Agent Williams creeps up to the windows and slowly peeks outside. His eyes narrow, jaw tightens as he takes in the chaos unfolding just beyond the glass.
"What do you see?" Agent Garcia asks, bracing for something he's sure he won't want to hear.
Agent Williams hesitates partly because he isn't sure how to phrase it other than bluntly, and partly because he knows Agent Garcia and Nurse Julia aren't ready for the truth. He knew that, like him, it would take some time for them to fully understand and accept what they would experience
"They're being thrown," He finally says.
Agent Garcia blinks and looks at Agent Williams like he heard him wrong. "Did you say thrown?"
Agent Williams nods once. "The fog is picking them up and tossing them."
As if on cue, a man screams outside—a blood-curdling, terrified scream. A body flies past the window, flung like a rag doll, landing somewhere in the yard with a bone-crunching thud.
Uncle Donovan slaps his good hand over his mouth. "OH, MY GOD! The fog is doing WWE moves! Pile drive him ghostie!"
"Donovan, Shut up!" Andy mutters.
"I can't. I'm having a medical emergency," He says. "You guys need help; you all sound like a broken record. Donovan, be quiet. Donovan shut up. You just can't appreciate my humor. I'm disappointed." Uncle Donvan ranted.
We hear another scream, then another thud. We rush to the windows, crowding them. We watch as another masked man gets lifted off the ground, suspended in mid-air by nothing but swirling white mist, limbs flailing as he is hurled off the property line.
"Holy Shit," Zeke whispers.
Nurse Julia's body freezes, and she clutches her medical bag tighter to her chest. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating, as she watches the fog attack one masked man after the other.
"W-w-why is it doing that?" she asks, her voice cracking.
Agent Garcia steps towards her protectively, his gun raised but trembling. "This isn't possible," he mutters as he reaches her side. "Fog doesn't move like this. Fog can't - ."
Another man screams as he is hurled into a tree. The sickening crack of his body as it hits the trunk wrapping around it. The sound made my stomach turn.
Julia flinches so hard she nearly drops her bag. "Oh my goodness." She whispers. "Is someone grabbing them?"
"No, no, t-t-that's not real. This can't be real," Agent Garcia says, shaking his head, trying to make sense of everything. But before he can grasp what is happening, another body flies past the window.
Julia gasps and stumbles into her husband, Agent Garcia. He puts a hand on her waist to steady her, then looks at Agent Williams.
"Williams…what the hell did you drag my wife and me into?" He asks, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
Agent Williams doesn't look away from the window, his voice steady. "You're seeing what we've been dealing with."
"I'm an ER nurse. I've seen everything but this," she gestures to the windows. "This is-." She trails off, pressing her hand to her chest, breathing fast.
"This is not natural," Agent Garcia finishes for her.
Uncle Donovan points at the windows with his broom. "Welcome to our nightmare! I told you it's super weird here!"
"You're all okay with this?" She asks, staring, terrified.
"Oh yeah," Uncle Donovan nods rapidly. "The fog's been doing weird stuff for days. "This is actually one of its calmer moods."
"Calmer?" Julia asks, blinking.
I whip my head around, eyes wide. "Uncle Donovan, you're not helping her. You're freaking her out. Stop talking!"
He freezes mid-gesture, "Oh, right, sorry. Don't listen to me; I'm just panicking right now."
Agent Garcia looks between us and the fog outside. "Someone needs to explain what the hell is happening."
No one answers him because outside, the fog pulses again. A deep thump rattles the windows. Behind us, the bound intruder whimpers, trying to curl into himself like he knows something worse is coming.
A door slams outside, followed by another. Then footsteps – deliberate, slow, confident- approach through the fog. The mist reacts instantly, rising like a living barricade. It pulses once, twice, then lashes forward in a violent strike toward the figure approaching the house.
Julia gasps. "It's attacking him!"
The fog hits the figure again hard. A blast of supernatural force that had thrown Dunhill's men like they were as light as paper. But this time it doesn't work. Not because the man in question, Dunhill, is powerful or supernatural, but because the fog was hesitating. It struck him, then recoiled.
"Why did it stop?" Agent Garcia asked. "It's like It's holding back."
"It's holding back," Agent Williams says, his jaw tightening.
"From him?" Andy asks, frowning.
Agent Williams looks at me. "It's waiting for her." The fog surges violently, swirling like a storm with no direction. It wanted to fight, but it wanted me more. My breath catches. The fog presses against the windows, trembling, vibrating, almost like it were begging.
Andy steps closer to me. "Rox…What does it want?"
I swallow hard. "It wants to come back," I say.
Julia stares at me, horrified. "Come back? To you," she asks.
"What the hell does that mean?" Agent Garcia whispers.
Uncle Donovan points at the window with his broom and says, "She's like the fog queen. The fog listens to her!"
"Uncle Donovan!" I say, reprimanding him.
"Sorry," he says sheepishly.
Outside, Dunhill steps forward. The fog is surging again, but weaker this time because it is pulling inward towards me.
"Rocky, don't do anything stupid or crazy alone." Zeke pleads, gripping my arm. The urge to recall the fog is overwhelming.
"We're right here," Andy says, nodding.
"If you call it…Dunhill will reach the house," Agent Williams states firmly.
"I know," I whisper.
The fog was already answering. Pressing against the glass, trembling violently, like a storm begging to be unleashed. The minute Dunhill steps onto the path, the fog splits around him. Not because he forced it, but because I was pulling it back.
"Rocky breath, I got you." Zeke squeezes my arm.
