Zale woke to stains that looked like faces.
Ceiling water damage. Brown rings and mold clusters spreading across yellowed plaster like bruises on dead skin. But his brain—still processing Samara's archived essence—saw features in the patterns. Eyes. Mouths. Screaming.
He blinked. The illusions faded. Just stains.
His body reported status automatically: ribs healed, shoulder set, lung fully inflated. But emptiness remained where two-sevenths of his life force had been burned away. Not pain. Absence. Like missing weight he'd carried his entire life.
Recovery would take days.
He sat up slowly. The room resolved around him—cheap motel, thin curtains, morning light bleeding through gaps. Wrong place. Right enough for now.
Something floated beside the bed.
The Codex hovered at chest height. Leather-bound. Spine glowing faint red. Pulsing with rhythm that matched his heartbeat.
Zale stared.
The book had never done that before.
He reached out. The Codex drifted toward his hand. Settled into his palm. Warm. Alive.
"When did you learn that?" he muttered.
The cover flickered. Words appeared in gold script. Brief. Then fading.
THRESHOLD CROSSED. SEVEN CONSUMED.
Seven souls. The evolution trigger.
Zale looked at Sable. Still asleep beside him, fully dressed, boots still on. Exhaustion had taken her hard—twenty-eight hours awake, seven days of terror before that. Her face was slack. Finally at rest.
The motel room pressed in around them. Rot-smell beneath cheap air freshener. Thin walls leaking sounds that might've been plumbing. Might've been something else.
He opened the Codex.
The pages flipped automatically. Past the poltergeist. Past the arsonist ghost. Past the cursed mirror. Past Michael Myers. Past the lesser demon that had given him Barrier Ward. Past Buffalo Bill.
Stopped on new page.
Written in something between blood and water. Black ink that ran slightly at the edges. The page felt cold. Damp. Like touching ice.
ARCHIVED: SAMARA MORGAN
Entity Class: Onryō (Vengeance Spirit)
Threat Level: Apocalyptic (Viral Propagation)
Origin: Murdered 1970, Manifested 1995
Victims: 417 confirmed, 12,000+ exposed
Method: Seven-day curse, technopathic manifestation, cardiac arrest induction
STATUS: PERMANENTLY ARCHIVED
***
CODEX EVOLUTION ACHIEVED
Threshold: Seven souls archived
Energy saturation: Apocalyptic-tier essence absorbed
New capabilities unlocked:
AUTONOMOUS FLIGHT- Codex can levitate and follow bearer within 30-foot radius.
ABILITY FUSION- Similar powers merge into enhanced variants.
STORAGE MATRIX - Objects smaller than bearer can be stored within pages. Extended exposure may cause metaphysical contamination.
ENHANCED COMMUNICATION - Codex can provide brief warnings or observations (3-5 words maximum).
***
POWERS EXTRACTED & FUSED:
AURA OF TERROR (Presence of Dread + Crawling Dread - MERGED)
Effect: 40-foot radius psychic pressure. Victims experience primal fear combined with manifested childhood terrors. Enhanced potency. Non-sapient creatures flee automatically.
Duration: 5 minutes
Cooldown: 30 minutes
SPECTRAL DOMINION (Spectral Hand + Hydrokinetic Telekinesis - MERGED)
Effect: Enhanced telekinetic control. Weight capacity: 75 lbs. Range: 100 feet. Heightened affinity for water manipulation. Can shape and redirect liquids with precision.
Limitation: Cannot create water, only manipulate existing sources.
SUBMERSION
Effect: Animate standing water within 50-foot radius. Travel through connected water sources.
Duration: 10 minutes
Cooldown: 1 hour
PHANTOM IMAGE
Effect: Project terrifying illusion into reflective surfaces. Target experiences personalized fear manifestation.
Limitation: Requires reflective medium. Single target. Line of sight required.
STATIC WALKER
Effect: Limited technopathy. Manifest through powered or unpowered screens within 100-foot radius. Can observe through cameras. Spectral manifestation only—full materialization requires 30 seconds focus.
Cooldown: 24 hours
***
Zale read in silence.
Two abilities merged. Three remained distinct. The Codex was learning. Adapting. Becoming something beyond simple repository.
He pulled the pocket knife from his tactical pants.
Held it over the open Codex.
"Store this."
The knife sank into the page. Not through it—into it. Vanishing like dropping stone into still water. Gone.
Zale closed the book. Focused.
"Return."
The knife appeared in his palm. Instant recall. No delay.
He examined it. No visible change. But something felt different. Slight warmth. Like metal left in sunlight.
The contamination would take time. Days, maybe. Slowly warping whatever was stored inside.
Good to know.
The Codex pulsed against his side.
Words flickered on the cover. Brief. Ominous.
ROT BENEATH. EYES LINGER.
Warning.
