The Herron House

Those who enter The Herron House were never meant to leave…

Series: Randolph Casey Horror Thrillers, Book 4

It’s been three quiet months since paranormal investigator Rand Casey’s last encounter with the demonic, yet evil still lurks around every corner, hiding within every shadow. Rand’s reprieve ends when wealthy businessman Jackson Herron hires Rand to remove a dark spirit from the Herron family’s mansion—an entity who, years ago, drove Jackson’s father to insanity.

At first, Rand figures a simple cleansing ceremony should do the trick. But the Herron House is no ordinary mansion. Built by a madman under the influence of demonic oppression, the once-grand home has become a sprawling monstrosity filled with darkness and death.

When Rand becomes trapped inside, all hope of banishing the evil is lost. Now, Rand has only one goal—get out alive. But to escape, Rand must navigate twisted corridors, avoid collapsing rooms, and survive trap-filled chambers—all while being hunted by one of the deadliest demons to ever walk among humanity.

But in the darkest depths of the decrepit mansion Rand discovers unexpected secrets that might explain the origins of all demonic activity on Earth—and the knowledge he needs to finally defeat it once and for all.

The Herron House is a supernatural horror thriller for readers who love stories about hauntings and battles with the demonic—the truest form of evil that exists in our world.

You are only one click away from joining Rand Casey in his terrifying battles against mankind’s oldest and most deadly enemy—the servants of the devil.

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PROLOGUE

The man heard his name whispered from the shadows.

He didn’t turn around. Refused to. He’d done that too many times before, only to find no one there.

Instead, he refocused his attention on what was in front of him—a chess board, the pieces arranged in mid-game. The whisper had broken his concentration, but he found his train of thought again. He advanced his white rook up a few squares to cut off the black, attacking queen that threatened his king.

The man lifted his eyes to the chair across the table. It was empty. He’d almost forgotten he’d been playing alone, making moves for both white and black. He found it quite amusing that he was beating himself.

Another whisper came from somewhere in the large home office. The man clenched his eyes, willing the voice to leave him alone.

He’d lost track of how long he’d been holed up inside his home office—days, perhaps. But locking himself away from his family and the rest of the outside world was for the best.

He could not articulate exactly what was wrong with him, but he knew he was unwell. In the last couple weeks, a dark heaviness had come—a powerful dread that had settled upon his shoulders. It was debilitating. He could hardly think clearly. Sometimes, he felt as if he’d lost control of his own body. He’d suddenly snap back into awareness to find himself doing something he didn’t remember starting… such as the game of chess he was currently playing.

And, of course, the imagined whispers in the corners of the room persisted.

With it all came an uncharacteristic rage that he took out on his wife and son. The man had enough clarity remaining to know they didn’t deserve it; it was best for him to keep away until whatever was wrong with him resolved itself.

There came a knock on the door, startling him.

“James?” came his wife’s voice, soft and trepidatious.

There was a time when his wife hadn’t feared him, but he could scarcely remember those days now.

“Please talk to me.”

The anger shot through him like electricity. “Go away!” He glared at the door, daring her to speak again. Why couldn’t she understand he needed to be alone? Hadn’t he explained that his isolation was best for everyone? Perhaps not. But she should’ve figured it out by now.

She said nothing. The only sound was her footsteps fading away from the locked office door.

He buried his face in his hands. He had no idea why he’d screamed at her. He’d never been that kind of person. Why now? What had changed?

James.

“What do you want?”

At first he thought that his wife had returned, but this time the voice had come from behind him, in the office.

He couldn’t help himself as he whirled in his chair and scanned the room. As always, no one was there.

The man slapped himself on the side of his head, over and over, chastising himself for reacting. He’d been doing so well ignoring the imploring whispers.

You must keep building.

“No. I won’t.” The man turned his attention back to the chess board. The game was the lone distraction he had left. He made the move for his opponent, the only one that would’ve made sense if he’d been playing a real person. The black queen captured the white rook, leaving the white king in checkmate.

Randolph Casey must die and this house is his tomb.

It wasn’t the first time the voice had mentioned that name. The man had no idea who Randolph Casey was, nor did he want to find out.

Yet he felt his resistance slipping. What was the point of fighting it any longer? Deep inside, he knew he had no choice. Whatever held sway over him, whatever kept calling his name from the shadows… it would not go away.

Go to your desk.

But… maybe the voice would leave him alone if he complied.

The man stood from the chess board and went to his desk in the center of his sizable home office.

Open the drawer.

When he did, he found a sketchbook inside. The man was confused—he didn’t remember how it had gotten there. He’d never had the desire to draw anything in his entire life.

But now that he’d relented and obeyed just a little, everything else was like water rushing downstream. His arms and hands moved without conscious effort, like a mere puppet.

He opened the sketchbook to the first blank page, picked up his pen, and began to draw.