Title: The Moonlit Path
Author: aquaxeyes
Rating: T for language (may change)
Full Description: Ghost Adventures fanfic. Zak has a recurring dream of a woman that seems too real. Is there a chance she really exists? A fateful trip to his museum and a chance encounter sets him on a path to discovering something he'd been missing that he thought he had to live without.
Author's Notes: Oh, hi again!
Excited to post another piece of the story. It's awesome to just let your imagination go. So to those out there who have brilliant thoughts swimming around in your head, write a fanfic! It's a wonderful way to express yourself and have a creative outlet.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. Please don't fact check; I know the show is based on real people, but I rely on my imagination to write, even if some of the details I include may be true.
Part One. The Museum.
Zak stirred grumpily, wishing he could sleep in just a little bit more, but he had a feeling he would just spend the next hour failing to fall back asleep. He forced himself to get out of bed to let Gracie out, and as soon as she was back inside, he went back to bed. Sadly, the sheets were cold even though he wasn't gone long.
He sighed, the sense of isolation finding a way to make its presence especially known that morning. He was alone. He had been for a while now, and it was probably going to stay that way.
He couldn't blame any of the women he'd loved and lost, though. With the career and life he chose to pursue, the attachments and the effects his investigations had on him, he knew it was a lot for anyone to try and put up with.
It did feel a little poetic, though, that he would choose to pursue a passion that would result in fans and admirers, and that the same passion would also turn him reclusive.
But seriously, was his path forever filled with loneliness? The solitary captain of his ship, focused, driven, the safety of his crew and people in these dangerous situations too great to be slackened for notions of romance or love?
He shook his head. 'Stop narrating. You've been off camera for weeks.'
The last investigation the GAC had been on really affected him. He made sure to say a prayer and do a cleansing ritual before and after, but he still felt strange. Not himself.
He'd taken a week to try and get his shit together. It didn't work. He had a flat affect, felt depressed, and he couldn't break free from it. He took another week, focusing on reviewing case videos for House Calls, but insomnia started to hit. He'd had a second, more thorough cleansing done and for the last week, he was trying to get back to normal. He thought he was getting there, but then he started having those dreams..
He grabbed his phone. 'So many notifications.' He started checking his texts, then work emails, then tossed his phone on the comforter, giving up after he saw details of the next investigation he'd forgotten he arranged that would put the crew on the road the following day. To say he was unprepared for a new investigation was an understatement.
He needed to clear his head, maybe do something that would help him decompress before he had to come back and pack.
'All right. Time to head over to the museum.'
It took Zak a little over half an hour from the time he parked to get into the museum; there was a line of people waiting to get in, and some recognized him even though he wasn't heading for the front door. More to the point, he was recognized with his mask on. He knew the people cheering with excitement were fans. Wanting to show his appreciation, he spent some time with the fans, taking pictures, signing stuff, and thanking them for their interest in the haunted experience.
Mike helped him get inside pretty uneventfully, and he snuck over to the library and got into the secret nerve center, where his assistant security chief sat, monitoring the security feeds. "Hey, Greg," he said, taking a seat next to him.
"Hey, Zak," came the reply. "What brings you in today?"
"Oh, just making sure everything's still haunted."
"So far, so good."
Zak smiled, grateful to have such amazing staff. He didn't have to worry about the business at all; everyone he brought on seemed to be as invested in his collection as he was. He brought his attention to the screens, all displaying different rooms and areas within the eleven thousand square foot mansion. "Busy day?"
Mike nodded. "It's ebbing and flowing, but the tour guides are moving the groups along."
He wasn't even really looking for anything, but his eyes were drawn to the security feed in the doll room. There surprisingly weren't a whole lot of people in there, just two couples over to the right and a dark-haired female in the corner-
Zak had felt tons of things in his lifetime, natural and supernatural, but he'd never felt like what he was feeling now. It felt like he was being struck by lightning, and yet, there was a stillness in him that left him frozen, staring into the screen. The dark-haired female had her back to the camera, but her slender body and the way she stood looked so familiar. He couldn't place it, until she turned and he saw the side profile of her face.
