As they were gathering their things to head out the door, Dove's eyes caught on a newspaper discarded on the counter. She froze, her gaze fixated on a familiar face staring back at her from the front page. Chrissy's photo sat beneath the obituaries, her entire life boiled down to one small paragraph. The words blurred as Dove focused solely on Chrissy's smile, captured in a happier time.
Dove's heart twisted, the weight of grief settling over her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She reached out, her fingers brushing over the newsprint. "Chrissy's funeral is today," she said softly, almost to herself.
The room went still. The others stopped in their tracks, glancing between Dove and the paper, tension thickening the air.
"I have to go," she said, lifting her gaze to meet theirs, her voice resolute.
Steve and Nancy exchanged a glance, both of them frowning. "Dove, it's too dangerous," Nancy said, her tone gentle but unwavering. "Jason and his whole crew will be there. They already think you're hiding her killer. They're not gonna like seeing you there."
Dove shook her head, her hand still hovering over Chrissy's image. "I don't care. I need to say goodbye."
The room fell into a tense silence. Dustin finally sighed and stepped forward, pulling his walkie out of his bag. "Here," he said, pressing it into her hand. "Just in case. We'll meet up later. Call if you need us."
Steve, watching the scene unfold, sighed heavily and crossed his arms, addressing the others. "I'll go with her," he said decisively. Dove started to protest, shaking her head, but Steve held up a hand, cutting her off. "No way are you going alone, Dove. It's not happening."
She bit her lip, conflicted but clearly touched by his determination. "Steve, you don't have to—"
"I know. But I'm not letting you walk into a lion's den by yourself," he said, his gaze softening. "We'll go, pay our respects, and get out of there as quickly as possible."
Dove looked around at the group, their faces a mix of worry and resignation. "Thank you," she murmured.
The others began gathering their things, preparing to leave for the Creel house. Just before they exited, Dustin looked back at Dove, a silent plea in his eyes. "Be careful," he said.
"We will," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper.
The group shared a final glance, an unspoken agreement hanging between them. As Nancy, Dustin, and the others headed toward the door to begin their search for answers at the Creel house, Dove and Steve set their course for the funeral, prepared to face whatever lay ahead—together.
The church was dimly lit, and the quiet murmur of voices filled the space, each one heavy with grief and reverence. Dove felt the weight of it pressing down on her shoulders as she and Steve stepped through the doors, their footsteps soft against the polished floor. They had stopped at her house for a change of clothes, and now she was dressed in a simple black dress, her hair pulled back, while Steve wore a dark suit, his expression somber but protective.
As they moved further inside, Dove's gaze drifted over the rows of mourners, many of whom she recognized. Jason Carver sat near the front, flanked by members of the basketball team, his usually cocky demeanor subdued. But when his eyes landed on Dove and Steve, his expression hardened. His gaze burned with a quiet intensity, a flicker of anger lurking behind his polite facade. For a second, Dove thought he might stand up and approach them, but he remained seated, watching their every move with an unnerving intensity.
As Dove and Steve neared the front of the church, they joined a short line of mourners waiting to pay their respects to Chrissy's family. Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham stood by a large photograph of Chrissy, her bright smile immortalized against a soft blue backdrop. Beside them, a young boy, no more than ten, clung tightly to his mother's hand, his eyes red and swollen as he glanced around the room with a lost, bewildered expression.
When it was Dove's turn, Mrs. Cunningham's face softened, and she immediately pulled Dove into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around her as though she were an anchor in a storm. "Oh, Dove," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much for being here."
Dove felt a lump rise in her throat, and she returned the hug, fighting back tears. "I wouldn't be anywhere else," she whispered. "Chrissy meant so much to me."
Mrs. Cunningham pulled back, holding Dove's hands tightly as she looked into her eyes, searching for something that might offer her comfort or understanding in the midst of the unthinkable. Dove saw the pain in her eyes, the questions that would never have answers. She squeezed Mrs. Cunningham's hands in silent support, wishing there were more she could say or do.
Mr. Cunningham stepped forward, extending a hand to Steve, who shook it respectfully. "Thank you for being here," he said, his voice low and strained. "Chrissy would have been grateful to know she had friends who cared about her so deeply."
Steve nodded solemnly. "She was a wonderful person, sir. We're all going to miss her."
As they turned to make their way back, Dove felt Jason's gaze pierce through her again, his jaw clenched as he followed their every movement. She held her head high, not willing to let him intimidate her, though her heart was racing in her chest.
