Part 1 HERE * Part 2 HERE * Part 3 HERE * Part 4 HERE * Part 5 HERE

Detective Jack Ross entered the HNT vehicle parked in the shadow of the Grand Anomaly Hotel to find Dr. Emily Reid poring over an assortment of mystical objects she had spread across the table. Tarot cards, hand-drawn spirit sigils, glass vials of ectoplasm, and a medium’s crystal ball were among the eclectic items she was meticulously documenting.

“Any of those giving up clues?” Ross asked.

“They are, in their own unique languages,” Reid replied excitedly. “For instance…” She held up a vial of glowing ectoplasm. “Ectoplasmic residue is left behind by the manifestation of spiritual energy, so this sample indicates strong supernatural activity.”

Next, she gestured to the tarot cards. “The cards reveal chaotic forces and upheaval surrounding the hotel. And this…” She picked up an ornate brass disc engraved with occult symbols. “This is an Enochian relic used to focus demonic energy. Telltale signs of infernal forces at play.”

“Demonic?” Ross asked, taken aback. “I thought we were just dealing with some angry ghosts.”

“There are layers upon layers of occult complexity here,” Reid explained, eyes alight with scholarly fascination even as the air grew chill around them. “I believe rival astral entities are vying for control, using the hotel as their battleground.”

“Terrific,” Ross grumbled. “So much for a simple hostage situation.”

“Oh, it’s far beyond simple, Detective,” Reid exclaimed. “We have the chance to witness primordial struggles beyond human reckoning. The very boundaries of reality are wavering in this place.”

Ross frowned as Reid delved deeper into her obscure artifacts. Her enthusiasm seemed dangerously misplaced given the lives at stake. But they needed her expertise, even if that meant dealing with forces whose existence he’d rather deny.

Dr. Reid glanced up, her expression a mix of excitement and intensity. “Detective, you might want to see this. This document,” she said, tapping the parchment, “implies that the spirits ensnaring the hotel were conjured for protection but became shackled to it, enslaved against their essence. They’re not inherently malevolent—they’re captives crying out for liberation.”

“They’re seeking an end to their binding,” Ross deduced, a sliver of empathy surfacing in his voice.

“Precisely. The hostage crisis might be a manifestation of their plea for freedom,” she confirmed.

The vibration of Ross’s phone sliced through the conversation. He excused himself, stepping aside to attend to the alert. His brows furrowed as he read the message; it was a silent alarm from the tech team. “We’ve got a breach,” he muttered, a cold edge to his words.

Just across the street, nestled in the relative obscurity of a SWAT vehicle, an officer’s hand discreetly engaged a covert mechanism on his belt—a silent whisper of data spiraling into the void. His gaze flitted about, vigilant for any hint of suspicion.

Ross re-entered the hub, surveying the room with newfound scrutiny. His gaze fleetingly connected with Zhara’s, but intuition nudged him elsewhere—he knew the treachery did not stem from their rift.

“What’s wrong?” Zhara perceived his tension.

“We have a mole,” he disclosed, his voice a low growl.

“Any idea who?” The question hung in the air, heavy with the gravity of betrayal.

Before Ross could conjecture, an officer burst into the room. “We’ve traced the source of the encrypted transmissions.”

In a swift motion, Ross and Zhara descended upon the SWAT van. The door flew open to reveal the guilty startle of Officer Daniels, holding a device.

“That’s a spectral jammer,” Zhara said.

“Long way from the front line, Daniels. Sabotaging your own team?” Ross’s voice was as cold as the steel of his gun.

Daniels grinned, a twisted smirk that had nothing to do with humor. “You really don’t remember me, do you? My father lost his life because you were too late to save him during a robbery call eight years ago.”

Recognition hit Ross like a sledgehammer. “That wasn’t my fault, Daniels. I—”

Daniels lunged out of the van, cutting him off, his fist connecting with Ross’s jaw. They grappled fiercely. Zhara held up a hand, signaling the SWAT officers to stand back. Some things a detective has to deal with personally. Plus, her service weapon was drawn and aimed at Daniels in case things went pear-shaped. Eventually, after a period of exchanging blows, Ross managed to disarm Daniels and pin him down.

In agony but resolute, Ross handcuffed Daniels. “You’re under arrest.”

To everyone’s surprise, after he was cuffed, Daniels offered no resistance as police officers carted him off. As Ross passed Zhara, he said, “Thanks for the assist back there.”

“I had no doubt you could take him,” Zhara shot back, and added, “And when it comes to answering for what happened in the past, sometimes you need to face that on your own. Take it from someone who knows.”

Back in the strategy room, the atmosphere was thick with the aftermath of deceit. Ross, Zhara, and Dr. Reid regrouped, a silent accord between them.

“With the mole apprehended, our path is clear,” Dr. Reid stated, her voice steady.

Zhara’s analytical mind was racing. “A mole and a breakthrough about the spirits’ plight on the same day can’t be a coincidence.”

“Do you think Daniels was aiding the spirits?” Ross’s question was direct and expectant.

“Not the spirits,” Dr. Reid clarified with a scholarly certainty. “Someone else is at play here, someone who benefits from the spirits’ bondage.”

Someone else is at play. Zhara Fuller tried to warn Ross of that and he ignored it.

They each retreated into their thoughts, the unspoken truth hanging between them. The web of hidden agendas was intricate, each strand leading deeper into a labyrinth of motives and shadows. The resolution of the hostage crisis was now entwined with the unraveling of this new, more insidious mystery.

Not. The. End.