They're standing in the hallway. The cold spot is above them. Orion can feel it with his Aura, a knot of spiritual energy hovering near the ceiling, watching. Pikachu can see it, his eyes tracking something Jessica can't perceive, his ears locked forward.
"Stay still," Orion says.
"Why?"
"Because it's right above your head. And it's about to do something."
Jessica looks up. Nothing. Just dark ceiling and water stains.
Then a puff of cold air hits her face. Sharp. Deliberate. Like someone blew a breath directly at her from inches away.
She jerks back, swearing, her hand coming up too late.
In the corner of the hallway, a faint purple mist coalesces for a half-second. Two round eyes. A jagged mouth. A grin that stretches too wide. Then it's gone, dissolved into nothing.
Pikachu fires a small Thunderbolt at where the mist was. The bolt passes through empty air and scorches a black mark on the wall.
"Stand down," Orion says. Pikachu's cheeks spark once, reluctantly, then go dark. "It wasn't an attack. It was a greeting."
Jessica wipes her face, still feeling the cold on her skin. Her jaw is tight.
"I almost punched a ghost."
"That's probably why it left. Not enough fun in that response."
She looks at him. He's not smiling, but there's something in his expression that's close to amusement. She doesn't find it funny. He can tell.
They continue down the hallway. The temperature drops another five degrees. Their breath comes out in faint clouds.
Jessica notices the water damage on the walls looks different than in the police photos. The stains have spread, and in the spreading, they've formed shapes. She stops and looks at one.
It's a face. Crude, childlike, but unmistakably a face. Two eyes and a mouth formed by rust and moisture, staring at her from the plaster.
"Orion."
He's already looking at it. He moves closer, examining the formation. His Aura picks up the residue of ghost-type energy, the same cold signature, but more of it. Concentrated. Deliberate.
"The Gastly line can manipulate moisture in the air," he says. "Condensing it. Shaping it. These faces aren't random. They're drawings."
"Drawings."
"The ghost-types have been decorating."
More faces appear as they move down the hallway. Each one different. Some smiling. Some with mouths open in silent laughter. Some with eyes that seem to follow the flashlight beam. The hallway is lined with them, a gallery of crude portraits in rust and damp.
At the far end, a new face is forming in real-time. The moisture creeps across the plaster like fingers painting, spreading, pooling, shaping. Orion watches it form.
It's a crude approximation of his own face. Two eyes. A mouth. The suggestion of a hat.
The ghost-types have been watching them. And learning.
Jessica stares at the face on the wall. Her face is next to it, forming slower, the moisture still spreading.
"They're studying us," she says.
"Yes."
"That's worse than being attacked."
"Much worse."
They need to reach the third floor. The stairwell is narrow, concrete, with a rusted railing that Jessica tests with her hand before committing her weight. She goes first. Orion follows. Pikachu stays on Orion's shoulder, eyes scanning the dark above them.
Celebi, still invisible, scouts ahead. Orion feels her presence move up the stairs, a warm current in the cold.
They climb.
On the landing between the second and third floors, the flashlight dies.
Jessica smacks it. Nothing. She pulls out her phone. The screen flickers once, twice, then goes dark. Complete electronic failure.
"Dead," she says. "Both of them. Fully charged an hour ago."
In the darkness, Orion extends his Aura. The presences on the third floor haven't moved. But there are two new presences on the landing with them. Close. Very close.
"Jessica."
"I know." Her voice is low. "I can feel them."
Something brushes against her ankle. Soft. Cold. Gone before she can react.
She doesn't swear this time. She goes rigid, every muscle locked.
"It's another Gastly," Orion says. "Maybe two. They're in the stairwell. Phasing through the walls. Circling."
In the pitch dark, Orion hears it. A sound like giggling. High and faint, coming from everywhere and nowhere, echoing off concrete in ways that don't make spatial sense.
Pikachu's cheeks spark once, illuminating the stairwell in a flash of yellow light.
In that instant, Jessica sees them.
Three Gastly, hovering in a triangle around them. Round bodies of purple-black gas. White eyes. Jagged mouths stretched wide in grins. They're close enough to touch, close enough that the cold radiating from them makes Jessica's skin prickle.
Then the light fades and they're gone.
Jessica's breathing is fast and shallow. She forces it slower.
"How many," she says.
"Three on this landing. More above. They're coordinated."
"Coordinated."
"They've done this before. To the streamers. To the police. They know how to herd people. How to build fear." Orion's voice is steady. "It's a game to them."
"I'm not playing their game."
"I know. That's why we need to change the rules."
They reach the third floor. The door at the top of the stairs is closed.
Jessica tries the handle. Locked.
Orion places his hand on the door and extends his Aura. On the other side, he feels the cluster of presences. They're right there, on the other side of the door, waiting. He can feel their anticipation like static electricity. They've been herding the newcomers up the stairs, through the dark, to this moment.
The door isn't locked to keep them out. It's closed to build tension.
Orion projects his Aura through the door. A simple message, not in words but in feeling: we're here to talk.
The door unlocks. The handle turns on its own. The door opens inward, slowly, revealing the third-floor hallway.
It's dark. Completely dark. But the darkness isn't empty.
Dozens of small points of light float in the air. Like fireflies. Except they're not lights.
They're eyes.
Red eyes.
All of them staring at the doorway. Staring at Orion and Jessica.
The chapter pauses here. The silence is total. The air is cold enough to hurt.
Then, from the back of the hallway, two larger eyes open.
Red. But bigger. Much bigger.
And a grin that stretches impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth in the darkness.
The darkness at the end of the hallway shifts. The two large eyes descend from the ceiling, and the figure behind them steps forward into the faint glow of Celebi's light.
The Time Travel Pokémon has flickered into visible form beside Orion, her green radiance pushing back the dark, casting the hallway in soft emerald light.
It's not a Gastly. It's not a Haunter.
It's a Gengar.
Full evolved. Round body, stubby limbs, spiky back, crimson eyes, and that permanent, mischievous grin. It's larger than the Pokédex entries suggest, nearly three feet tall, and it radiates psychic pressure that Orion can feel in his teeth. The air around it hums with spiritual energy, dense and cold.
The dozens of smaller eyes behind it resolve into shapes. Four Gastly and two Haunter, all hovering in the Gengar's wake like a school of fish following a shark.
The Gengar is the leader. The pranks, the chase, the herding, all of it was orchestrated by this one.
The Gengar's grin widens. It doesn't speak, but its presence is loud, a kind of psychic broadcast that Orion's Aura picks up like a radio signal.
Amusement. Curiosity. And a question. The same question repeated like a refrain, bouncing off the walls, echoing in the dark.
Will you play? Will you play? Will you play?
The Gastly and Haunter echo it. A chorus of small voices in the dark, all asking the same thing, their excitement palpable.
Play. Play. Play.
Jessica looks at Orion. Her face is pale but her jaw is set. She's afraid, but she's standing her ground.
"What do they want?"
Orion's Aura is fully extended now, a blue glow surrounding him and Pikachu, pushing back the cold. Celebi's light burns brighter beside him.
"They want to play," he says.
The Gengar's grin widens further. Its eyes gleam.
Yes. Play.
***
Give power stones to support this book.
Advance chapters in P@T0n Najicablitz.