'No fucking way..'
"You okay?"
Greg's voice seemed to come from miles away, and Zak had to take a second to realize he was standing, hovering over Greg so much so that Greg was leaning as far back in his chair as possible. "Sorry," he quickly said, getting out of Greg's space. He turned back to the screen and saw that the couples were gone and she was the only left in the room. She was still standing in the corner, almost like she was staring the dolls down.
"Do you know who's guiding the group in the doll room?" he asked.
"Should be Andrea."
"Okay, walkie her to keep going and tell the rest of the guides to wait a few minutes before taking anyone in there."
He walked out of the room before Greg could confirm he'd do as he was instructed. Doing his best not to run and attract attention to himself, he paced over to the doll room, noting Andrea had closed the door. He took a deep breath, then opened the door gently and stepped inside.
He felt like he'd just walked into some sort of dead zone. Usually the whole area was charged, like a low-level buzzing that resonated in his ears and reverberated against his body. These dolls all had some kind of electromagnetic energy; he'd seen, felt, and documented it. But as he continued to walk in, he was unsettled to find he felt absolutely nothing.
The woman he'd come over to see was standing right in front of him, her back facing him. She was wearing a red buffalo plaid flannel and black jeans and stood about five feet four inches tall. Her blackish brown hair fell in waves down the middle of her back. On one hand, she was too small of a person to be intimidating, but on the other, she seemed larger than life.
Like a moth to a flame, he sauntered forward. She was still, like a statue, and only when he was standing pretty much side by side to the left of her did he realize her eyes were closed. He looked down to see her hands were balled into fists.
Zak immediately felt goosebumps rise on his skin. His pulse began to race, beating against his chest in forewarning, but honestly, he couldn't look away.
A second later, the woman inhaled deeply. She opened her eyes as she exhaled, then turned and looked up at him, registering his presence for the first time.
His stomach dropped. Full lips, high cheekbones, and a wide nose. She had the same small beauty mark underneath her left eye. 'Just like her..' He had no idea how this could be, but it was her. The woman from his dreams.
She blinked, and he noted the one striking difference between his dreams and what was right in front of him. She had dark brown eyes.
She stared at him, no recognition evident on her face. For some reason, he was surprised by that. He half-expected her to.. well.. '..have glowy white eyes and spit out black ooze?'
She turned her head, the light catching different dimensions of color in her hair. It was a small movement, but it snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realized just how awkward it was to continue to stare at her without saying anything. As she turned back to face him, he forced himself to speak. "Hello."
"Hi."
Her voice was soft, throwing him off again. "I'm Zak."
She tilted her head, the light playing with her hair and her golden tan skin. "I know."
'Oh.' "I didn't know if you could tell with my mask on."
She nodded. "I could tell by your voice. And the glasses. And the black."
"Oh, okay. Just had to make sure."
She didn't say anything, not that he said something requiring a response. Weirdly enough, he couldn't figure out what to say or do.
Her eyes bore into his, and he was really thankful she couldn't see his sheepish smile. "I don't know what to do here," he admitted, knowing how stupid that sounded. He wished he knew what to say or do, but if he went straight into why he came out there, they could be in the doll room for a while. Knowing tour groups were waiting on him, he asked, "Can we talk somewhere in private?"
She stared at him for a long time. "You're not going to send me down to the basement and lock me in, are you?"
He couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. "No, I was thinking of the ballroom."
She paused, looking concerned.
'She thinks you're going to lock her in the ballroom.' "I'm not going to lock you in my ballroom-I meant we could talk there," he clarified. "Is that okay?"
The concern shifted to confusion, but she nodded. He turned and headed out of the doll room, checking once to make sure she was following him. When they got to the ballroom, he opened the door and gestured for her to head in. She did so, and he closed the door behind him.
