Chapter 2: A Guest in the Gloom

The morning sun streaming through the kitchen windows made everything seem absurd. Liam sat at their small dining table, nursing his third cup of coffee and staring at the family photo he'd brought downstairs. In daylight, it looked perfectly normal – just a cheap frame from IKEA with a slightly loose backing that could easily have shifted on its own.

"Just stress," he muttered, turning the frame over in his hands. "New house, new mortgage, new everything. Of course I'm on edge."

Chloe had left early for a client meeting, kissing him goodbye and asking if he'd slept okay. He'd lied, told her he'd crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow. No point in worrying her more than she already was. She'd been jumpy enough lately without him adding fuel to the fire with stories about midnight stair-climbing and mysterious compulsions.

But as the day wore on, the rational explanations felt thinner and thinner. By evening, the house seemed to press in around him, every shadow a potential threat, every creak a warning. When Chloe texted that she'd be late – dinner with the client had run over – Liam found himself staring at his phone with something approaching panic.

The thought of spending another night alone in the house made his skin crawl.

He scrolled through his contacts and hit call before he could second-guess himself.

"Dan Henderson."

"Hey, it's me. You busy tonight?"

His brother's voice was muffled, probably eating dinner. "Nothing special. Sarah's at book club, so I'm just enjoying some quality time with Netflix. Why?"

"Want to come over? Bring some beers, maybe play some games? I could use the company."

There was a pause. "Everything okay? You sound weird."

"Just... new house jitters, you know? Chloe's working late, and the place feels too big with just me in it."

Dan laughed, the sound warm and familiar through the phone. "Ah, the classic haunted house syndrome. Every homeowner gets it. Remember when Mom and Dad first moved to Elm Street? Dad swore he heard footsteps in the attic for months."

"Yeah," Liam said, though he didn't remember that at all. "Something like that."

"Alright, I'll grab a six-pack and be over in an hour. Fair warning – I'm bringing my controller, and I'm going to destroy you at FIFA."

"Looking forward to it."

Dan arrived just as the sun was setting, armed with Budweiser and an infectious grin that immediately made the house feel less oppressive. He was two years older than Liam but looked younger, one of those guys who'd managed to keep his college physique into his thirties through sheer stubborn genetics rather than any actual effort.

"Nice place," he said, looking around the living room. "Very... boxy."

"It's a work in progress." Liam cracked open two beers and handed one over. "Wait until you see what Chloe has planned for the walls. She's got this whole vision involving accent colors and statement pieces."

"God help you." Dan settled onto the couch and fired up the PlayStation. "Remember when she redid your apartment? I couldn't find anywhere to sit that wasn't covered in throw pillows."

For the next three hours, they fell into the comfortable rhythm of brotherhood – beer, trash talk, and increasingly heated FIFA matches. Dan was rusty but still managed to win more games than he lost, punctuating each victory with elaborate celebrations that would have been obnoxious from anyone else.

"Boom! Right in the top corner!" Dan threw his arms up as his virtual striker found the net. "That's what happens when you try to play defense against a master."

"Lucky shot," Liam muttered, but he was grinning. This was exactly what he'd needed – normal human contact, familiar jokes, the reassuring presence of someone who'd known him since childhood. The house felt like just a house again, four walls and a roof with nothing more sinister than creaky floorboards and settling foundations.

"Another round?" Dan asked, reaching for the beer cooler.

"Why not? I need a chance to redeem myself."

They were deep into their seventh match when Dan paused the game mid-play.

"You hear that?"

Liam looked up from his controller. "Hear what?"

"Sounded like someone calling your name."

The beer in Liam's stomach turned to ice. He listened, straining his ears, but heard nothing except the hum of electronics and the distant rumble of traffic on the main road.

"I don't hear anything."

Dan shrugged and unpaused the game. "Must have been the TV or something."

But fifteen minutes later, he paused again.

"There it is again. Someone's definitely calling you."

