The whispering shadows

Chapter 2: The Whispering Shadows

Avery barely slept that night.

She lay on Liam's worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling as the city's muffled sounds drifted through the window. Car horns, distant voices, the occasional clatter of footsteps — they all blended together in a restless blur.

But beneath those familiar sounds was something... else.

Whispers. Faint and cold, like breath against her ear.

"Help us..."

Avery squeezed her eyes shut. I'm just imagining it...

But the voices didn't stop. They grew louder, filling her mind with desperate cries. Faces flashed behind her eyelids — pale, hollow faces with sunken eyes and twisted mouths.

"Stop... please stop..." Avery mumbled.

Then, one voice cut through the others — clearer, stronger.

"Find the gate... before the blood moon..."

A cold breeze swept across her face. Avery's eyes shot open — and she gasped.

A figure stood at the foot of the couch.

It was a man, or what was left of one. His face was gray and sunken, his eyes wide and empty. He wore a soaked fisherman's jacket, the sleeves torn and dripping with water. His chest had a dark, jagged mark — the same symbol Avery had seen before.

"You... you're the man from the news," Avery whispered in horror.

The fisherman's head jerked toward her. "Find the gate..." he rasped. "Before the blood moon... or we will all be lost..."

Avery bolted upright, her breath coming in panicked gasps. The room was empty. The ghost was gone.

"Just a dream," she whispered shakily. "It had to be..."

But when she looked down, her sketchbook lay open on her lap. The blank page now held a new drawing — jagged lines forming a twisted arch beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. A small, shadowy figure stood beside it.

Avery touched the sketch with trembling fingers.

"Not a dream," she muttered.

The next morning, Avery barely touched her breakfast. Liam was busy flipping through old books at the table, muttering under his breath.

"Hey," Avery said, setting her coffee down. "We need to talk."

Liam didn't look up. "If this is about what happened last night, I already know. You were tossing and turning like you were wrestling a bear."

"I saw someone," Avery blurted. "A ghost."

Now Liam's eyes snapped to her. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she said. "It was the fisherman — the one they found near the bridge. He... he warned me about a gate."

Liam frowned. "A gate?"

Avery grabbed her sketchbook and flipped it open, showing him the drawing.

"I don't remember drawing this," she said. "But it was there when I woke up."

Liam studied the page for a long moment, his face grim.

"This isn't good," he muttered.

"Yeah, I figured that out already," Avery shot back.

Liam sighed and pointed to the shadowy figure in her sketch. "That's a death watcher. They're spirits — trapped souls drawn to places where dark energy gathers."

"You mean... ghosts?"

"Worse," Liam said. "They're not just stuck — they're trapped. And if they're showing themselves to you, it's because they're desperate."

Avery felt a chill crawl down her spine. "He said something about the blood moon... that we had to stop something before then."

Liam's face darkened. "The blood moon rises in six days."

By late afternoon, Avery and Liam were standing at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge. Thick fog clung to the steel beams above them, and cold wind whipped Avery's hair around her face.

"This place feels... wrong," Avery muttered.

"That's because it is wrong," Liam said grimly. "They're gathering power here — feeding it into whatever ritual they're planning."

Avery clutched her sketchbook tightly as they walked along the bridge. Tourists wandered nearby, snapping photos and laughing, unaware of the dark energy swirling just beneath their feet.

Then Avery's head began to throb — dull at first, then sharp and stabbing.

"Ahh..." She stumbled, clutching her temple.

"You okay?" Liam asked, stepping closer.

"Yeah... just a headache," she mumbled. But when she looked up, her breath caught.

The air around the bridge had changed. The fog had thickened, curling in tendrils across the pavement. The tourists seemed to blur, their faces pale and shadowed.

And then she saw them.

Ghosts — dozens of them — drifting between the cables and railings. Some walked the bridge as if reliving their final moments. Others clung to the edges, their hollow eyes staring blankly into the water below.

One of them turned its head — and locked eyes with Avery.

"You see us..." it whispered.

Avery staggered back. "Liam... Liam, do you see them?"

His eyes narrowed. "No... but I can feel them." He grabbed her arm. "We need to go. Now."

But the ghost from her dream — the fisherman — appeared just feet away, his face pale and twisted with fear.

"The gate... find the gate... before the blood moon..."

Before Avery could speak, the ghost let out a sharp cry — and a dark shape ripped him backward into the fog.

"NO!" Avery shouted.

The shadows swirled violently, forming a shape — a monstrous figure with glowing red eyes and jagged horns. Its twisted mouth stretched into a smile as it reached for her.

Liam shoved Avery back. "Run!"

The demon lunged, its shadowy form stretching toward them. Liam grabbed a vial from his pocket, uncorked it, and flung the glowing liquid at the creature. The demon let out a furious shriek as the liquid hissed against its body like acid.

"This way!" Liam shouted, pulling Avery toward the far end of the bridge.

They ran until they reached the street below. Avery's chest burned, and her legs felt like jelly.

"That... that thing..." Avery gasped. "What was it?"

"Shadow wraith," Liam said. "One of the cult's pets. They use them to hunt people like you."

"People like me?"

"People who can see the dead."

Avery's stomach turned. "I didn't ask for this," she said quietly.

"I know," Liam said. "But whether you like it or not... you're part of this now."

Avery clutched her sketchbook tightly to her chest. The dark arch from her drawing — the gate — was somewhere near the bridge.

And if they didn't find it soon...

