Jessica Newmanís tragic childhood has come back to haunt her.
Her father, a Catholic deacon she hasnít seen since he was found not guilty of her motherís death during an exorcism ritual, has turned up dead in Scotland, with a wound to the head.
Forced to take her family to Scotland and deal with her fatherís estate―a derelict mansion in the Grampian Ranges. Jessica begins to question her motherís death and what role her father played in it.
The house and its dark basement―could provide more answers than she bargained for.
Suddenly a howling wind drifted into the room, a wind that carried a voice, as low as a whisper. The voice escaped into the air like steam. Jessica and David stood as still as statues, listening intently, captivated by the sound. The noise swirled around them, almost in stereo and Jessica could literally feel it touching her ears and skin. Neither of them dared to speak.
Before their eyes, the sound took shape and form; wisps of crimson smoke twirling and coalescing in the dark. The gaseous ribbons smudged on the air and thickened and metamorphosed a second time. The smoke took on the shape of a body, a man. The figure stepped and gestured in slow motion, moving from one side of the room to the centre. The shape was determined―it had a task to perform, but Jessica and David had no inkling what it was.
The smoky silhouette formed words, but the syllables were distant. Jessica could hear the words, but they were too deep and too fast to comprehend. It was when she was struggling to translate the strange language, when a piercing scream overwhelmed everything.