Chapter Text
Sloane jerks awake with a gasp.
She’s on the basement floor, papers scattered around her. She doesn’t know what time it is, but she must have fallen asleep. Slowly, she gets to her feet and heads for the stairs.
Upstairs, the house is dark. Sloane turns on the kitchen light and peers at the clock, which reads 2:20 AM. Her gaze catches on a case file sitting on the table, and she creeps closer and flips it open.
The file has very few papers in it. Sloane shuffles through them. Victims, crime scenes, suspects. Nothing particularly stands out to her, so she closes the file and slips out of the kitchen, turning the light off as she exits.
She inches quietly down the hallway, trying not to wake anyone up, and ducks into her room, closing the door behind her and turning on the light. Her phone is lighting up with missed calls from an unknown number, and Sloane stares at the notifications for several seconds before she dismisses them. It has to be a misdial that the caller hasn’t recognized because Sloane hasn’t picked up. Before Sloane can set her phone back down, it rings again⎼⎼with another call from the same unknown number.
Sloane answers it with every intention of telling the caller that there is a ninety-eight point two percent chance that they are calling the wrong number. “Hello?” she asks softly.
She feels weirdly paranoid all of a sudden. She glances around her room quickly, as if to make sure no one’s watching her.
There’s no reply on the other end of the line.
“Hello?” Sloane tries again, hating the way her voice shakes a little. There’s nothing to be scared of, she tells herself. Maybe it’s just the time of day, maybe it’s just that Sloane’s still tired. It’s ridiculous that she should be this nervous over a phone⎼⎼
There’s a noise on the other end of the line. Sloane almost doesn’t place it at first, but it’s a whooshing sound, like wind rushing through trees.
And then there’s a scream. A long, drawn-out, high-pitched scream that makes Sloane want to scream too.
Sloane drops the phone. It hits the floor with a clatter. She reaches down to hit the End Call button, and then immediately heads for Celine’s room. She doesn’t know what was happening on the other side of the line, and there’s surely a logical explanation for it, but it honestly spooked Sloane. She needs to not be alone right now.
Sloane slips into Celine’s room and climbs into the bed next to her, shivering a little. She curls into Celine and closes her eyes, but she knows she’s not going to fall asleep.
Sometimes Sloane miscalculates. This is evident today because the next time she opens her eyes, the room is fully lit and she has no idea what time it is. She’s alone.
She still really doesn’t want to be alone, so she slides out of the bed and heads for the kitchen. Fortunately, the other Naturals are there. Michael and Lia are having one of their playful arguments that usually escalates into deeper-cutting arguments. Cassie is reading a book that Dean is peering at over her shoulder. Celine is watching them, but her gaze slides over to Sloane a few seconds after Sloane pauses in the doorway.
“Hey,” Celine says, waving her over. “What’s up?”
Sloane hesitates. She really wants to blurt out what happened with the phone call last night, but this doesn’t feel like the right time. “What do you mean?”
Celine’s eyebrows draw together. “I mean, you’ve got this weird expression on your face. Like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I didn’t see a ghost,” Sloane replies, finally coming fully into the kitchen and sitting down next to Celine.
“Then what happened?”
Sloane hesitates again as Celine reaches out and squeezes her hand. “I had a bad dream,” she lies.
Celine’s concerned expression doesn’t go away. “Is that why you came up to my room?”
Sloane nods.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No,” Sloane replies firmly. Celine backs off and squeezes her hand again.
“I’m just saying,” Michael says, “wanting chunks in your ice cream is basically a crime.”
“You would know about crimes, wouldn’t you?” Lia teases.
“You’re the one who almost went to juvie.” Michael’s gaze goes to Sloane. “Good morning, Sloane. Nice to see you.”
The scream echoes in Sloane’s head, and she shivers.
Michael raises his eyebrows. “Are you… okay?”
Sloane nods quickly. She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s fine. Maybe if she thinks it enough, it will be true.
“We’re all here,” Cassie notes, looking up from her book for the first time. “Didn’t Veronica want to talk to all of us?”
Dean nods in agreement. “I can let her know.”
“No need for that,” Veronica says, striding into the kitchen. “We’re all here.”
“I suddenly have a strong urge to leave,” Lia deadpans.
“What’s going on?” Cassie asks.
Veronica picks up the file on the kitchen table, the one that Sloane looked at last night. In the time since then, the number of papers in it has nearly tripled. “We have a case,” she starts. “It’s escalating fast. Which is why Tanner wants you.”
“Tell us more,” Dean prompts.
Veronica takes her time replying. “Kids are vanishing,” she says finally. “A lot of them, in a very short amount of time.”
Sloane thinks again of the scream she heard over the phone. How many times did that number try to call her? Who was calling?
“And in every area,” Veronica continues, “there have been claims of paranormal activity.”
It’s quiet for a long time after she finishes her sentence. Michael breaks the silence first. “This isn’t Ghostbusters. We don’t do paranormal stuff.”
“No,” Veronica agrees. “But I’m asking you to do this because I don’t think the paranormal activity is legit. What you need to do is catch the killer so we can put an end to all of this. Got it?”
Cassie and Dean nod. Michael still looks unconvinced. Lia looks like she couldn’t care less. Celine is looking sideways at Sloane.
“Can you do that?” Veronica asks. This time, everyone nods⎼⎼including Sloane.
She won’t tell them about the phone call. Not yet.