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Donovan

“That’s right,” says Donovan, “the Spirit Seekers are here in Romania, testing the basement of this collapsed sixteenth-century castle,” and the low-light turns his eyes into cat’s emeralds. Sarah swings the magnetometer; it keens when she points down the stairs.

“This way, I guess,” she says.

The pulse only gets stronger, and the video’s starting to fuzz in and out. “We’re nearing some kind of major manifestation!” hisses Sarah, hoping the mics still work. “Hello? If you’re present here, can you make yourself–”

Around the corner, they almost fall over the prow of the wrecked spaceship.

“Uh,” Donovan says.

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