Chapter 2: Shadows of Sorrow
POV: Adam Carter
The Welch house squatted in the darkness like a cancer, its windows boarded up and its porch sagging under the weight of decades. Adam's scar throbbed in time with his heartbeat as they approached, and he could taste copper and old sorrow on the night air.
"Charming," Dean muttered, pulling a shotgun from the Impala's trunk. "Nothing says 'haunted shithole' like structural damage and a front yard full of weeds."
Sam was studying architectural details with the intensity of someone taking a final exam. "Built in 1892, according to county records. Constance lived here until she died in 1981. Husband moved out three days after the funeral."
Adam's mouth opened before he could stop it. "Because he was cheating on her. She found out, drove to the bridge that night—"
The words died in his throat as Constance's rage hit him like a sledgehammer. The phantom emotions were getting stronger, bleeding through whatever barrier his sanity had tried to build. He staggered, catching himself against the Impala's side.
"Shit, kid. You okay?" Dean's hand was on his shoulder, surprisingly gentle.
"Fine. Just—headache."
Sam's suspicion was practically radiating heat waves. "How exactly do you know about her husband?"
Before Adam could fumble for an answer, a new voice cut through the tension.
"Because infidelity's what Woman in White spirits feed on." A woman emerged from the shadows between houses, her dark hair pulled back and her jacket military-precise. She moved like someone who knew which floorboards creaked and exactly how much noise a safety being clicked off would make. "You boys are either hunters or idiots, and I'm hoping it's the former."
Dean's shotgun was halfway to ready position before she raised her hands. "Easy, cowboy. Name's Elena Rodriguez. I've been tracking this particular bitch for three weeks."
"Hunter?" Sam's voice carried equal parts hope and wariness.
"Researcher, technically. But when something's killing people in my territory, I make exceptions." Her gaze fixed on Adam, and he felt like a bug under a microscope. "Who's the kid, and why does he look like he's about to puke?"
Adam tried to stand straighter and immediately regretted it. Constance's emotions were getting louder, like someone slowly turning up the volume on the world's worst radio station. "I'm Adam. And I'm not going to puke."
"Famous last words," Dean said cheerfully. "Alright, Elena Rodriguez, what do you know about our ghostly friend?"
Elena pulled out a leather journal that looked like it had survived several wars. "Constance Welch, twenty-four years old when she died. Found her husband in bed with his secretary, drove off Saylor Street Bridge the same night. Classic Woman in White pattern—she's hunting unfaithful men, dragging them to their deaths."
As she spoke, Adam's phantom pain spiked. He could feel Constance's presence like a splinter under his skin, and worse, he could sense her location. She was close, maybe a hundred yards away, circling like a shark.
"She's here," he whispered.
Constance materialized in front of the house like fog suddenly given form. Her white dress flowed in a wind that touched nothing else, and her eyes were black holes in a face made of moonlight and malice. When she opened her mouth, her scream shattered the night.
Adam's scar exploded with pain, and his body responded without conscious thought. He phased, stepping sideways out of reality just as Constance's form swept toward them like a tidal wave of rage and despair.
For a moment, he existed in the spaces between atoms, feeling the ghost's emotions as if they were his own. Her betrayal was a living thing, clawing at the inside of his chest. Her sorrow was an ocean threatening to drown him. And underneath it all, her rage burned like acid.
Then he stepped wrong.
Instead of phasing back to solid ground, he materialized three feet to the left and two feet down, landing ass-first in a drainage ditch filled with stagnant water and forty years of decomposed leaves. The phantom emotions cut out like someone had flipped a switch, leaving him gasping and soaked and covered in things he didn't want to identify.
Dean's voice floated down from the road. "Well, that was something. You're a ghost's worst stunt double, kid."
[Mimicry's a blade, fanboy.] [Don't bleed out.]
The system's voice dripped with what sounded like amusement, and Adam wanted to strangle whoever had programmed the damned thing.
"Little help?" he called up.
Elena appeared at the edge of the ditch, offering him a hand. "Interesting party trick. You always phase into ditches, or is this a special occasion?"
"Special occasion," Adam muttered, accepting the help. His arm was scraped raw where he'd hit the concrete sides, and his pride was doing about as well as roadkill.
