Chapter 16: The Empty Grove

Morning of Devastation

The scream tore through the black house like a physical force, shattering the fragile calm of dawn.  Claire bolted upright on the futon in Margaret's office, momentarily disoriented before horror crystallized in her chest. She knew that scream; the raw, primal sound of her child in pain. She was moving before conscious thought, barreling into the hallway where she collided with Margaret, who had emerged from her room in black tank top and boxer shorts, a knife already in hand.

"Guest room," Margaret said tersely, and they ran together, taking the stairs two at a time.

The door to the guest bedroom stood ajar, spilling weak morning light into the hallway. Claire pushed it open and froze at the threshold. The copper smell of blood hit her first, metallic and wrong in the quiet house. Then she saw Ethan, sitting on the bed, cradling Lila's limp body against his chest, his face a mask of incomprehension and rage.

"Mom," he choked out, his voice cracking. "She's... she's..."

Claire rushed forward, her mind refusing to process what her eyes were seeing. Lila's face looked peaceful, almost like she was sleeping, but her skin had a waxen quality, and the dark stain spreading across the bedsheets told the rest of the story. Even as Claire reached for her wrist to check for a pulse she knew wouldn't be there, her brain kept trying to rewrite the scene.  To find an alternative ending where the girl wasn't dead, where her son's heart wasn't being shattered in real time.

Margaret moved past them both, her face hardening as she took in the scene with practiced efficiency. She gently moved the cream-colored envelope that had been placed on Lila's chest, now stained with her blood. Claire watched as Margaret opened it, her expression darkening as she read the contents.

"What is it?" Claire asked, still holding Ethan, who was making small, broken sounds against Lila's hair.

"A note from Evelyn," Margaret replied grimly. "She's thanking us for... for preparing the catalyst." Her voice was careful, but her eyes were cold with fury. "She got what she wanted."

Thomas appeared in the doorway then, bare-chested in jeans, his silver-streaked hair loose around his shoulders. He took in the scene with ancient eyes that had clearly witnessed too many deaths across the centuries.

"Let me see," he said quietly, moving to examine Lila's body with gentle care.

Ethan's arms tightened around her. "Don't touch her," he snarled, his voice unrecognizable.

"Ethan," Claire whispered, "let him look. He might be able to tell us what happened."

After a moment of resistance, Ethan relented, allowing Thomas to examine the wound. Thomas's fingers traced a small puncture at the center of Lila's chest, the entry point so precise it had left barely more than a pinprick on her skin.

"Ceremonial dagger," Thomas said softly. "Ancient design, made for blood extraction." His nose flared slightly. "And the blood was collected, not wasted."

"The little clay asshole," Margaret concluded, holding up the note. "It came while we were sleeping."

"It would have been quick," Thomas offered, obviously trying to provide some comfort. "She likely didn't suffer."

"She's DEAD," Ethan said, the word exploding from him. His face contorted, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked up at them with eyes that held an age far beyond his sixteen years. "The HOA fucking butchered her for their vampire ritual, and you're telling me it was QUICK?"

David appeared in the doorway then, frozen in place as he took in the scene. His face drained of color as understanding dawned, and Claire saw the weight of guilt crush down on him like a physical burden.

"Ethan—" David started, one hand slightly extended toward his son.

"DON'T," Ethan snarled, his grief morphing into rage. "This is YOUR fault! You worked with them! You helped them!" His voice broke. "If you hadn't fallen for Evelyn's bullshit, if you'd listened to Mom, if you'd just paid ATTENTION, Lila would still be alive!"

David flinched as if physically struck, but said nothing, accepting the blame.

"Ethan," Claire said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder. "This is Evelyn's doing, not your father's."

Ethan shook his head, looking down at Lila's face. He gently brushed a strand of red hair from her forehead, his expression softening momentarily before hardening into something Claire had never seen before on her son's face: a cold, implacable hatred.

"I'm going to kill her," he said with terrifying calm. "I'm going to find Evelyn and make her pay."

