Chapter Text
“It’s a huge opportunity…” Sevika shrugged, leaning against the counter and following Vi with her eyes as she milled about the kitchen.
Vi grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, placing them on the counter next to the pot of coffee that she’d just started.
“Yeah, I know. It's just that I don't usually take on clients that I don’t know at all.”
This was partly true. Vi’s small carpenter business primarily ran on word-of-mouth chatter and personal recommendations. So the majority of her clients were people who lived around south side Zaun—the local community.
“Well, I’m vouching for them now. They’re a little out of touch, but all-in-all they're alright.” Sevika assured. “So it technically is a personal rec. They asked Mel who she hired to handle the renovations at our house, and she told them.”
Vi only nodded absentmindedly, mirroring Sevika’s pose as she leaned against the counter with her arms loosely folded across her chest. It wasn’t like she could really afford to say no. Big home repairs and major jobs tended to slow down as the warmer months slipped away, and people began to huddle away into their homes until next year.
This late in the year, a job like this was actually a god-send. Even still, Vi hesitated.
“Come on,” Sevika’s gruff voice came out a little softer. “What’s really on your mind?”
Huffing out a sigh, Vi was reminded that she had known Sevika since she was a teenager. With a decade of experience on reading Vi’s moods, there was no point trying to lie her way out of it.
“I’m worried about leaving Powder alone for that long. I’ll have to be on-site for a month at the least, maybe even two depending on how bad it is.”
That had been the primary requirement highlighted when Cassandra and Tobias Kiramman invited Vi over to explain the job. They hadn’t been to their lake house property in a little over seven years, and they had no clue what state of repair—or more likely disrepair—it was in. Typically, large houses and estates like that required some amount of consistent maintenance year-round, with most owners hiring a skeleton crew during the off-season to keep the property in good shape until the summer.
The Kirammans had done nothing of the sort, which struck Vi as odd since they were a painfully meticulous old couple if the pristine nature of their main estate was any indication. At the Kiramman manor, there wasn’t a single detail out of place. The shrubs lining the pathway to the house had been trimmed down within a millimeter of accuracy, every inch of hardwood on the floor had been recently buffed, and even the decorative silver in the foyer display had been polished until it shined. But, for some reason seven years ago, they packed up and left their summer home, never to return and now apparently ready to sell.
Primly perched on the couch across from Vi in the sitting room, they explained that they didn’t want to think about it any longer—they simply wanted it gone. If she accepted the offer, it would be Vi’s full responsibility to see to the preparation of the estate from whatever neglected state it was in now to showroom status for the realtor they hired. Without a proper evaluation on the current state of the house, Vi couldn’t even give an estimated time frame on the repairs yet, but if she had to guess for a house that size, it would be a month at the very least.
A full month that she would be tucked away working in some remote lake house, miles away from her little sister.
“Crazy idea, but have you tried talking to her about it?” Sevika started carefully, ignoring Vi’s soft, dismissive scoff. “She’s not a kid anymore, Vi. Powder can weigh in on her own needs.”
Sevika was right, of course. Not that Vi really wanted to hear it, but deep down she knew that it was true.
.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚。
Two weeks later…
“You’re sure you have enough to last you?” Vi asked as she nervously drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel of her truck.
“Yes, Vi for the six hundred and fifty-sixth time, I do believe that the ten truckloads of groceries you bought me will last for one month.” Powder’s exasperated tone scratched out of the speaker of Vi’s flip phone, which was tucked between her ear and shoulder.
“Right,” Vi chuckled a little anxiously. “And—“
“Ekko is already here, and we will call you every single day.” Powder interrupted. “I’m fine, Vi. Really.”
Finally, a shaky sigh of relief quietly passed through Vi’s lips. “Ok. I love you.”
“Love ya too. Drive safe.”The call ended, and Vi flipped her phone shut before dropping it into the cup holder. She refocused her attention entirely on the road ahead which was only just wide enough to accommodate two lanes as it wound through thickets of tall, coniferous trees.
