Chapter 9
Wind, Rain & Thunder
The moment Celeste stepped into the foyer, the storm met her with a howl.
Wind pressed against the tall front doors hard enough to make them groan on their hinges.
Rain battered the windows in furious waves, and every few seconds lightning flashed across the glass, turning the marble floor white before darkness swallowed it again.
She zipped her jacket to her chin and hurried down the grand staircase.
The mansion shuddered. Another clap of thunder rolled through the house and seemed to shake the banister beneath her hand.
By the time she reached the front entrance, cold air had already found its way inside, slipping through cracks and wrapping around her ankles like icy fingers.
She pulled one of the doors open and the wind nearly tore it from her hand.
"Damn," she shouted out towards the howling rage.
Rain slapped her face as she pushed her way outside against wind that shoved against her shoulders, and the cold hitting her all at once.
Her heels sank into the wet grass, and there was no way to dodge the rain as it came at her sideways, sharp enough to sting her cheeks.
Her hair immediately stuck to her neck and temples, and within seconds, her jacket was soaked through and clinging to her arms.
The sky above had turned into a boiling mass of black clouds. Every flash of lightning revealed another shape hidden inside them, another layer rolling over the next like dark waves crashing into one another. But it didn't stop her. She lowered her head and pushed.
The trees along the circular drive bent violently.
Their branches whipped and twisted, leaves tearing free and flying through the air like loose propellers.
A large oak groaned somewhere in the darkness with a sound that made her look up.
A branch snapped and crashed to the ground not far from her, sending water splashing around her ankles.
And still, she kept moving with rain pouring down her face and into her eyes.
She wiped at them with the sleeve of her jacket and nearly lost her footing on the slick pavement.
Her car sat ahead, dark and shining beneath the storm.
Everything suddenly felt too far away. She finally reached it and yanked the door open.
The temperature inside felt slightly better than out there, but it was still cold.
Rain hammered the roof. Her breathing sounded loud in the small space.
Water dripped from her hair onto the seat.
She sat there for a moment, chest rising and falling. Then she remembered why she had come.
She opened the glove compartment and retrieved her pistol, checked the magazine and it was loaded. She clipped her badge to her belt and reached into the back seat for her vest. The fabric felt cold against her skin as she slipped it on and tightened the straps.
She bowed her head. "Lord, keep me sharp. Keep me safe. Let me live to see another day."
The words barely left her lips. She grabbed the two-way radio and pressed the button. Static answered. She adjusted the channel. More static.
Then— "...County Emergency Management to all first responders..."
Her head snapped up when the words blasted from her radio. "...roads flooded... multiple trees down... emergency response suspended until conditions improve..." The transmission crackled. "...repeat... all emergency response has been temporarily suspended..."
Celeste's stomach tightened. She pressed the button again. "This is Detective Celeste Mills with Atlanta PD. Do you copy?"
Nothing but static. She tried again.
"This is Detective Celeste Mills. I have a homicide scene and multiple civilians trapped inside Blackwater Manor. Do you copy?"
A long burst of static answered, then a broken voice. "...negative... no units available..." The transmission faded. "...shelter in place..." Then silence.
She stared at the radio in her hand, her grip tightening until her knuckles ached.
The static hissed faintly, like it was mocking her.
No police. No rescue. No backup. The storm had cut them off from the world.
A heavy weight settled in her chest, pressing down on her lungs, making each breath feel thinner than the last. The adrenaline that had carried her this far began to drain, leaving behind a dull exhaustion that crept into her bones.
For a moment, she just sat there, shoulders slumped, the reality of it all sinking in—she was on her own, and whatever strength she had left would have to be enough.
Lightning flashed through the windshield as she looked toward the mansion. Its dark shape rose against the angry sky like something alive. Not a home. A prison. Another blast of thunder rattled the car. She shoved the radio into her jacket and climbed back outside, and it had grown worse.
The walk back felt longer. Wind fought her every step, dragging at her soaked clothes and stealing the warmth from her skin until her teeth chattered.
By the time she reached the front steps, she was shivering uncontrollably.
Water streamed from her hair and dripped from the end of her nose as she grabbed the handle and pulled hard, only to feel it refuse her completely.
She tried again, harder this time, but the door didn’t move, and a cold realization crept in beneath the storm’s roar as rain rolled down her face and she knocked, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the raging wind.
"Darius!" she shouted, but the storm swallowed her voice as she pounded harder against the door, her fists stinging from the impact.
"Open the damn door!" she yelled again, pressing her ear briefly to the wood as if she might catch some sign of movement inside, but there was nothing—no footsteps, no voice, only the relentless roar of wind and rain answering her.
Lightning split the sky as she rushed to the second entrance and yanked at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge, and when she spun toward the side door it was the same, locked tight, and the patio entrance offered no mercy either, each failure tightening something in her chest as the cold bit deeper and the wind howled louder, driving her back toward the front where she slammed both fists against the doors, breath ragged, pulse hammering, the storm swallowing every sound she made.
"Darius!" she screamed.
No answer.
The mansion stood before her, silent and unmoving. Detective Celeste Mills looked small against something much bigger than herself. She was completely alone.
The lights went out, and the room turned into pitch-black darkness. One second there was warm light and faces. The next, there was nothing but darkness.
Someone screamed and another voice joined in.
"Oh my God!"
The windows flashed white as lightning split the sky outside.
Thunder exploded over the mansion, rattling the glass and then came the red glow from emergency lights that flickered on in the hallway and bled through the cracks beneath the door.
The dim crimson reached into the suite, painting everything in dark shades of red.
The room looked like it had been dipped in blood.
