Death. What happens after it? What lies beneath the surface?
Poor Arielle Daniels stumbled through dangerous hoops to figure this out. She wakes in a new place--the Void--and discovers that what waits after death are layers, dimensions, and sadly...
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Chinese takeout boxes littered Kylie's bed, along with scattered paperwork and unused batteries and upgraded devices.
"I can't believe it," said Kylie, bringing her chopsticks to her mouth and slurping up the noodles weaved around them. "I'm honestly in shock that they're allowing this."
Benny, who'd long since finished his meal to focus on the new camera he bought—one that had an SD card instead of a tape—chuckled. "Well, I won't question it, because it's perfect timing. We need to make up for that lost evidence, and visiting the house at night is the best way to do that."
On and off all day, Kylie had been on the phone with her supervisors, explaining the situation, begging for authorization to continue tearing the house apart in search of paranormal clues. Benny had borrowed the car to drive into Savannah, which wasn't far from their motel, and he scrounged through various stores to find better, upgraded equipment—with Kylie's company credit card. She'd tossed it at him in anger, and he hadn't thought twice. And if she let him keep everything afterwards, he didn't even care if this wasn't the case of his lifetime.
With all these upgrades, I'll get better footage for other investigations.
And while he sat on her bed, waiting for their takeout, she'd notified him that somehow, for some miraculous reason, her bosses were going to not only give them more time to obtain proof, but they would allow them to hunt the house at night. Kylie had panicked, at first; she'd been so spooked in the early evening, she still wasn't sure she wanted to return to such an active spot in the absolute darkness. She wasn't sure she wanted to return at all. But Benny promised he'd protect her. He swore she'd come to no harm as long as she was with him.
He looked up, watching as she struggled to pick up a piece of cashew chicken with her chopsticks. She scrunched her nose, frustrated, and ended up digging one chopstick into the meat and smirking in satisfaction when she finally succeeded. She brought the bite to her mouth and chewed, tucking a few blonde hairs behind her ears as she savored the taste.
Goodness, she was beautiful. Her glowing cheeks, her gracious posture as she sat crossed-legged on the chair, her plastic plate balanced in her lap. She was the perfect mix of feminism and strength. She enhanced her features with an appropriate amount of make-up—not that Benny believed she needed it, but it worked for her—and wore form-fitting clothes, but could kick your ass better than any highly trained martial arts expert. And her mannerisms—even while eating as if she hadn't eaten in years—were so flawless, so thought out, yet everything she did appeared effortless.
She'd raised her voice more than once on those phone calls with her bosses, and Benny had worried she might lose her job for being so stubborn. But it had worked. No one resisted the Kylie-charm.
"You're staring at me," she said, shaking Benny from his Kylie-induced coma.
"I can't help it." He shrugged and lowered his chin, sensing his cheeks flaring with heat.
