For a moment, no one breathes. Heat shoots up my spine. The fog outside shudders, then draws inward in a single violent pull, like the whole yard is inhaling. The air snaps with pressure, the kind that makes your ears ring and your heartbeat stumble.
Zeke and Andy are both beside me, holding me up. When I look over at Nurse Julia, she has herself pressed against the hallway wall, staring at me like she isn't sure if she should run or pray. Agent Garcia isn't speaking. He just watches the fog curling toward me, his expression shifting from disbelief to grim, quiet understanding.
Uncle Donovan groans from the couch. "Did I die? If I did, I want it noted that it was not on my to-do list today?"
"You're fine," Zeke says, sighing.
"Okay, true, but spiritually I'm on thin ice," he snaps.
"You fainted because you're dramatic."
"I fainted," Uncle Donovan says, sitting up. "Because the fog yeeted a man into Ted's living room. That's a reasonable faint." He gets up, clutching his broom tighter to his chest.
Julia, who has been watching everyone banter with Donovan, doesn't laugh. She has a serious yet shocked expression. "That wasn't fog," she finally says.
"No," Agent Garcia nods once in her direction. "No, it had something behind it."
Neither one of them asks any more questions or demands any more answers. They accept what they see. The truth is right in front of them. They can't deny it.
Agent Williams doesn't look away from the window as he says, "Everyone stay sharp. His men are regrouping outside."
The silhouettes outside in the thinning fog shift. They are pacing, testing the boundaries, waiting for the right moment.
"They're waiting for him," Agent Garcia states.
"Is he even alive?" Andy asks.
"Yes," Agent Williams answers without hesitating.
The veil tightens inside me, a cold warning pulse. A moment later, a faint crash echoes from Ted's house. Glass shifting and wood creaking. It was the unmistakable sound of someone rising. Everyone visibly stiffens as Agent Garcia swears under his breath.
"Nope! Hell no! I vote we all move to Florida," Uncle Donovan whispers.
Then Dunhill steps back into our view. He has climbed out of the broken window, slowly brushing glass from his suit jacket as if he's merely slipped, not been launched across the yard by an ancestral force. His smile is gone, and his eyes are darker now: focused and hungry.
"How is he standing?" Julia asks, pressing her hand to her chest.
"He shouldn't be," Agent Garcia whispers.
Agent Williams's voice is low and steady. "He's not supernatural. He's just a man obsessed. Obsession can make people more dangerous."
As we watch out the windows, Dunhill steps off Ted's porch. The veil surges inside me, reacting violently, wanting to strike again. It wants to protect and destroy, but the fog outside is too thin, too drained. It hits Dunhill weakly. He doesn't even flinch.
"Rocky, stay with me," Zeke says, leaning close to me, his voice low.
I nod okay, though my legs won't stop trembling, and say, "I'm okay."
Andy doesn't look convinced. "You're not okay; you just threw a grown man into a house."
"She is a veil cannon. No, a fog cannon. Light her fuse and watch her go KABOOM!" Uncle Donovan says excitedly, pointing his broom at me.
I glare at him. "Uncle Donovan, please stop naming things."
"Fine! Sorry," he says, holding his good hand up in surrender. The broom in his hand almost hits his face.
Julia's gaze flickers between me and the yard. I can see she is trying to gather her thoughts. Something has to be weighing on her mind. After a few moments, she steadies her breathing and says, "Whatever this is… stay with it."
Agent Garcia agrees, nodding his head. "We will follow your lead."
Outside, Dunhill reaches the edge of the property. The fog is trembling violently, trying to hold him back. He steps through it. I push through Andy and Zeke to look. Dunhill stops in the center of the yard and looks directly at the window I'm standing in front of. He is looking directly into my eyes.
"Roxanne," he says, his voice carried to me like a blade. The veil surges inside me: hot, cold, electric, and ancient.
Andy doesn't take his eyes off Dunhill. "We've got you," he says, but the words are directed at me.
Agent Williams raises his gun. "Everyone, hold."
"Come out," Dunhill taunts, smiling slowly.
The veil roars inside my chest, wanting to be unleashed, but my body feels weak. My pulse thunders, my vision blurs.
