cool and calming, but all the while unsettling.

She couldn’t see her, but somehow, Scarlett was certain that Azurie was there, quietly resting beside Riley.

Crawling into bed, Scarlett turned to face the wall. She closed her eyes, but sleep remained distant. Her mind kept circling back to Riley’s sobs. She’d never seen her cry before—not in all the years they’d known each other. It frightened her more than anything else could have.

The darkness clinging to Riley was all too familiar. Scarlett had seen it before, every time she looked in the mirror. However, it seemed to her that Riley being near Azurie was stabilizing in some way. It was as if the invisible presence was sweeping away the storm clouds over her mind.

Scarlett didn’t know if that was just a comforting thought or something more. She stopped trying to make sense of it.

Instead, her hand reached for the nightstand, brushing the edge of a photograph beneath the lamp. She couldn’t see it clearly in the dark, but she didn’t need to. She knew it by heart. It was her and Kiki, side by side.

Kiki had pulled Scarlett back from the edge—given her a way out of a darker path. A turning point.

And now, Riley would need something like that too.

Chapter 4

Morning came too soon, heralded by the sharp, insistent beeping of Scarlett’s alarm clock. She groaned and blindly flopped an arm from beneath the blankets to silence it. Just as she started to sit up, she noticed something—Riley’s arm was draped over her chest, holding on loosely.

Scarlett sighed and let her head fall back onto the pillow. She ran her fingers gently through Riley’s hair, half-awake, half-content to stay there a little longer.

Riley stirred, nuzzling into Scarlett’s collarbone with a sleepy mumble. “Mmm… Kiki…”

Scarlett groaned and shoved Riley’s arm away. She then slid off the bed, trudged to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her face before brushing her teeth. A quick trip to the dryer yielded a fresh sweater and jeans. After a fast shower, she dressed and trotted downstairs.

As usual, her morning routine wrapped up long before six, leaving her with nothing to do but loiter behind the register and scroll through her phone. A message from Kiki popped up, asking about birthday plans. Scarlett sent off a quick reply—then her phone buzzed again, this time with a call.

She answered with a smirk. “Good morning, my little golden drop of sunshine.”

“Don’t call me little,” Kiki said flatly. “I’m actually average height if you consider the global population.”

Scarlett chuckled. “Okay, my globally average drop of sunshine. What’s up?”

Kiki exhaled through her nose. “I was calling to see if you’ve heard from Riley. Someone at work said she left in the middle of her shift and forgot her phone. I’m… worried.”

Scarlett’s pacing slowed. “Oh, jeez, that goofy goober. Yeah, she’s here—crashed in my bed. She kinda had a panic attack or something at work, I think, so she came over to talk.” She hesitated, shifting her weight. “I don’t wanna say too too much, you know? I think she’d rather explain herself.”

There was a long pause before Kiki replied. “That’s alright. I’m just glad she’s okay.”

Scarlett grinned. “I think she misses you. She was saying your name in her sleep right before I came downstairs.”

Kiki didn’t take the bait. “Well, I have to go. Just tell her to take care of herself, alright?”

“Wait!” Scarlett said quickly. “Didn’t you originally text me about your birthday?”

“Oh—right.” Kiki’s tone lightened a bit. “After class, I have to head straight to work. There’s a big project, and we’re expecting a late night. But I was thinking I could come over around ten and we could celebrate at midnight. Assuming Riley’s feeling up to it.”

Scarlett wiped her runny nose on her sleeve. “Oh, yay! That sounds awesome. I’ll ask her when she wakes up, but I think she’ll be okay.”

“If you say so. Please just… make sure she takes it easy.” Kiki let loose a deep breath into the phone. “Alright, I should get going. I really appreciate you, Scarlett. Take care.”

“Aww, love you too, Kiki. Good luck with your big project. Bye-bye~” Scarlett ended the call with a cheerful grin.

“Is this what it feels like to be a big sister?” Scarlett mused to the empty store.

The old stairs creaked in response, followed by a familiar voice. “You talking to yourself down here? Weirdo.”

Scarlett grinned as Riley emerged, hair a tangled mess. “I was just on the phone with Kiki. She said you forgot your phone at work.”

Riley rubbed her face. “Ah, shit. Yeah. I’ll go get it later.”

“You want me to drive you?” Scarlett offered. “I’ve got a little time before I open.”

Riley hesitated, then shook her head.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” She lingered on the steps, her cheeks slightly red. “Hey… you didn’t say anything about last night, did you?”

Scarlett shrugged. “She already knew you up and left work in the middle of your shift, which is super out of character for you. I just told her you needed to talk and that I wasn’t gonna spill your business.” She tilted her head. “But you know she’s gonna press you about it now, so you better figure out what you wanna say. If you shut her out, she’s gonna get sad. Don’t do that to her on her birthday.”

She paused, stoking Snuggle Muffin under his chin. “Oh, speaking of Kiki’s birthday, we’re celebrating tonight at midnight.”

