Vanessa's real estate office occupied a prime location on Main Street, its large windows showcasing glossy photographs of Seacliff Cove's most expensive properties. Chen Realty had been a family business for two generations. Vanessa had taken over from her father three years ago and transformed it from a modest local agency into the go-to broker for wealthy summer residents.

  The office was closed when Laura and Daniel arrived, a "Back at 2:00" sign hanging in the window. It was only 1:15.

  "She should be here," Laura said, peering through the glass. The interior was meticulously arranged – modern furniture, fresh flowers on the reception desk, a small water feature creating a soothing backdrop. Everything designed to make clients feel simultaneously comfortable and slightly aspirational.

  "Maybe she's showing a property," Daniel suggested, checking his watch.

  "On a Saturday afternoon? That's prime showing time." Laura tried the door. Locked. "Let's try her apartment."

  Vanessa lived in a luxury condo overlooking the harbor, one of the new developments she herself had helped sell out within months of completion. The doorman recognized Laura and Daniel immediately and waved them through without calling up.

  "Ms. Chen left about an hour ago," he informed them. "Said she'd be back later this evening."

  "Did she mention where she was going?" Laura asked.

  "No, ma'am. But she seemed in a hurry. Took a call, then rushed out."

  Outside the building, Laura's anxiety deepened. "I don't like this. First Annie, then Marcus, now Vanessa isn't where she's supposed to be."

  "Let's not jump to conclusions," Daniel said, though his expression betrayed his own concern. "We should try James."

  But James wasn't at the police station or his apartment. The officer at the front desk told them he'd called in sick—unusual for someone who prided himself on never missing a shift.

  "Do you know where Sheriff Riley is?" Laura asked.

  The officer shrugged. "Out on patrol. Something about checking the north woods after some hikers reported strange noises."

  By late afternoon, they'd exhausted their immediate options. No one had seen Vanessa or James since morning, and both were unreachable by phone. Laura and Daniel ended up at Laura's apartment, the only place that felt remotely safe.

  Laura lived in a modest one-bedroom on the third floor of a converted Victorian in The Heights. The building was quiet, housing mostly young professionals and a couple of retired teachers. Her apartment was smaller than Annie's but cozier, filled with books, plants, and the odd vintage medical illustration—a quirk of her profession that sometimes startled visitors.

  "I need to change," Laura said as they entered. She'd been wearing Annie's borrowed clothes since morning, and they felt increasingly like a costume. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge."

  In her bedroom, Laura quickly traded the borrowed outfit for her own jeans and a comfortable sweater. As she pulled her hair into a ponytail, she caught sight of her reflection in the dresser mirror and froze.

  For a split second, she could have sworn she saw someone standing behind her—a figure in shadow, faceless but familiar. She spun around. The bedroom was empty.

  When she returned to the living room, Daniel was examining Elisabeth's journal, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  "This is bizarre," he said without looking up. "According to these notes, Elisabeth's father spent years documenting the phenomenon. He interviewed people who claimed to have seen 'hollow men' around town in the weeks before the 1959 disappearances. People with 'empty eyes' who moved strangely and sometimes spoke in voices not their own."

  "Like what happened to you in the archives," Laura said quietly.

  Daniel glanced up, his expression troubled. "Yeah." He turned back to the journal. "He also documented strange electronic disturbances. Radios picking up voices they shouldn't. Telephones ringing with no one on the line."

  "The static in Marcus's recordings."

  "Exactly. And get this—he claims reflective surfaces act as conduits, allowing what he calls 'the entity' to observe our world and occasionally reach through." Daniel closed the journal. "Laura, I want to believe this is just the ramblings of a man driven mad by grief after losing his daughter's friends. But after what we've seen..."

  "It's hard to dismiss," Laura finished for him.

  A knock at the door made them both jump. Laura approached cautiously, peering through the peephole. The hallway appeared empty.

  "Who is it?" she called.

  No answer. Another knock, softer this time.

  Laura glanced back at Daniel, who had risen to his feet, tension visible in his stance. He nodded, moving to stand beside her as she unlocked the door and opened it.

  The hallway was indeed empty, but on the doormat sat a small package wrapped in brown paper. No address, no postmark. Just Laura's name written in block letters.

  "Don't touch it," Daniel said, but Laura was already crouching down.

  "It could be from Vanessa or James," she said, picking it up. The package was light, about the size of a paperback book. She carried it to the kitchen table and carefully unwrapped it.

