Summoning Shadows: A Friday Night Haunting

Ethan Collins slumped in his chair, exhausted. The dim glow of his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room as he chain-smoked, the cigarette smoke curling into the air like ghosts from his past. Regret gnawed at him, but what good would that do now? The Blackwood Mansion was, without a doubt, a house of horrors—a real one, with more than just stories. The night's events had rattled him deeply, and now, he understood why The Friday Phantom show had spiraled into obscurity.

"Only a fool messes with ghosts for fun," Ethan muttered, flicking ash into the tray. This was no ordinary situation. Encountering a spirit once was enough to break a person. But to face it regularly? That kind of madness would wear anyone down. Even someone like him, who had once walked the line between life and death and had a ghost-whispering mentor like Liam Blackwood, couldn't take it lightly. The mere thought of Liam's smug grin made Ethan's temper flare.

Liam had conned him. That much was clear now. The "Mirage Amulet" he had gifted Ethan? Supposedly it allowed Ethan to contact him in emergencies. But there was a catch, one Ethan had been too hasty to grasp. The amulet only worked once a month—at midnight on the fifteenth. Of course, the kind of emergencies Ethan dealt with didn't stick to a schedule.

He sighed, staring at the amulet on his desk. "A fine piece of junk," he grumbled. Panic had made him reckless when he'd first left the shadowy underworld of spirits. He hadn't listened properly to Liam's instructions. Now, his mistakes were stacking up, one after another. First, forgetting to take off the camera lens cap during filming, and now, holding a supposedly powerful amulet that was utterly useless until the right time.

But what if... what if he could summon Liam anyway? Ethan sat up straighter, a spark of hope igniting. He filled a basin with water, carefully placed the amulet inside, and kneeled, staring at the shimmering surface.

"Mirage Amulet, link to the underworld, summon Liam Blackwood!" he chanted, repeating the words Liam had taught him. They were odd—almost laughably simple—but Ethan was desperate. The water rippled, turning an eerie shade of green. For a brief moment, it felt as though the amulet might actually work.

And then... nothing. The water stilled, the light faded, and Ethan's hopes sank.

He muttered a curse, fishing the amulet out and drying it off. "Three more days until the fifteenth," he groaned, realizing how little time he had. The show aired in two days, and tomorrow he had to go back to Blackwood Mansion. Alone.

His thoughts raced back to the last time. The mistake of taking Sophia Lee with him had nearly cost her life, and it was a mistake he wouldn't repeat. Bringing an ordinary person into a haunted mansion? Foolish. He needed someone who could handle themselves in the face of the supernatural. Someone strong, resilient, someone... like the hearse driver from the other night.

Nathan Graves. The image of him flashed in Ethan's mind—the young man who had driven the hearse, the one who had effortlessly expelled the vengeful spirit that had latched onto Sophia. His confidence, his calm demeanor in the face of danger—there was no way Nathan wasn't trained in the supernatural. Ethan's resolve strengthened. He needed to find Nathan and rope him into the madness.

Ethan crushed his cigarette into the ashtray, grabbed his jacket, and headed out. Tomorrow would be a long day, but at least now he had a plan.

The next morning, after a restless sleep, Ethan called Sophia to check on her. Her voice was calm, reassuring even, and she seemed to have recovered from the ordeal. That eased some of Ethan's anxiety. After a quick shower and a cup of strong coffee, he picked up two packs of Yellow Crane Tower cigarettes—an offering of sorts. He had a hunch where Nathan might be and decided to pay a visit.

The Southern Hills Funeral Home was nothing like the morbid, haunted place Ethan had envisioned. Nestled at the foot of a quiet hill, it was surrounded by lush greenery and overlooked a serene lake. The place was busy, with mourners coming and going, their faces marked by sadness but not fear. This wasn't the eerie, ghost-infested location Ethan had expected. But that didn't mean it wasn't home to someone with a special skill set.

Ethan approached the gatekeeper, an older man with a weathered face. He offered the man a cigarette. "Hey, sir, I'm looking for a guy who drives the hearse around here—around my age. You know him?"

The gatekeeper eyed the cigarette Ethan offered, smirked, and pulled out his own pack of luxury cigarettes—Yuxi, a brand well beyond Ethan's budget. "You can keep yours, son," the old man said with a chuckle. "But yeah, I know who you mean. You're talking about Lucas Blackwood, right?"

"Lucas Blackwood?" Ethan repeated. So, that was the hearse driver's name. "Yeah, that's him. I need to find him. Got some... business."

The old man's expression softened as if Ethan had earned some form of recognition. "You know, Lucas isn't like the rest of us. Came into this world in a... peculiar way. His mother died in childbirth. They put her in a coffin, and on that very night, the old mortician here swears he heard a baby crying from inside. Sure enough, Lucas was alive, born in a coffin. Guess that's why he's so damn fearless around the dead."

Ethan's eyes widened as the story unfolded. Lucas wasn't just another guy with a job at the funeral home—he was someone with a deep connection to the other side. It explained the calm, the skill, and the mystery surrounding him.

The gatekeeper continued, lighting his cigarette. "Poor kid never knew his family. Grew up around here, raised by the old mortician who found him. He's been around death all his life, never went to school, just... picked things up. And now? This place depends on him. He's the only one who'll go near the most dangerous jobs."

Ethan nodded slowly. Lucas had a tragic background, but that only made him the perfect ally. "Where can I find him?" Ethan asked.

"Bone Chamber," the gatekeeper said, pointing down a narrow path. "He's on duty today."

Ethan followed the gatekeeper's directions until he reached the Bone Chamber—a large, cold building that seemed to absorb the sunlight around it. The air here was different, colder, heavier. As Ethan approached the door, he felt a chill run down his spine. He knocked softly and called, "Lucas...?"

A voice echoed back, laced with annoyance. "Who's there? Come in if you want, but don't disturb the dead."

Ethan pushed the door open and found himself in a large, eerie room filled with rows of shelves, each lined with small, locked boxes. The air was heavy with the scent of incense. In a corner, Lucas was hunched over a table, methodically folding paper offerings. He glanced up as Ethan entered, the same wry smile curling his lips that Ethan remembered from the other night.

"Well, look who it is," Lucas said, leaning back in his chair. "Back from the haunted mansion, are we?"

Ethan swallowed his nerves and stepped inside. "I need your help. We're heading back to Blackwood Mansion tomorrow, and I can't do it alone."

Lucas raised an eyebrow, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "You want me to tag along? For what? Moral support?"

Ethan shook his head. "You and I both know what's in that mansion isn't something I can handle on my own. I need someone with... your kind of skills."

Lucas chuckled softly, flicking his cigarette ash onto the floor. "You've got some guts coming here. But you're right—Blackwood Mansion is no place for amateurs. Fine, I'll help. But this time, we do it my way."

Ethan exhaled in relief. With Lucas on his side, he just might survive what was waiting for him at Blackwood Mansion.