Riley sighed and sat on the steps. “Alright, that’s fine. Just… don’t say anything about, y’know…”

“The crying?”

Riley visibly cringed. “Exactly. Please keep it to yourself. That weak shit is embarrassing.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Why do you exude more toxic masculinity than any guy I’ve ever met?”

“Bitch, shut up and make me a sandwich.”

Scarlett scoffed. “How about a knuckle sandwich?” She raised a fist and lunged toward the stairs.

Kiki stood before the heavy oak door, inhaling deeply. It was the office of Professor Byland—a theoretical physicist known for his fierce intellect, uncompromising standards, and a few highly controversial research papers that never quite made it to peer-reviewed journals. His theoretical work in high-dimensional mechanics had earned him both acclaim and scrutiny. Still, his name carried serious weight within the university.

She exhaled, squared her shoulders, and knocked firmly.

“Come in.” A deep, commanding voice resonated through the thick wood.

Kiki stepped inside, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor. “Thank you for seeing me, Professor Byland. I know this is outside my usual field, but your name keeps coming up in relation to some... anomalous topics.”

Byland, seated behind a minimalist desk lined with books, didn’t look up at first. When he did, it was with quiet scrutiny. His black blazer was crisply pressed, his red tie perfectly centered. “Good morning, Ms. Kolbeck. I assume this pertains to your reputation as a promising ethologist—not a conspiracy theorist?”

Kiki remained composed, removing a sheaf of printed reports from her bag. “I’m not chasing ghosts. But I do have observational data. Behavioral data. Patterns that suggest something is affecting cognition and agency in very specific populations. I'm aware of your early research into psychospatial anomalies. I was hoping you might offer insight.”

Byland's brow creased, intrigued despite himself. “Sit down, Ms. Kolbeck. But be warned—I have a meeting in twenty minutes, and I don’t entertain fantasy.”

“Understood.” She placed three neatly organized folders on his desk. “These are cases of—”

“Would you mind grabbing me a cup of coffee?” he interrupted.

Kiki’s eye twitched, her voice trailing off as she completely lost her train of thought. “...sure.”

Suppressing a sigh, she rose and exited the office, making her way down the hall toward the conference room. As she poured the coffee, she shut her eyes and exhaled sharply, forcing herself to regain composure. With the steaming cup in hand, she returned to the office, setting it down in front of him.

“Thank you, Ms. Kolbeck. Please, continue.”

“So… Hang on.” She shook her head, shuffling through her papers to recover her focus. “These are case reports. Verified criminal incidents involving individuals with no prior history of violence, all of whom described similar phenomena: loss of agency, auditory hallucinations, and most unsettling, the presence of a shadowy entity encouraging them to commit acts of violence.”

He flipped through the files in silence. “This looks more psychological than physical.”

“I thought so too. But the convergence is statistically anomalous. Geographic clustering, consistent phrasing across transcripts, and a timeline that points to a spreading influence.” She paused. “I’m not suggesting literal demons. But something transmissible—possibly memetic or neurophenomenological in nature. A kind of… cognitive pathogen.”

Professor Byland rubbed his chin, flipping through the pages once more. “Well, Ms. Kolbeck, this is certainly a comprehensive collection of data. You’ve been thorough.”

He leveled his gaze at her. “So, tell me—what exactly do you think you’re dealing with here?”

Kiki straightened in her seat. “Well like I said, I believe it’s something akin to a virus. Not in the traditional sense, of course, but similar in biological function.”

Byland raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You're anthropomorphizing an unknown system and calling it biology.”

“I’m describing observed behavior,” Kiki replied calmly. “Which is precisely my field. Whether it’s a metaphor or a real agent, the pattern holds.”

He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “This borders on parapsychology. Certainly your time is best spent elsewhere.”

Kiki’s eyes widened. “I don’t need a lecture. I need you to say something. No restraint. Just tell me what I’m really looking at.”

Byland studied her carefully, his expression unreadable. “If it’ll help you sleep at night, I’ll give you my honest opinion.”

Kiki leaned forward. “Please do.”

Byland leaned forward, voice low. “In my early research, we encountered phenomena that broke down under observation. Measurable until they were measured. Any attempt to isolate variables corrupted the data—a sort of observer effect beyond anything quantum mechanics could explain.”

Kiki’s eyes widened. “So you think it’s real? This… entity.”

Byland let out a breath somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. “You suggested it behaves like a virus. I’d argue that’s too neat. This thing doesn’t just replicate or hijack biology. It behaves more like a topology glitch—a warping of perception and causality itself. It’s non-linear, non-local, and far too precise to be random.”

He leaned back. “This isn’t something you can fit into a phylogenetic tree. You’d need an entirely new ontology to describe it. A new domain.”