The ballroom was still set up for Deadly Possessions interviews, with two chairs sitting across from one another. He offered for her to choose a chair, so she took one and he took the other. When he sat back and looked across the room from her, he wished he'd pulled his chair up closer. He really wanted to study her, see if she would continue to trigger flashes of his dream, but as she sat there with a questioning look on her face, he decided to start with, "Have we met before?"
She blinked. "No, but I think you know that."
"What do you mean by that?"
"This is my first time visiting Las Vegas. I don't think you've ever investigated in the state I live in, so we would never have crossed paths. But what I meant is, if you don't remember meeting me, we probably haven't."
It was mesmerizing to watch her talk. Her face was more animated than what he'd dreamt. She was much more.. real. 'She is real.' "I don't know how to describe this, because this is the first time I've ever felt.. something I can't put into words."
She took some time to process through what he was saying. "I'm lost. Did you.. capture something on your security footage while I was out there?"
"No. But honestly," he said, taking a deep breath, "I've seen you before."
She tilted her head. "Where?"
"In my dreams."
She didn't burst out laughing, but there was a glint of humor that crossed her face as she furrowed her brow. A skeptic's reaction. "You saw me in a dream of yours," she iterated back, her voice thick with more skepticism.
"Yeah. Three days ago." He saw something cross her eyes, but she said nothing. Taking that as a cue to continue, he went on. "I saw you standing in the middle of a pool of shallow water. Your hair was longer, long enough to touch the water, and darker. But I saw your face, and you were smiling with this like black ooze dripping out of your mouth."
She reeled, sitting back in her chair. "That's.. that's pretty terrifying. Are you sure it was me?"
"You had the same beauty mark by your eye, the same chin, nose, cheeks, eyes-well, your eyes were completely white."
"White?" she asked incredulously. "Like my eyes were rolled back?"
He shook his head. "White, like they looked almost.. iridescent."
She was quiet for a beat. "What happened? In the dream, I mean. Did I attack you?"
"No, you just stood there, smiling at me."
She looked perplexed. "That's it? Nothing else happened?"
"You might have been whispering something, but it didn't seem like anything in English."
"Now I don't know what to do here," she said. "Are you saying you had some sort of premonition that I'm possessed by something?"
"I don't know," he admitted, a bit relieved she was taking this more seriously. He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what it meant."
It was clear she was thinking through the details he shared. She actually looked really deep in thought, her eyes downcast. Zak saw her pull her bottom lip in and bite down, and it finally struck him. When he walked into the doll room, the only thing he felt was the absence of feeling anything. As an empath, that was pretty freaky, especially when he knew what he could expect to feel in that room. He had kind of assumed whatever was happening was isolated to the room, but as he sat across from this mysterious live version of the woman from his dreams, he realized he wasn't feeling anything from her either. Even though she was clearly feeling things, he couldn't sense any of it.
Unbelievable. At the very minimum, Zak felt some sort of feeling or energy from every person he met.
Her eyes lifted, and he could see-not feel-concern burning in her eyes. "I watch your show, Zak. I've watched Demon House. You can't just tell me you saw some witch version of me in a dream the day I flew in to Las Vegas-"
"You flew in to Las Vegas three days ago?" he asked, leaning forward in surprise.
"Yeah, I flew in Friday evening."
"Where are you from?"
"Michigan."
"Are you into the occult?"
"Not at all."
"Have you investigated haunted places?"
"Never."
"Do you believe in supernatural stuff?"
"I mean, I'm here." She crossed her legs, shifting in a way that displayed just how unsettled she had become. "I'm struggling to digest this right now so I have to ask. Are you fucking with me?"
If the situation hadn't been so serious, he would've laughed. "No."
She angled her head. "For real, you're not fucking with me?"
"I wouldn't-I couldn't make this up," he said. "I saw you in a dream, and it was as real as you are in front of me right now. I didn't want to overthink it because it seemed like just a remnant of my overactive imagination, but when I saw you, it literally gave me goosebumps."
