Chapter 4 CHAPTER 4

Chapter 4

Elias POV

The Georgia heat clung to everything like a second skin, even as the sun sank low behind the pines at the back parking lot of Ridgeview Grill. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the hem of my apron, the fabric already stained with grease and sweet tea spills from the dinner rush. Friday nights were always brutal, families piling in after football games, retirees nursing coffee, and the occasional tourist asking about “that haunted church everyone’s talking about.” I’d smiled through it all, refilling drinks while my mind wandered to Saturday.

Marcus had been blowing up the group chat all week with updates. St. Agnes after dark. Real ghost hunt vibes. Bring the good flashlight, not that phone crap. Thrilling, it felt. It wasn’t just the risk of getting caught trespassing. It was the pull of something unknown, something bigger than Sunday sermons and the weight of expectations that pressed down harder every day.

I clocked out at nine, the bell above the door jingling my farewell as I stepped into the thick evening air. Eileen purred to life in the employee lot, her AC blasting lukewarm at first before finally cooling. I cranked the radio and headed the long way home, past the glowing steeple of Eternal Light. The church lights always seemed to follow me, a silent reminder.

Help me get through this week without messing up, I prayed under my breath, the words automatic. And, whatever this feeling is, show me what to do with it.

Home was the usual controlled chaos. Mom had left a plate of meatloaf and collards in the fridge, Dad was in his study reviewing sermon notes, and Lucas was sprawled on the living room couch with his Switch, the glow from the screen casting shadows across his face. Harper's room door was still shut tight.

I ate quickly, answering Dad’s questions about my shift with the expected “yes sir” and “no sir.” He leaned in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed.

“Sophia mentioned you two are grabbing coffee Tuesday,” he said, not quite a question. “Good. She’s got a strong calling on her life. The kind of girl who’ll keep you grounded.”

My fork paused halfway to my mouth. Grounded. “Yeah. She’s... excited about the mission stories.”

Dad nodded, satisfied. “That’s what we need more of around here. Steady faith. Not like...” He cut himself off, but we both knew the rest. Not like Harper, who’d traded youth group for college skepticism and dyed hair. Not like Uncle Daniel, whose name only came up in whispers around holidays, something I’d never fully understood.

I escaped upstairs before the conversation could go further, collapsing onto my bed with my phone. The group chat was alive:

MARCUS: Soccer game ends at 6. Tony’s Oven after? Then Holly Street by 9. Flashlights, recorders, snacks. Who’s in?

ELISE: In. But if I see one actual ghost I’m out. I do NOT do demons.

OLIVER: Bring bug spray. Woods behind the church are brutal.

I typed back quickly.

ELIAS: Count me in. Closing shift tomorrow but I’ll be there.

The response came fast from Marcus: Legend. A string of ghost emojis followed. I smiled despite the knot in my stomach. These nights with friends felt like the only time the mask slipped.

My phone buzzed again, but this time it was a new notification. Not the group. A DM from someone I didn’t have saved, though the username looked familiar from school.

KaiRivera18: Hey, this is Kai, Marcus’s friend from the ghost stuff. He said you’re coming Saturday? First time at St. Agnes?

I stared at the message, thumb hovering. Kai Rivera. Openly gay kid with a lot of energy and those sharp, knowing eyes. I’d seen him around, lunch tables, hallways, that one time at a town event where he’d been laughing loudly with his crew. Marcus had mentioned him a few times as the paranormal expert in their circle. Harmless, right? Just planning.

ELIAS: Yeah, first time. Marcus talks it up like it’s the real deal. You guys do this a lot?

The reply dots appeared almost immediately.

KaiRivera18: Enough to know when a place feels... off. St. Agnes has a history. Forbidden love scandal back in the 1800s, suicide that might’ve been murder. Hudson’s show blew it up. Are you into the paranormal for real or just content?

I hesitated, then typed honestly. Something about the late hour and the dim lamp light made it easier.

ELIAS: Both? The idea of something beyond all this small-town stuff is cool. Church is great but... sometimes it feels like everything’s scripted. Ghosts don’t follow the script.

KaiRivera18: Exactly. Scripts are boring. And kinda suffocating in Willow Creek. You ever feel like the town’s watching? Waiting for you to step out of line?

