My Ex-Wife Owes Me Blood:Vengeful Shade

Chapter 2

2,024 words

The manor swallowed us whole.

Inside, the air was thick. Wrong. Even at noon, the light couldn't penetrate. Shadows pooled in corners like oil.

Julian was sweating. His hand clamped around Serena's wrist.

"Serena, please. I don't feel good. Can we leave?"

She shook him off. Irritation flashed across her face.

Dr. Ashford moved slowly through the foyer, her equipment humming. EMF readers. Infrared scanners. Sigils drawn in chalk.

She stopped in the center of the room.

Her face went pale.

"This place..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "The resentment here is catastrophic."

Serena crossed her arms. "Can you fix it or not?"

"Maybe." Dr. Ashford's jaw tightened. "But first, we need the body."

"Then find it."

"It won't be easy. Whoever did this... they knew what they were doing." She pulled a small obsidian blade from her case. Black. Gleaming. "We'll need this. It's the only thing sharp enough to sever the tether."

Serena didn't blink. "Then let's dig."

---

They found my grave behind the manor. Overgrown. Forgotten.

The headstone had toppled. The inscription was illegible, covered in moss and cracks.

Serena gestured to the workers. "There. Dig."

Julian looked sick. "Serena, this is—"

"Shut up." Her voice was ice. "You've been having nightmares for weeks. This ends today."

The workers broke ground.

One meter down, they hit wood.

The coffin was cheap. Rotting. The lid sagged inward, half-collapsed.

Serena stepped closer. "Open it."

The workers pried it open.

Silence.

No body.

Just medals.

Dozens of them. Service commendations. Citations for bravery. Detective of the Year. All of them stained dark—rusted, crusted with something black.

Blood.

One of the workers picked one up. "What the hell...?"

Dr. Ashford leaned in. Her face drained of color.

"This is an array," she breathed. "A ritual."

Serena's eyes narrowed. "What kind of ritual?"

"The worst kind." Dr. Ashford pulled a compass from her bag. The needle spun wildly, then locked—pointing directly at the manor.

"The body isn't here. It's inside."