  Inside was a cassette tape in a clear plastic case. No label, no writing. Just a blank tape.

  "This is too strange," Daniel muttered. "First the key appearing in Annie's apartment, now this."

  Laura was already moving to her small stereo system. "It has to be a message. From one of them."

  "Laura, wait. What if it's... I don't know, dangerous somehow?"

  She paused, the tape halfway to the deck. "Dangerous how?"

  "Remember what happened at the radio station? What Marcus wrote about the static?"

  Laura hesitated, then set her jaw. "We have to know."

  She pushed the tape into the deck and pressed play.

  For several seconds, there was nothing but soft static, similar to what they'd heard in Marcus's recordings. Then a voice emerged—distorted but unmistakable.

  "Laura."

  It was Annie's voice.

  "If you're hearing this, I'm already gone." The words were interspersed with strange clicking sounds and bursts of static. "I don't have much time. The Voice is getting stronger. It's watching through the mirrors, listening through the walls."

  Daniel moved closer to Laura, his face pale.

  "You need to understand what we're facing," Annie's voice continued. "The Hollow Voice. An entity that feeds on potential—on lives suspended between states. Every 27 years, it requires new vessels. Six of them. Five to empty, one to fill."

  A burst of static interrupted her, followed by what sounded like multiple voices speaking in unison—a discordant chorus of whispers beneath Annie's words.

  "The town made a pact in 1682. Prosperity in exchange for sacrifice. The founding families have protected the secret ever since. Sheriff Riley knows. Mrs. Winters knows. The man in the gray suit—he's one of them. A Watcher."

  More static. Annie's voice became more urgent.

  "The lighthouse keeper's daughter escaped in '59. The ritual was incomplete. That's why the Voice is hungrier this time. More aggressive. It's been waiting—"

  The recording cut off abruptly, replaced by a different voice—deeper, inhuman, speaking with an odd cadence that made Laura's skin crawl.

  "Five to empty. One to fill. The vessel waits. The offering begins."

  Then, horrifyingly, the voice began reciting their names.

  "Annie Reynolds. Taken."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Marcus Webb. Taken."

  "Vanessa Chen. Soon."

  "James Collins. Soon."

  "Daniel Mercer. Keeper."

  A pause, and then:

  "Laura Halstead. Vessel."

  The tape hissed into silence. Laura and Daniel stared at the stereo, neither speaking for several long moments.

  Finally, Daniel broke the silence. "What the hell does it mean, 'Keeper'?"

  Laura turned to him slowly. "'Daniel knows. Daniel has always known.' That's what Annie said through the static at the radio station."

  "Laura, you can't seriously think—"

  "I don't know what to think," she interrupted. "Two of our friends are missing. Both Vanessa and James are unreachable. And now this tape appears out of nowhere with your name labeled as 'Keeper.' What am I supposed to think?"

  Daniel ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration she'd seen countless times over their years of friendship. "I swear to you, I have no idea what any of this means. If I knew anything that could help find Annie and Marcus, don't you think I'd tell you?"

  Laura studied his face—the same face she'd trusted implicitly for most of her life. But now doubt crept in, poisonous and insistent. She recalled his strange behavior in the library basement, the warning from Elisabeth about trusting those closest to her.

  "The journal," she said suddenly, moving to where Daniel had left it on the coffee table. "Elisabeth's father must have documented something about this 'Keeper' role."

  She flipped through the pages, scanning for relevant information. Daniel watched from a distance, his posture tense.

  "Here," Laura said. "He writes that each cycle has specific roles. The five offerings, the vessel, and... the Keeper." She read aloud: "'The Keeper serves as primary liaison with the Hollow Voice, responsible for identifying suitable offerings and ensuring the ritual proceeds as required. Unlike the offerings, the Keeper retains awareness throughout the process, though they may experience periods of possession as the Voice speaks through them.'"

  She looked up at Daniel, whose face had gone even paler.

  "'In many cases,'" Laura continued reading, "'the Keeper is unaware of their role until the cycle begins. They may experience blackouts, missing time, and unconscious behaviors as the Voice gradually assumes control.'"

  "Like what happened to me in the library," Daniel said quietly.

  "'The Keeper is typically someone with close emotional bonds to both the offerings and the vessel,'" Laura read. "'This allows the Voice to exploit those connections during the ritual.'"

  She closed the journal and looked at Daniel. "It fits."

