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It doesn’t even spark.
“There’s no use,” Hazel says, shaking her head as she shoves her matches and sage back into her bag.
“What do you mean, there’s no use?” I ask as she zips up her bag, sliding it back over her shoulder. I stand up along with her, stepping into her space, her head cranking back so she can meet my eyes. “What does that mean, Hazel?”
She waves her finger around toward the second story. “That means whatever is in this building isn’t going to let me light anything that would protect us. There is no use wasting our energy doing something that clearly isn’t going to happen.”
“How does a ghost, or a spirit, or whatever, have the ability to stop you from lighting a match? Or a lighter?” Blaire asks, her face screwing up in concern.
Hazel shrugs her shoulder. “How can an entity enter Malik?” She shrugs again. “Some things are just unexplainable, Blaire. That’s all there is to it.”
She walks farther inside, seeming completely unbothered by what just happened, heading toward the front station. She walks behind the desk, her hand pushing a squeaky chair out of the way as she leans over the counter.
There isn’t even a computer on the desk. Only faded folders and stacks of yellowed-out papers. Hazel rifles through them. She narrows her eyes, bringing the papers close to her face.
“I can barely make out this handwriting,” she grumbles.
Vera walks up to her, and they go through the stack, Vera’s eyes scrunching up in confusion too.
“The paper is faded, and this paper is yellow and super old.” She tosses it back on the desk. “I don’t think you’re going to find anything useful here, Hazel.”
Hazel is already shaking her head, going to the drawer next. “No, there’s going to be something in here.” She moves stuff around before slamming it closed and going to the next drawer.
“Who cares if you find anything in this desk. There’s literally an entire building to explore. Let’s go see what they have upstairs.” Atticus makes his way to the stairs, and I start following him across the hideous green-and-gold carpet.
“Where the creepy noises came from? No, thank you!” Blaire waves her hands back and forth. “Count me out. I’m staying down here, close to the exit.”
Hazel gets up from the desk, walking back around to all of us. “We can’t split up. That’s like the number one red flag in horror movies. We need to stick together.”
“So, we’re in a horror movie. Great.Wonderful.” Blaire’s eyes bug out of her head, and she folds her arms across her chest as she walks up to Piper, linking arms with her.
We all start making our way to the grand staircase, the railing wooden, carved with small details along the curved banister. There’s a carpeted stair runner that’s filled with more dust. Everything in here is caked with dust and grime.
Levi’s hand goes to the railing, and he gives it a small shake as he takes a step onto the stairs. “Think there’s something up there?” he whispers over his shoulder.
“There’s definitely something up there,” Malik replies with a frown.
You think there would be light in this place, with all the big windows and tall ceilings, allowing in light from all sides of town. But it’s dark, filled with shadows and crevices that could be hiding so many unknowns.
We’re silent as we make our way up the stairs, the wood beneath our weight creaking and groaning, and the air grows cooler with each step.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Hazel mumbles, so low I don’t think anyone heard her. But I did.
“What was that?” I ask her sharply.
She turns her head as she glances at me over her shoulder. “I said, something doesn’t feel…” Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence, her eyes widening right over my shoulder, her complexion paling. Whatever she sees raises my guard. I reach forward, gripping her arm, too fucking leery to look over my shoulder.
“What do you see, Hazel?” I whisper.
I hear a crack, like a bone, and then another. The cracking speeds up, almost as if someone is cracking their neck, or their back.
Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack.
The sound is so fast, so close, I can’t wait any longer. I turn, just as everyone else does the same.
My eyes widen, and I leap up a step, wrapping my arms around Hazel’s waist.
A woman, or what used to be a woman, stands at the bottom of the stairs. She looks like she’s wearing a hospital gown. Like she was a patient here.
