Loud House Crossover Novels & Stories

Nathan Cross The bass rattles through the floor of Vortex like a heartbeat that refuses to die. The walls are obsidian. The air? Money and heat. Desire and rot. It’s not a club. It’s a cathedral. My kingdom. My kill floor. Politicians, CEOs, celebrities, and the wives they cheat on parade through the doors like royalty. Mink, diamonds, high heels and hollow stares. Their mistresses blend right in—just different shades of plastic.

He wouldn't miss it. The elevator hummed as it ascended. Cyrus picked up the loaded crossbow and approached his front door. His massive safehouse door had a special firing slit six feet up. He climbed onto a chair and unlatched it from the inside. The panel slid open silently, revealing a narrow view of the hallway beyond. Cyrus lifted the crossbow, steady and sure, aiming into the corridor. For safety, his pistol was already tucked into his pocket, loaded and ready.

The Cross estate always smelled like comfort when the sun went down. Not the artificial kind—no candle-heavy sweetness or staged warmth meant for guests. This was real comfort: rosemary and garlic drifting from the kitchen, polished wood retaining the day’s heat, laughter echoing off high ceilings because no one in this house had learned to whisper their love. Casey arrived with a knot in his chest he couldn’t quite name. He’d told himself he was fine.

For the first time, we were in the same space, and my mind wasn't at all bothered about Sky's presence. We arrived at the hotel about twenty minutes later. The moment we stepped inside the clubhouse, the smell hit me instantly—cigarettes, alcohol, and something I couldn't figure out, mixed into the air. Wasn’t this supposed to be a student gathering? “Excuse me, I'll be back,” Nathan told me, and left. Music thumped through the room, loud enough to make the floor vibrate faintly beneath my feet. Colored lights flickered across familiar and unfamiliar faces.

I turn back on Farm Of Death just in time to see a scarecrow come to life and chase a couple through the corn maze with a machete. My eyes grow heavy just before I make it to the end credits, Max is already asleep curled at my feet. When my eyes open again, it’s to the sound of him barking. I mute the TV and find him at the back door, the night pitch black, the moon quarter full in the sky above. Something triggers the flood lights in the back yard, though it’s not uncommon with all the deer around here. I stumble to the kitchen and peer out. I don’t see anything. The glow on the stove tells me it’s just past two a.m.