Chapter 59: The House of Fear

The door slowly opened, and an elderly woman stood in the doorway.

She was thin and small, with grey hair tied into a loose bun. A dim porch light above her head cast long shadows across her wrinkled face. She wore a long nightgown and a thick knitted sweater, like someone who had just been woken up in the middle of the night.

She looked at me with confusion and spoke quickly in French.

I didn’t understand a single word.

So I turned my head and looked back toward the yard, where Timi and Juliet were standing near the gate in the darkness.

Timi immediately started walking toward the house.

When he reached the front porch, something happened that completely caught me off guard.

He suddenly pulled out a revolver and pressed the barrel directly against the woman’s forehead.

My eyes widened in shock.

The woman froze instantly.

Her body stiffened and her breathing became sharp and uneven. Her eyes grew wide with pure terror, and her hands slowly lifted in front of her chest as if that alone could protect her. She looked like she might collapse at any moment.

Timi calmly raised his index finger to his lips, signaling her not to make a sound.

“Shhh.”

Then he spoke to her in French, his voice quiet but threatening.

The woman replied in a trembling voice, her words rushed and frightened.

Timi didn’t remove the gun. Instead, he used the barrel to push her backward, forcing her to step inside the house. Step by step she moved back, terrified, until she was inside the hallway.

Timi followed her in.

Then he looked back at me… then at Juliet.

“Come in.”

Juliet and I stepped inside.

The house looked like a typical suburban French home. There were framed family photographs on the walls, a small wooden table beside the couch, lace curtains covering the windows, and a faint smell of old furniture and tea hanging in the air. Everything about the place looked quiet, normal… peaceful.

But the revolver pressed against the old woman’s forehead ruined that illusion completely.

Timi kept the gun pointed at her as he spoke to her again in French.

The moment he finished speaking, tears started falling from the woman’s eyes.

Her lips trembled as she slowly shook her head.

“No…” she whispered weakly.

Timi frowned slightly.

He pushed the gun harder against her forehead and repeated himself, his voice colder this time.

The woman started crying harder now. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her shoulders shook with fear.

Again she shook her head, refusing whatever he was demanding.

Timi let out a slow sigh.

Then without warning he flipped the revolver in his hand and struck her on the side of the head with the back of the gun.

The impact made a dull crack.

The woman’s body went limp immediately and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious before she even fully hit the carpet.

For a moment, the entire house was silent.

I stared at the unconscious woman on the floor, still trying to process what had just happened.

“Timi… why did you do that?” I asked.

He didn’t even look at her. His eyes were already scanning the house.

“I told her to take us to her son’s room or I’d kill her,” he said calmly. “She refused. I gave her another chance. She refused again. So I did what I had to do.”

I frowned.

“Why didn’t you just hypnotize her?”

Timi finally glanced at me.

“It doesn’t work when humans are terrified,” he said. “When their fear is that strong their minds become chaotic. You can’t control it properly.”

I thought about that for a moment and slowly nodded.

“That… actually makes sense,” I admitted. Then I gestured toward the unconscious woman. “But you didn’t have to point a gun at her and scare the poor woman half to death.”

Juliet let out an annoyed sigh.

“How else do you expect us to get inside the house?” she said. “Knock politely and beg them to invite us in?”

She shook her head.

“Come on. Let’s find Ayara.”

Without waiting for another word, she turned and started walking up the stairs.

Timi followed her immediately.

I hesitated for a second and looked down at the old woman again. Even though she was unconscious, her face was still twisted with fear, like her body hadn’t realized the danger was over.

Then I turned and followed them upstairs.

The staircase creaked quietly beneath our feet as we moved through the house. The entire place was silent except for the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the living room.

Halfway up the stairs, I stopped for a moment and focused.

I closed my eyes slightly and listened with my senses.

Nothing.

No familiar scent.

No trace of Ayara.

I opened my eyes again.

“I don’t think she’s here,” I said quietly.

Juliet stopped on the landing and turned to look at me.

“Why?”

“Because we should have smelled her blood by now,” I replied. “Ayara’s scent isn’t exactly subtle.”

I tilted my head slightly, concentrating again.

“All I can hear are two soft heartbeats in the house.”

Timi and Juliet both went still.

Two heartbeats.

Not three.

Which meant one thing.

The old woman downstairs…

…and one other person.