She didn't look flattered at all, not that he meant it as some sort of pick-up line. In fact, she looked spooked.
"What's weird is," he continued, "I usually feel like this energy emitting from the dolls, but when I walked over there, to you, I didn't feel anything. At all. That's never happened. I've never felt absolutely nothing in that area. The only thing that was different was you standing there."
She sat up, arguing, "There were other people in the same vicinity-"
"But no one else stood in the doll corner as long as you. I think what's scarier is, I'm not sensing anything right now."
"That makes sense, doesn't it? We put some distance between the dolls."
"I just think there had to be some transference of energy if I didn't feel anything by the dolls."
Concern made its way back to her face. "You mean an attachment. To me."
"Possibly. I'm not sure." He know that didn't sound reassuring, but he didn't like making assumptions. "Like I said, I've never experienced this sequence of events before. But I need to figure this out."
"How are you going to do that?"
'Well, proof.' "Could you wait here? I want to go back to the dolls and see if I feel what I usually feel there now."
Slowly, she nodded.
He got up, then remembered his manners. "Do you need anything, like a water, or something?"
"No, I'm fine. Thank you."
As he opened the door, he turned to look back at her one last time. She had her phone pulled up and pointed to her face, hovering over her left eye area. The look of surprise on her face as she seemed to acknowledge the beauty mark he called out was genuine. Her reaction was oddly comforting, like maybe he wasn't as crazy as he probably sounded.
Zak rushed back to the doll room, noting the time as he walked. It had been a little over ten minutes since he left nerve. They had probably left the doll room about halfway into that time. The door was closed, and when he stepped in, the room was still empty. He moved to the center of the room, opening himself up to sense energy.
It was there, softer than normal, but it was there. It was like a static TV was turned down, and slowly, the volume was starting to climb back up. 'Because she's not in here.' The thought wriggled its way into his mind, and he knew this anomalous activity had something to do with her.
He left the room, leaving the door open, and went back to nerve.
"All good?" Greg asked.
"Yeah," he said, grabbing a still camera from their equipment stash and heading out. "Thanks, man."
On the way back to the ballroom, he wracked his brain trying to figure out what the hell was happening. All the energy in the doll room had been drained. When he first went up to her, she had her eyes closed, hands in balled fists, but he didn't sense anything off with her. He didn't sense anything at all. Despite these facts, and despite her having the face of someone he dreamt of before he actually saw her in real life, she was.. normal. 'How can that be?' He kept wondering that as he stepped back into the ballroom.
"Did you feel what you were expecting to-what's that for?" she asked, changing her question when she saw the camera in his hand.
"Can I take some photos of you?" he asked.
She paused. "You're not going to publish them or anything, right?"
"No. I just want to see if anything's here."
She nodded. "Okay."
He worked quickly, taking photos of her and around her. Because he was rushing, he wasn't looking as he was taking them, but he when he got to about fifty, he stopped and scrolled back. He didn't see anything reviewing the most recent thirty or so photos, but then something caught his attention. In one photo, he saw something dark over her arm. He switched back between the photos before and after, and the shadow wasn't there in either photo.
"The fuck is that?" he whispered to himself.
"What?" she asked, getting up. "What is it?"
She moved over to him, inserting herself in his space to get a view of what he was looking at, and again, he was stunned that he felt nothing emotionally. All he could sense was a sweet scent, maybe vanilla, emanating from her face and the softness of her hair as it brushed his hand.
Something felt stuck in his throat, so he had to clear it before he could answer. "There's a, uh, dark shadow over your arm."
She placed her hands over his, and again he found himself bewildered that no emotions flooded him. All he felt was her warmth, her softness as the pad of her thumb grazed his. The sensory trade-off overloaded him in such a strange way, he shifted as if something had grabbed him by the shoulder. She didn't seem to notice, just maintained her grasp as she leaned closer to see what he was talking about.