Vi had taken off early this morning, wanting to beat any morning rush hour traffic leaving Zaun and was now on her way to the sleepy lakeside town four hours away. When Vi had gotten too in her head about leaving Powder again, she called her—much to Powder’s obvious annoyance given the fact that they had been discussing every minute detail of their plan for this month over the past two weeks. But no one could really blame her, Vi had been responsible for Powder since they were kids, and she had the best understanding of Powder’s particular mental challenges.
After spending so much time focused on protecting her little sister, it was hard to get herself to loosen her grip a little. But it was time to face the facts, Powder was an adult, and her support system was no longer a one-man show featuring her older sister. Vi logically knew that Powder was going to be okay, she was just waiting for her emotions to catch up with that fact.
Sighing again, Vi reached out and flicked on the radio to a random station, not really caring what was playing but finding some comfort in the background noise. Only one more hour to go. With under a quarter tank of gas left, Vi figured she ought to stop at the next gas station when she saw one.
Not long after, a sign for a gas station with a name she didn’t recognize peaked out from between the trees, conveniently settled right off of the highway. She turned off into the little gas station. It was old, but well-maintained. That was the case for most of the lakeside town, it showed its age but still carried a certain charm. Vi pulled into a halt at the pump and pulled out her wallet by sheer instinct, only to be met with a ‘see attendant inside’ sign.
“Ugh.” Vi huffed out quietly beneath her breath and walked towards the quaint building.
A cheerful jingle announced her arrival as she pushed the swinging door in and walked towards the counter. An older gentleman sat behind the register, reading his newspaper behind a pair of spectacles and nursing a mug of hot black coffee.
“Morning,” Vi greeted amicably. “Can I get $20 on pump two?”
“Sure thing,” he folded the newspaper and accepted the cash, before glancing one more time at Vi over the top of his spectacles. “Not from around here, are ya?”
“That obvious?” Vi asked with a chuckle. “No, I’m from Zaun.”
The man hummed a little thoughtlessly, like he’d already expected it, and Vi had merely confirmed his suspicions.
“Just passing through?” He inquired as he slowly opened the register with that unrushed demeanor that always seemed to come with old age.
“Well, not quite. I’ll be around for a job. Fixing up a house out on the lake.”
“That right?” A new voice interjected, an older woman coming out from around one of the shelves with a curious look on her face. They obviously didn’t get a lot of customers. “Which house?”
“The Kiramman home.”
Immediately, the old couple exchanged a brief look, before the man cleared his throat and turned back to Vi. “You’re all good to go on the pump.”
Vi hesitated a moment longer, feeling a little off-put as to what exactly that look had meant, when the woman added, “Just be careful, won’t you dear?”
Now, Vi really had a growing unease in the pit of her stomach. She chuckled nervously. “Is there any particular reason why I should be?”
“Darlene.” The older man warned in a low, careful tone. “No need to fill her head up with stories. You’ll be just fine, kid.”
Well, at this point, Vi had forgotten the truck entirely. “I got time, and now you’ve got me curious.”
Curious was code for deeply unsettled, but Vi wasn’t going to admit that out loud.
The old woman hesitated for a moment longer under the cautionary stare of her husband. “Well, you have to keep in mind that this is all just talk. Old wives tales really.” Her eyes shifted back to Vi. “But…some say that big ole’ house—the Kiramman home? Well, something’s not right.”
Vi didn’t quite follow. “Yeah, that’s what I’m here for. To fix the place up.”
“No, no, not like that, dear. There’s something off about the place. Things happenin’ around there that shouldn’t…and you know it’s right on the lake.” She leaned in a bit more, her voice dropping down to a hushed whisper. “You’re not from around here, so you don’t know the saying, but the folks in town always say, ‘Lake Pilt never gives up her dead.’”
“That’s enough, Darlene,” the older man concluded.
She spared another look at him before turning back towards Vi. “You look like you got a good head on your shoulders. Just take care.”
Darlene gave Vi a reassuring nod.
