Kyrie pulled her shoes on in record time, her eyes flicking back to the window every few seconds as she did. The moonlight outside hadn’t changed, but now that she’d seen the movement, every shifting shadow felt threatening.
She grabbed her hat, shoved it down onto her head, and opened the door. She ducked into the hallway quickly, and nearly ran straight into Casey.
Casey caught her by the shoulders, pulling her in close before she could make any noise, her voice low and tense.
“Hey. I am not cool with these guys coming in here and taking over. I don’t trust them, and this is no longer fun. I think we should try to see if the phone in the shed is working. Try to call for help.”
Kyrie tilted her head slightly, listening, then glanced cautiously toward the stairwell before looking back to Casey. She shook her head softly.
“I saw… something outside,” she whispered. “I don’t think it’s safe, but…” She hesitated, trying to think it through. “I don’t like this either… and that might work…”
Casey frowned, glancing past Kyrie toward the nearby window. “I just need you to cover for me and I can make it. I’m fast, and I have this,” she said, lifting the bat slightly. She stepped toward the window to check outside, and froze.
Kyrie started to follow her, but when Casey stopped abruptly, she bumped lightly into her back. Kyrie blinked, then followed Casey’s gaze toward the window.
Something was there. Something staring in through the glass. And it was on the second floor. Kyrie’s breath caught in her throat.
The shape was pressed close to the window, half-hidden in shadow, but unmistakably there. A dark silhouette, too still, too quiet. It shouldn’t have been possible: there was nothing outside the second-floor windows but open air and the stone wall.
Casey slowly raised the bat, her posture shifting from determined to cautious. She took a careful half-step backward, gently guiding Kyrie back with her. “Maybe… we should go back downstairs,” Casey whispered.
The window creaked. Both women froze. The sound was subtle, but unmistakable: pressure against the frame from the outside. The shutter latch rattled softly. Once. Then again.
Just beyond the glass, two blazing red eyes stared at them, glowing faintly in the moonlight. The latch bounced. Once. Twice. Then, with a soft metallic snap, it popped free.