"What the fuck?" she uttered, placing a hand over her mouth. "That looks like a claw."
She looked up at him and something crossed her face. She quickly took a step back and said, "Sorry."
"That's okay."
"No seriously, sorry. I forgot about the thing," she said, motioning to her face but referring to his mask.
"Seriously, it's okay." Before she could argue any further, he motioned to her arm. "It looks like this shadow was trying to grab your arm. Did you feel anything weird while I was taking these?"
"No."
"You didn't notice any cold spots around you?"
"No, nothing. I really felt nothing."
"Nothing at all."
She glanced at him, her brown eyes looking so soulful up close. "I know it doesn't make sense, but you didn't seem to pick up on anything either."
It took him a second to realize she was right. While he was taking photos, he didn't feel any static electricity-like feelings, anything indicating something went through him, or uneasiness. He didn't get goosebumps at any point in time. And he hadn't walked into any cold spots.
"Do you mind if I do an EVP session?"
"Do you really think you'll be able to get uncontaminated audio right now?"
He paused. She had a point. Damn. "No."
She took a breath. "I know capturing that shadow is sparking the investigation fuzzies, but I kind of want to just go back and finish the tour."
He was taken aback. 'No shit, really?' "You want to go back out there after I captured a shadow around you?"
"I mean, I brought some Palo Santo sticks."
He didn't know what to make of her deadpan response. "I don't know if that'll be enough if you have an attachment the way I think you do. The energy around the dolls was completely depleted when you were in there, and I would feel personally responsible if something really bad happened to you."
"Umm, okay," she said, and he caught a quick flash of skepticism on her face. She turned her head, thinking. "Well, I can call the museum tomorrow and leave a message."
"I won't be back for a minute. We have an investigation lined up so I'll be out of town for a few days." He fretted, cursing the timing of the upcoming investigation. "Are you comfortable with taking my number?"
She hung her head back. "Is that really necessary?"
Her question threw him. "Yes," he said, then quickly remembered why he made the suggestion. "I still have to figure out why you were in my dream."
She stared at him and sighed softly, and he really wished he knew what she was feeling. Did she sigh because she was annoyed? Was she feeling stranger danger? Was she going to refuse to take his number? There was a level of unpredictability that perturbed him.
Eventually she pulled her phone out, unlocked it, and handed it to him. Instant relief washed through him.
He put his number in, saved it, and called himself. When he felt his phone ring, he hung up and returned her phone. "What's your name?" he asked, saving her contact information.
"Lia. L-I-A."
"What's your last name?"
"I won't be in your contacts that long."
'Wow.' Getting information about her was like pulling teeth. "Humor me."
"Jenkins."
He typed her last name into his phone. "Thanks, Lia."
"I'll reach out tomorrow," she said, putting her phone in her back pocket. "Does text work?"
Deciding not to push for a call, he nodded. He smiled just a little. The woman from his dreams had a name. "Lia Jenkins."
She matched his smile without knowing it. "Zak Bagans."
His eyes scanned her face, struggling to reconcile the woman from his subconscious mind to his reality. Both evoked some kind of fear, but from that fear sparked curiosity. "Would it be weird to shake your hand?"
"It's weird you asked," she said, a small laugh escaping her lips. "How am I going to say no now?" With that, she presented her hand.
He took it, again surprised that nothing but physical connection came through. He looked back up at her and saw her face get serious as she stared at their hands. He looked down, noticing the other beauty mark he'd seen in his dream, and his eyes flew back to her face. As if a switch had been flipped, she looked up at him a second later and smiled. "Bye."
He grabbed the door for her and as she walked away, a wave of sadness hit him. He really didn't want to let her go back to the tour.
Ducking back into the ballroom, he took a deep breath to reset and was shocked by one last revelation: the negativity that had affected him from his last investigation lifted, and he felt fine.
End Part One.
( Taking my time with the next one. )