He rubbed his temple. “God help me. Why am I even discussing this again?” Abruptly, he stood and gestured toward the door. “Ms. Kolbeck, you’re a scientist with a bright future. You have a disciplined mind, good instincts. Don’t waste your talent spiraling into the unknowable.”

Kiki skimmed through the pages in her folder. “You wrote a paper in 2017 titled Violations of Time Perception, did you not?” she asked, voice steady.

“Yes, but it was never published. You shouldn’t have access to it.”

“I don’t,” Kiki said, sliding another packet of documents across the table. “Under university statute, publicly funded graduate-level research is entitled to cross-disciplinary archival material not under governmental restriction. I’m invoking that right. This is a formal request for access to all university research conducted under your name—parapsychology, spectrology, and that mysterious thing labeled ‘microseraphology.’ Effective immediately.”

He stared at the document for a long moment, then bit the inside of his cheek and adjusted his tie. “You were supposed to be one of the good ones, grounded and focused. But I suppose curiosity was always a double-edged sword.”

He tossed the form onto his desk. “Fine. You’ll have the archive by the end of the day. But be careful, Kolbeck. Some of this material has never been filtered through peer review for a reason. It’s radioactive—metaphorically and otherwise. Don’t destroy your reputation before you even graduate.”

Kiki collected her notes, rising with calm resolve. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll take full responsibility for whatever comes next.”

At the door, she turned back. “And just to be clear—I’m doing this research as a personal side project. I have no intention of publishing findings or pursuing it any further once my curiosity is satiated. I will absolutely finish my species classification work. I will complete my monophyletic revisions. Zoology is what I do. Ethology is my passion. In three years, you’ll call me Doctor Kolbeck. That’s a promise.”

Byland’s expression softened, if only slightly. “It takes nerve to walk into my office with a formal requisition. You’ve earned my respect. Even if I question your priorities.”

Kiki lingered in the doorway. “All our science, measured against reality, is primitive and childlike—”

“—And yet it is the most precious thing we have,” he finished.

Kiki nodded once and stepped into the hall, pushing up her glasses as the door latched shut behind her. She let out a long, shaky breath, her heart still racing. Then she turned toward the main campus, her pace quickening with each step.

Crossing the enclosed bridge between the campus and administrative buildings, she paused at the midpoint. Below her, the road was quiet, dusted with fresh snow. Beyond the rooftops, the sunrise painted the low-hanging clouds in a fiery mix of red and orange. Pressing her fingertips against the cold glass, she watched as a few slow, tumbling snowflakes caught the distant morning light—glimmering like tiny, fleeting stars.

Scarlett and Riley stood outside the bookshop, hands on their hips, staring down at the massive wooden crate strapped to a pallet.

Riley scratched her head. “I’m guessing you don’t have a pallet jack?”

Scarlett gave the crate a swift kick, but it didn't budge and inch. “Nope. I figured we’d just roll it in somehow. We just need to cut these straps first.”

Riley laughed under her breath. “We can’t just cut ‘em. Those are steel bands. You need a special tool to unfasten them.”

“What kind of tool?”

“How should I know?” Riley shrugged. “I’m not a warehouse guy.”

Scarlett groaned and stomped her foot. “Why aren’t you ever masculine when I actually need you to be?”

“Shut up. I’m not masculine. Stop.” Riley crouched down and attempted to rock the crate by shaking the corners. No luck.

Scarlett crossed her arms. “Fine. How about we pop it open and carry the parts inside piece by piece?”

Riley tapped a finger against her lips. “You know, that might actually work. Do you have something to pry it open with?”

Scarlett held up a hammer triumphantly. “We can pull the nails with this.”

“Try using the claw to pop open the strap latches, too,” Riley suggested.

Scarlett got to work, yanking open the metal latches with effort and then prying out the nails. After some struggle, the two managed to lift the heavy lid free, revealing a stack of disassembled steel shelves and beams inside.

Scarlett grabbed a loose two-by-four and jammed it in the door to keep it open, and together they started hauling the parts inside. The freezing air bit at their fingers, but they moved fast, eager to escape the cold.

“This sucks,” Scarlett muttered through chattering teeth.

“You’re telling me.” Riley flexed her elbow, sweat dripping down her forehead despite the freezing air. “I can probably skip physical therapy today.”

Scarlett paused, offering a thumbs up. “You go ahead and take a break. We’re almost done.”

Riley nodded and slumped toward the sofa. Scarlett’s unnerving cat watched them from beneath it, its unblinking stare following Riley as she trudged past. It slithered farther into the shadows as the last pieces clunked inside and the front door slammed shut, finally blocking out the cold.

“Now we can assemble it!” Scarlett declared with forced enthusiasm.

“Oh, joy,” Riley said dryly. “Yaaay.”

Scarlett eyed the mess of steel plates stacked in the corner, and her enthusiastic facade immediately waned. “I just wanna get this over with. You don’t have to help. Go do whatever.”

