// closed starter for @his-minions //
It was on the evening of Halloween that Salem had showed up at her doorstep once again, disguised in the body of a sleek black cat with bright blue eyes. Shiloh had known him for years now, always helping him out with one thing or another, but he never stayed for too long and he was always gone for longer. Usually whenever he would seek out her aid, it was to take advantage of her ability to both attract and interact with various kinds of spirits, something of which he couldn’t always do himself. While the feline saw it as a blessing with many beneficial uses, the girl saw it far more as a curse. Being a beacon for lost souls caused her more torment than it did satisfaction, as the sinister ones seemed to seek her out like homing missiles, hellbent on wreaking havoc upon impact.
With some coaxing, Salem had managed to convince his friend to follow him down to the old Whisperwind Manor on the outskirts of the city, nestled on the top of a hill just outside of a small neighborhood. It looked like something out of a typical cheesy horror movie with the full moon in the sky behind it and the dead trees that surrounded it and wrapped around the base of the hill. It made Shiloh scoff and roll her eyes. Of course they would have to go to a place like this, and on Halloween, no less. She’d heard of the place before, but had never dared to set foot on the property, the potent sensations of uneasiness and disquietude hitting her like she’d just walked into a brick wall as soon as she’d set foot on the pathway that dipped into the thick cover of gnarled trees. It made her skin crawl, but knowing that Salem was with her brought her some form of comfort.
The manor came by its long-time nickname very honestly, as the closer that one got to the building itself, the more the eerie sounds of whispers could be heard being carried by the wind that swirled through the property. It had been owned by the Mormer family over one-hundred years ago, but since the last of them had died or moved away, the youth of the town had begun referring to it by its nickname. Often, the brave (or stupid, Shiloh would always say) would venture into the walls, and many times they’d come out saying that they’d witnessed some unexplainable or spooky occurrences, but nobody was ever able to collect any evidence. More often than not, they were just spoofing or embellishing their stories, as the ghost of the widowed Annie Mormer only ever appeared on Halloween.
Cautious footsteps carried the tiny brunette into the dusty walls of the manor, her skin kissed by the subtle cold sensation of a ghostly presence. “She’s definitely here. Not anywhere close though,” she told Salem, who was perched atop her right shoulder, the pupils of his bright blue eyes wide now as they adjusted to the dimness of the area. He could sense her presence too, but even his feline instincts paled in comparison to the gifts that Shiloh had. He would need Annie to manifest into a physical form if he was going to pull off the plan that he’d concocted, and he knew that Shiloh would be able to lure her in much more easily than he could himself. The floorboards creaked beneath the weight of her small frame, causing chills to run up and down the length of her spine, but with the reassurance of the cat on her shoulder, she forged ahead and delved deeper into the winding hallways of the dusty manor, a flashlight in her hand.
It wasn’t until Shiloh had made her way into one of the libraries on the main floor that she had her first real scare, her breath hitching in her chest and her brown eyes snapping open wider as she turned quickly towards the noise that she heard. Salem had heard it too, his own head turning quickly in the same direction. Jumping off of her shoulder and glancing behind him at her to signal for her to hang
tight, his quiet footsteps then carried him over to where the noise had come from. It was there, in the next room, that he laid his eyes upon a male with long blonde hair. He assumed that he was here on the terms of a dare, probably trying to snap a picture of the basement, like so many people were always trying to do around this time of year. Making his presence known, he hopped up onto the arm of an old wingback chair, emitting a low growl in his direction that broke the uncanny silence. With what himself and Shiloh were about to do, this was no place for a regular human.