  "Laura, I swear to you, if I am this... Keeper, I have no conscious knowledge of it." His eyes pleaded with her. "You have to believe me."

  Laura wanted to believe him. Everything in her history with Daniel told her to trust him. But the evidence was becoming harder to ignore.

  "I need some air," she said, moving toward the door.

  "Laura, wait—"

  "Just give me a few minutes, Daniel." She opened the door. "I need to think."

  The hallway was empty and silent. Laura walked to the stairwell and sat on the top step, her head in her hands. The implications of what they'd discovered were overwhelming. If the cassette and the journal were to be believed, she was the "vessel"—the central figure in whatever ritual the Hollow Voice required. And Daniel, her closest friend, was somehow involved in facilitating it.

  A door opened somewhere below, followed by footsteps ascending the stairs. Laura straightened, wiping away tears she hadn't realized she'd shed. The footsteps grew closer, and she prepared herself to greet one of her neighbors with a forced smile.

  But it wasn't a neighbor who appeared at the landing.

  It was Vanessa.

  "Vanessa!" Laura jumped to her feet, relief flooding through her. "Where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you."

  Vanessa didn't respond. She stood perfectly still, her typically immaculate appearance slightly disheveled—her designer blouse untucked on one side, her sleek bob askew. But it was her eyes that sent a chill down Laura's spine. They were flat, without light or depth—the same emptiness Laura had seen in Daniel's eyes during his episode in the library.

  "Vanessa?" Laura took a step back. "Are you okay?"

  Vanessa's head tilted at an unnatural angle. When she spoke, the voice wasn't hers.

  "Hello, Laura." The voice was Annie's, but distorted, as if coming through layers of static. "I told you to run."

  Laura backed against the wall. "Annie? Is that you?"

  "Not anymore." Vanessa's body moved forward with jerky, mechanical steps. "Annie is here with me now. In the hollow places. Soon Vanessa will join us." The voice shifted, becoming deeper, less human. "And then there will be only two offerings left before the vessel."

  "What do you want?" Laura's voice shook despite her efforts to stay calm.

  "To complete what was started in 1959." Vanessa's lips formed a smile that didn't reach her empty eyes. "To take what is owed."

  Laura's mind raced. If this entity could possess Daniel temporarily in the library, and was now controlling Vanessa, what did that mean? Was Daniel in danger right now, alone in her apartment?

  "And Daniel?" she asked cautiously. "What is his role in this?"

  "The Keeper prepares the way. Sometimes knowingly, sometimes not. Your Keeper has resisted more than most." The thing wearing Vanessa's face came closer. "But in the end, all Keepers serve the Voice."

  A door slammed open above them—Laura's apartment door. Daniel's voice echoed down the stairwell. "Laura? Who are you talking to?"

  Vanessa's head snapped up at an impossible angle, her neck craning to look behind her without turning her body. The motion was so unnatural that Laura had to stifle a scream.

  "The Keeper approaches," the voice said through Vanessa's mouth. "Our time grows short." It refocused on Laura. "We will meet again in the pale hours, vessel. When the tide is right and the way is open."

  Daniel appeared at the top of the stairs. "Laura?"

  Vanessa's body convulsed suddenly, a violent shudder running through her. She gasped, her eyes rolling back, and collapsed onto the landing.

  Laura rushed to her, cradling her head. "Vanessa? Vanessa!"

  Daniel hurried down the stairs to join them. "What happened?"

  "I don't know. She was just... not herself. Like you in the library." Laura checked Vanessa's pulse. Strong and steady. "She's breathing normally."

  Vanessa's eyelids fluttered, then opened. Her eyes were normal again—confused and frightened, but present.

  "Laura?" she murmured. "Where am I? How did I get here?"

  "You don't remember?" Laura exchanged glances with Daniel.

  "I was at the office... then..." Vanessa frowned, struggling to recall. "I got a call. A man asking about property near the lighthouse. He wanted to meet right away. I remember driving there, but then..." She shook her head. "Nothing. Until just now."

  "Let's get her inside," Daniel said, helping Vanessa to her feet.

  Once in Laura's apartment, they settled Vanessa on the couch. She looked around, disoriented, then spotted the cassette player on the coffee table.

  "Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice suddenly sharp.

  "It was left at my door," Laura said. "Anonymous."

  "I got one too. This morning." Vanessa's hands trembled slightly. "It had Annie's voice on it, saying terrible things. About hollowing and offerings. I thought I was losing my mind."