Just before they moved out of his line of sight, Jason's voice cut through the air, low enough not to draw attention but loud enough for them to hear. "Funny seeing you here," he said, his tone carrying an edge that made Dove's stomach twist. She glanced at him briefly, meeting his cold, suspicious eyes, but she didn't respond. Steve's hand on her arm gently steered her away, his presence a silent reassurance.
Just as Dove and Steve turned to find their seats, two familiar faces emerged from the crowd: Sarah and Kim, both girls from the cheer squad. Their eyes were red and puffy, a visible reminder of the heartbreak Chrissy's death had left behind. They didn't say much, simply pulling Dove into a quiet, tearful hug. When they stepped back, Sarah and Kim shared a brief glance as they noticed Steve by her side, their expressions tinged with curiosity or perhaps even amusement. Dove caught it but chose to ignore it, offering them a small, grateful smile before they drifted back into the crowd.
Dove and Steve finally found a quiet place near the back and sat down, the soft murmur of the room fading as the service began. The pastor stepped up to the podium, his voice gentle but solemn as he spoke of Chrissy as a light in the world, a soul that brought joy to everyone she met. He talked about her kindness, her laughter, and the quiet strength she carried through life, a light that had been snuffed out too soon.
Dove's gaze fell to her hands, trembling slightly in her lap. She felt the tightness in her chest growing, each word from the pastor piercing her with the reminder of how much had been taken. Her vision blurred as she blinked back tears, her mind swirling with memories of Chrissy's bright laugh, her infectious smile, the way she'd always been there for everyone.
A gentle pressure on her hand drew her back to the present. She looked down to see Steve's hand covering hers, grounding her in the moment. He didn't say anything, just gave her a reassuring squeeze, his warmth cutting through the numbness that had crept over her.
She glanced over at him, her heart full of gratitude for the quiet support, for the way he seemed to understand her need for comfort without her ever saying a word. She gave his hand a squeeze in return, the smallest gesture, but one that felt like a lifeline as the service continued.
Dove blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes, her fingers brushing her cheeks as she tried to steady herself. Chrissy's mom had risen from her seat, a tissue clutched tightly in her hand as she approached the podium. Everyone's gaze settled on her, a shared grief filling the air.
Chrissy's mom cleared her throat softly, her voice breaking through the heavy silence, trembling but steady, with an unmistakable edge of anger. "The devil is here," she said, and Dove's body stiffened, her grip on Steve's hand tightening instinctively. "I can feel his presence.. growing stronger each day. But I know Chrissy's in heaven now, looking down at us, smiling. Happy to see all the lives she touched and brightened. But I also know she's frustrated. Angry. That the monster who did this to her is still out there. Still." she paused, her voice taut with grief, "Hurting others."
Dove's breath grew shallow as Chrissy's mom continued, and the words blurred for a moment. Her gaze drifted to Jason across the room, and her heart sank as his eyes met hers, his expression sharpened by an anger she could almost feel. The accusation lingered between them, unspoken but heavy, his gaze piercing as if he'd found some hidden truth, something only he could see. The bile rose in Dove's throat, and she turned away, a wave of nausea clawing at her as Chrissy's mom's voice carried on, haunted by unanswered prayers and questions.
The silent weight of Jason's stare grew unbearable. Turning to Steve, Dove whispered, her voice barely audible, "We should go."
Steve wrapped a steady arm around Dove, guiding her out of the funeral hall and into the cool air outside. As soon as the fresh air hit her, a surge of nausea bubbled up uncontrollably. She staggered to the bushes, her body convulsing as she vomited. Steve stayed by her side, rubbing her back in small, comforting circles, murmuring gentle words until the worst passed.
"Hey, it's okay," he whispered, brushing a stray hair back from her face. "Take a deep breath."
She nodded weakly, her stomach still churning as they slowly made their way toward his car. The calm of the moment shattered as a voice cut through the air behind them.
"Dove!" Jason's tone was sharp, filled with a cold fury. She turned, her heart sinking as he approached, his eyes blazing with anger, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.
"What, did the mention of the devil scare you off?" he taunted, his gaze narrowing on her. "If you tell me where Eddie is, I won't tell the cops you were involved. It's not to late to do the right thing."
Dove's pulse quickened, but she straightened, forcing the tremble from her voice. "Iamdoing the right thing, Jason. I'm stopping you from hurting an innocent person."