A little late for that—reassurance, that is—in Vi’s humble opinion. Not that Vi really believed in the supernatural. Like they said, it was just old wives tales. Something the locals dreamed up one night after a few too many beers and a couple of rustling trees.
Right—that must be it.
Despite her best efforts to write the warning off and put it out of her mind, for the rest of the drive to the estate, Vi’s heart thumped a little faster.
After another hour of driving, Vi finally approached the neighborhood of the address that she had marked out in her directions. The expressway gave way to more remote roads that got smaller and smaller until she was on a tiny backroad that hugged the perimeter of the lake. The lake was way larger than Vi had expected. When she looked out over it, the water stretched out for as far as the eye could see.
It could’ve been an ocean as far as Vi was concerned.
The other lake houses got fewer and further between. Then, at some point, the other properties were left behind in her rearview mirror altogether, and Vi was officially driving through the Kirarmman’s property. Vi pulled carefully into the long, winding driveway until the path led her up to a semi-circle drive in front of the Kiramman lake house.
Looking up at the house, Vi whistled low and slow.
“Spare no expense, huh?” Vi remarked to no one in particular.
Sliding out of the truck, Vi took another moment to really take in the house. It was a gorgeous two-story French provincial that generously stretched out in both directions to cover a sizable area.
It was stunning, if not a little neglected.
Even from down here, Vi could see that the gutters were in desperate need of a clean out, and there were a few too many shingles missing from the roof.
The thought inspired Vi to get to work. She figured it would make the most sense to do a full walkthrough and catalog anything that obviously needed maintenance.
Starting on the bottom floor, Vi walked carefully through each room while jotting down assessments on her tiny notepad.
Corroded pipes
Leak in guest room #2 -> water damage floors
Weak water pressure, baby blue bathroom
…
Methodically, Vi had gone room by room until she finished the first floor and trudged up the stairs to the second. She already had two pages full of potential problems. This place was shaping up to be a bit of a handful. But, the Kiramman’s contract offered a compensation that was far past fair, so Vi wasn’t truly complaining.
The only thought that weighed on her was the worry that this may take longer than she initially expected. Vi would be away from Powder longer than she expected…
No—Vi promised she wouldn’t do this. She had even promised Powder that she wouldn’t do this. Powder was going to be ok; they planned for this. On top of that, Powder had explicitly told Vi not to sabotage this job for her sake. Her younger sister had even straight up pushed Vi’s phone into her hand and demanded she call the Kirammans back right then to accept.
The thought of Powder’s headstrong nature made Vi laugh a little to herself, unable to stop a little smile from stretching across her lips.
Then, suddenly a small breeze was flowing behind her. It was weak, but inexplicably cold, which made the hairs on the back of Vi’s neck stand up. Whipping around, Vi narrowed her eyes at the window at the end of the empty hall. The window was definitely closed and even latched shut.
Yet, Vi was certain that she had felt a breeze.
How odd.
Reluctantly, Vi returned to her inspection, turning into a nearby bathroom to assess the situation. Luckily, the second floor didn’t have quite so much work to do. Vi unconsciously let out a satisfied hum as she mulled over her notes for this floor. As she did so, Vi meandered back out into the hall and on to the next room.
It appeared to be another bedroom, but the door was closed, which Vi didn’t find too strange. A few of the others had been as well. But this time, when Vi tried to turn the knob she was met with a disapproving click. The door was locked. Why would the door be locked? What a pain. The Kirammans had only given her the keys to the front door. Vi had no idea where the key was for this room.
Without any more information, Vi didn’t see the point in lingering any longer. She’d have to get started on the other repairs and poke around for the key to this room in the process.
Vi pressed on to finish her walkthrough.
.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚。
For the rest of the week, Vi prioritized tackling the most critical issues first. Or, put more simply, Vi was knee deep in pipe repairs and replacements for several consecutive days. They were causing all sorts of leaks and wonky water pressure throughout the house.