Riley crouched beside her and peeked at the instruction booklet. “Hey, you know I’m just messing around. I don’t mind giving you a hand.”

Scarlett turned and sniffed the air dramatically near Riley’s armpit. “You can help. By taking a shower.”

Riley recoiled, face flushed. “Rude!”

Scarlett barely glanced at the booklet before tossing it over her shoulder. “For real, though, if you try to help, I’m just gonna get confused and mad. I wanna do it myself.”

“Yeah, I know how you get.” Riley sighed and glanced out the front window. Her eyes went wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What now?”

“It’s snowing! I didn’t know it was supposed to snow this much today. I can’t ride my bike in that!” She paced in circles, spiraling. “And my phone’s still at work so I can’t get an Uber. I’ve got physical therapy this afternoon, and I still need to go home and shower—because apparently, I smell like dog shit.”

Riley pressed her hands and face against the front window, watching thick flakes of snow plop heavily from the sky. Her breath fogged the glass with a heavy sigh.

Scarlett, bolting a corner bracket into place, barely looked up. “Relax. I’ll drive you later if you need. And you can shower here. I’ve got spare clothes.”

“I can’t ask you to close the store in the middle of the day for me.” Riley groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

“You didn’t ask. I offered.” Scarlett lined up another beam. “I doubt I’ll go bankrupt from taking an hour break.”

“Fuck! I really need to buy a car. Why did I think getting a dumbass motorcycle in Sulland was a good idea?!” Riley rubbed her temples. “I wonder how much I can get for a trade-in…”

Scarlett leaned the half-built frame against the window and turned to her friend, placing a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “My dear friend, you smell like a sweaty gym rag that was used to clean vomit off a dead rat. I’m already going to have to wash all my bedding, and the longer you stay down here the more likely it is I’m going to have to toss out my whole inventory.”

Riley broke into laughter despite herself. “Okay, okay. I hear you. Shower first, worry about the rest of my problems later.”

Scarlett sighed, eyes closing in relief. “Thank you. Now off you go. Just put your dirty clothes directly into the washer.”

Riley finally became aware of her own stench as she climbed the stairs—the sour mix of sweat and vomit clinging to her skin like static. She glanced down. Faint droplets stained her khaki pants, the last grimy remnants of her security uniform. Scarlett had already taken her jacket and shirt to the laundry, leaving her in a plain white tee and those disgusting pants.

For a brief moment, the chaos of the previous night had almost escaped her. But as she reached the bathroom door, her stomach churned, memories clawing their way back.

For a fleeting moment, the chaos of the previous night had slipped from her mind. But as she reached the bathroom door, her stomach twisted. The memories came clawing back. She locked the door and undressed slowly. As she passed the mirror, her own reflection caught her, freezing her in place.

Riley stared into her deep brown eyes, taking in her pale face and the heavy dark circles beneath them. Then her gaze drifted downward to her chest, where the gruesome scar was in full view. Her fingers prodded the spot where the bullet hole used to be.

You should have died.

Her face twitched, and her hand moved on its own. She dug her fingers into the skin around the scar. It gave way—soft, soggy, like damp paper peeling back. She tugged harder.

She blinked twice, and it was gone. The vision vanished, replaced by a creeping warmth at her back—subtle and comforting, like arms wrapping around her shoulders. Riley turned toward the mirror again. Her eyes widened. Just over her shoulder, faint and flickering like static on glass, was the transparent silhouette of a young woman.

“Whoa!” Riley spun, arms instinctively crossing her chest.

She was alone.

Her heart pounded in her ears. “Azurie?” she called softly.

There was no response, but the warmth stayed, wrapping her like a cherished memory, or a precious childhood blanket. The fear melted and a strange calm overtook her. She exhaled and stepped into the shower, smiling softly as warm water poured into her hair.

Despite having just seen a ghost, Riley had never felt so at peace.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Scarlett scanned barcodes at the register, methodically stacking books beside her. “You should definitely read At the Edge of the World if you haven’t already.”

“Are you kidding? That’s what got me hooked in the first place!” the customer replied, nearly bouncing with excitement as she handed over her credit card.

“Not surprised.” Scarlett flashed a grin, ringing up the sale. “You’ve got good taste.”

As the woman gathered her bag, she glanced at the half-finished bookshelf by the window. “Looks like quite the project.”

Scarlett blushed and scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, it’s a bit more of a challenge than I expected.”

The woman laughed. “Well, good luck! Have a great day.”

“You too! Thanks for choosing Azurie’s Literary Emporium!” Scarlett called as the door chimed shut. She clasped her hands and smirked to herself. “Mmm. Money.”

She shoved the receipt into the till, then looked up just in time to see Riley emerge from the stairwell—hair glistening and wearing Scarlett’s oversized red university sweater with a pair of soft black shorts.

“Don’t forget to toss your gross dirty clothes in the wash. Use the extra-soiled setting,” Scarlett teased. “Might as well throw in my sheets and blanket now, too.”