Timi looked at me for a moment after I mentioned the two heartbeats.

“If we can find the boy who knocked you out,” he said calmly, “that will be enough.”

Juliet nodded slightly, and the three of us continued moving through the second floor of the house.

We ended up in a long narrow hallway. The floorboards were old and creaked softly under our weight. There were two doors on the left, two on the right, and one at the very end of the hallway.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

I focused again on the sound of the heartbeats.

One of them was weak and slow — the old woman downstairs.

The other one was stronger, steady, healthy.

“That one,” I whispered.

We followed the sound until we stopped in front of the second door on the right.

I slowly reached for the handle.

The doorknob turned with a soft click.

I pushed the door open.

Inside, a young man was sleeping on a bed, half covered with a blanket. The room looked ordinary — posters on the wall, clothes thrown over a chair, a desk with a laptop on it.

Nothing about the room suggested that the person inside had beaten me nearly to death with a mallet.

Timi stepped closer and slowly opened his palm.

The splinter from the mallet was lying in his hand.

The moment it faced the sleeping man, it began vibrating violently, twitching as if it was trying to leap out of his palm.

That was all the confirmation we needed.

It was him.

I walked over to the bed and climbed onto it, kneeling beside the sleeping boy.

Then I grabbed him by the throat.

His eyes snapped open instantly.

He gasped in shock as my hand tightened around his neck. He grabbed my wrist and tried to pry my fingers off, but his strength was nothing compared to mine.

He struggled harder, kicking and twisting, but it was useless.

My grip tightened.

Finally his movements slowed.

He realized he couldn’t win.

He stopped fighting and said something quickly in French, his voice strained.

I leaned closer to his face.

“Speak English.”

He swallowed nervously.

“What… what do you want?” he asked.

I stared into his eyes.

“Do you remember me?”

He shook his head quickly.

“No.”

My grip tightened slightly.

“Think again.”

He stared at my face for a few seconds.

Then suddenly his eyes widened with recognition.

“It’s you,” he said.

A small smile crept onto his face despite the fear in his eyes.

“I knew I should have killed you.”

I smiled at him.

“Where is she?” I asked quietly.

He looked straight into my eyes.

“Go to hell.”

Before he could say anything else, my fist slammed into his face.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The sound of bone and flesh cracking filled the room as I punched him repeatedly, his head snapping from side to side under the force. Blood began pouring from his nose and mouth, staining the pillow beneath him.

I leaned closer to him, my hand still gripping his throat.

“Your mom is lying unconscious in the living room,” I said coldly.

For a moment he said nothing.

Then he smiled, blood dripping from his lips.

“She’s my adoptive mother,” he said hoarsely. “She and her husband aren’t my real parents.”

His smile widened.

“So you can do whatever you want.”

Then he spat blood directly onto my face.

Something inside me snapped.

My expression slowly changed.

The bones in my face shifted, my jaw tightening as dark veins spread beneath my skin. My eyes turned black, and my fangs slid out slowly from my gums.

The boy’s bravado disappeared instantly.

His eyes widened in pure terror.

“N—no—”

I grabbed his head and bit deep into his neck.

His scream tore through the house.

“AAAAAAH—!”

At that exact moment, a panicked voice shouted from the room next door in French.

Juliet reacted instantly.

She vanished in a blur of speed, rushing out of the room and into the next one.

A second later there was a loud thud — like a body hitting a wall.

Then everything went silent.

I slowly lifted my head from the boy’s neck, blood dripping from my mouth.

His body trembled violently beneath me.

“I’ll talk!” he gasped desperately. “Okay! Okay!”

I stared down at him.

“I’ll take you to her,” he said quickly.

I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Very good.”

I studied his face for a moment.

“What’s your name?”

“Alex,” he said weakly.

I nodded once.

“Alex… get on your feet.”

I released my grip on his throat and stepped back off the bed, walking slowly backward until I reached where Timi was standing near the door.

Alex slid off the bed shakily, holding his bleeding neck as he struggled to stand.

Timi watched the whole scene with quiet amusement.

Then he looked at me and gave a small approving nod.

“Very good,” he said. “You didn’t even need my help.”

I didn’t reply.

I just stood there, staring at Alex… waiting for him to lead us to Ayara.

