The abandoned hospital looked like something out of a horror movie.
Nestled in the Cascade mountains, Essondale Sanitarium had once been a retreat for those who believed the clean, fresh mountain air would save them from the ravages of tuberculosis. A century ago, you would've found a sprawling retreat, something more akin to a luxury hotel, surrounded by the lush temperate rainforest and glorious mountain views. Now, in the years since, the forest had moved in, overtaking the sprawling lawns and buildings.
For Penelope Haywood, it didn't get any better than this.
She stood in Essondale's shadow, admiring the moss-covered building as the sun sank out of sight, its red light bleeding out over everything. What was left of the main building's gabled roof stood stark against the flaming sky—
A hand dropped down on her shoulder, and Penelope let out a sharp scream. She whirled around, her freshly-dyed teal hair fanning out as she spun, and raised her fists, ready to fight.
"It's just me! It's just me!" said Daevon as he hopped back from her with his own hands up to protect himself. His eyebrows shot up into his shaggy bleached-blond bangs. "Who else would it be? What, did you think I was a ghost or something?"
"Maybe," Penelope muttered, dropping her fighting stance. She narrowed her eyes at him, but the corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile. "That's why we're here, isn't it? We are ghost hunters after all."
Daevon chuckled and leaned in again, looping his arm around her waist. "Sure, but what were you going to do if it was a ghost?" he said with a louder laugh, pulling her close. "Punch it?"
"You're just lucky I didn't punch you," Penelope said, lightly socking him in the shoulder. "Maybe don't sneak up on people in creepy remote locations."
"You're right, you're right," Daevon conceded with a smirk. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just came to check on you and see if you were ready to start the shoot."
"I was," Penelope grumbled, pressing her hand to her chest. Her heart was still racing. "But now I gotta take a minute to calm down and refocus."
"Aw, I'm sorry," Daevon said, kissing her cheek and pulling Penelope into a hug. "Let me help."
Daevon was nice and warm, but it was difficult for Penelope to let herself relax in his arms. After being good friends and ghost-hunting partners for a couple of years, their shift into dating had been fairly recent. It had happened so quickly that Penelope still wasn't quite sure how to react to the shift in their relationship and how to react to Daevon's new PDA. She only hoped he didn't notice the stiffness of her arms as she awkwardly returned the hug.
He didn't. His attention was caught on something else. As he pulled back from her, she saw that his brow had folded into a frown. "Wait a second," Daevon said, eyeing her. "Are you wearing my hoodie?"
"Maybe." Penelope crossed her arms as if she was trying to obscure the large logo across the front. It was the start of summer, but the impending night would get pretty cold. Especially if temperatures started to drop in the presence of ghosts. "That's what g-girlfriends do, right? Steal their boyfriend's hoodies?"
Daevon's eyes narrowed for a second before his face smoothed over and broke into a smile. "I guess that's alright then," he said, pulling her chin up with one of his fingers. Penelope smiled and used the motion of tucking her hair behind her ear as an excuse to pull away.
"I think I'm ready to start the shoot," she said, smiling at him.
"Great," he said. "Before that, though, there was actually another reason I came over."
Penelope froze. There was something in the tone of his voice that made her nervous. "O-Oh, yeah?"
"I was wondering," Daevon said, leaning in, "if you've made a decision about Xander Green's offer yet?"
Penelope's heart picked up the pace again.
When most people thought of ghost hunting, they thought of Xander Green, host of Xander Green's Dark Xplorations, TV's most popular and longest-running paranormal show. He was the most successful ghost hunter in the game.
But that didn't mean Penelope wanted to work with him.
She knew this was coming. It had been almost two weeks since Xander had come to her with the offer to turn PARANELOPE, her YouTube channel, into a full-fledged TV show. She knew her indecision was making Daevon ansty. She had hoped he wouldn't bring it up until after the shoot was done, but...
"No," she said, dropping her gaze to her feet. "I'm still thinking about it."
"Seriously?" Daevon said. The fold in his brow was back. "What's left to think about?"
"Lots of stuff!" Penelope mumbled as she toed the rocky ground with her Converse sneakers. "Like college, for starters. If I accept Xander's offer, I can't start film school in the fall and—"
"That's not true," Daevon said, cutting her off. "I take VFX classes and do this," he motioned around to their equipment scattered around the grounds of the hospital, "at the same time." Daevon was already in his first year at the same film school Penelope was planning to attend. "You can make it work if you want it to."
Penelope, still staring at the rocks at her feet, began to twist a strand of her teal hair around her finger. "My dad wants me to focus on college."
"Your dad," Daevon said, leaning closer to try to catch her eye, "wants you to be happy. And wasn't he happy to hear you got offered your own TV show with the world's most famous ghost hunter?"
Penelope just kept twisting her hair.
Daevon's brows arched across his forehead as he realized. "You haven't told him?!"
"Not yet!" Penelope said, her eyes snapping up at last. "I don't want him to get all worked up when I haven't even decided what I'm going to do yet."
"This is a big opportunity, Penelope," Daevon said, frowning now, his voice going sharp. "It's not every day Xander Green offers a TV deal to a small-time YouTuber."
"How is PARANELOPE considered small-time?" Penelope said. "I have three million followers!"
"In comparison to real TV the whole internet is considered small-time," Daevon said with a roll of his eyes like it was obvious. "When I stopped working on my own channel to help you, I thought the plan was to build our platform!"
"It was, b-but—"
He didn't let her finish. He just shook his head, like he was disappointed in her. "If you really want to take your career to the next step, Xander is the way to do it." When she didn't answer, he added, "You know I'm right."
"Maybe," she said. "But I still need more time."