This time Liam heard it too – faint but unmistakable, drifting down from upstairs. A voice calling his name in a tone that was worried, maybe a little annoyed.

"Liam? Liam, where are you?"

"That's Chloe," Dan said, setting down his controller. "When did she get home?"

Liam's mouth went dry. He pulled out his phone with trembling fingers and checked his messages. The last text from Chloe was from two hours ago: Still at dinner. Might be another hour or two. Sorry! Love you.

"She's not home," he whispered.

"What do you mean she's not home? I just heard her calling you."

"Liam?" The voice came again, clearer now, definitely coming from the direction of the stairs. It sounded exactly like Chloe – same inflection, same slight rasp she got when she was tired. "Are you down there? I need to talk to you."

Dan stood up, looking confused. "Dude, your girlfriend is upstairs calling for you. Why are you just sitting there?"

Liam stared at his brother, unable to process what was happening. Dan could hear it too. That meant it was real, right? That meant he wasn't losing his mind. But Chloe was across town at a restaurant, probably still picking at dessert and making small talk with her client.

"Liam, please. Come upstairs."

The voice was closer now, as if Chloe had moved from the bedroom to the top of the landing. There was something in her tone that Liam had never heard before – a note of command that seemed to bypass his conscious mind and speak directly to his nervous system.

Go upstairs. Go to her.

Dan was already moving toward the hallway. "Come on, man. She sounds upset."

"Wait." Liam grabbed his brother's arm. "Just... wait a second."

He pulled up Chloe's contact and hit call, his heart hammering as the phone rang once, twice, three times.

"Hey, babe," Chloe's voice came through the speaker, warm and familiar. In the background, Liam could hear the clatter of dishes and the murmur of restaurant conversation. "What's up?"

"Where are you right now?"

"Still at Chez Laurent with Mrs. Peterson. We just ordered coffee. Why? You sound strange."

"Liam?" The voice from upstairs called again, and this time there was something wrong with it – a slight echo, as if it were coming from too far away. "Why won't you come up here?"

Chloe was still talking on the phone, asking if everything was okay, but Liam barely heard her. He was staring at Dan, who was looking back at him with an expression of growing alarm.

"You can hear that, right?" Liam whispered. "The voice upstairs?"

Dan nodded slowly. "But if Chloe's at the restaurant..."

"Liam!" The voice from upstairs was getting impatient now, taking on a sharp edge that definitely didn't sound like his girlfriend. "I know you can hear me! Come up here right now!"

"I have to go," Liam said into the phone. "I'll call you back."

"Liam, wait—"

He hung up and looked at his brother. Dan's face had gone pale, and he was staring at the ceiling as if he could see through the plaster to whatever was moving around up there.

"What the hell is that?" Dan whispered.

Heavy footsteps crossed the floor above them, deliberate and measured. Whatever was up there was pacing back and forth, and with each pass, the floorboards groaned under its weight. The footsteps were too heavy for Chloe, too deliberate for someone who was supposed to be upset or worried.

"Liam." The voice had changed again, dropping to a lower register that was almost but not quite Chloe's. "I'm getting tired of waiting. Come upstairs. Now."

The command hit him like a physical force, and Liam found himself taking a step toward the hallway before he caught himself. The same compulsion from the night before was back, but stronger now, more focused. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to climb those stairs and find out what was calling his name.

Dan grabbed his shoulder. "Don't. Whatever that is, it's not Chloe."

"I know." Liam's voice came out as barely a whisper. "But I can't... I need to go up there. I need to see."

"No, you don't. We're leaving. Right now."

But even as Dan pulled him toward the front door, the voice from upstairs began to laugh. It was Chloe's laugh at first – the bright, musical sound that had made him fall in love with her three years ago. But it kept going, stretching longer than any human laugh should, taking on harmonics that no human throat could produce.

By the time they reached the door, it didn't sound like Chloe at all.