  "You're not," Laura assured her. "We've heard it too."

  "Then it's all true?" Vanessa looked between them, her usual confidence shattered. "What the voice said about us being... what, sacrifices for some kind of entity?"

  Laura hesitated, then nodded. "We think so. Annie found evidence in the town archives. Old patterns of disappearances every 27 years. References to something called the Hollow Voice."

  "And now Annie and Marcus are both missing," Daniel added.

  "And according to the tape," Laura continued, "you and James are next."

  Vanessa paled. "James? Have you checked on him?"

  "We tried. He called in sick to work, and he's not at his apartment."

  "We need to find him." Vanessa stood, swaying slightly. Laura steadied her.

  "You're in no condition to go anywhere," Laura said firmly. "You just collapsed."

  "I'm fine," Vanessa insisted, though her complexion remained ashen. "Really. Just a little dizzy." She took a deep breath. "So what's the plan? How do we stop this... whatever it is?"

  Laura retrieved Elisabeth's journal. "According to this, there might be a way to disrupt the ritual. But it would involve entering the sea caves beneath the lighthouse during what Elisabeth calls 'the pale hours'—midnight to dawn, when the tide is at its lowest."

  "And who is Elisabeth?" Vanessa asked.

  "The lighthouse keeper's daughter," Daniel explained. "The one who escaped the 1959 cycle."

  Laura nodded. "She's been living in the old keeper's cottage, documenting the phenomenon. She said she'd meet us tomorrow night to show us the way to the 'hollow places'—wherever Annie and Marcus have been taken."

  "If they're still alive," Vanessa said quietly.

  "According to both Annie's tape and Elisabeth, they are," Laura said. "Not dead, not alive. 'Suspended' is how Annie described it."

  Vanessa shuddered. "This is insane. All of it." She looked up suddenly. "Wait, what about the artifacts? The old mansion on Cedar Hill—I just listed it last month. The owner was a collector of local history. He had a whole room dedicated to Seacliff's 'maritime mysteries.' There might be something there that could help us understand what we're facing."

  "The Blackwood estate?" Daniel asked. "I thought that place had been empty for years."

  "It was, until Julian Reynolds inherited it."

  "Reynolds?" Laura repeated. "Any relation to Annie?"

  "Distant cousin, I think. He's only been in town a few months." Vanessa pulled out her realtor's key ring. "I still have the keys. We could check it out. See if there's anything in his collection that might help."

  Laura hesitated. After what had just happened with Vanessa in the stairwell, she wasn't sure if they should be splitting up, especially to visit the home of someone potentially connected to Annie. But they needed information, and time was running out.

  "Okay," she decided. "But we stay together. All of us."

  As they prepared to leave, Laura retrieved Annie's diary and Elisabeth's journal, stuffing both into her bag. She also grabbed the cassette tape, wrapping it carefully in a handkerchief before adding it to her growing collection of evidence.

  In the kitchen, she paused at the sink, splashing cold water on her face to clear her thoughts. As she reached for a towel, she caught her reflection in the window above the sink. For an instant, the reflection didn't match her movements. It stood still, watching her with a slight smile, while she moved.

  Then it was gone, replaced by her own frightened face.

  Outside, the late afternoon sun was already beginning to set, casting long shadows across Seacliff Cove. The air had grown colder, with the damp chill that presaged fog. In the distance, the lighthouse beam had begun its rhythmic sweep, though it wouldn't be properly dark for another hour.

  "My car's at the office," Vanessa said. "We can take it from there."

  As they walked down Maple Street toward Main, Laura noticed how quiet the town had become. The usual Saturday evening bustle was subdued. Few people were out, and those who were moved quickly, heads down, as if trying to reach their destinations before something caught up with them.

  "Does it seem strange to you?" she asked Daniel in a low voice. "The town?"

  He nodded. "Like everyone can sense something's wrong, even if they don't know what it is."

  A car drove slowly past them, the driver's face obscured by shadow despite the still-bright evening light. Laura couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.

  At Vanessa's office, they found the front door unlocked, though Vanessa insisted she'd locked it when she left earlier. The interior was exactly as they'd seen it through the window—perfectly arranged, not a thing out of place.

  Except for the mirrors.