Jason let out a laugh, cold and hollow before taking a step closer, his voice dropping low. "You better watch your back."
Steve smoothly moved between them, pressing a hand against Jason's chest and giving a firm shove. "Back off, man," Steve said, his tone deadly calm. "You've made your point."
Jason's eyes narrowed at Steve, his jaw clenching before he looked back at Dove. "Me and my guys are heading out tonight to find Eddie. And you better hope you're nowhere near him when we do."
With one last glare, Jason turned and walked away, leaving the threat hanging in the air.
Dove and Steve climbed into the car and Dove reached into her bag, pulling out the walkie and pressing the button. "Dustin, do you copy?"
There was a moment of static before his voice came through, slightly breathless. "Yeah, I copy. We just arrived at the Creel house. Trying to get inside now."
A loud crash cut through the line, and Dove jolted. "What the hell was that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing with concern.
"Uh, nothing to worry about," Dustin replied quickly. "Robin found a key. Gotta go!"
The line went silent, leaving Dove and Steve to exchange a wary glance.
"Well, that sounds promising," Steve muttered, turning the ignition. As the car pulled out of the lot, Dove reached into the back for her sneakers, slipping off her heels and tugging on the more practical shoes.
Steve parked behind Nancy's car, and they climbed out, following the worn path leading up to the house. Dove's eyes lingered on the stained glass window of the front door, which was now shattered, jagged edges gleaming in the dim light.
They stepped inside, and Dove switched on her flashlight, sweeping its beam over the entryway, noting the thick layer of dust coating every surface. Dustin's bag lay abandoned by the base of the stairs, next to a brick, likely the cause of the broken glass.
"Dustin? Robin?" Steve called out, his voice echoing through the empty house. Silence pressed down on them, heavy and unnerving.
A sudden, sour clashing of piano keys erupted from the room nearby, making both of them jump. They exchanged a tense glance, Dove's hand tightening around her flashlight.
Without a word, they moved toward the source of the noise, each step echoing through the stillness of the house as they entered the parlor, unsure of what they'd find on the other side of the door.
Dove's swept her flashlight over the room, landing on Lucas and Max standing by an old, weathered piano, sharing a private smile. As they turned to see her and Steve, Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"You two look.. nice," Max remarked, amusement evident as she took in their formal clothes.
Dove looked down, realizing just how out of place they must have seemed in their funeral outfits here. Dove laughed softly, "Thanks, I guess. Have you guys found anything?"
Before they could respond, the lights overhead began to flicker, casting jagged, ghostly shadows across the room. The group fell silent, their voices stilled by the eerie flashes bouncing off the peeling wallpaper and dusty furniture.
"Who's paying the electric bill?" Steve muttered, his body instinctively tensing as he scanned the room.
"No one," Max replied, pointing her flashlight toward a nearby table lamp, which glowed with a strange, low hum. Cautiously, she reached out, and just as her fingers brushed the edge, the light snapped off.
From across the entryway, a floor lamp suddenly flickered on, casting an eerie glow over the broken furniture. Dove pointed her flashlight toward it. "Look," she whispered, her voice low with unease.
The others followed her gaze, watching as the light extinguished, only to flicker on in a different lamp across the room, then another, moving in an unnatural sequence before settling on the ceiling light above the kitchen table.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs as Dustin, Robin, and Nancy hurried into the room, eyes wide and breaths heavy. Dustin's gaze swept over Steve and Dove's outfits, his lips twitching in barely contained amusement, but he kept his comment to himself, distracted by the flickering lights.
"Did you guys see that?" Nancy asked, her voice low and urgent as she took in the rest of the group.
They all moved toward the kitchen, eyes trained on the chandelier above the table as it faded in and out, the light seeming to pulse with an unnatural rhythm. Shadows twisted with each flicker, casting eerie shapes along the walls.
Nancy's voice softened to a whisper, "It's just like the Christmas lights."
"The Christmas lights?" Robin echoed, glancing at Nancy with a confused frown.
"Yeah," Nancy said, her gaze fixed on the dimming light. "When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights.. they came to life."
Lucas swallowed, glancing around with a tense expression. "Vecna's here, in this house. Just on the other side." Dove's heartbeat quickened, her eyes scanning the room as if Vecna might materialize before them. Her gaze caught Steve's, and he gave her a small nod, steady and reassuring.
Suddenly, the chandelier flickered off, leaving them in near darkness.
"I think he just left the room," Robin murmured.
"Did he hear us?" Max's voice trembled as she spoke.