Without warning, Riley stepped behind the counter, wrapped an arm around Scarlett’s neck in a loose reverse-headlock, and shoved her face into her armpit. “Do I pass the stink test now?”

Scarlett squealed, pulling away. “Ugh. Good enough, I guess.”

Riley grinned, then shivered and rubbed her arms. “Also? I almost forgot your house is haunted. Your sister was totally creeping on me in the shower.”

Scarlett blinked. “Jeez, she’s been showing up a lot lately. Maybe she likes you now that you’re crazy enough to see her.” She pursed her lips as she tried to make sense of her thoughts. “Or something.”

“Hey. I’m not crazy,” Riley said, leaning on her elbows against the counter. “I just had… an episode.”

“Uh-huh,” Scarlett said, arching a brow. “You had an episode of Crazy Bitch Freaks Out at Midnight. I hate that show.”

Riley rolled her eyes and stood up straight. “Alright, smartass. How do you deal with it when you have a freak-out episode?”

“Don’t call it that,” Scarlett muttered, tightening a bolt on the shelf. “I can’t stop the hallucinations, but when the panic kicks in, I pop a benzo.”

Riley snorted. “Wow. Edgy. You sound like one of those depression-themed rappers.” She grinned. “What even is a benzo?”

“Why do you sound so proud of that shitty insult?” Scarlett scoffed. “Benzodiazepines. Prescribed. They’re CNS depressants—help slow everything down. I only take them when I absolutely have to, but you technically can have fun abusing them if you’re an edgy wannabe rapper or whatever.”

She nodded toward a nearby shelf. “The bottle’s over there. Go ahead and read the label if you want. You can keep it. Should still be like… ten pills left.”

Riley’s smug look faded. “Wait… don’t you need those?”

Scarlett shook her head, still tightening bolts. “Nah, I’ve got a refill. I only take them when it gets bad, and it usually only gets bad around my birthday. That’s when Azurie decides to torture me the most.”

Riley flinched. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Instead, she turned away and dropped onto the stool behind the register. “Thanks, Scars. Will these… actually stop me from puking or blacking out next time?”

Scarlett froze, one hand still gripping the shelf frame. When she looked over her shoulder, her sharp expression had softened, and her playful voice became gentle. “Yeah. They should help with all that. Especially the panic. And if sleep becomes a problem, they’ll help with that too.”

Riley groaned and spun around in the rotating stool, burying her face in her sleeve. “Oh hell, don’t look at me like that. I probably won’t even need them. But… thanks.”

Scarlett watched as Riley slipped the bottle into her hoodie pocket without meeting her eyes. After a pause, she turned back to the nearly finished shelf. It now stretched across the entire front wall, framed neatly by the store's wide windows.

“Alright! Just need to space the shelves properly and I can load this baby up with all that manga I blew my savings on.” Scarlett stood back and admired her hard work.

Riley stood and joined her, arms crossed as she surveyed the structure. “Not bad. Bigger than I expected. Must have cost a shit ton.”

“You get what you pay for,” Scarlett said, closing one eye and framing the shelf with her fingers. “My parents think this shop’s a lost cause, but I dunno… I feel like all the little upgrades are starting to matter.”

Then she turned to Riley with a goofy grin. “Now… who’s ready to help me load a thousand books onto this thing?”

Riley exhaled dramatically, raising a limp hand. “Me, I guess.”

Kiki sat near the back of the lecture hall, barely hearing the professor’s voice as he droned on about the significance of modern-day comparative genomics. Whatever thread of attention she’d been holding onto had long since snapped.

Her eyes stayed locked on her laptop screen, flooded with a chaotic torrent of links, attachments, and raw data. Thousands of pages, loosely categorized and hastily dumped into her inbox. At the top of the message, a piece of text stood out, curt and ominous:

As a final piece of advice: do not dwell on this problem. Do not speak about this with peers, colleagues, employers, or instructors. Comb through the data and move on. ‘Knowing’ doesn’t always mean having all the answers.

“Enlightenment is a destructive process. It has nothing to do with becoming better or being happier. Enlightenment is the crumbling away of untruth. It’s seeing through the facade of pretense. It’s the complete eradication of everything we imagined to be true.”

― Adyashanti

Kiki exhaled sharply, heart beginning to race as her eyes darted through the flood of dense material. Most pages were laced with equations well outside her usual wheelhouse. Math and physics were never her strong suit. Still, a block of notes caught her attention: his personal observations.

She murmured under her breath, flipping through them.

“Nanochip transistor data reveals anomalies in multiphase relay behavior. Circuitry displays unexplained quantum-scale redundancy. Future computational outputs appear to manifest alongside current processes—indicating non-linear temporal interference. Exposure to extreme trauma accelerates entity activity. Bacterial colonies show rapid, unquantifiable senescence—months of biological aging occur in seconds. Replication attempts have failed. Rodent test subjects exhibit consistent aversion behavior when exposed to fear-inducing agents, yet measurable accelerated aging in mammals remains inconclusive. Collected data suggests the entity operates across multiple temporal planes, possibly implying a four-dimensional or higher-order existence.”

