Chapter 4: When Protection Breaks

“I don’t think you or the Ellsworths want to tangle with the Association.”

Though Reverend Ford clearly hated it, since I’d invoked the Association—both as a warning and a threat—he had no choice but to let me go. Not that he was happy about it.

Back at my shop, the first thing I did was kneel and bow my head three times in front of my grandma’s old photo on the mantle. It’s a family thing—Grandma always said this shop was her legacy, and her photo’s been watching over it since the day she passed. Honestly, the more I thought about it, the stranger those shoes seemed, so I believed every word Reverend Ford said.

I also knew for sure that whatever was attached to those shoes would come for me tonight.

But as for luring the spirit at the Ellsworth house, I just couldn’t do it.

If I tried to lure the spirit there, who knows if I’d make it out alive.

But if I stayed in my own shop, I was one hundred percent sure nothing could get to me.

When this place was built, it was set up with a protective charm—Grandma called it the Dragon and Tiger wards. The shop and the wards are one; as long as the shop stands, the wards hold. That’s what Grandma always said, anyway.

I remembered how Grandma would tell me stories about the old days—how she’d hung horseshoes over the doors and buried jars of salt at the corners for luck. Plus, Grandma’s photo watches over the place. Sometimes, I swear I can still smell the salt. Honestly, I don’t think anything could get through both protections.

So yeah, I figured I was safe.

As soon as the sun set, I locked the doors and went to bed early.

Tonight wasn’t a night for visitors; who knew if any guest would be living or dead. I chuckled nervously at my own joke, but I double-checked the locks anyway.

I double-checked the locks, pulled the curtains tight, and tucked Grandma’s old rosary under my pillow. In the middle of the night, tossing and turning, I heard footsteps pacing back and forth in the shop downstairs, along with a woman’s low sobbing.

The sound was unmistakable—heels clicking on hardwood, the soft whimpering drifting up through the vents. My heart was pounding. I shot upright in bed, barely daring to breathe.

The sounds echoed through the floor—it was definitely real, not my imagination. My skin prickled all over.

That thing... had gotten in?

I was so scared I barely breathed. What kind of thing could break through the Dragon and Tiger wards and get into my shop?

The footsteps kept going, then a broken, ragged woman’s voice called from downstairs: “Where is he? Why isn’t anyone here? Why can’t I find a soul, no matter where I look?”

It was looking for me?

I stared wide-eyed, jaw clenched, not daring to make a sound.

Even though I was drenched in sweat and my eyes stung, I didn’t dare wipe them. Any movement felt like it might give me away.

I was terrified even the slightest noise would give me away to whatever was downstairs.

After a long time, the noises finally stopped. Had it left?

I let out a long breath, shoulders sagging.

Just as I relaxed a bit, Reverend Ford’s voice called from downstairs: “Mason, open up, it’s urgent!”

Reverend Ford? Why was he here, now?

No matter—he was a real preacher, and his presence could only help. I scrambled up, ready to unlock the door.

Then the voice downstairs called again, more anxious: “Mason, hurry, it’s important!”

I froze. Wait—never mind why Reverend Ford would show up this late at night.

Just now, the voice clearly came from inside the shop.

How did Reverend Ford get in? And if he was already inside, why was he still asking me to open the door?

Unless... the one downstairs wasn’t Reverend Ford at all... My skin crawled, and I held my breath.

I broke out in a cold sweat and just crumpled onto the bed.

The thing downstairs definitely wasn’t Reverend Ford.

As I hesitated, the thing downstairs suddenly let out a piercing shriek.

It really wasn’t Reverend Ford.

I don’t know how much time passed, but only when the first light of dawn crept through the window did the noises finally stop.

I rushed downstairs, only to find everything as neat as before.

It didn’t look like anyone had been there.

Could it be that everything I heard last night was just my imagination?

As I stood there, confused, my eyes landed on Grandma’s photo.

A crack had split right down the middle of the frame.

The frame is made from old oak, solid as a rock, and never warped a day in its life.

Now there was a crack—a terrible omen!

I wiped the sweat from my brow, heart hammering.

Then I picked up the ashtray in front of the photo and scattered all the ashes on the floor. It’s a trick Grandma taught me—supposed to reveal spirit footprints. Sure enough, wherever the ashes fell, countless footprints appeared, covering the whole room.

Especially at the foot of the stairs, the black footprints overlapped again and again, showing just how long that thing had lingered there last night.

Luckily, I had Grandma’s protection last night, so the thing didn’t find the stairs, and I barely escaped with my life.

But now, even Grandma’s photo had cracked.

If that doesn’t show how fierce that thing is, I don’t know what does. Tonight, this shop alone definitely won’t protect me.

After thinking it over, I called the Ellsworths.