  Every reflective surface in the office—the large decorative mirror behind the reception desk, the glass fronts of picture frames, even the polished chrome of the water cooler—was covered with a fine layer of what looked like frost, despite the comfortable temperature inside. And beneath the frost, faint symbols had been etched—the same concentric circles with radiating lines that Laura had seen in Annie's notes and on her bathroom mirror.

  "What the hell?" Vanessa whispered, approaching the large mirror. "This wasn't here when I left."

  "Don't touch it," Laura warned, remembering Elisabeth's words about reflective surfaces as conduits.

  Too late. Vanessa's fingers had already brushed the mirror's surface. She jerked back with a gasp.

  "It's ice cold," she said, rubbing her fingertips. "And it... it moved when I touched it. Like it was liquid underneath."

  A soft mechanical click made them all turn. On Vanessa's desk, her office phone had lifted from its cradle of its own accord. The dial tone hummed in the quiet office.

  Then, from the receiver, came a voice—distorted but recognizable.

  "Hello, Laura." It was James. "We're waiting for you. In the hollow places."

  The line went dead, the dial tone replaced by static that seemed to grow louder, filling the office with white noise that made Laura's teeth ache.

  "We need to leave," Daniel said urgently. "Now."

  As they turned to go, the front door swung shut with a bang. The lock clicked into place.

  "The back exit," Vanessa said, already moving toward the rear of the office. "Through the file room."

  They hurried through the door behind the reception desk, into a smaller room lined with filing cabinets. The back door stood at the far end.

  But between them and the exit stood a figure in a gray suit—the same man from The Velvet Room and the radio station. His face remained in shadow despite the overhead lights, as if darkness clung to him like a mask.

  "The vessel and the Keeper," the man said, his voice unnaturally smooth. "How convenient."

  "Who are you?" Laura demanded, her voice steadier than she felt.

  "A servant of the Voice." The man took a step forward. Though his face remained obscured, Laura could feel his gaze on her. "The cycle must be completed. The debt must be paid."

  "What debt?" Daniel asked, moving slightly to position himself between the man and Laura.

  "The one your ancestors incurred. The price of prosperity." The man's head tilted, the motion too fluid to be natural. "The Keeper should remember. It's in your blood, after all."

  Daniel faltered. "What are you talking about?"

  "The Mercer family has always provided the Keeper. For every cycle since the beginning." The man's voice took on an almost pitying tone. "Did you really not know? Did they tell you nothing of your heritage?"

  Laura glanced at Daniel, whose face had gone blank with shock. "Daniel?"

  "I don't..." he began, then stopped. A strange expression crossed his face—recognition, followed by horror. "The dreams. I've always had dreams about the lighthouse. Since I was a child. My father said it was because we used to go there when I was too young to remember."

  "Not dreams," the man corrected. "Memories. Passed down through blood and bone. The Keeper's inheritance."

  A crash from behind made them all jump. Vanessa had knocked over a filing cabinet, blocking the man's path.

  "Run!" she shouted, already shoving open the back door.

  They burst into the alley behind the office, racing toward Main Street. Laura risked a glance back and saw the man following at a measured pace, moving with unnatural grace, as if time flowed differently around him.

  "My car," Vanessa gasped, fumbling with her keys as they reached the small parking lot behind the building.

  They piled into her BMW, Vanessa gunning the engine as soon as the doors slammed shut. The tires squealed as she reversed, narrowly missing a dumpster, then accelerated down the alley toward Harbor Street.

  In the rearview mirror, Laura saw the man in the gray suit standing motionless in the middle of the lot, watching them go. Though his face remained in shadow, she could have sworn he was smiling.

  "Where are we going?" Vanessa asked, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

  Laura thought quickly. "The Blackwood estate. It's still our best lead."

  "And then what?" Daniel asked from the back seat, his voice hollow. "If what he said is true—if my family has been part of this all along—"

  "Then you're the inside knowledge we need," Laura said firmly. "Daniel, whatever your family's history, you're still you. You're still the person who's been my friend for twenty years."

  He met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Am I? How can we be sure?"

  Laura had no answer for that. None of them did.

  As they drove through town toward Cedar Hill, the sun slipped below the horizon. Streetlights flickered on, creating pools of sickly yellow illumination in the gathering darkness. And from the direction of the harbor, a thick bank of fog began to roll in, swallowing the town street by street.

  Inside Vanessa's car, the cassette tape in Laura's bag began to emit a soft, rhythmic clicking, like a heartbeat counting down to something none of them wanted to face.