Sky jumped to her feet. "What the hell happened?"
Vicky grabbed the arm of the sofa, Tyreek knocked his knee against the coffee table and cursed under his breath. Teresa didn't move. She sat by herself on the far end of the sectional, the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her face looked pale beneath the red light.
Outside, the wind screamed. Rain beat against the windows so hard it sounded like someone was throwing handfuls of gravel against the glass.
Darius slowly turned toward the dead television. The surveillance monitors were black. So was the room. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"We can't stay in here like this," Sky said.
"We are," Darius replied.
Another crack of thunder rolled overhead and shook the room.
Sky folded her arms around herself. "Where's Celeste?"
The question hung there.
Darius looked toward the door and checked his watch.
She’d been gone too long. The seconds stretched thin as the storm outside grew louder, more violent.
A cold unease settled in his stomach. She’d said ten minutes.
It had already been longer—far longer. And now she was out there alone in the middle of it.
Lightning flashed, washing the room in white.
He glanced around at the others—Sky visibly shaken, Vicky tense with worry, Tyreek uncertain and out of place, Teresa distant, like she’d already slipped somewhere beyond the room.
None of it mattered as much as the growing certainty that something wasn’t right.
He made up his mind, then crossed the room and opened a cabinet near the television. Inside sat an emergency flashlight. He clicked it on and the beam cut through the darkness.
"Where you going?" Sky asked.
He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "I gotta get Celeste."
"What?"
"Something's wrong."
"Darius, don't go out there."
He looked at her. "She said ten minutes. It's been longer than that."
Thunder shook the room again and Sky swallowed. "The storm is bad."
"Exactly." He slipped his arms into his jacket. "If she's still outside in this mess, I'm bringing her back."
Nobody said anything. Even Tyreek stayed quiet.
Darius walked to the door. "Lock it behind me."
Vicky looked up. "What if it's not you?"
He held up three fingers. "Three knocks."
She nodded.
He looked at Tyreek for a second and the young man stared back at him but neither of them spoke. Darius turned toward Teresa who still sat alone with the blanket around her shoulders.
"You good?" he asked.
She nodded but the lie was written all over her face.
Another blast of thunder shook the suite. Before a second one struck, he tightened his grip on the flashlight and twisted the doorknob.
The detective was out there cold, wet and alone. He opened the door. Red light spilled into the suite from the hallway and wind moaned somewhere deep inside the mansion. Darius stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Once the lock clicked, Teresa stared at the empty doorway, then pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
Outside the suite, the mansion groaned like it was waking up.
The room felt different the second Darius left.
The suite seemed larger, and quieter. The storm had somehow found its way inside. Rain hammered against the windows while the wind howled through the mansion's walls, producing strange whistles and low groans that sounded almost human.
Nobody spoke for nearly a minute. Then Tyreek finally broke the silence.
"Damn. My wrist killing me."
Vicky looked over at him and sighed. "Come here."
He returned to the dining table and sat down. She stood beside him and gently pressed the ice pack against his wrist.
"Is it feeling numb?"
He thought about it. "Nah."
"Good. Then you'll survive."
Tyreek managed a weak smile. "You really know how to comfort a man."
A small laugh escaped her.
Sky looked over at them and shook her head. "I swear, you flirt through everything."
"I ain't flirting," he said.
"You’re definitely flirting."
"Maybe a little."
Vicky almost blushed but instead she darted her eyes.
Another flash of lightning lit the suite, thunder exploded overhead, and the windows rattled.
Sky jumped. "Okay, I officially hate this damn place."
Nobody argued with her. She stood from the sofa and stretched. "I'm going to the bathroom."
"Don't take all night," Vicky said.
Sky waved her off and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut as the room settled back into silence. Teresa remained alone on the sofa with the blanket around her shoulders, still silent since Darius left, her eyes distant and fixed somewhere beyond the room.
Tyreek hissed as Vicky touched his bruised wrist. "Easy. Damn."
"You'll live."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Then—
A scream ripped through the suite—not a yell, not a gasp, but something high, sharp, and terrifying. A sound so raw it sliced through the air and straight into everyone, stopping them where they stood.
Vicky jumped, Tyreek nearly knocked over his chair, and Teresa sat upright, then silence fell—the kind that freezes your blood.
"Sky?" Vicky called.
No answer.
"Sky!" she yelled again.
Nothing.
Tyreek moved first. He crossed the room in three long strides and pounded on the bathroom door. "Sky!"
Silence was even scarier than a scream. He grabbed the handle and threw the door open, only to find the bathroom empty. He froze. "What the hell?"
Vicky rushed over. "Move." She stepped inside.
The sink was empty, the shower stood vacant, and there was no one behind the door or near the vanity—no one at all.
"Sky?" Her voice cracked. "Bitch don't play with me," she screamed.
She looked again. Then again. No matter how many times she looked, Sky wasn't there and the bathroom wasn't big enough for somebody to hide in anyway.
Lightning flashed and for a split second, every corner of the room became visible.
"She was just in here." Tyreek backed away from the doorway.
Vicky turned toward him with panic spreading across her face. "No." Her breathing quickened. "No, no, no." She rushed back into the bathroom. "Sky! This isn't funny." She yanked the shower curtain open and it was empty, no matter how many times she blinked. She opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
Nothing.
"Sky!" she screamed and slid to the floor with her back against the wall. "This can't be happening." Tears began flooding her face.
Teresa stood from the sofa. The blanket slipped from her shoulders. "What's happening?" she asked but nobody answered her. Because nobody understood.
The bathroom had one door. No windows or other ways out, yet Sky was gone.