Kiki furrowed her brow. “This has to be a joke,” she whispered.

The scrape of chairs and shuffle of backpacks snapped her out of it—class was ending. Students filed past as she closed her laptop and slipped it into her bag, following the flow into the hallway. But the noise of the crowd couldn’t drown out what she’d read. The implications buzzed in her brain, clinging to her thoughts like fuzzy static.

She pressed her fingers to her temple. “Maybe I’m in over my head with this…”

Chapter 5

Later that evening, Scarlett manned the register, fingers deftly sorting through a pile of crumpled bills and loose coins. A line of kids fidgeted in front of her, faces lit with anticipation.

Riley lounged nearby, flipping through a particularly violent manga, brow furrowed in mild amusement. Across from her, a short, nerdy boy practically vibrated with excitement, his breath coming in quick, wheezy bursts.

“See, Riley? Demon Killers is the best!” he gushed through a slight lisp. “Wait ‘til you get to volume two!”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” Riley smirked, tapping the page. “So, you buying this one for me or what?” She crossed her legs and winked, watching his face turn bright red.

“Uhm, I... I can.” Jason fumbled into his pocket and produced a handful of change.

Scarlett cut in. “Hey, Jason. Don’t let that harpy swindle you out of your precious coins. Buy something for yourself instead.”

Riley pouted and leaned on her good elbow.

Jason hesitated, then stuffed the coins back into his hoodie. “Sorry, Riley. I only have enough for volume forty-seven today. Maybe next time?”

“Mhm. Whatever, kid.” Riley stood and strolled to the new display shelf, grabbing the next volume without hesitation.

Scarlett scoffed. “Don’t pity her. She has a job and can buy her own stuff.”

Riley flipped a page, unfazed. “Yeah, a job you made me call off from. That’s two hundred bucks down the drain. Least you can do is spot me one book.”

“You don’t even like manga,” Scarlett muttered as she rang up Jason’s purchase.

Jason clutched the new volume to his chest, beaming. “Thanks, Scarlett! I’ll be back next week with my allowance!” He dashed out before she could reply.

Scarlett grinned, tapping a satisfied hand against the register. “Ehehehe… looks like my new display is luring in all the kids I hoped it would.”

“Okay then, perv,” Riley muttered without looking up.

Scarlett ignored her, resting her chin in her palms behind the counter. “Nice to see you actually reading something for once—even if it’s just picture books for tweens.”

Riley peeked over the top of the book, her eyebrows low. “A picture is worth a thousand words, so this is like the longest book ever. Besides, it says it’s rated for young adults. What do you think I am?”

Scarlett shrugged. “Sure. You and Jason should start a book club. You probably can’t meet on school nights, though.”

“You’re just jealous because he thinks I’m cooler than you.” Riley snapped the book shut and stuck out her tongue.

“Oh yeah, I’m so jealous.” Scarlett rolled her eyes and flipped the store’s sign to Closed. “Kiki should be here soon. Maybe, as a fellow intellectual, she and I can discuss a real book together.”

Riley shuddered. “Oh god, don’t tell me you got her a book for her birthday. Boooring.”

Scarlett almost let a darker joke slip—Sorry I don’t have any spare bullets to give her. She bit her tongue instead.

“I didn’t. But honestly, I don’t think she’d hate that.” She glanced sideways. “What did you get her? Besides that bullet necklace.”

Riley smirked and grabbed the gift bag next to the couch. “Only the coolest gift of all time. Thanks again for the ride to grab it.” She held the bag open. “Wanna see?”

Scarlett let her curiosity get the better of her, stepping over as Riley held out the bag. She reached inside, fingers brushing against something solid and smooth. Lifting it out, she found herself holding a large decorative display case containing a massive green pinned beetle, its iridescent exoskeleton gleaming under the store lights. Its front horn was long and jagged, giving it a menacing presence.

Riley grinned smugly. “Got it from the same place I bought your shirt—Tokyo’s art museum. It’s a kabutomushi. Pretty badass, huh?”

Scarlett turned the case, studying the beetle from every angle. “Damn. This is actually… a really cool gift.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Riley gently took it back, sliding it into the bag. “I already knew she was into this kind of thing, but guess what? When we were in Alaska, she happened to mention that beetles are her favorite creature. So yeah, this is literally the perfect gift.”

Scarlett crossed her arms, her gaze drifting toward the stairway.

Riley chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you give your present first, so it won’t seem like total trash compared to mine.”

Scarlett scoffed. “I would have bought that too, but you didn’t take me to Tokyo with you. Jerk.”

Riley tilted her head, eyes wide with faux innocence. “How are you gonna survive a week in Japan when you won’t even leave this store for three short days?”

