Berlin. 14 hours later.
Storage 9 was different.
The concrete we poured a year ago was cracked. A perfect circle, like something had pushed up from underneath.
Agent Claire Morgan and Daniel Reed stood in the doorway. Flashlights on.
"You feel that?" Daniel whispered.
"No breathing," Claire said. "Just... waiting."
The room was empty. One table. One chair. One plate.
The same setup as a year ago.
Except now, the wall of names was bleeding. The ink running down like tears.
Claire set her bag down. Inside: 8 more plates. White. Blue rim.
The same pattern from Berlin.
"If they’re split into 9 pieces," Claire said, "then we bring them back together.
On our terms."
Daniel stared at her. "You want to host all 9? At once?"
"I want to trap them," Claire said. "Hale’s mistake was waiting.
We’re not waiting. We’re serving."
She started setting the table. 9 places. Fast.
With each plate she set, the temperature dropped.
With each fork, the lights flickered.
1. click
2. click
3. click
By the 5th plate, voices started in the walls. Whispers.
"Claire... Daniel... hungry..."
By the 8th plate, shadows pooled in the corners. 9 of them. Not solid. Not human.
The 9th plate went down.
Silence.
Then all 9 shadows slid to the table. And sat.
No chairs moved. They just... occupied the space.
The head of the table stayed empty.
Daniel stepped back. "What now?"
Claire walked to the head. Didn’t sit.
She put down one last thing. Not a plate.
A photo. Of Laura. Eating pancakes. Smiling.
"You want a host?" Claire said to the room. "You don’t get one.
You want to be fed? You already were.
For 100 years, people were scared of you. That fed you.
For the last year, people forgot you. That starved you."
The shadows leaned forward.
Claire slammed her hand on the table.
"So here’s the new deal. You stay in this room.
You don’t get out. You don’t get new hosts.
And in return... we remember you. Once a year.
We set this table. We say your names.
You get to be remembered. Not feared."
The shadows didn’t move.
The drain in the floor rattled.
Then, slowly, the shadow in chair 1 nodded.
Then chair 2.
Chair 3.
All the way to 9.
The temperature rose.
The bleeding on the wall stopped.
Daniel exhaled. "Did it work?"
Claire looked at the table. 9 shadows. Still. Quiet.
Not hungry. Just... present.
"I don’t know," she said. "But we’re not running anymore.
We’re managing it."
She pulled the door shut behind them and locked it.
From the outside.
On the other side of the door, faintly, 9 voices said in unison:
"Thank you, Claire."