Also, if she was being honest, Vi had a personal stake in the matter. The first night before she settled into one of the guest rooms for sleep, Vi hopped in the shower adjacent to her room. The shower was a pitiful affair as the water randomly alternated between trickling and spitting out of the shower head. Pipes became the top priority that same night.
The work wasn’t too complicated, but there was a lot of it. Vi diligently worked each day to chip away at the mountain of tasks. Without anyone to talk to in this massive, empty home, the days were long, and the nights were even longer. Vi tried to fill her recreational time with relaxing activities like reading and filling out the daily crossword in the newspaper, but they were a poor substitute for human interaction.
The only times Vi actually had a conversation with anyone was when she went into town to buy a few bits at the supply store, and when she had her fifteen minute check-in call with Powder in the morning. It was hardly enough. Vi tried to pretend like it didn’t bother her, but the solitude was starting to wear on her.
Midway through her ninth day at the lakehouse, Vi allowed her paranoia to get the better of her. She was examining the pipes in the basement of the home when the foreboding sensation of being watched struck Vi like lightning.
It was that inexplicable sixth sense—the one where you can somehow feel when someone was watching you.
Taking a sharp inhale, Vi quickly scanned the rest of the basement while her heart thudded uncomfortably hard in her chest.
It was empty.
“Hello?” Vi called out apprehensively. “Is anyone there?”
Her voice bounced off the walls and dissipated without response.
Of course, there was no response. Vi shook her head. She clearly needed to take a break. After rushing back up the stairs a little quicker than she was proud to admit, Vi spent the rest of the day avoiding the basement altogether and convincing herself that she was just being overly anxious.
Luckily, there was no shortage of tasks to work on elsewhere. Vi had reached her quota on creepy, dark basement for the day. She gladly moved on to the next repair.
The next morning, Vi decided to start with something straightforward. She could use a win. Checking her notes from her walkthrough, Vi saw that the main ceiling light fixture in the study wasn't turning on. In all likelihood the bulb had come loose or simply needed to be replaced. If she was lucky, that would do the trick, and Vi wouldn’t have to dive into wire troubleshooting.
Vi worked her way down to the study, which was nestled on the first floor off the main corridor. The singular window on the eastern wall of the study let in a strong beam of morning sun that highlighted the dust particles that lazily floated about the room. It was spacious, but somehow remained cozy with the plush rugs on the floor and floor-to-cieling bookshelves that lined every wall. While the rest of the house seemed cold and vacant, the study had somehow maintained a warm, lived-in energy. There were even still books open on the stately mahogany desk in the middle of the room and a few stacks on the side table.
An inexplicable wave of nostalgia that she had absolutely no right to struck Vi as she took a few steps further into the room. For some reason, she could so clearly imagine the Kirammans in here—Tobias sitting in the plush green arm chair with one of the books from the side table carefully cradled in his hands, and Cassandra behind the desk diligently scratching away with a fountain pen at some proposal or grant.
Walking around to the back of the desk, Vi absently noted the items left on the desktop. A stack of legal paper, a few legal code books, and a variety of writing utensils were sprawled out across the top. The desk also featured a few drawers with brass handles, and Vi wasn’t really sure why, but she was terribly curious what was inside of them. Vi reached for the wide drawer under the desktop and pulled it open.
It was surprisingly barren, save a few things. In the middle of the drawer, there was a singular piece of paper. Carefully reaching in, Vi held up the brittle newspaper, soft and slightly yellowed with time. It was the front page of the issue, torn off and crumpled at the edge, probably from someone gripping it entirely too hard.
LAKE PILT CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM: KIRAMMAN HEIRESS NEVER RETURNS FROM A LATE NIGHT SWIM
Kiramman heiress? Vi scanned the article with an unexplained level of urgency. The Kirammans had a child. A daughter—Caitlyn—according to the newspaper. The issue was dated…seven years ago. The exact amount of time that the Kirammans had said the home had been left unattended.