"We all will," Margaret promised, her voice like steel. "But we need to be smart about it."

"You don't understand," Ethan said, looking up at them with eyes that had aged decades in moments. "Lila was getting better. She was recovering. We were making plans..." His voice caught, and for a moment he was just a teenager again, bewildered by the enormity of his loss. 

"We were going to be together " His bitter laugh turned into a sob.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo," Thomas said, his ancient eyes reflecting centuries of losses. "But we need to move quickly. Evelyn has what she needs now to properly complete the ritual."

"She'll use Lila's blood to stabilize Alaric's form," Margaret added, all business now despite the tears glistening in her own eyes. "We don't have much time."

Claire held her son as he rocked back and forth, still cradling Lila's body. She looked over at David, still standing in the doorway. His face was ashen, the full weight of his complicity crashing down on him. For a moment, their eyes met across the room and their gaze reflected shared grief for their son, for this girl they'd barely known but who had become part of their broken family through Ethan's love for her.

"I'll take care of the body," Thomas said quietly to Margaret.

"No," Ethan said firmly, his voice suddenly older, harder. "We're not leaving her here. Not like this." He looked at Thomas directly. "Help me wrap her."

Thomas nodded, respecting the boy's wishes.

Claire stood, moving to the doorway where David remained frozen. "Get supplies ready," she told him, giving him something useful to do. "Water, weapons, anything we might need. We're going after Evelyn."

David nodded wordlessly and retreated down the hallway.

 Planning through Grief

Thomas had prepared Lila's body with a reverence that spoke of centuries of experience with death. He'd wrapped her in clean linen sheets, binding herbs and flowers between the layers that he said would preserve her until they could give her a proper farewell. They placed her gently in Margaret's basement, in a cool corner where Beatrice seemed to hover protectively, the temperature dropping noticeably around her shrouded form.

The group gathered in Margaret's study, the morning light filtering through blackout curtains drawn halfway, casting the room in subdued shadows. Maps of Cedar Lane and the surrounding area were spread across the desk. Margaret's weapons collection had been laid out methodically on a side table: knives, stakes, vials of what looked like holy water, and a crossbow with silver-tipped bolts.  David picked up a wicked-looking katana and admired it.  He took off his belt and made a makeshift sling to strap it across his back.

Ethan sat in the corner, his eyes red-rimmed but dry now, staring at the wall with such intensity it seemed he might burn a hole through it. The shock had passed, leaving behind a cold fury that Claire recognized as dangerous. It was the same rage she'd felt when she'd emptied her gun into the HOA members who tried to stop her from rescuing Lila.  

"Evelyn will waste no time," Thomas said, breaking the heavy silence. "With Lila's blood, she has the perfect catalyst to stabilize Alaric's manifestation." He traced a finger over the map, circling the central grove. "Right now, Alaric is powerful but unfocused.  His form is unstable, his connection to our dimension is tenuous. The incomplete summoning left him tethered to the central stone in the grove, where the ritual began. He can't venture beyond the boundaries created by the amplification nodes."

"The weird pyramid things," Claire clarified, her mind working to translate supernatural jargon into something tangible.

"But once Evelyn uses Lila's blood in the completion ritual," Thomas continued, "those limitations will vanish. He'll be free to extend his influence beyond Cedar Lane, and his power will increase exponentially."

David stood awkwardly by the doorway, his body language screaming discomfort. "The amplification nodes were built on the properties I helped evict," he said, part statement, part baleful question.  No one responded.  Claire noticed Ethan's jaw clench at the sound of his father's voice, but he said nothing.

"We need to move quickly," Margaret said, picking up one of the maps. "While Alaric is still tethered to the grove and before Evelyn completes the ritual."

"What about the other residents?" Claire asked. "Is there anyone left alive we need to worry about?"

Thomas shook his head grimly. "From what Edgar observed, most of Cedar Lane's residents have been consumed. Those who survived have likely fled or are in hiding. Alaric's feeding frenzy was thorough."

