Updated Mar 9, 2026 • ~8 min read
Maya wakes to smoke.
Thick. Acrid. Filling her hotel room faster than should be possible.
She lurches out of bed, coughing, eyes streaming. The fire alarm is screaming. Or maybe that’s her own heart pounding in her ears.
The door is blocked. She tries the handle—scorching hot. Flames on the other side.
The window. She stumbles toward it, lungs burning, vision blurring.
Someone’s trying to kill her.
And she knows exactly who.
Julian materializes. Solid. Panicked. “Maya!”
“Window,” she gasps. “Can’t… breathe…”
He doesn’t hesitate. Grabs the chair. Smashes it through the window. Glass shatters. Fresh air rushes in.
Maya sticks her head out, gasping. They’re on the fourth floor. Too high to jump. But the fire escape is three windows over.
“I can’t reach it,” she says.
“I’ll help you.” Julian’s form is solid from the blood bond. He climbs out onto the narrow ledge, extends his hand. “Trust me.”
She trusts him.
Takes his hand.
He pulls her onto the ledge. They inch sideways, backs pressed against the building, nothing but empty air and a four-story drop below.
Maya doesn’t look down.
Just focuses on Julian’s hand. Solid. Real. Keeping her anchored.
They reach the fire escape. Climb down. Hit the ground just as the fire department arrives.
Other hotel guests are evacuating. Scared. Confused.
But Maya knows this wasn’t an accident.
Someone set that fire deliberately.
To kill her.
Detective Webb confirms it three hours later.
“Accelerant used. Gasoline poured under your door. Lit remotely using a timed ignition device.” He shows her photos from the crime scene. “This was attempted murder. Premeditated. Professional.”
“The Ashfords,” Maya says.
“I can’t prove it. But yeah. Probably.” Webb looks exhausted. “They’re escalating. First the lawsuit. Now this. They’re not just trying to ruin your life anymore. They’re trying to end it.”
“Can you protect her?” Julian asks. He hasn’t left Maya’s side since the fire. His form is constantly solid now, the blood bond maxed out by fear and adrenaline.
“I can try. Police protection. Safe house. But if the Ashfords want her dead badly enough, they’ll find a way.” Webb rubs his face. “They have resources. Money. Connections. And they’re desperate. You destroyed their power source. Ended a century of profit and influence. They want revenge.”
“Then I’ll give them revenge.” Maya’s voice is hard. “Just not the kind they’re expecting.”
“What are you planning?” Webb asks suspiciously.
“I’m going to finish what I started. Perform the resurrection ritual. And then I’m going to make sure the Ashfords can never hurt anyone again.”
“By doing what? You’re not a vigilante.”
“No. But I know their secrets. I have Theodore Blackwood’s journal. Documentation of every soul they sacrificed. Every crime they committed in service of the curse.” Maya pulls out her phone. “I’m going public. Newspapers. Internet. Every media outlet I can find. The Ashfords can sue me for destroying their building. But let’s see how they handle being exposed as a family of murderers who’ve been feeding people to a supernatural entity for ninety-six years.”
“They’ll claim you’re insane. That the journal is fake. That you have no proof.” Webb doesn’t sound like he’s trying to dissuade her. Just being realistic.
“Then I’ll show them the proof. The ritual written in blood under apartment 3B. The testimonies of everyone involved. Mrs. Kowalski. Dr. Vance. Father Thomas. You.” Maya’s hands are steady now. Determined. “Maybe we can’t convict them in court. But we can ruin their reputation. Make them pariahs. Ensure that everyone knows what the Ashford family really is.”
Julian is watching her with something like awe. “You’re declaring war.”
“They started it when they tried to burn me alive.” Maya looks at Webb. “Will you help?”
Webb considers. Then nods. “I’ll connect you with a journalist I trust. Someone who specializes in investigating powerful families. If anyone can make this story stick, it’s her.”
“Thank you.”
“But Maya? Once you go public, there’s no taking it back. The Ashfords will come after you with everything they have. Legal. Illegal. They’ll destroy your credibility. Your career. Possibly your life.”
“I know. But I’m done hiding. Done being afraid.” Maya stands. “They think they can intimidate me into silence. They’re wrong.”
