"..."
Leif froze, his mind analyzing the threat. The guy was playing with him, but how was he watching him if he wasn't inside?
Just in that fraction of a second of concentration, his peripheral vision caught a subtle movement.
A dense shadow, shifting with a clumsy sway behind the side room sofa, just beyond the entry archway.
As he focused his gaze, he saw what it was: a hip, awkwardly swaying, as if the person hidden were struggling to remain invisible.
Frustration and absurdity broke his concentration.
"You're behind the side room couch!" Leif shouted in exasperation.
"..."
There was total silence on the other end of the phone.
Then, the voice returned but was now confused, "How... how do you know?"
Leif clenched his teeth, holding Ebony steady.
"I can see your butt, you idiot."
"Ha! You guessed wrong!"
!
In that instant, Leif caught a sharp disturbance in the air, not in front, but behind him. It was a low, terrifying whistle, the sound of something sharp cutting through space at terminal speed, aimed at his back.
Instinctively, he dropped into a forward rolling turn. He immediately pushed off and pivoted onto his knee, raising Ebony.
He finally saw his attacker.
The figure was shrouded from head to toe in a black shroud, flowing like ink, with its face hidden by a mask.... And it wasn't just any mask, it was a white face, with its mouth open in a silent scream.
'Ghostface?' Leif almost laughed.
The reference was too classic. Although he had never seen the entire original movie, the mask was iconic, immortalized in memes and, especially, in parody. He remembered it perfectly from Scary Movie, where the killer behaved with a ridiculous ineptitude that left an indelible comical mark.
Leif's brief pause upon recognizing the mask was the only opportunity Ghostface needed. He wasted no time with dialogue.
With a quick motion, he threw the kitchen knife he was holding.
WHOOSH
The flash of metal was fast. Leif reacted instinctively, tilting his head. The knife passed grazing his ear, with an icy hiss.
Almost simultaneously with the dodge, Leif raised Ebony, aiming directly at the center of the masked figure.
But when he fixed his gaze on the sight, the corner was empty. Ghostface had vanished with impossible speed.
"What the he—?"
Leif muttered under his breath. The truth was that Ghostface's skill level was pathetic, but his speed of retreat was frankly supernatural.
"Hey! You just said that if I found you, you'd leave! I found you, now beat it!" He yelled into the empty space the attacker had left.
But only sepulchral silence answered him.
Ghostface was definitely not a man of his word.
Leif frowned. This was a game, and the attacker wasn't finished.
He took the phone from the table and, without hesitation, dialed the anonymous number from the previous call.
In that instant, an unmistakable and clear sound of a cell phone ringing burst into the silence of the upstairs floor.
"I got you!" Leif's eyes lit up. He wasn't outside. He was on the second floor.
With a burst of speed, he took the stairs two at a time, with Ebony ready.
"..."
But as soon as he set foot on the landing, the scene hit him:
Ghostface was no longer a threat. He was firmly crushed against the hallway wall, as if an invisible hand of immense pressure were pinning him down.
And the person responsible was Carrie.
She was standing a few feet away, her face congested and a network of bulging veins marking her forehead. She was using every ounce of her will, the power that had exploded yesterday was now contained and directed, forcing the attacker to yield under an unstoppable force.
"Carrie, it's over. I'm here," Leif said hastily, trying to break her concentration before she overexerted herself.
Hearing his voice, the tension in Carrie's body suddenly released.
The psychic control broke.
Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed, fainting from the effort.
Leif quickly turned to Lillith: "Take care of her." She nodded and quickly moved toward Carrie.
For his part, Leif approached the attacker. Carrie's psychic immobilization had been so effective that the attacker was in a state of shock. It took him considerable effort to unhook the guy from the wall and drag him, stunned, downstairs. He found some ropes in the garage and secured him with a series of quick knots, leaving him prostrate on the living room floor.
Immediately after, he dialed 911.
After hanging up, he crouched down and reached out for the scream mask. He tore it off with a yank.
"..."
Leif stared at the face for a moment. It looked like Stu Macher.
It wasn't long before the suffocating silence of the night was broken by the growing howl of a police siren.
A patrol car screeched to a halt in front of the house. Officer Dewey Riley jumped out of the car. His eyes scanned the room in a fraction of a second, stopping at Leif, armed, and the tied-up body of Stu Macher.
After a few quick, crucial questions to establish self-defense, Dewey called for backup to secure the scene and take the suspect away.
...
Hours later, Leif was sitting in the gloomy interrogation room. He answered the officer's questions with precision, narrating the phone threat, the failed attack, and the miraculous immobilization.
Stu Macher was charged with a litany of crimes, including the murder of Casey Becker, Steve, and attempted assault and murder at the Conner residence.
The rest of his life would be reduced to the walls of a prison.
When Leif finally walked out, the exterior of the police station was a media circus. Camera flashes exploded in the darkness.
In the center of the chaos, the intrepid and beautiful reporter Gale Weathers was pushing her way through. Dressed with elegance and holding her microphone like a weapon, her eyes shone with professional eagerness.
She planted herself right in Leif's path and impatiently started asking questions.
Leif simply answered briefly, and just then, he saw his parents' car approaching. John and Sarah's expressions were pure relief.
Leif skillfully slipped through the swarm of microphones and reporters, reached the vehicle, and got inside.
As the car slowly pulled away from the harsh lights of the police station, he finally left behind the suffocating clamor of the press.
John, at the wheel, kept his eyes fixed on the road, but his voice betrayed the anxiety he felt. He looked at Leif through the rearview mirror.
"Son, are you really okay?" he asked with palpable concern, "When we got that call, your mother and I... our hearts almost stopped."
Sarah, sitting next to him, was squeezing Leif's hand so tightly it hurt. Her eyes were red and swollen; the terror of her son being in danger had not yet dissipated.
Leif gave his mother's hand a reassuring pat. He tried to inject a dose of humor to break the tension.
"Dad, I'm fine now. But focus on driving, will you? I just dodged a maniac with a knife; I don't want to end up in the emergency room because of a traffic accident."
He paused to give his tone an air of cockiness.
"Besides, please. You know how indestructible I am."
The comment worked. Sarah, her nerves still frayed, let out a strangled laugh, a sort of snort that ended with a little mucus coming out of her nose.
...
Across town, at Maria's house, the dining table was bathed in the warm light of the overhead lamp, but the atmosphere was strangely tense, marked by the lack of natural conversation.
Amy looked at her daughter. There was a barely contained emotion on her face, an emotion that seemed more hers than Maria's.
"Honey, guess who I ran into today," she said, sounding a little too enthusiastic, "It was Sue, George's mother. Do you remember George? The boy you went to science camp with that summer."
Maria frowned slightly. "I don't remember him."
________
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