"Good," Ethan said, the single word like ice. "Less obstacles."

Claire moved to sit beside her son, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ethan," she began softly.

He shrugged away from her touch. "Don't, Mom. Don't tell me it's going to be okay or that Lila wouldn't want me to be angry. She's dead because of these people. Because of what they did." His eyes flicked briefly to his father before returning to stare at the wall.

Claire withdrew her hand but stayed close, knowing from experience that sometimes presence alone was the only comfort possible.

"I've been thinking about approach vectors," Margaret said, pointing to the map. "The amplification nodes create a triangular boundary. If we approach from the southwest, through the demolished Holland property, we might avoid detection the longest."

"What about Alaric himself?" David asked tentatively. "Can he be killed?"

"Not exactly," Thomas replied. "His physical form can be damaged, but he's not fully in our dimension yet. What we need to do is interrupt Evelyn's completion ritual and force him back through the portal before it's stabilized."

"And how do we do that?" Claire asked.

"The Codex details several banishment rituals," Margaret said. "Thomas and I have been piecing them together from memory. We'd need access to the central stone and time to perform the counter ritual."

"While fending off a partially manifested vampire god," Claire added dryly.

"And Evelyn," Ethan added, finally looking at the group. "Don't forget her."

"I'll handle Evelyn," Thomas said, his voice carrying the weight of decades-old conflict. "This has been coming for a long time."

David cleared his throat, taking a hesitant step forward. "I might be able to help with that," he said. "I know her patterns, her vulnerabilities. She... shared things with me." The admission clearly pained him, but he pressed on. "And I think... I think I'm still connected to her through the blood rituals she performed."  His hand absentmindedly stroked the destroyed flesh around the brand on his lower back. 

Margaret and Thomas exchanged a look.

"He might be right," Thomas confirmed. "Blood magic creates bonds that aren't easily broken. If David still has that connection, it could be useful."

"No way," Ethan said, standing abruptly. "We can't trust him. He's the reason we're in this mess." He turned to his father, eyes blazing. "The reason Lila is dead."

"Ethan," Claire began, but David held up a hand.

"He's right," David said quietly. "I betrayed all of you. I let her manipulate me. I ignored the signs because I wanted to believe I was important again. And people died because of it." He met his son's gaze directly. "Including Lila. And I can never undo that harm. But I can try to help fix this now."

The tension in the room was palpable, father and son staring at each other across a chasm of grief and betrayal.

"We need all the help we can get," Claire said finally. "If David can provide insight into Evelyn's methods, we should use that."

Ethan turned away without responding, but he didn't object further.

Margaret began gathering weapons, handing them out with brief instructions. "Silver works best against Alaric's minions. Holy water might slow him down temporarily. The crossbow bolts are infused with Thomas's blood, which should disrupt Evelyn's magic."

"What about Edgar?" Claire asked. "Could he scout ahead again?"

Thomas shook his head. "The blood magic animation has its limits. He'd be useless in his current state. We go in blind."

As they armed themselves, Claire watched Ethan methodically check the weapons Margaret had given him: a silver dagger and what looked like modified throwing stars. His hands were steady, his movements precise. The playful, sarcastic teenager she'd known seemed miles away, replaced by someone harder, focused on a single purpose. It frightened her, not because she feared what he might do to others, but because of what this transformation might cost him.

David stood apart, awkwardly loading a crossbow under Thomas's instruction. Claire could see him struggling to find his place in this group united against a threat he had helped enable.

"We leave in twenty minutes," Margaret announced. "Pack light, move fast. Once we reach the grove, we'll assess the situation and adjust our approach accordingly."

As the others dispersed to make final preparations, Claire found herself alone with Margaret for a moment.

"He's not going to be okay," Claire said quietly, glancing toward the doorway Ethan had just exited through. "Even if we survive this. Even if we win. He's never going to be the same."

Margaret's expression softened slightly, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through her tactical focus. "None of us will be," she said, her hand briefly squeezing Claire's. "But surviving is the first step. Everything else comes after."