My heart picked up. It was just text, but the words hit close. Too close. I thought of Dad’s pointed comments, Sophia’s hopeful texts, the way Harper’s rebellion had everyone eyeing me like I was next.

ELIAS: All the time. Golden child tax or whatever. You?

KaiRivera18: Out and proud tax. Different flavor, same pressure cooker. But ghost hunting? That’s freedom. No rules except don’t get arrested. 😏

A small laugh escaped me. I could almost hear the sarcasm from the few times I’d overheard him in the halls. We went back and forth for a bit, him sharing creepy EVP stories from other spots, me admitting I mostly filmed silly TikToks with Marcus to blow off steam. Nothing deep. Just... easy. For once, no guilt laced into every word. No performance.

By the time I set my phone down, it was past midnight. The house was quiet, cicadas humming outside my window like a Southern lullaby. I lay there staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, the ones I’d stuck up as a kid during a youth group sleepover. Back when faith felt simple, like a warm blanket instead of a tightening rope.

What am I doing? The prayer came unbidden. Texting some guy about ghosts at night? This isn’t...

But it wasn’t anything. Just friends of friends planning a hang. Still, the spark of curiosity was there, warm and dangerous.

Saturday arrived with anticipation. I went through my shortened shift at the Grill, dodging questions about college apps and church events, then raced home to change. Dark clothes for sneaking, black hoodie, jeans, boots that wouldn’t crunch too loudly on leaves. Marcus picked me up in his beat-up truck, Elise and Oliver already crammed in the back with snacks and gear.

“Ready to get possessed?” Marcus grinned as I climbed in.

“Only if it gets me out of family dinner next week,” I shot back. The truck rumbled toward the high school fields for Freddy’s soccer game, the pre-hunt ritual.

The game was filled with shouts and turf dust. I spotted Kai’s group on the sidelines, Wren with their bangs and stickers, Freddy yelling encouragement between plays. Kai himself leaned against the fence, arms crossed, that energy there like he was ready to bolt at any second. Our eyes met briefly across the field when Marcus waved him over during halftime. Up close, he was taller than I remembered, with sharp features and a mocking grin.

“Elias, right? The TikTok guy.” Kai extended a fist bump. “Hope you’re not scared of shadows. Or actual shadows that whisper your name.”

I bumped his fist, ignoring the weird flutter in my chest. “Only if they ask for my homework. You the expert?”

“Self-proclaimed. St. Agnes has layers. Old diaries, hidden stuff. Should be good.”

The conversation stayed light as the game came to an end, Freddy’s team winning by a narrow margin. Pizza at Tony’s Oven followed, the booth loud with laughter and debates over the best horror movies. Kai sat across from me somehow, trading sarcastic jabs with Marcus while sneaking glances my way.

As night fell, we caravanned to Holly Street. The abandoned St. Agnes loomed at the end of the block, its Gothic spires piercing the humid sky like broken fingers. Vines crawled up cracked stone walls, windows dark and watchful. Yellow caution tape fluttered half-heartedly from a recent “ghost tour” attempt, but the place felt alive in a way churches rarely did anymore.

We parked a street over and slipped through the woods' edge, flashlights off until we were deep in the overgrowth. My heart beat fast, not just from the risk of cops or security. Something about the building pulled at me, dread mixed with fascination.

“Stay close,” Kai murmured as we approached a side door Marcus had scouted earlier. His shoulder brushed mine in the dark, brief and electric. “This place doesn’t like visitors.”

Inside, dust motes danced in our flashlight beams. Pews stood like silent sentinels, altar cracked and shadowed. The air was cooler, heavier, carrying whispers of old incense and decay. We set up cameras and recorders, the group spreading out with nervous excitement.

Then it started. A flicker in the corner of my eye, a temperature drop that raised goosebumps on my arms. And later, as we huddled in what used to be the choir loft, the EVP recorder crackled to life with something faint but unmistakable.

A whisper. Low, and personal.

“...Elias...”

The group froze. My blood ran cold. Kai’s eyes met mine across the circle, wide with something like recognition, and some kind of connection that went deeper than ghost stories.

Whatever this night was becoming, it wasn’t just a hunt anymore.