Zale looked around the room. At the thin walls. At the door that didn't quite fit its frame.
They were being watched.
Time to go.
He touched Sable's shoulder. "Wake up."
***
She jerked awake. Disoriented. Hand going for the Glock on her hip before conscious thought caught up.
"Easy," Zale said. "It's morning. We're leaving."
Sable blinked. Looked around. Remembered.
Motel. After the warehouse. After Samara.
Her eyes found the Codex in his hand.
"That book is glowing."
"Yeah."
"Since when do books glow?"
"Since about an hour ago." Zale stood. Tested his weight. Steady. Good enough. "It evolved. Absorbed enough energy to unlock new capabilities."
"Evolved." Sable stared at him. "The soul-eating book evolved."
"Yes."
"Of course it did." She rubbed her face. Exhaustion still carved into her features. "What else? Does it talk now?"
"Occasionally. Short warnings. Cryptic."
"Fantastic." She stood. Swayed slightly. Caught herself. "Where are we?"
"Motel. Fifteen miles west of the warehouse. You drove us here. Don't remember?"
Sable's expression said she remembered fragments. Driving. Blood. Exhaustion. "Right. Yeah. Motel."
She looked at him properly. "You look better. Still half-dead, but better."
"Healing's progressing. Recovery takes time."
He gestured to the door. "We need to leave. Now."
"Why?"
"Because this place is wrong. And staying means finding out how wrong." He met her eyes. "Home first. Rest. Then I'll answer your questions."
Sable nodded slowly. She understood exhaustion. Understood needing walls that didn't leak rot-smell.
"Okay. Let's go."
Zale handed her the Glock from the nightstand. "Keep this close. From now on. Not just here. Everywhere."
She took it. Checked the chamber automatically. "You think something's following us?"
"I think we live in a world where everything that can follow us will eventually." He headed for the door. "Staying armed is just smart."
Sable couldn't argue with that logic.
They left Room 7 behind.
***
The lobby smelled like cigarettes and something sour beneath floral air freshener.
Behind the desk sat the manager.
Newman.
Thin. Fifties. Wearing the same cardigan from last night. Balding head reflecting fluorescent light. Smile too wide when they entered.
"Good morning!" Too enthusiastic. Too eager. "Hope you folks got some rest. Room seven's nice and quiet, isn't it?"
"It was fine," Zale said. Flat. Offering nothing.
Newman's eyes tracked to Sable. Lingered. "Your girlfriend looks tired. Long night?"
Sable's hand tightened on the Glock in her jacket pocket.
"We're checking out," Zale said. Stepping slightly between them. Body language clear.
"Of course, of course." Newman pulled out a ledger. Handwritten. "Just need you to sign here. For our records."
Zale signed. Illegible scrawl. Pushed the book back.
"You two drive safe now," Newman said. Still smiling. "Roads get tricky around here. Easy to... get lost."
The way he said lost made Sable's skin crawl.
Zale said nothing. Just turned and left.
Sable followed quickly.
Behind them, Newman watched through the window.
Still smiling.
***
The parking lot was empty except for the Charger.
Zale headed toward it. Sable beside him. Morning sun struggling through cloud cover.
He stopped three feet from the car.
"What?" Sable asked.
Zale pointed.
Rear driver's side tire. Completely flat. Deflated against the rim.
"Son of a bitch," Sable muttered.
Footsteps behind them.
They both turned.
Newman stood there. Ten feet back. Had appeared from the office without sound. Too fast. Too quiet.
"Oh no," he said. Tone dripping false concern. "Looks like you've got a flat. That's unfortunate."
Zale said nothing. Just watched him.
Newman gestured vaguely. "There's a gas station about a mile west. They've got a compressor. Could fix that right up." His smile widened. "No cell signal out here, I'm afraid. But I could drive you, if you don't want to walk."
The offer hung in the air.
Sable's hand was in her pocket. On the Glock. She looked at Zale. Silent question: What do we do?
Zale reached into his jacket.
Pulled out a satellite phone.
Newman's smile froze.
"Won't be necessary," Zale said.
He dialed. Brief. Professional.
"Akula. Authorization seven-seven-delta. Current GPS coordinates." Pause. "Private transport. Two passengers. Immediate priority."
Another pause.
"Yes. Triple rate for expedited. Twenty minutes acceptable."
He hung up.
Looked at Newman.
"We'll wait here."
Newman's facade cracked. Just slightly. Smile tightening at the edges. Eyes narrowing.
"Suit yourself," he said. Voice still pleasant. Too pleasant. "I'll be inside if you change your mind."
He walked back to the office.
Slowly.
Looking back twice.
Sable exhaled. "What did you just call?"
"Transport."
"What kind of transport?"
Zale's expression didn't change. But something in his eyes suggested amusement.
"You'll see."
***
They waited in silence.
