Chapter 3

Olivia Bennett

T he credits rolled while eerie music faded into silence. I curled up on the L-shaped couch. The deliciously dark atmosphere of my apartment always brought a smile to my lips. My gaze wandered over the gothic paintings that adorned the walls mixed in with photos of my family and friends. I glanced at the skull perched among a cascade of books on the bookshelf, its hollow eyes seeming to watch me.

I loved this place. Loved the little, artificial tree with its fake crow caged in metal twisted up the corner, casting shadows with its lamplight. I had always called him, fittingly, Edgar.

It was all part of the vibe, of who I was. I was into all things creepy or witchy or Halloweenie? Was that even a word? It was now. Honestly, I couldn’t have been a better candidate for this undercover job, but still, I didn’t like the thought of not being on my case. I was a creature of habit, and I would’ve liked it to stay that way.

The bathroom door clicked open, and Johnathan stepped out, drying his hands on his jeans. His tall frame moved with ease. He rounded the corner, and I watched, anticipation curling my lips into a bigger smile.

“Ah! Oh Jesus, what in the Rugrats Cynthia doll is this shit?” He squealed, eyes wide as saucers as he came face-to-face with my project sitting on the edge of my bookshelf at eye level. I couldn’t help but let out a short, sharp laugh. His reaction was priceless. Anytime we would watch a creepy show, I’d always put her somewhere he’d run into her.

“Be nice… She’s my favorite.” I chuckled, the sound rumbling in my chest. “I started working on her a few years ago and just never finished.”

Johnathan’s face scrunched up as he examined the doll from a safe distance. “You still like making creepy dolls?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching downward.

I nodded, a warm hum in my throat “Mm-hmm. I like all things creepy, remember? Hence the horror marathon.”

His grimace deepened, eyes fixated on the doll’s face. “And what’s wrong with her eye?”

I flicked a glance at the doll’s drooping eyelid. “Oh, it never likes to stay open,” I admitted. A small sigh escaped me as I remembered the countless times I’d tried to fix it.

Johnathan leaned in closer, squinting at the doll. The light from the TV screen cast shadows across his features. “And the scars on the face?” He pointed to the jagged lines that marred the skin.

I shrugged, tilting my head to the side, studying the doll’s damaged image. “It adds a dramatic flair, don’t you think?”

Jonathan’s face paled as he stepped back, his eyes locked on the doll. The corner of his mouth twitched, a clear sign of his discomfort. “Oli, I love you, but that thing is terrifying.” He shook his head, a little laugh escaping him as he shimmied his body with another squeal as if trying to remove bugs crawling on his skin.

“Good. That’s the point.” My heart swelled with twisted pride. “Now come on.” I patted the couch next to me. “We have time for one more before I have to head to bed.”

Jonathan hesitated, his gaze flickering toward the front door, then back to the screen. The next eerie theme song crept through the speakers, weaving around us. He took deliberate steps, each one heavier than the last, and finally collapsed next to me.

He sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to handle being left alone after this...”

I tipped my head back against the cushions, the laugh escaping before I could think to stifle it. I squeezed his clammy hand. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” We saw way worse things in our line of work. After all, what were a few fictional horrors compared to the ones we faced every day?

I glanced around. A new town. A new role to play. All laid out in the case files I’d studied on the flight over this morning. Liam O’Connor and Derek Mason, names I knew as well as my own at this point, were the owners of the town’s infamous year-round haunted house—Dead Man’s Mansion. Their business venture seemed to cloak their true intent, and I planned on figuring out what that was.

Cardboard flaps folded back with a soft rip. I hadn’t packed much. My hands steadily lifted out the last of my belongings: the doll. Its one glassy, fluttering eye seemed to follow me, the same way it had tracked Johnathan in my old place. A giggle slipped out as I remembered his wide-eyed terror.

“Sorry, Jonathan,” I whispered, setting the doll on the mantel above the small fireplace. It sat there and was the only interesting thing in the otherwise bland living room. The new apartment was nothing special. Beige walls. Sparse furniture. But the walk-in closet? Now, that was a feature I could get used to. Rows of empty hangers and shelf space galore. If only I could pack it up and take it with me when this was all over.

Peeling off my travel-worn clothes, I took a quick shower. I had been so tired from the plane ride and one too many junk food snacks that I hadn’t even taken the time to change.

I grabbed a fresh outfit, a slightly oversized Scream graphic T-shirt with fishnets and a black jean skirt, along with some cute, flat, ankle boots. Professional-ish and not too uptight for the job I was applying for. Perfect for an interview at a mansion designed to terrify people. I was sure I’d fit right in, which was nice to know because although I was an agent, I’d never been big on business getup.

A last check in the mirror. Dark auburn hair tamed. Blue eyes sharp. Nerves? Hidden deep. My reflection nodded back at me. Time to work. Locking the door behind me, I stepped out. The interview awaited. And so did whatever Liam O’Connor might be hiding.