The red notification on the phone pulsed with the insistent rhythm of a fire alarm. New Priority Assignment Issued. The words seemed to mock me, a digital decree from an unseen, uncaring manager in the great corporate hierarchy of the afterlife. My meticulously crafted campaign against Harold Finch, the psychological warfare I had so carefully initiated, had been shoved aside by a pop-up window. I had just begun to feel a sliver of control, a sense of agency in my own damnation, and now Eternity, Inc. was reminding me who was really in charge. I wasn't a rogue agent on a righteous quest. I was an intern, and I had just been assigned a mandatory, soul-crushing coffee run.
A hundred-point penalty. The number was so absurdly large, it was almost comical. With my current balance of zero—having spent my first and only five points—a hundred-point deduction would plunge me into a level of supernatural debt from which I could never recover. It would be the equivalent of having my metaphysical credit score obliterated. I didn't know what the consequences of that would be, but I was certain they were worse than simply having my soul eaten. It probably involved extra-dimensional paperwork.
I had no choice. The war against Harold Finch would have to wait.
"Jessica," I whispered, focusing my intent inward, pushing the thought through our strange, empathetic link. "Change of plans. A big one. I'm sorry."
I felt her react instantly. The cold, predatory satisfaction she felt towards Finch's panic was snuffed out, replaced by a surge of confused, indignant anger. It wasn't directed at me, but at the new, intrusive demand from the app. Her rage was now my rage. How dare they? the feeling screamed. He was right there! We almost had him!
I know, I thought back, the sentiment a mix of my own frustration and hers. But the penalty... we can't afford it.
The anger subsided, replaced by a grim, shared anxiety. We were in this together now, partners in a supernatural chain gang. A new, more immediate threat had appeared, and we had to face it.
I checked the app again. Failure to respond within one hour. My own phone told me it was already 4:30 PM. The Lily Pool was on the other side of Lincoln Park. I had to move, now. I sprinted out of the small park and hailed a taxi, the expense a distant, trivial concern compared to the metaphysical consequences of being late for my new, terrible job.
The cab ride was a blur of traffic and mounting dread. I kept my eyes on the Eternity, Inc. phone, the countdown timer for the new assignment ticking away ominously. 51 minutes remaining. I felt like a bomb disposal expert racing to a call. As the taxi sped up Lake Shore Drive, the great, placid expanse of Lake Michigan on one side and the green sea of Lincoln Park on the other, I tried to prepare myself.
"A non-human, predatory entity." The phrase conjured images from the darkest corners of fiction. I was picturing something with too many teeth, too many limbs, something made of shadow and malice. Jessica's presence inside me was a tight, cold knot of fear. She was a ghost, a victim of human evil, but this was something else entirely. This was a monster.
I paid the driver and jumped out of the cab at the entrance to the park, the grand statues and manicured lawns doing little to soothe my nerves. The sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky in fiery shades of orange and purple. Dusk was falling, and the shadows were growing long and deep. I followed the signs to the Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool.
I'd been here once before, on a field trip in elementary school. I remembered it as a place of serene, almost magical beauty, a hidden oasis of stone and water designed to look like a forgotten Midwestern prairie river. As I passed through the wooden gate and stepped onto the flagstone path, that beauty was still there. The calm, dark water reflected the twilight sky like a black mirror. The lush greenery and the gentle waterfall splashing over a stone ledge should have been peaceful.
But they weren't.
My Ectoplasmic Empathy, which had been a channel for Jessica's very human emotions, was now screaming a different kind of signal. It was a deep, discordant thrum of wrongness. The air was thick, heavy with a palpable sense of menace. It felt like walking into a cage with a sleeping tiger. There was no rage here, no sorrow. There was only a single, primal, all-consuming emotion: Hunger. A patient, ancient, and profound hunger.
Jessica's spiritual energy recoiled, pulling in on itself inside my chest. She was terrified. This was a predator, and she, a spirit, was prey. And I was the unlucky vessel she was hiding in.
I walked slowly along the winding stone path, my every sense on high alert. The app had given me no tools, no weapons, no instructions beyond "Neutralize the threat." How do you neutralize something you can't see?