Fifteen minutes passed. Newman watched from the office window. Unmoving. Unblinking.
The Codex rested against Zale's side. Warm. Alert.
Words flickered across the cover. Brief warning:
EYES HUNGER. LEAVE SOON.
"Your book is talking again," Sable said.
"It does that now."
"And you're just... okay with that?"
"It's useful." Zale checked his watch. "Five more minutes."
"For what?"
Before he could answer, sound cut through the silence.
Rotors.
Distant. Growing louder.
Sable's head snapped up. "Is that—"
The helicopter crested the treeline.
Black. Sleek. Corporate logo on the side: STRATOS PRIVATE TRANSPORT in silver lettering.
It descended toward the parking lot.
Sable's jaw dropped. "You called a helicopter ?"
"Yes."
"Who just calls a helicopter?"
"Me."
Sable could swore. She saw smugness radiating from zale.
The helicopter landed. Rotor wash kicking up dust and debris. The noise was immense.
Every person within three blocks came outside. Staring. Mouths open.
A woman with a laundry basket. An old man in bathrobe. Two kids on bikes. All frozen. Watching.
Newman appeared in the office doorway. Smile completely gone. Just rage barely contained.
The place had wanted quiet. Secrecy. It hadn't planned for witnesses.
The helicopter settled. Rotors winding down slightly.
Pilot's voice through external speaker: "Mr. Akula?"
Zale opened the passenger door. Gestured to Sable. "After you."
She climbed in. Still processing. Still staring.
Zale followed. Codex tucked under his arm.
The pilot turned. Mid-thirties. Professional. Aviator sunglasses.
"Haddonfield?" he asked. Then paused. Looked at the motel. At the gathered crowd. "Interesting pickup location."
"Unplanned stop," Zale said. "Also—call for vehicle retrieval. Black Charger, rear tire needs replacement. Have it delivered to Akula Building within forty-eight hours."
The pilot nodded. Made note on tablet. "Additional charge for—"
"Bill it."
"Yes sir."
The helicopter lifted.
Sable looked down.
The crowd still stared. Jaws slack. Phones out. Recording.
And Newman.
Standing in the parking lot now. Not angry anymore.
Just... waving.
Slow. Deliberate. Friendly.
One hand raised. Fingers moving.
Then he smiled. Wide. Wrong.
And shouted. Loud enough to carry over the rotors:
"COME BACK SOON! ROOM'S ALWAYS READY!"
His laughter followed them up.
It went on too long. Never broke for breath.
Sable looked away quickly. "Jesus Christ."
Zale said nothing. Just watched the motel shrink below them.
The Codex rested on his lap. Warm. Satisfied.
Words appeared on the cover. Brief. Final.
SHADOWS FOLLOW. ALWAYS.
Then faded.
***
They flew in silence for five minutes.
Sable finally spoke. "Your debt."
Zale pulled out his phone. Typed. Showed her.
***
AKULA SUPERNATURAL SOLUTIONS
CLIENT: Sable Ward
Original Debt: $500,000,000
Case Contribution (Samara Morgan - Onryō Class): -$20,000
REMAINING DEBT: $499,980,000
Notes: Client maintained position under extreme duress. Demonstrated discipline and restraint. Contribution assessed as adequate for entry-level participation.
Additional reduction granted for composure during extraction. Total: $20,000.
***
"Twenty thousand," Sable said. Voice flat.
She tried to imagine what twenty thousand dollars felt like against a number that large—and couldn't.
"Yes. You stayed in the circle. Didn't interfere. Kept yourself together afterward. That's worth something." Zale pocketed the phone. "I'm feeling generous today."
"Twenty thousand out of five hundred million."
"Yes."
"I'll be working for you until I'm ninety."
"Probably longer." He looked at her. "But you'll be alive. That counts for something."
Sable leaned back. Closed her eyes.
"I signed my life away to a man who casually calls helicopters and owns books that eat souls."
"Yes."
"And I'm too tired to even process how insane that is."
"Get some rest. We'll be home in thirty minutes."
She didn't argue. Just let exhaustion take her.
Zale looked out the window. Haddonfield approaching. Familiar skyline. The Akula Building visible even from distance.
Home.
Safety.
Temporary, but real.
The Codex pulsed once against his side.
Words flickered. Different this time. Not warning.
Something else.
HOME. FEED SOON.
Zale's lips twitched.
The book was hungry again.
It always was.
Behind them, the Bates Motor Lodge faded into memory.
Newman still standing in the parking lot. Still waving.
Still waiting.
Because some places didn't hunt.
They just waited for you to come back.
And Zale knew—eventually—he'd return.
Not today. Not soon.
But eventually.
Because that's what hunters did.
They finished what they started.
The helicopter flew on.
Toward Haddonfield.
Toward rest.
Toward whatever came next.
***
[END CHAPTER 15]