I close my eyes as the fog rushes inward, slamming into the house, the walls, the floorboards, and then into me. It felt cold and electric as it filled my body. It floods my lungs first like icy smoke, then rushes through my veins like lightning, and then coils around my ribs like a second heartbeat. My bones hum, my skin prickles, and my vision flickers white at the edges. The fog isn't just entering me – it's recognizing me, claiming me. My knees buckle. Zeke and Andy hold me upright.
Julia is shocked and covers her mouth as she and Agent Garcia take a step back. Uncle Donovan crouches down, hugging his knees and whispering prayers as Agent Williams keeps watch on Dunhill's approach.
The fog outside thinned, barely enough to hold Dunhill's men back. Dunhill himself walks slowly up the path. His suit is immaculate, his expression calm, and his eyes cold as ice. He stops at the edge of the porch, taking in the house and what he's about to do. He smirks and slowly steps onto the porch and steps up to the front door. He leans toward it, lifting his head slightly, as if listening for us. Then speaks.
"Roxanne!" He calls. His voice slides through the walls, through me. It feels wrong, like something oily and cold brushing the inside of my skull. So wrong. It isn't loud; it doesn't need to be. It was his summons for me.
"Don't move," Zeke says, his grip tightening on my arm.
"We can't let him near my daughter," Andy says, stepping closer to me.
Donovan whimpers, "I vote we live our lives happily in the murder basement forever." Everyone stays still, afraid to make too much noise.
"He's alone," Agent Garcia says, frowning. "Why did he come alone? Something feels off."
Agent Williams doesn't look away from the window. "he didn't come alone."
As if on cue, the fog behind Dunhill ripples. Shapes move inside it. Dark silhouettes of men and weapons; at least a dozen of them, but the fog kept them back, holding them at the property line, like an invisible fence charged by the supernatural. Dunhill didn't turn to look at them. He didn't need to. He knew they were there; he knew we saw them, and the fog was fighting them, but he didn't care.
"Williams, Garcia, what do we do?" Julia whispers.
"We hold our ground," they say in unison.
Dunhill placed a hand on the door. He didn't push or knock; he just touched it as if he could sense my presence inside. The wood groans under his touch.
"Roxanne," Dunhill says again, softer. "You're trembling. I can hear it." My stomach twists
Zeke steps closer, chest brushing my shoulder. "Don't listen to him."
But Dunhill keeps going, his tone warm, almost gentle, the kind of voice someone uses to soothe a frightened child. "You've been fighting so hard," he murmurs. "Trying to be brave. Trying to be strong, but you and I both know you weren't built for this." Bile rises in my throat from the sound of his voice trying to coax me into doing what he wants.
Zeke moves in front of me, blocking my view of the door entirely. His hands come to my face, grounding me. "Rocky, hey, look at me. Not him at the door." It was hard to concentrate with the fog roaring through my body, aching to be let loose.
But Dunhill's voice once again slides through the front door. "You're tired, aren't you?" he continues. "Your lungs burn, and your bones ache., The fog is too much for you. The veil has always been too much for you." The fog inside me pulses, angry, protective, but Dunhill's words slither through the cracks. "You think you're controlling it," he says softly. "But it's controlling you. Just like it controlled your grandmother. Just like it destroyed her."
My breath stutters. Zeke presses his forehead to mine, grounding me with his breath, his warmth, his steadiness. "You're not breaking," he whispers. "You're rising."
Dunhill chuckles a warm, affectionate sound that makes my skin crawl. He could hear Zeke's words of encouragement.
"Oh, Zeke," he says. "Always the loyal one. Always the protector, but you can't protect her from what she is. What she can do."
"I can protect her from you," Zeke says, his jaw clenching.
Dunhill ignores him completely. "Roxanne," he says, voice dropping to a whisper. "You're scared I can feel it. The fog is shaking inside you. It's too big, too old, and too hungry. You can't hold it. You're going to break."
The fog inside me surges violently. Not in fear but in fury. Zeke feels it. His hands slide down to my arms, anchoring me.
"Rocky, if you're going to do something, do it now." He moves around to the back of me, his hands still on my arms, pulling me into his chest. "I'm right here. I'm not letting go, love." Zeke whispers.
Dunhill's fingers curl against the door, his nails dragging lightly against the wood. "Come to me," he murmurs. "Let me help you. Let me take it from you. You don't have to carry this burden. You never did."
Zeke's voice is steady, unwavering. "He wants to own you and hollow you out. You know that."
Dunhill laughs softly, "She knows nothing. She's a child playing with a storm and a world she doesn't understand, but I do."
My chest tightens, not with fear but with anger. Zeke feels the shift and his grip tightens.
"Rocky … now," he whispers into my ear.
Dunhill leans closer to the door, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "Open the door, Roxanne. Let me show you what you were meant to be."
The fog inside me snaps into a violent, electric surge. I open my eyes and let the fog explode outward. A tidal wave of white mist blasts through the front door, onto the porch, over the yard. It slams into Dunhill on the porch with the force of a hurricane. He flies backwards so hard his body is launched across the yard, over the property line, and crashes straight through the front window of Ted's house. We can hear the glass shatter and the wood splinter. The fog roars in victory. Julia screamed and clung to Agent Garcia as he swore under his breath. Andy and Zeke held me upright while my breathing was shaky.
Uncle Donovan blinks at the destruction, sways on his feet and says, "Okay…I'm officially done. Somebody tell the universe I quit." And then he faints sideways onto the couch.
Agent Williams exhales loudly. "Good, now the real fight begins."
The fog inside pulses once more, hard like a warning, and outside, Dunhill's men surge forward.