Page 40 of Immersed
Elliot’s eyebrows rose. “Since when are you the cautious one? Yesterday you wanted to explore that abandoned mill alone.”
“Just feeling responsible,” Levi deflected. “It’s my channel, my liability if someone gets hurt.”
“Fair enough,” Tyler shrugged, shouldering a heavy equipment bag. “Let’s stick together for the initial sweep. We can always split up once we know the layout.”
As the group moved toward the sanitarium’s main entrance, Levi hung back, letting the others take the lead. This positioned Asher directly behind him, close enough that Levi could feel his presence like heat from a flame.
“Nervous?” Asher’s voice was barely above a whisper, meant only for Levi’s ears.
Levi’s step faltered, but he didn’t turn around.
“Just focused,” Levi replied, matching Asher’s quiet tone.
“Good,” Asher murmured. “I like you focused.”
Levi shifted his weight from one foot to the other, placing himself beside Maddie as the others unloaded equipment. Her presence felt safer somehow—all kinetic energy and bright colors next to Asher’s controlled stillness.
“So,” he began, “how many of these ghost hunts have we done together?”
Maddie looked up from her phone, surprise flashing across her face. “Did you hit your head earlier or something? This is our fourth investigation for your channel all together.” She tucked her phone into her back pocket. “Remember that old theater where Asher caught those crazy EVPs? That episode got you like a thousand new subscribers.”
“Right,” Levi nodded. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page for the video intro.”
Tyler approached the sanitarium’s entrance, twirling an oversized brass key between his fingers like a magician preparing for a trick. “Showtime, folks.” He gestured for Owen to start recording.
Owen lifted the camera to his shoulder and gave a thumbs-up. Tyler cleared his throat and adopted a dramatic expression that Levi suspected was his “YouTube personality.”
“The doors of Drosselmeyer Sanitarium have remained locked to the public for fifty years,” Tyler intoned, inserting the key with theatrical slowness. “Tonight, we step into the darkness that waits within.”
The lock turned with a heavy click that echoed against the brick facade. When Tyler pushed, the door swung inward with a cinematic creak.
“Drosselmeyer Sanitarium operated from 1924 to 1971,” Owen began, tablet in hand, “primarily treating tuberculosis patients before transitioning to psychiatric care in its later years.”
The main lobby stretched before them, a testament to institutional decay. Paint peeled from the walls in long curls that resembled flayed skin. An abandoned reception desk dominated the center of the space, its wooden surface covered with scattered paperwork turned yellow with age. The air smelled of dust and something chemical that caught in the back of Levi’s throat.
“The base camp goes here,” Tyler decided, gesturing to a corner with relatively intact flooring. “Central location, multiple exits if we need them.”
Owen unfolded a floor plan across the reception desk. Everyone except Asher gathered around. “I’ve marked the hotspots based on previous paranormal reports.” His finger traced paths across the yellowed paper like he was planning a military operation. “Surgical theater on the third floor—most reported apparitions. East wing children’s ward has documented temperature fluctuations.”
Think like a player, he could hear Ethan saying. Not a victim.
“Standard protocol,” Elliot said, already setting up his laptop. “Base readings first, then filmed investigations of each hotspot.”
Across the lobby, Asher worked alone, setting up audio equipment. Levi felt each movement like a subtle vibration across his skin. When their eyes met, Asher’s expression was professional, normal. Levi’s throat closed up anyway, pressure wrapping around his windpipe.
His hand rose unconsciously to touch the spot, fingers brushing against skin that remained unmarked despite the choking sensation he could still feel.
Fuck. Get it together.
Asher coiled a black cable over his shoulder, his movements economical, precise. A technician’s hands. A killer’s hands. Levi’s skin prickled with sensations—those fingers against his jaw, tilting his face upward, forcing eye contact.
Their lips crushed together...
Levi forced his attention back to Owen’s lecture, desperate for any distraction from the contradictory signals his body was sending him. Fear and something else—something he refused to name.
“Alright, let’s split up and start setting stations,” Tyler announced, clapping his hands together. “Elliot and I will take the basement morgue. Maddie and Owen, set up in the surgical theater. Levi and Zoe, second floor patient rooms.” He glanced toward the sound equipment. “Asher will run cables between all stations so we can communicate.”
The group dispersed, equipment in hand. Levi felt Asher’s gaze burning between his shoulder blades as he and Zoe headed toward the main staircase, but he refused to look back. Looking back meant acknowledging him.