That explains the state of…well, everything. The house was left as if the family had been poofed out of existence overnight. Glasses still on the nightstand. Shirts and pants neatly folded into the drawers of the closet in the master bedroom. Papers and a fountain pen scattered on the study desktop.
Cassandra and Tobias must’ve simply gotten into the car and driven away, never to return again after the traumatic loss of their only child.
Vi exhaled a shaky breath as she carefully lowered the newspaper onto the desktop. Then, as she glanced down, something tucked away in the corner of that same drawer caught her eye. A little copper key. Vi reached into the drawer and picked it up, humming thoughtfully as she slowly twirled the stem of the key between her thumb and index finger.
“Can’t be…” Vi wondered out loud before closing the drawer again and leaving the study in a brisk walk.
She took the stairs two at a time, hurried down the hallway, and finally stopped in front of her destination. The locked door. The room that she hadn’t been able to enter.
Caitlyn’s room.
Tentatively—almost reverently—Vi slid the key into the keyhole. Holding her breath, Vi twisted the key, and the locking mechanism gladly gave way given the appropriate access. Vi huffed out a little breath of disbelief before slowly pushing the door open. The hinges protested loudly as she did so, but Vi barely noticed.
She was far too encapsulated by the sight in front of her. Her eyes were wide as she took in the time capsule of a room before her. Vi meandered around the room, taking in the whole arrangement. A custom rifle hung above the fireplace, a large four poster bed sat against the back wall, and a vase full of flowers that had been dead for years now sat by the window.
The room didn’t indicate much about the personality of the former resident, much to Vi’s disappointment. Then, Vi noticed the most personal touch so far. She stopped at the nightstand and picked up a photograph that was proudly featured in a solid walnut frame. Holding it carefully in one hand, Vi gently brushed the glass clean with the corner of her sleeve on her other hand.
It was the girl—Caitlyn. Standing proudly, no more than 10 years old, clad in a smart beige jacket and a rather practical pair of boots. She was holding a rifle in one hand and a trophy in the other.
“Hm.” Vi gently ran her thumb along the smooth edge of the frame. “So you were an alright shot, huh?”
“Actually”—came a posh, airy voice from somewhere behind Vi—“I was an excellent shot.”
Whipping around to face the intruder, Vi‘s eyes widened to twice their usual size as her brain fought to catch up with the sight before her.
It was the girl from the photo. Well, a grown-up version of her, at least. Early-twenties, perhaps? Lean, tall, and mind-numbingly beautiful. Dark, midnight blue hair, a face made of graceful sloping angles, and—
Oh, also, she was floating two inches above the ground and somewhat semi-transparent.
In her shock, Vi didn’t even register the picture frame slipping from her hands until she heard the glass shatter into bits on the ground.
“Hey!” The woman, if you could even call her that, exclaimed indignantly.
Vi turned on her heel and outright sprinted for the window, which was her only escape route seeing that the angry spirit was blocking her way out of the door.
After fumbling with the lock, Vi frantically struggled to muscle the slightly damp, water-bloated wood of the window frame up through its track. Finally through some blended cocktail of adrenaline, desperation, and luck, Vi managed to shove it open. Glancing out and down, Vi figured a few feet to fall wasn't too bad with some dense shrubbery below to break the landing.
Vi took a deep breath.
“Wait! Those are—“
Whatever the angry spirit was saying, Vi wasn't planning on sticking around to find out. The panicked carpenter dove head first out of the window towards the bushes outside.
And—shit.
What was supposed to be a relatively cushioned landing actually felt like diving into a bed of needles.
Vi groaned out in immediate remorse, feeling shots of pain everywhere.
The—decidedly less angry—spirit hovered a couple feet above the bushes where Vi was lodged.
“Well, you didn’t grant me the courtesy of finishing, but I was going to say that those are rose bushes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and grimaced at the sorry, shredded heap that had become of Vi. “And I’m Caitlyn, by the way.”
“Neat.” Vi barely managed to squeeze out in a high pitched wheeze, vocal chords pulled taut through the pain. “I’m Vi.”