All Chapters of House of Horrors Part 1 : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

A fleeting smile of relief crossed his face as he answered quickly,"All right. Sit up straight, Amal."She obeyed with a stiff, unnatural movement, rising to sit on the bed, her body as rigid as a doll's.The bishop turned to Miranda and ordered,"Bring the incense and one candle, quickly."Miranda nodded and hurried out of the room. She hurried down the stairs until she reached the living room. As she approached her own room, a whisper slipped into the silence near her door. She froze, her breath ragged, sweat beading on her forehead. The voice was close—so close—as if it were breathing from inside the room itself.She grasped the doorknob and pushed it open. The lights flickered on at her touch, and her heart pounded, but the room was empty. No one. Nothing. She inhaled deeply, steadyed herself, grabbed the incense burner and a red candle from the table, and hurried out. Meanwhile, outside, beneath the same window, Detective Mohamed and Susan lay prone, slowly creeping away. They m

Hussein's car stopped in front of the villa's gate. He opened it slowly and stepped out with heavy, burdened steps. Night had fallen, and the air carried the scent of freshly dug earth. He paused for a moment at the entrance, glancing up at the three somber graves in the garden... but his gaze now fell upon a fourth, recently dug grave. On it lay the mangled body of a new victim—an evil spirit incarnate in an unknown form, shattered and charred after falling from the upper floor. The scene was like a painting drawn in blood and ash, a nightmare growing darker with each passing day.His trembling hand reached for the doorknob. He pushed it open and entered. In the living room, Amal, Sophia, and Miranda sat in silence, surrounded by a heavy atmosphere that seemed to suffocate the air. Hussein closed the door slowly behind him, each movement carrying the weight of a century. He advanced hesitantly, his face etched with deep sorrow, his voice broken as he whispered, "The priest who was he

It seems I'm getting closer to solving the first mystery.In the cold morgue, Detective Mohammed stood beside journalist Susan and Dr. Ahmed. A dim white light reflected off the metal table where the priest's body lay, covered by a white sheet that couldn't conceal the truth etched on his neck.The three of them approached, their eyes fixed on the dark marks around the priest's neck. They were unmistakable—human fingerprints, as if death itself had sunk its grip into his skin.Dr. Ahmed (gesturing):"As you can see, Detective... the marks are clearly human fingerprints on the priest's neck. But after a thorough examination, there is no medical evidence of strangulation. The undeniable truth is: he died of a sudden heart attack. His heart stopped suddenly."Detective Mohammed and Susan exchanged a heavy glance before Mohammed replied, his voice sharp and serious: "Thank you, Dr. Ahmed."The two quickly left the morgue, their footsteps echoing loudly on the polished hospital floor. Sile

Miranda reached the car. “Please, Detective Hussein Bey, we're waiting for you.” Detective Mohammed got out, followed closely by journalist Susan, with Miranda walking ahead along the narrow, tree-lined path.As they passed Hussein's sleek black car, they froze. A suffocating, foul odor enveloped them—a sharp, unmistakable smell, the very scent of death. Instinctively, each raised a hand to their nose, fighting off nausea. But as soon as they passed the car, the smell vanished, as if swallowed by the air, leaving only wary glances between them.Inside the villa—by the window—Hussein watched them from the living room window, smoke billowing around his head like an ominous halo. He saw them approaching and muttered to himself, as if talking to himself: “Miranda… the detective… and who is this with him?” He pushed himself forward and moved quickly toward the front door.Outside—at the villa's entrance—they reached the door. Miranda stepped forward, opened the door slowly, and said, "Plea

Her hand trembled as she handed him the phone. Mohammed took it, peering intently at the screen, but his expression quickly shifted to one of confusion. He looked up at her and said, his voice heavy with doubt,"Yes... the car is there. But there's nothing hanging from it, like you claim. No clothes... no blood."Susan froze, then snatched the phone away and checked the image herself. Her heart nearly stopped. Nothing. Just the back of a clean, closed car, as if what she had seen had been nothing but an illusion. She gasped,"What the hell? It was there! I swear I saw it with my own eyes!" Detective Mohammed lowered his head, his gaze lost in thought, and muttered as if confessing a secret:"You're not alone... I saw something too. In the guard's room, for a moment—I swear I saw a body. But when I looked again, it was gone. This confirms what the security guards in the tower told me earlier: clues appear and disappear. As if some evil force is manipulating us—killing, then forcing the