1 Year Later. Berlin. 3:00 AM.
Storage 9 hadn’t been opened in 365 days.
The lock was new. The seal was FBI-grade.
And it was humming.
Claire stood in the hallway with Daniel. Two cups of coffee. Two folders.
And a box.
"You nervous?" Daniel asked.
"No," Claire said. "But I brought extra sugar.
They never said if ghosts like it sweet."
Daniel didn’t laugh. "If we mess this up, they scatter again.
12 cities last time. We won’t get that lucky twice."
Claire swiped her keycard. The door opened.
Cold air. The smell of garlic and bleach.
Inside: 9 chairs. 9 plates. 9 shadows.
Sitting. Waiting. Not moving.
Nothing had changed.
Except the wall. The names weren’t bleeding anymore.
They were carved. Deep.
"Annual Dinner protocol," Claire said out loud, for the recorder.
"Date: August 10, 2027. Hosts: Agent Claire Morgan, Daniel Reed.
Purpose: Remembrance and containment."
She set the box on the table.
Inside: no food.
Photos. Newspaper clippings. Letters.
A child’s drawing of 9 people at a table.
A death certificate for Dr. Markus Hale.
And a list. 9 names. The original 9.
Claire started reading. One by one.
"Anna Weiss. Died 1924. Age 19. Seamstress.
You waited because you were afraid of being alone."
The shadow in chair 1 flickered.
"Jonas Brandt. Died 1924. Age 42. Baker.
You waited because you promised your wife you’d hold the family together."
Chair 2 nodded.
She went through all 9. Their real names. Their real stories.
Not monsters. People. Starving people who made a bad deal.
When she finished, the room was quiet.
The drain in the floor was silent.
Daniel stepped forward. Put the photo of Laura on the table.
"And this is Laura Reed," he said. "She’s alive.
She’s not hungry. Because of you.
Because you agreed to stay."
The shadows leaned in. For the first time, they didn’t look hungry.
They looked tired.
Chair 1’s shadow raised a hand. Pointed at the photo.
Then pointed at Claire.
A whisper, all 9 voices together, but soft:
"We remember."
The lights stopped flickering.
The temperature went back to normal.
Claire closed the folder. "Same time next year?"
No answer. Just 9 shadows fading, until the room was empty again.
Just chairs. Just plates.
They locked the door on the way out.
In the hallway, Daniel finally exhaled. "That was worse than fighting them."
Claire smiled. "Because this time we had to see them."
Her phone buzzed. A text from Laura: Happy Anniversary. Made pancakes.
Claire looked back at the door.
Somewhere inside, 9 voices whispered back: Thank you.