 The Empty Grove

They moved through Cedar Lane like ghosts through a graveyard, keeping to the shadows between the burning houses. The once-pristine neighborhood had been transformed into a hellscape overnight.  Purple flames licked at perfect cream-colored siding, manicured lawns were churned with gore, and the bodies of residents lay strewn across driveways and sidewalks in twisted postures that spoke of violent ends.

Claire tried not to look too closely at the corpses they passed. Many were still recognizable as neighbors who had welcomed them with forced smiles and HOA-approved gift baskets just weeks ago. Now they stared sightlessly at the morning sky, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and disbelief.

"What happens to them?" she asked Thomas quietly as they passed what remained of the Peterson family on their perfect lawn. "After all this, if we succeed, what explanation could possibly cover this?"

"Gas explosion," Thomas replied without slowing his pace. "Chemical leak. Domestic terrorism. The authorities will create a narrative that makes sense to them, because the truth is too terrible to acknowledge."

"And the bodies?" Ethan asked, his voice hollow.

"Fire cleanses," Margaret said grimly. "By the time any outside help arrives, there won't be much left to question."

They moved in formation through the ruined streets.  Thomas was in the lead, Margaret and Claire flanking, with Ethan protected in the center. David brought up the rear, crossbow ready but eyes constantly scanning for threats. The smell of smoke and death hung heavy in the air, mingling with the unnaturally sweet scent of the purple flames that seemed to consume structures without fully destroying them.

As they approached the grove, Claire felt a shift in the atmosphere: a heaviness that pressed against her skin like she was walking through invisible cobwebs. Beside her, Ethan shivered despite the morning heat.

"Something's wrong," he whispered.

Thomas held up a hand, halting their advance. The central grove lay before them, but instead of the ritual site they expected, they found... nothing.

The elaborate platform constructed around the central stone was abandoned. The ritual implements were scattered, some broken, some burned. Blood stained the ground in patterns too deliberate to be accidental, but the stone itself, the massive boulder that had been the focal point of everything, was gone.

In its place was a dark opening in the earth, like a wound in the ground.

"What the hell?" Margaret breathed, crossbow raised as they cautiously approached the edge of the hole.

Thomas knelt beside the opening, his ancient eyes narrowing as he examined the earth around it. "This wasn't dug recently," he said. "This is old.  Very old. The stone was covering it."

"A tunnel?" Claire asked, peering into the darkness. The hole descended at a steep angle before curving out of sight, its walls lined with what looked like carefully placed stones.

"More than that," Thomas replied. "This is the original ritual chamber. Cedar Lane wasn't built around the stone.  It was built around this entrance."

David approached slowly, his face paling as he looked down into the darkness. "I've seen these markings before," he said, pointing to symbols carved into the stones lining the tunnel entrance. "In Evelyn's basement. She had diagrams that matched these exactly."

"What do they mean?" Claire asked.

Thomas traced one of the symbols with his finger. "Blood flow. Direction. Containment." His expression grew grave. "This isn't just a ritual site.  It's a feeding system. The entire neighborhood was designed to channel blood down to whatever lies beneath."

"Alaric isn't in the grove anymore," Margaret concluded, the realization dawning on her face. "Evelyn's taken him below. To the heart of the system."

"This must be where the blood network ultimately leads," David said, recognition in his eyes. "The pipes I saw in Evelyn's control room. They all converged toward a central collection point. This has to be it."

Ethan had been silent, staring into the darkness with a distant expression. Now he stepped forward, his hand moving to the dagger at his belt. "Then that's where we go," he said flatly. "Down there. After them."

"Hold on," Margaret said, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder. "We can't just charge in blindly. We need to know what we're facing."

"Lila's killer is down there," Ethan replied, shrugging off her hand. "That's all I need to know."

"Ethan," Claire moved to her son's side, "I understand how you feel—"

"No, you don't," he cut her off, his voice cracking slightly. "You can't."