Zeke leans in, his lips almost touching my ear. "I'm here. I've got you," he whispers, his hand on my arm.
"You got this, Roxanne," Andy encourages. "Do it."
I exhale, and the veil explodes outward, using the fog as its vessel, but Dunhill is ready this time. He staggers against the force but doesn't fall. Instead, he digs his heels into the dirt, fighting the force off. The veil slams into him again, and he slides backward but doesn't go airborne this time. He holds his ground.
"This is bad," Agent Garcia mutters.
"Very bad. He's adapting," Agent Williams says angrily.
Uncle Donovan grips his broom tighter, his usual joke dying before it leaves his mouth.
Dunhill straightens and wipes the blood from his lips. He smiles a cold, calculating smile. The veil trembles inside me—ready and waiting but weaker—and Dunhill knows it.
One of his own men groans near the porch, clutching his side. Dunhill steps over him without looking down, never taking his eyes off me. That is what chills me most. Not the blood on his mouth or the way he keeps standing, but the fact that nothing around him matters anymore except getting to me.
Agent Williams can see the exhaustion emanating from me. He is worried I will overdo it. He steps forward and looks at me. "Roxanne, choose your moment."
"He's right," Agent Garcia says. "We won't let them touch you. We have backup coming."
I nod at the two men and then turn back to the window, focusing on Dunhill's movements. He takes another step toward the house. The fog thins, and his men surge forward. The barrier flickers.
"Ready!" Agent Williams shouts, raising his gun.
Dark shapes break through the thinning fog, boots hammering the porch, wet leaves grinding underfoot, weapons glinting in the gray light. Zeke yanks me behind him. Andy lifts the poker. Garcia shoves Julia back and raises his gun. Uncle Donovan plants his feet, broom clenched like a bat.
The first man reaches the porch, and the veil rips through me. Cold spears down my spine. My teeth ache. The lights snap and flicker. The floorboards buzz beneath my feet.
The veil slams outward through me, not the fog. The man flies backward, boots scraping wood before he crashes into the yard with a strangled scream.
More men rush the porch. The veil surges again, weaker this time. My lungs burn. Copper coats my tongue. Too many targets. Too much strain.
Williams fires. Garcia fires next, hitting one of the men at the door.
Julia ducks behind the couch. "I can't fight!"
Uncle Donovan steps in front of her, broken broom raised. "Behind me."
A man bursts through the doorway. Andy's poker cracks against bone, and he drops. Zeke drives another attacker into the wall hard enough to rattle the frames. Garcia fires again. Julia screams.
"Keep them off her!" Williams yells.
Dunhill's men keep coming. The veil lashes out, but it isn't enough. One attacker breaks through and lunges for me. His sleeve smells like rain, dirt, and gun oil as Zeke catches him by the collar and drives him into the wall. Andy swings low, and the man drops.
The house erupts—shouting, gunfire, breaking glass, fog pouring through the windows with the sharp smell of rain and old earth. Julia hurls a lamp. Williams takes a man down with one clean strike. The veil pulses in my chest like a second heartbeat, each thud colder than the last.
Then everything stops. We freeze, the men freeze, and the fog retreats. Even the veil inside me goes still, like it is holding its breath. Dunhill looks at me and no one else. It's as if we are the only two who exist in his eyes.
"Roxanne," he says, his voice eerily calm as he steps fully into the house. The second he enters, the temperature drops rapidly, and the lights flicker. The veil inside me twists, recoiling like it recognizes him or even hates him.
Blood slides from the corner of his mouth onto his chin, but he doesn't wipe it away this time. He lets it stay there like proof that pain has stopped meaning anything to him.
Zeke moves in front of me as Andy steps beside him. Uncle Donovan plants himself on the other side, clutching half a broom handle like it was a holy relic.
"I swear on everything," Uncle Donovan mutters. "If you touch her, I will haunt you myself."
Agents Williams and Garcia raise their guns, aiming them at Dunhill. Julia has pressed herself against a wall behind Agent Garcia, trembling. Dunhill still doesn't look at any of them, only at me.