"Can he see us?" Steve wondered, glancing around warily.
"Headphones," Lucas said quickly, nudging Max. Without hesitation, she grabbed the headphones from around her neck, pulling them over her ears with a quick, determined movement.
"Wait," Nancy commanded quietly. "Everyone, turn off your flashlights and spread out."
With a final glance, each person clicked off their flashlight, plunging them into complete darkness. Dove cautiously stepped around the lower level, gripping her darkened flashlight as her heart thudded against her ribcage. The silence was thick, punctuated only by their careful footsteps and the occasional creak of the old house.
A sudden shout cut through the quiet. "I got him!" Robin's voice echoed from the parlor. Dove darted toward the sound, pushing through the archway to find Robin standing near the old piano. Robin's flashlight was pointed at the ceiling, its beam piercing through the darkness like a spotlight.
Dove moved toward Robin, her own flashlight flickering on just as Robin's dimmed. "He's moving," she said, watching the beam of light shift.
Steve appeared in the doorway, his own flashlight now picking up the mysterious energy as Dove's flickered out. Steve looked at the light for a second, processing the eerie game of chase they were caught in, then stepped forward cautiously.
They all trailed behind Steve as he climbed the creaky staircase, the faint glow of his flashlight casting flickering shadows up the dimly lit walls. The group moved in tense silence, each step amplifying the growing sense of unease that clung to them.
But just as they neared the top of the stairs, Steve's light sputtered out. "Shit," he muttered, his voice taut. "I lost him."
"No, you didn't," Max said, her voice unwavering as she brushed past him, her gaze fixed on a narrow doorway at the top of the stairs. She paused, glancing back at them with a determined look before slipping through the doorway.
The others exchanged uncertain glances before following her, their frantic heartbeats seeming to pound in sync. Dove stepped through the narrow doorway, the shadows growing thicker as they climbed. Her stomach churned uneasily as she realized they were heading into the attic. Every instinct told her to turn back, but she kept her pace steady, pressing forward between Steve and Robin, her jaw set in determination.
Behind her, Robin's nervous voice broke the silence. "Why is it always an attic? Seriously, why can't it ever be, like, I don't know, a sunny backyard?"
From the rear, Dustin's voice wavered as he spoke up. "Guys, what if he's leading us into a trap?" The words hung in the air, cold and heavy, and Dove couldn't help but feel a pang of dread. "Guys?" Dustin called. "Shit." he said, finally following after them.
As they stepped into the attic, the dim, single lightbulb overhead swayed slightly, casting distorted shadows across the slanted ceiling. The bulb flickered, creating an eerie strobe effect as all their flashlights suddenly sprang to life, beams blazing far brighter than they should. They exchanged uneasy glances, instinctively forming a small circle beneath the hanging bulb.
"What's happening?" Steve's voice was barely above a whisper, tension straining every word.
The lights continued to intensify, their beams merging into a blinding white that seemed to press in on them, almost suffocating in its intensity. Then, with a violent shatter, each flashlight exploded, shards spraying out in every direction.
Dove screamed, reflexively lifting her arm to shield her face, but she felt the sting as a shard sliced across her forehead. She stumbled back, pressing her fingers to the cut, her pulse pounding in her ears. The small attic was suddenly plunged into pitch-black silence, the lone lightbulb swinging above them as they all caught their breath.
Steve's hand found Dove's arm, his grip tight with concern. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she whispered, feeling the warm trickle of blood against her skin as she steadied herself. "But Vecna.. he doesn't want us here. We should leave."
Steve didn't hesitate. He tightened his grip on her arm, his voice urgent. "Alright, you heard her. Let's go. Now."
He ushered them all toward the narrow doorway, their footsteps frantic and echoing against the wooden floor. They scrambled down the creaky stairs, breathing hard, the chilling silence of the house almost pressing in on them as they raced toward the exit.
The night air hit them like a wave as they burst through the front door, the sudden cold biting through their jackets. They huddled together just outside, catching their breath, each of them instinctively glancing back at the dark house, towering and silent behind them.
Dove's eyes drifted upward, her gaze locking onto the attic window. She froze, her blood running cold. A shadowy figure glided past the glass, a flicker of something watching them, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down her spine.
"Did you..?" She couldn't bring herself to finish, her voice trailing off in a whisper, but the look of dread in her eyes was enough to make Steve follow her gaze.
The others turned too, their faces paling as they stared up at the now-dark window, an unsettling silence hanging between them.