Scarlett’s smirk faded. She looked away. “You could’ve invited me. You brought Tahni and Corinne, but I don’t even get asked? Best friend, my ass.”

“First of all, fuck Corinne. I don’t ever wanna go anywhere with that stupid bitch again. Secondly, Tahni knows Japanese, so she had to come. Lastly…” Riley stood up, grabbing Scarlett from behind in a tight squeeze. “I’d take another bullet to the ribs if it meant I could go on a trip with you.” She tightened her grip. “Jealous little shit. You know I love you.”

Scarlett squirmed, trying to break free, but Riley’s strength easily overpowered her. “I’m not jealous!”

Three sharp knocks at the door cut their antics short.

Riley let go as Scarlett stumbled forward, both turning toward the front. Outside, Kiki stood shivering, breath fogging up the glass. Scarlett rushed over and unlocked the door.

Kiki stepped inside, brushing snow from her shoulders. “Brrr… it’s so cold out there.” She hung up her coat and rubbed warmth back into her arms. “Nice to see you two getting along.”

“Happy almost birthday.” Scarlett pulled her into a warm hug. “Want some hot tea?”

Kiki exhaled, finally relaxing in the cozy heat. She gave Riley a small wave before nodding. “Tea sounds amazing, thank you.”

Riley scooted over on the couch, patting the spot beside her. Kiki sat down as Scarlett disappeared upstairs.

Kiki turned toward Riley, her wide blue eyes shimmering under the store’s dim lighting. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked softly. “I’ve been worried about you all day. Why did you take so long to go get your phone?”

Riley slouched deeper into the couch. “Didn’t want to ride in the snow,” she muttered. “Figured I’d wait for Scarlett to drive me instead.”

Kiki sighed. “You really need to buy a car.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Riley rolled her eyes, then smirked. “Anyway, happy early birthday. Want your present now?”

Scarlett reappeared, balancing a silver tray with three steaming cups of tea and a small wrapped box in her other hand. “Tea is served.”

Kiki eyed the box, smirking. “Well… we do still have a few hours before it’s officially my birthday, but…”

Riley plopped her gift bag onto the table. “Go on, open Scarlett’s first.”

Scarlett slid the box toward Kiki as she sat across from them. “So, I assume you’re staying the night? It’s been so long since all three of us slept here at the same time. Actually, I think the last time was Riley’s twenty-first birthday.”

Riley nodded. “Yeah, sounds right.”

Kiki closed her eyes, nodding. “Hope you don’t mind. I didn’t realize Riley was staying over, but I already told my parents I’d be out for the night.”

Scarlett waved a hand dismissively. “Of course I don’t mind. We’ll make it work.”

“Okay, okay, open it already!” Riley snatched the box and shoved it into Kiki’s hands. “I’m dying to know if it’s even half as good as mine.”

Kiki pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. “Okay, fine.”

Kiki bit back a smile and lifted the lid. Inside was a gift card, elegantly embossed with Azurie’s Literary Emporium.

Riley took one look and immediately burst into laughter. “Oh my god. That sucks so bad, Scarlett.” She doubled over, clutching her stomach. “It’s even worse than I expected.”

Scarlett turned red, her fists clenching at her sides. “What do you mean it sucks?! That’s a fifty-dollar value!”

Kiki giggled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Scarlett. I really appreciate it.” She glanced toward the shop’s display shelf. “And I love the new setup, by the way.”

Scarlett huffed, still defensive. “If you want, I can make the gift card worth more,” she grumbled, biting her thumb. “A hundred dollars sound better?”

Kiki leaned over and gently patted her knee. “It’s perfect. I love your gift exactly as it is. And I love you.”

Scarlett exhaled dramatically, leaning back with her hand on her forehead. “Phew. Good.”

Riley dangled the strings of her gift bag in front of Kiki, smirking. “Alright, now open your real present.”

Kiki shot her a playful side-eye, then gently pulled out the box. As she held it up, her expression softened, gaze locking onto the iridescent beetle encased inside.

“Well?” Riley asked, her voice dripping with confidence.

Kiki slowly rotated the box, her lips slightly parted in awe. “It’s a huge rhinoceros beetle…” she murmured. “One of the coolest beetles in the world.”

“Damn right.” Riley grinned. “I knew you’d love it.”

Scarlett was seething from the other side of the room. “Kiki, I'll get you a better gift later. Okay?”

Across the room, Scarlett was seething with jealousy. “Kiki, I swear I’ll get you a better gift later.”

Kiki laughed, flashing her a reassuring smile. “Scarlett, don’t worry. None of us will ever understand it, but somehow Riley has this weird ability to always find perfect gifts.”

Riley smirked wider. “That’s just ‘cause I’m so thoughtful and generous. Obviously.”

Refusing to accept defeat, Scarlett reached behind the counter and produced a decorative cake, slamming it down with pride. “Well I bought you a cake. So—ha! I win.”