The feeling of malice grew stronger as I approached the water's edge, near a gnarled, ancient-looking willow tree whose branches drooped down to touch the surface of the pool. The hunger was coming from there. From the water. From the shadows beneath the tree.
I took a cautious step closer, peering into the dark water, looking for any sign of movement. The surface was perfectly still. I pulled out the black phone, hoping the app might offer a clue. Nothing. The assignment page was static.
Then, I got too close.
Something lashed out. It wasn't physical. It was a psychic attack, a wave of pure, concentrated terror that slammed into my mind. My vision blurred. The serene Lily Pool vanished, replaced for a split second by a horrifying mental image: a gaping maw lined with needle-sharp teeth, shadowy tendrils whipping through black water, and a singular, piercing feeling of being sized up as a meal. My legs gave out and I stumbled backward, falling hard onto the stone path, gasping for air. The psychic blow left me disoriented and nauseous. Jessica's presence was a frantic, terrified flutter in my chest. We were out of our league. This thing would tear us apart, spiritually speaking.
I had to get out of there. The hundred-point penalty was better than being an incorporeal appetizer. I was scrambling to my feet, ready to run, when a calm voice cut through my panic.
"I wouldn't run if I were you. It likes it when they run."
I froze, whirling around. A young man was standing about ten feet away, watching me with a look of mild, detached interest. He was about my age, maybe a year or two younger, with a lean build and sharp, intelligent eyes. He was Asian-American, dressed in a simple dark hoodie, worn jeans, and a pair of beat-up sneakers. The only thing out of place was the long, canvas duffel bag slung over his shoulder, which seemed to hold something rigid and heavy. He hadn't been there a second ago.
"Who—who are you?" I stammered, my heart still pounding from the psychic assault.
He ignored my question, his eyes fixed on the water by the willow tree. "You're drawing its attention. It can smell your passenger." He glanced back at me, and his gaze was unsettlingly perceptive. "You're new to this, aren't you? You're leaking ectoplasm all over the place. To a Hungry Shade, you look like a walking steak dinner with a free appetizer inside."
Hungry Shade. The name sent a fresh wave of fear through me. Passenger. He knew about Jessica.
"How do you know about that?" I asked, taking a half-step back.
"It's my job to know," he said, shifting the weight of the duffel bag on his shoulder. "My family has been dealing with things that go bump in the night for a very long time. This one's been on my list for a week. It's been snacking on stray spirits, getting bolder."
He finally looked me full in the face. "The name's Kevin Zhang. And you are in way over your head."
My mind raced. A family that deals with this? He was a real-life paranormal investigator. A hunter. The modern, Chicago-based equivalent of a character from one of those supernatural TV shows. He was my only hope.
"I... I was sent here," I said, deciding that honesty, however insane it sounded, was my only option. "By my... employer. I'm supposed to 'neutralize' that thing."
Kevin let out a short, humorless laugh. "Your employer sent an unarmed rookie to take down a Level 4 Shade? Are they trying to get you killed?"
"That seems to be their general management style, yes," I admitted.
He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He looked from me, to the dark water, and back again. The feeling of being watched by the creature in the pool was intensifying, a cold pressure building in the air.
"Look," Kevin said, his voice dropping to a serious, all-business tone. "I was planning on handling this myself, but you being here complicates things. The Shade is agitated now, and it's focused on you. That makes it more dangerous, but also more predictable."
He unzipped his duffel bag slightly, and I saw the glint of polished wood and what looked like brass fittings inside.
"I'll make you a deal, walking steak dinner," he said, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. "You're the bait. You help me draw it out, and I'll handle the 'neutralizing' part. In return, I'll make sure you walk out of this park with your soul still inside your body. Deal?"
He was offering me an alliance. A chance. He was offering to save my life.
I looked at the dark water, felt the primal hunger emanating from it, felt Jessica's terror resonating with my own, and then looked back at this strange, calm young man with a bag full of what I could only assume were monster-hunting tools.
"Deal," I said, without a moment's hesitation. "Absolutely, one hundred percent, deal."