Claire fell silent, recognizing the truth in his words. For all the horror she'd witnessed, she hadn't lost what Ethan had.

Thomas was examining the tunnel entrance more carefully now, running his hands over the stones and testing the air like an animal scenting prey. "This place is ancient," he said. "Older than Cedar Lane, older than the current incarnation of Karen. Someone knew about this place long before her."

"Is it safe to go down?" David asked, peering nervously into the darkness.

"Define 'safe,'" Margaret replied dryly. "We're planning to confront a vampire cult leader and her partially manifested elder god. Safety isn't really on the table."

"I meant structurally," David clarified, flushing slightly.

"The tunnel appears stable," Thomas said. "But that's not what concerns me." He pointed to markings along the entrance that glowed faintly with an inner light. "These are wards. Some form of protection or containment spell."

"To keep something out?" Claire asked.

"Or to keep something in," Thomas replied grimly.

A sudden wind gusted through the grove, carrying with it the scent of burning flesh and something else: a sickly sweet odor that reminded Claire of overripe fruit left too long in the sun. The purple flames burning throughout Cedar Lane flickered in unison, as if responding to a silent command.

"Evelyn knows we're here," Thomas said, straightening. "She's accelerating her plans."

"Then we go now," Ethan insisted, taking another step toward the tunnel.

Margaret caught his arm. "Not yet. We need more information before we stumble into whatever's waiting down there."

"What about the homunculus?" Claire suggested. "It was able to get into Margaret's house undetected. Maybe it knows another way in, or can tell us what's down there."

"If we could capture it, maybe," Thomas agreed. "But how do we find it?"

"It'll come back to check on us," Margaret said with certainty. "To make sure we found Lila. To see our reactions. That's how Evelyn operates. She feeds on suffering."

"So we set a trap," David said, the marketing executive's strategic mind finally finding purpose. "We give it something it can't resist investigating."

Thomas nodded slowly. "That could work. The homunculus is bound to Evelyn through blood magic. It has to follow her instructions, but it would also be compelled to report any potential threats to her plans."

"We go back to the black house," Margaret decided. "Set our trap, capture the homunculus, and make it tell us what's down there." She looked at the open tunnel with distaste. "I don't like walking into an ambush in those tunnels without knowing what we're facing."

For a moment, it seemed Ethan might argue, might insist on plunging into the darkness immediately in pursuit of vengeance. But something in Margaret's tone must have reached the rational part of his grief-stricken mind.

"Fine," he said finally. "But when we come back, nothing stops us from going down there. Nothing."

 A New Strategy

Back at Margaret's black house, the group gathered in the living room to finalize their plan. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with grief and determination.

Claire stepped forward, her face set with resolve. "I'll be the bait," she said.

All eyes turned to her.

"That thing got past all of us once," she continued. "But it won't expect me to be waiting for it. I'll pretend to be alone, grieving, vulnerable. The perfect emotional feast for Evelyn to enjoy by proxy."

"It's too dangerous," David said immediately. "Let me do it."

"No," Claire shook her head. "The homunculus would be suspicious of you. After what happened at the ritual, Evelyn probably assumes you're either dead or captured. But me? A heartbroken mother whose son is shattered by grief? That's exactly what it would expect to find."

Margaret exchanged a glance with Thomas, then nodded. "She's right. It's our best option."

"I don't like it," David persisted.

"Your approval isn't required," Ethan said coldly, speaking for the first time since they'd returned from the grove. "Mom knows what she's doing."

David flinched visibly at his son's tone but didn't argue further.

"We'll need to set the stage," Thomas said, moving toward the center of the room. "Make it convincing. And we'll need a way to trap the homunculus once it arrives."

"I have containment circles prepared in my study," Margaret said. "Originally designed for demons, but they should work on a clay construct bound by blood magic."

Thomas nodded. "I can strengthen them with my blood. And..." He paused, looking at the empty space near the bookshelf where the temperature was noticeably cooler. "Beatrice might be able to help."

"The ghost?" Claire asked.