Written in elegant blue icing, the cake read: Happy 24th birthday, Kiki!

Riley gave half a nod of respect. “Mhm, mhm. Anyway, since we’re all staying here tonight, we gotta get some drinks. It’s Friday, Kiki has no school or work tomorrow, and Scarlett can open the shop later than usual. It’s too perfect.”

Kiki tucked her hands into her lap, shivering slightly. “I really don’t feel like going back outside.”

“I’ll go,” Riley said, already reaching for her jacket. “I’ll just grab a twelve-pack real quick. Come on, we have to celebrate.”

She widened her brown eyes in mock desperation. Scarlett and Kiki exchanged a glance before nodding.

“If you wanna take my car, go ahead,” Scarlett said, tossing her the keys.

“Yeah, I’m good to drive now. I’ll be back in a few.” Riley caught the keys, tugged on her jacket, and pointed dramatically at the cake. “Don’t eat it without me.”

Kiki rubbed her hands together. “No promises, so you better hurry back.”

Riley flashed her signature bright grin before stepping into the cold. She made her way to the car parked around the corner, climbed inside, and patted down her pockets, checking for her wallet and phone. Her fingers brushed against something cold and solid—her pistol.

The chaos of the previous night had nearly faded from her mind. However, the familiar weight of her pistol sent a jolt through her, dragging the memories back in sharp clarity. Riley inhaled deeply, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. With a slow exhale, she backed out of the driveway and steered toward her favorite convenience store.

Back in the shop, Scarlett stood at the window, arms folded. She watched the taillights disappear into the snow-blanketed street, her brows drawn low. “I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

A few minutes later, Riley pulled into the convenience store lot. She pushed through the doors, nodding absently at the familiar cashier. Ignoring the hum of the refrigerators and soft overhead music, she made a beeline for the back, scanning the shelves for a good deal.

Then, the front door slammed open.

Riley flinched at the sharp bang and instinctively ducked behind a shelf. Three masked men rushed in. One vaulted the counter and struck the cashier across the face with the butt of a shotgun.

“Open the register!” he barked.

The other two fanned out—one took position at the entrance, keeping watch, while the third stalked the aisles.

Footsteps approached, growing louder. Riley’s fingers curled around the grip of her pistol. Her hand shook as she slowly drew it from under her jacket, heart hammering in her chest.

Once the would-be robber got too close, she stood up and rounded the corner, pointing her gun at his chest.

“Drop it!” Riley shouted. “The cops are on their way!”

The guy at the entrance bolted immediately, shoving through the door in a panic.

The one in front of her froze. He trembled, hands hovering while his pistol dangled from a finger. “Shit, shit, shit…”

Riley raised her voice. “I said drop it!”

Behind the counter, the shotgun-wielding robber snarled. “Marcus, don’t you fucking puss out on me!”

“Don’t use my real name, dickhead!” Marcus snapped, then flung his weapon to the floor. Hands raised, he took one shaky step back. “Please don’t shoot me…” He spun on his heel and sprinted out the door.

The last guy cursed under his breath. “Fucking pussies, all of you.” He grabbed a fistful of cash from the register and darted out the back.

Riley stared at the cash register, pointing her weapon at the floor and wondering where the cashier went. Silence hung beneath the awkward cheerful music playing through the store’s sound system.

Finally, she let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her hands shook violently as she tucked the gun back under her jacket. Heart pounding, she yanked a pill bottle from her hoodie pouch, twisted the lid off with twitching fingers, and dry-swallowed two.

A man’s voice suddenly piped up. “Oh my god, thank you. Thank you.”

Riley looked up. The cashier was standing behind the counter, one hand pressed to his bruised cheek.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes dropped to her hands—still shaking. In her mind, the scene replayed: shattered glass, bodies on the floor, blood slicking the tiles, red and blue lights strobing through the night. There were dozens of small holes in her jacket from a shotgun blast to the stomach. Blood seeped into her hands.

The man stepped closer. “My name is Anjali. You… you are my hero. Can I know your name?”

Riley blinked hard and forced the images away. “Riley,” she muttered, then motioned toward the cooler. “Look, I just wanted to buy a twelve-pack. Can I just pay and go? It’s my friend’s birthday, and I really don’t want to spend the rest of the night talking to cops.”

Anjali didn’t hesitate. “Take it. Take it.” He bowed his head repeatedly, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll tell the police everything—except your name. I swear it.”

“Alright, cool. Thanks” She smiled faintly. “Man… I have a bad feeling that things almost got pretty nasty in here. Be careful, alright?”

She pushed open the front door. As the bell chimed, she paused and looked back over her shoulder.

“There are some fucked up people in this world.”

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A Second Heartbeat

By Kuya B.

Google Doc Link

Drops of Scarlett

A Second Heartbeat

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

If you enjoyed this story, please consider Supporting Me. Thank you for reading!