The journalist’s name is Rachel Kim.
She’s in her forties, sharp-eyed, with a reputation for taking down corrupt corporations and exposing criminal conspiracies.
She meets Maya at a coffee shop. Listens to the whole story without interrupting.
Then she says, “You realize how this sounds.”
“Insane. I know.”
“But you have proof?” Rachel pulls out a recorder. “Physical evidence? Testimonies?”
“I have Theodore Blackwood’s journal. Photos of the blood ritual. Statements from multiple witnesses who can verify the supernatural activity.” Maya slides a folder across the table. “And I have this.”
Rachel opens the folder.
Inside are photos of the seven sacrifices. Before they died. Newspaper clippings about their disappearances. Police reports that were never followed up on. And a family tree showing the Ashfords’ connection to every single death.
“This is… extensive,” Rachel says slowly. “But the supernatural angle—”
“Doesn’t have to be the focus. Focus on the deaths. The disappearances. The Ashfords’ history of covering up crimes. You can mention the alleged curse. Let readers decide if they believe it. But the core story is about a powerful family committing murder for profit.”
Rachel flips through the photos. Reads the clippings. Studies the family tree.
Then she looks up. “If I run this story, the Ashfords will sue me into oblivion. My career could be over.”
“Or you could be the journalist who exposes the biggest criminal conspiracy in Seattle’s history.” Maya leans forward. “I know it’s a risk. But people died. Innocent people. And the Ashfords have been profiting from it for almost a century. Someone has to tell the truth.”
Rachel is quiet for a long moment.
Then she says, “I’ll need to verify everything. Interview witnesses. Confirm the deaths. Build a case that can withstand legal scrutiny.”
“How long will that take?”
“A week. Maybe two.”
“I don’t have two weeks. The new moon is in six days. I’m performing the resurrection ritual then. And the Ashfords are going to do everything they can to stop me.” Maya’s voice is urgent. “I need this story out now. Before they have a chance to bury me.”
“I can’t publish without verification—”
“Then verify fast. I’ll give you access to everyone involved. Dr. Vance. Detective Webb. Mrs. Kowalski. Father Thomas. They’ll all corroborate.”
Rachel considers. Then nods. “Okay. I’ll fast-track this. But I need you to go on record. Full interview. Your name attached. No anonymity.”
“Done.”
They spend the next three hours on record. Maya tells Rachel everything. The move into the Blackwood. Meeting Julian. The curse. The entity. The seven sacrifices. The ritual. All of it.
When they’re done, Rachel looks shaken.
“If even half of this is true, the Ashfords are monsters.”
“It’s all true. Every word.”
“Then I’m running the story. Front page. Digital and print. Give me forty-eight hours.”
The story breaks two days later.
“The Blackwood Curse: Inside Seattle’s Deadliest Building” by Rachel Kim.
It’s everywhere. Front page of the Seattle Times. Top trending on social media. Picked up by national outlets within hours.
The response is immediate and explosive.
Some people believe it. Call for investigations. Demand the Ashfords be held accountable.
Others think Maya is insane. A conspiracy theorist. An attention seeker.
But everyone is talking about it.
And the Ashfords are furious.
Marcus Ashford releases a statement calling the article “slanderous” and “baseless.” He announces plans to sue both Maya and Rachel Kim for defamation.
But the damage is done.
Public opinion is shifting. People are asking questions. Looking into the Ashfords’ history. Noticing patterns of deaths and disappearances connected to the family.
It’s not enough to convict them.
But it’s enough to make them vulnerable.
To crack their veneer of respectability.
And to ensure that if anything happens to Maya now, the whole world will know who’s responsible.
“You did it,” Julian says that night. They’re in a new hotel. Different location. More secure. “You exposed them.”
“We did it,” Maya corrects. “All of us.”
She’s exhausted. Terrified. Exhilarated.
The ritual is in four days.
The Ashfords are wounded but still dangerous.
And she still hasn’t decided whose life she’s going to trade for Julian’s resurrection.
Hers.
Julian’s.
Or someone else’s entirely.
Four days to choose.
Four days until everything changes.
And the clock is ticking.
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