"Fine," Daevon said with a huff. "But Xander isn't going to wait around forever. Now, if you want to get out of here before sunrise, we've got work to do." He released her and headed for their van, his shoulders hunched up around his neck. "Hurry up or we're going to lose the light."
Penelope just sighed as she watched him go. This was exactly why she didn't want to get into it now. She wanted to chase after him, but she had to let it go for now.
He was right about one thing—they had work to do.
Squaring her shoulders, Penelope stepped forward, heading for the hospital's once-grand entrance. Its double doors were usually locked tight to keep out explorers like herself, but today the thick, rusted chains hung loosely at the side. One door was already pushed open, just enough for her to squeeze through.
Next to the door, a camera sat on a tripod, trained on Penelope's position. She was careful not to look directly into the lens; Daevon hated when she did that. He said it made the footage they captured look like the work of amateurs. She didn't know why that mattered—they were amateurs, just successful ones.
"Ready?" Daevon asked, his voice echoing through the wireless receiver tucked into her ear. He was watching her through the monitors in their van.
"Ready," Penelope replied as she reached the door. She walked past the tripod, pretending it wasn't there, and slipped through the gap.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and smelled of mould. Penelope pulled up the bandana tied around her neck to cover her mouth and nose. Once she was ready, she scanned the entry hall.
Cameras were already set up here, too, marking her predetermined path. The last of the dying sunlight cast long shadows across the chipped tile floor as she passed through, though that detail would be lost in the neon-green of the night vision. Despite the impending night, Penelope wasn't worried. After almost three years of doing this work, she wasn't scared of the dark.
Penelope flicked on her flashlight and trained its beam on the uneven floor as she made her way past the cameras and up the grand split staircase that bisected the hall. Another camera was waiting for her at the top, capturing Penelope as she made it to the last step. The stairs opened onto a wide landing, forking off in many directions. It would be easy to get lost here. But all she had to do was follow the path of cameras Daevon had left, like breadcrumbs through a dark forest.
She spotted the next camera at the opening of a hall, the first one to her left. Surveying the landing with her flashlight, Penelope was careful to watch her step. The floor was warped and sagging in places. Even if Daevon had gone through here already, the stability of these places could be unpredictable.
As she reached the start of the hall, she paused. Digging into the pocket of her hoodie, she pulled out a small black device—a digital audio recorder. She clicked one of its buttons, and a small red light on the top began to blink. It was recording.
Penelope held it out in front of herself as she started down the hall. Here the walls were a faded, peeling green. Thick, metal doors were evenly placed along the walls, each with a slit of glass at eye level.
This was not a happy place, Penelope knew.
Half a century ago, when tuberculosis cases declined and Essondale's rich clientele began to dwindle, the sanitarium had been forced to shift its focus to survive. From a wellness retreat, it became a hospital for the emerging art of psychiatric care. These rooms—padded and impenetrable—had held its most violent of patients. There had been a lot of fear and pain here. Fear and pain and death. This hall held the darkest parts of Essondale's history.
And, according to local accounts, it was also the most haunted spot in the whole place.
Halfway down the hall, another camera was waiting for her. It was set up in front of the only room with an open door. Penelope slowed, once again making sure to avoid the camera's lens. Instead, she focussed on the open door. Despite the thickness of the metal it had been bent at the middle and now hung precariously on its rusted hinges.
She stopped right in front of it, on top of the 'X' Daevon had taped on the floor to ensure that she was perfectly within the camera's frame. She took a moment to adjust his stolen hoodie and her hair, making sure everything was just right before she began.
Showtime.
She held the recorder up over her head.
"Is there anyone here with me tonight?" she asked the seemingly empty hall.
There was no immediate answer, but that didn't discourage Penelope. It was very rare that she would get an answer she could actually hear without her tech.
Penelope finally glanced into the camera, her eyes lightening up in eerie white as they caught in the camera's night vision. "I've got to go in there, don't I?" she said as if she were asking a friend. It was something of her catchphrase, something she used to say when her channel was just starting out before she went somewhere particularly grim.
"Don't look into the camera!" Daevon hissed into her earpiece.
She rolled her eyes. Sometimes she missed the beginning, back when it was just her and her iPhone. She talked directly into the camera then, addressing her audience like they were right there with her. Daevon now insisted on the aloof approach, insisting she focus on all the tech he bought his share of the ad revenue money.
She gave the camera—and Daevon—a resigned smile, then, with a deep breath, she stepped forward through the open door. He'd probably cut that part out, anyway.
Inside the room, the padded walls were rotted through, split open and spewing their contents onto the floor. In the far corner was a pile of stained mattresses, rusted springs poking through the threadbare fabric. Graffiti was scrawled across every surface, even the broken window. And beneath the window, another camera.
The camera watched as Penelope stepped into the room and moved to the centre, where some edgelord had spray-painted a sloppy pentagram on the floor. It looked rather fresh. Penelope wondered if Daevon had done it himself, to punch up the 'atmosphere' of the place. Like this place needed it...
"I'm here to speak with you," Penelope said as she held the recorder up again and began wandering around the symbol's edge. "Is there anything you would like to say to me?"
The recorder gave a little crackle like it might be picking something up.
Chills echoed over her skin. "Is there anything you would like to say to me?" Penelope repeated. "I'm here to listen."
Another crackle. Something was definitely here.
"Who are you?" she asked, walking around the pentagram for a second time. "What do you want?"
Penelope's back was to the open door. As she continued her questions, a dark figure appeared, standing in the doorway. At first, it looked like it could be just a shifting shadow cast by Penelope as she paced around the room. But as Penelope finally stopped, going still as she waited for a reply to her last question...
The shadow moved on its own.
It stepped into the room, inching closer to Penelope. And as she began to move again, it moved, too. Like it was following her.
Mirroring her.
Penelope shuddered and wrapped her free arm around herself like she had felt a sudden chill...