Back on level ground, he found Sam staring at him with the intensity of someone trying to solve a particularly disturbing puzzle. "What exactly are you?"
"Human," Adam said quickly. "Just... unusual."
"No shit." Dean was scanning the area with his shotgun. "Where'd our ghostly friend go?"
Adam's scar pulsed, and suddenly he could feel her again—not the emotional overflow this time, but her presence like a cold spot in his awareness. "She's in the house. Waiting."
Constance's voice drifted out through the boarded windows, soft and heartbroken: "Where is he? Where is my husband?"
The phantom betrayal hit Adam again, sharp and sudden. He flinched, and Dean's cheerful flirtation with Elena—something about buying her coffee when this was over—felt like a knife between his shoulder blades even though he knew it was ridiculous.
[Retribution: Mutter Constance's regrets for 24 hours.] [Keep it together.]
"He left you," Adam whispered, the words falling from his lips without permission. "He left you for her, and you can't forgive him. You can't forgive any of them."
Sam's hand was on his gun. "How do you know that?"
"I don't—" Adam shook his head hard, trying to clear the ghost's voice from his thoughts. "It's what they do. Woman in White spirits. They're tied to betrayal."
Elena was nodding. "He's right. Her anchor's going to be something connected to the infidelity. A gift from the other woman, maybe, or—"
"A locket," Adam said, and this time he was sure. The knowledge sat in his mind like it had always been there, bright and certain and completely unexplainable. "There's a locket. He threw it away after she died, but she found it. It's in the house."
The brothers exchanged another one of those looks. Dean's expression had shifted from skeptical to grudgingly impressed. "Not bad, weirdo. How'd you figure that one out?"
Adam opened his mouth to explain about the scar, about the certainty that felt like someone else's memories, but the system's warning echoed in his mind. Stay low. Don't draw attention.
"Lucky guess," he said instead.
"Right." Sam's tone suggested he believed that about as much as he believed in the tooth fairy. "Lucky."
[Achievement: "Shadows of Sorrow" – Found the haunt.] [+10% Mental Energy.]
The overlay flickered across Adam's vision again, and he felt some of the exhaustion lift from his shoulders. His mental energy gauge—and Christ, he apparently had a mental energy gauge now—ticked up from 50% to 60%.
Elena was already moving toward the house. "Well, lucky or not, we need that locket. Constance isn't going to rest until we destroy her anchor."
"He promised her forever," Adam murmured, Constance's voice bleeding through his own. "He said she was the only one. But they all lie, don't they? They all—"
"Kid." Dean's hand landed on his shoulder, solid and grounding. "Stay with us, okay? Don't go diving into ghost lady's head."
Adam blinked, realizing he'd been staring at nothing while Constance's regrets spilled from his lips. Sam was watching him with the kind of attention usually reserved for potential serial killers.
"Sorry," Adam managed. "She's just... loud."
[You're not just hunting ghosts, fanboy.] [They're hunting you.]
The system's words felt less like commentary and more like prophecy. In the distance, something that might have been wind or might have been sobbing echoed off the abandoned houses. A locket was waiting in the dark, and Constance Welch was far from finished with them.
The hunt was just beginning.
[MIMIC SYSTEM - STATUS WINDOW]
Host: Adam Carter
Level: 1 (Bewildered Newcomer)
Mental Energy: 50%
Current Mimic: Ghost (Phasing) - Constance Welch
Time Remaining: 03:42:15
Saved Mimics:
[EMPTY SLOT][EMPTY SLOT][EMPTY SLOT]
Nearby Signatures:
→ Ghost Residue (Constance Welch) - Fading
→ Human Essence (Winchester Brothers) - Suspicious
→ Hunter Essence (Elena Rodriguez) - Cautious
Recent Achievements:
"First Contact" – Survived initial manifestationSoul Integrity: STABLE(Minor fluctuations)Anomaly Status: DETECTED(Low Priority)
Active Retributions:
Flinch at betrayal cues (22:18:33 remaining)Mutter ghostly regrets (22:18:33 remaining)
System Mood: "Well, you're not dead yet. That's... something."
[STATUS WINDOW CLOSED]
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ In Supernatural With Mimic System ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ In Supernatural With Mimic System ] with exclusive access to 25+ chapters on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse, Breaking Bad , The Walking dead ,The Hobbit,Wednesday].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!