"Roxanne, be a good girl," he says softly like he's scolding a child. "Give me the book."
"Oh, hell no!" Uncle Donovan whispers. My heart lurches as the men around me stiffen.
"You're not getting anything," Agent Williams tells him but doesn't lower his gun. Dunhill doesn't blink or look away.
"The Grey Book," he says. "It holds the truth of your family's gift. It's mine. It belongs to me." The veil inside me becomes a violent electric pulse that blurs my vision.
Zeke grabs my hand. "Rocky, don't let him get in your head."
"You're not touching that book," Andy says, stepping forward.
Uncle Donovan jabs his broken broom handle toward Dunhill. "Yeah! Back off! That book is family property! You don't get to steal heirlooms just because you're a psycho with a God complex!"
Dunhill's eyes flicker to Uncle Donovan. "You," he says calmly, "are irrelevant."
"Rude," Uncle Donovan says, his voice cracking.
Dunhill ignores him, shifting his slow attention back to me. My body shakes violently, wanting to unleash the power I'm holding back. I'm scared that if I give in to it, I will be lost in the veil.
"You're weakening," Dunhill says, smiling like he is enjoying my pain. "The veil is thinning. You can't hold me back forever."
Zeke moves closer to stop Dunhill's path. "You're not getting near her." Dunhill finally turns his head just enough to look at him. There is no anger in his face, no surprise, no fear—only dismissal. Then his eyes slide back to mine, as if Zeke is already gone.
Uncle Donovan shifts closer, his broken broom handle trembling in his grip. "I'm serious, Roxanne," he whispers, low enough for only him and me to hear. "He doesn't get you."
"Bring me the book now while I'm asking nicely," he demands, "or I will tear this house apart until I find it." Dunhill takes another step closer. The floorboards creak under his heels. "Your grandmother hid it from me, and now you think you can hide it. There's one thing you are forgetting. It belongs to me and always has."
My breath catches as my stomach drops from his words. He really believes it is his possession. This man is delusional. It was created by my family for our generations. Everything is in the hidden room: the paperwork, book, and the journals. They are safe, but not safe enough. Thankfully, he doesn't know about the hidden room, and he never needs to know.
Zeke squeezes my hand. "Don't move."
Andy braces himself. "He doesn't pass us."
Uncle Donovan lifts his broken broom handle, knuckles white. "Not through us."
The agents hold his men off while protecting Julia.
Dunhill's smile widens. "You think you can stop me. That's cute." He steps forward, slow and deliberate, as if every weapon pointed at him is nothing more than background noise.
I step from behind everyone, and the veil explodes from me. A shockwave blasts through the room, cold enough to steal the breath from my lungs. The windows rattle. Plaster cracks. The air tastes like metal. It slams Dunhill hard enough to make him stagger, but he doesn't fall. He straightens slowly, blood dripping from his lip. The veil trembles inside me, weaker now, more desperate, almost pleading.
Zeke and Andy pull me back behind them. As Dunhill comes closer, the house shakes, and I can feel the veil screaming. Then the truth hits me like a punch: if I don't unleash the veil fully, if I don't let it take over, if I don't open myself completely, Dunhill will tear the house apart and kill everyone here. He will find the book. He will twist my family's gift into something monstrous. He will make everything my grandmother protected, everything my family died for, mean nothing. And if I open the door too wide, I may become the thing everyone has been afraid of all along.
Zeke sees the panic in my eyes. "Rocky, don't."
Andy nods. "We've got you."
"Whatever you're thinking, think smaller, kiddo," Uncle Donovan says.
"I trust you, Roxanne," Agent Williams says. "Do what you need to."
But Dunhill keeps coming, and the veil keeps running through me. It presses against my ribs, my throat, the backs of my eyes, waiting for permission to take more than power. Maybe it wants my fear. Maybe it wants my control. Maybe it wants all of me. I look at Zeke, at Andy, at Uncle Donovan, at Julia and the agents fighting to stay alive, and the choice narrows to one terrible point. If I hold back, they die. If I let go, I may never come back as myself. The room fades at the edges. The veil opens inside me like a door. I stop fighting it. I have no choice left.