Whatever waited on the other side would break through — and no one in the city would be safe.

The walk back to Liam's hideout was tense and silent. Avery's heart was still pounding, and the cold air stung her face. Even with the shadow wraith gone, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was still watching her — lurking just out of sight.

When they reached Liam's building, he double-checked the locks on the door, his fingers moving fast.

"You think that... thing followed us?" Avery asked.

"Maybe," Liam muttered. "But I doubt it'll come here. Not without backup."

"That's... not comforting," Avery mumbled.

Liam tossed his leather jacket onto a chair and grabbed one of his books from the cluttered shelf.

"We need answers," he said, flipping rapidly through the pages. "If the ghosts are warning you about a gate, then that means the cult's ritual is almost ready. They've been preparing this for years — maybe decades."

Avery sank onto the couch, still gripping her sketchbook. The image of the fisherman's face — twisted with fear before the shadow wraith dragged him away — kept replaying in her mind.

"He was begging me," she murmured. "That ghost... he was begging me to stop it."

Liam paused, watching her. "You saw him again?"

Avery nodded. "He kept saying the same thing — find the gate before the blood moon."

Liam set his book down and knelt beside her. "I need you to tell me everything you saw," he said seriously. "Every detail."

Avery took a shaky breath. "It wasn't just him. There were... others. Dozens of them. They were walking along the bridge like... like they were stuck there."

"Death watchers," Liam muttered.

"But there was something else," Avery said. "The fog... it felt wrong. Like it was... alive."

"That's shadow energy," Liam explained. "The cult's drawing power from the bridge. It's spreading, twisting things — pulling the spirits closer to our world."

Avery shivered. "Why me?" she whispered. "Why can I see them?"

Liam hesitated. "It's... rare," he said carefully. "Some people are born with a gift — a connection to the spirit world. It's stronger in places like San Francisco, where history's... messy."

"You're saying I'm some kind of... ghost magnet?"

"More like a bridge," Liam said. "The spirits are reaching out to you because they know you can hear them."

Avery swallowed hard. "And what if I can't help them?"

Liam's expression darkened. "Then they'll keep coming... and the ones that don't get help?" He paused. "They don't stay friendly for long."

Hours passed as Liam sorted through books and papers. Old maps of San Francisco lay spread across the table, covered in strange symbols and scribbled notes.

"This is where they found the fisherman's body," Liam said, pointing to a spot on the map near the bridge. "And this..." He traced his finger to a spot near the waterfront. "...is where another victim was found last week — same symbol burned into his chest."

"You think they're connected?" Avery asked.

"I know they are," Liam said. "The cult's leaving a trail — marking their steps as they prepare the ritual."

Avery flipped open her sketchbook and compared her drawing of the twisted gate to Liam's map. Her eyes widened.

"Wait... look," she said, pointing to the lines on the page. "This... this pattern... it's the shape of the city streets."

Liam stared at the sketch, his face grim.

"They're turning the whole city into a ritual circle," he muttered. "The landmarks — the bridge, Alcatraz, even the old clock tower — they're all part of it."

"But why?" Avery asked.

"Because they need power," Liam said. "A ritual this big requires massive energy — and using the city itself creates a perfect channel." He jabbed his finger at the center of the pattern. "This is where they'll open the gate."

Avery leaned closer. "That's... Chinatown," she said quietly.

"More specifically," Liam said, "Portsmouth Square."

A chill ran through Avery. She knew that place — an old plaza surrounded by statues and stone markers. It was one of the oldest spots in the city.

"That's where they'll finish the ritual," Liam said. "And if they succeed..."

"What happens?" Avery asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Liam's expression hardened. "The barrier will break. Spirits won't just drift into our world — they'll flood in. Demons too. The city won't stand a chance."

Avery clenched her fists. "Then we have to stop them."

That night, Avery couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw faces — hollow eyes and twisted mouths whispering her name.

Finally, she gave up and sat on the couch with her sketchbook. The drawing of the gate seemed to pulse under her fingers, like the ink was alive.

You're part of this now, Liam had said.

She sighed and reached for her pencil. Maybe if she sketched what she remembered, it would make sense.

Her hand moved almost on its own — sketching jagged shapes, swirling shadows, and empty faces. The pencil scraped furiously across the page until —

THUMP.

The sound came from the hallway.

Avery froze. The apartment was dark, and Liam was asleep in the next room. Slowly, she set her sketchbook down and crept toward the door.

THUMP... THUMP...

The sound was closer now, like footsteps dragging across the floor.

Avery's breath caught.

A shadow moved outside the frosted glass of the door — tall and thin with glowing red eyes.

"Liam..." Avery whispered. "Liam!"

The door handle rattled.

"Avery?" Liam's voice came from behind her, groggy but alert.

Before she could answer, the door burst open — and the shadow lunged inside.

A cold blast swept through the room as the figure stretched out a clawed hand toward Avery.

"NO!" Liam barked. He grabbed a silver dagger from his desk and hurled it through the air. The blade struck the figure's arm, and it let out a furious shriek before vanishing into smoke.

Avery staggered back, her heart racing.

"That was a shadow wraith," Liam said, breathing hard. "They're not supposed to be able to enter this place."

"Why now?" Avery asked shakily.

Liam's gaze shifted to her sketchbook — now glowing faintly beneath the drawing of the gate.

"They're getting stronger," Liam said grimly. "And whatever's waiting behind that gate... it's waking up."