"She can serve as an early warning system," Thomas explained. "With a bit of blood magic enhancement, she could alert us the moment the homunculus breaches the perimeter."

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "You never mentioned you could enhance spirits."

"You never asked," Thomas replied with the faintest hint of a smile. "Besides, Beatrice and I are... old acquaintances."

As if in response, several books on Margaret's shelf shifted slightly.

"I'll take that as consent," Thomas murmured.

While Margaret and Thomas prepared the magical components of their trap, Claire arranged herself in the study, playing the role of the grieving mother. She placed Lila's bloodstained note on the desk before her, letting her genuine sorrow for the girl and fear for her son show plainly on her face.

David approached hesitantly, carrying extra ammunition for the crossbow Margaret had stationed behind a curtain.

"Claire," he said softly, "if anything goes wrong—"

"It won't," she interrupted, not meeting his eyes.

"But if it does," he persisted, "I want you to know I'm sorry. For everything. I was weak and stupid, and I let her manipulate me because it made me feel important again."

Claire looked up at him finally, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. Before she could respond, Ethan appeared in the doorway.

"Are you seriously apologizing?" he asked, his voice tight with controlled rage. "Like 'sorry' fixes anything? Like it brings Lila back?"

"Ethan," Claire began.

"No," Ethan cut her off. "I don't want to hear it." He turned his cold gaze to his father. "Do your job. Help set the trap. But don't expect forgiveness. Not now. Not ever."

David stood frozen, the ammunition clutched in his hands. "I understand," he said quietly. "But I'm still your father, and I still love you. Whether you believe that or not."

"My father died the moment he chose Evelyn over his family," Ethan replied flatly, then turned and walked away.

David closed his eyes briefly, absorbing the blow, then set the ammunition on a side table and retreated without another word.

Claire wanted to call after him, to offer some comfort, but she knew it wasn't what either of them needed right now. The time for healing would come later, if they survived.

In the living room, Thomas had completed a complex ritual involving several drops of his blood placed at strategic points around the house. The ancient vampire stood with his eyes closed, murmuring words in a language that sounded like nothing Claire had ever heard.  A language older than Latin, maybe perhaps than any human tongue.

The temperature throughout the house dropped several degrees. The lights flickered, and Claire felt a strange pressure in her ears, as if she'd suddenly ascended to a high altitude.

"It's done," Thomas announced, opening his eyes, which briefly glowed with an inner light before returning to normal. "Beatrice is now bound to the house's perimeter. If anything crosses that doesn't belong here, she'll know immediately."

"How will she tell us?" Claire asked from the study doorway.

As if in answer, all the lights in the house flared briefly, then dimmed.

"Like that," Thomas said with satisfaction. "A bit dramatic, but effective."

Margaret emerged from the basement, carrying what looked like an ancient clay pot covered in symbols similar to those they'd seen at the tunnel entrance. "Containment vessel," she explained. "Once we capture the homunculus, this will hold it."

They positioned themselves strategically throughout the house; Margaret hidden in the study behind a bookcase, Thomas concealed in the hallway with a clear view of the main entrance, Ethan and David stationed upstairs with weapons ready.

"Remember," Thomas said as they took their positions, "the homunculus was once a human person. Given Evelyn’s parasitic nature, probably someone from the HOA.  There might still be some humanity in there we can exploit."

Claire sat alone in the study, surrounded by papers and maps, the perfect picture of a woman desperately seeking answers while mourning. She held one of Lila's hairbands in her hands, running her fingers over it repeatedly as if drawing comfort from the connection.

As the others disappeared into their hiding places, Claire felt the weight of her role settle over her. She was bait in a trap for a creature that had murdered a teenage girl in her sleep. The same creature that now served the woman who wanted to sacrifice her son.

The lights flickered once; Beatrice's way of signaling readiness. Claire took a deep breath and let her guard down, allowing genuine tears to well in her eyes as she thought of Lila's body in the basement, and everything in life Lila would never have a chance to experience.