Alex’s body trembled as he stopped in front of the neighboring house. His shorts were soaked, his neck still bleeding, and his hands shook slightly as he fumbled with the hem of his shirt. I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him forward, making sure he stayed in front of us.

Juliet stepped up beside me and asked, “Is he still being stubborn?”

“Nope,” I grunted. “He’ll take us to her now.”

She smirked. “Nice… you didn’t even need our help.”

I said nothing and kept my grip tight on Alex’s shirt. He glared at me nervously, but he didn’t dare run.

We walked down the narrow, dimly lit suburban hallway leading to the front door. I couldn’t help but glance through one of the open doors where the panicked voice had come from earlier. Inside, the elderly man was tied up to a bed frame, his mouth gagged, eyes wide with shock and fear. When he saw us walking down his hallway with his son in front of us, his face went pale, a mixture of terror and disbelief.

We didn’t stop. Not for him, not for anything. Alex led us outside into the small yard. I warned him again, my voice sharp and cold:

“Don’t you dare run. You won’t make it past three steps.”

He didn’t reply, only continued walking, stiff and fearful.

Then, suddenly, he froze. I tightened my grip on his shirt and asked, “Why did you stop moving?”

He swallowed hard, eyes darting nervously. “We… we’re here,” he whispered.

I followed his gaze and saw the house literally beside his own, dark and quiet. Its windows were shut, the door slightly ajar, and faint light flickered from inside. The house had an ordinary suburban exterior, but I could feel the tension in the air, the presence of something hidden behind those walls.

I took a deep breath and muttered, “This is it… this is where she’s being kept.”

Alex didn’t move, but I could see the fear in his eyes. I tightened my grip one last time and said, “Lead the way, or I’ll drag you in myself.”

He nodded shakily and slowly reached for the front door handle.

As Alex stumbled inside, I followed immediately behind him, the gun still trained on his head. The thick haze of marijuana smoke made my eyes water slightly, and the bass from the French hip hop thumped through the walls, vibrating the floor beneath us.

The boy who had opened the door—the one Ayara had slapped before—stood in the doorway, his grin long gone. His eyes flicked nervously to me, and I saw the fear finally take hold. He knew I wasn’t bluffing.

“I’ll blow your friend’s brain all over this floor, and then yours too,” I said coldly, letting my voice carry in the smoke-filled room. “Unless you invite us in.”

For a moment, he glared at me, his jaw tightening. The music thumped, and the smoke swirled around his face, but I could see the hesitation in his eyes.

Finally, with a reluctant, bitter frown, he muttered, “Come in.”

I didn’t wait any longer. I shoved Alex forward, and he tumbled onto the floor, groaning. I stepped inside behind him, keeping the gun leveled,

The house was rough, chaotic—a boombox blasting French hip hop, the air thick with marijuana smoke curling around every corner. Three boys were passed out on the floor, snoring loudly, oblivious to the tension. Amid the haze, I could smell blood—dried blood—Ayara’s blood, and it made my stomach clench.

I handed the gun back to Timi and started searching through the rooms, moving cautiously through the messy living area, the stench of smoke and alcohol making my senses sharper. In a dark corner, I finally found her—Ayara, tied up, passed out, dried blood streaked across her face, silent and vulnerable.

I ran to her, gently lifting her into my arms, and broke the ropes binding her hands. “Ayara,” I whispered, and her eyes slowly fluttered open. The moment she recognized me, she wrapped her arms around me and cried, her voice trembling, “Where were you?”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, holding her tight. After a pause, I asked, “Can you walk?” She nodded weakly, and together, we slowly stood up, careful not to alert anyone else in the house.

I asked if they had touched her, and she said they tried, but she didn’t let them. They beat her up, and she passed out — being human was so weak.

We walked to the living room and saw that all the boys were now awake, all on their knees, including Alex, arranged in a straight line. When Timi saw Ayara, he went to hug her tightly.

Then Ayara took the gun from Timi’s hand, aimed it at the boys, and shot — two of them dropped dead immediately. Timi tried to stop her, but she said, “You have no idea what they did to me.”

Timi stopped. The remaining two boys started shouting loudly in French, but Ayara didn’t care — she shot both of them dead.

Timi slowly took the gun from her hand. Ayara said, “Let’s go,” and we watched as she moved toward the front door. But as she opened it, she froze… and collapsed.