[IC] Blackgate: LordOfTheNight & megatrash

[LordOfTheNight]

Ravenwood Mental Institution
- Delaware, New York -
3 years ago....

"Ah Mr. Blackgate, how are you doing today?" asked the man in the rather large leather seat before him and behind the rather impressive office desk. The room was filled with various books, all dealing with the human mind. A cup of tea was steaming gently among the files.

"I'm not too bad doc, just been doing my time like anyone else here" he said with a chuckle. The man was ill kept, wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of slate gray sweat pants. The man looked tired, looked like he hadn't had a decent night sleep in weeks. Yet despite how tired he appeared, there was a deviant glimmer in his eyes, like the man was up to no good.

"That's good, I called you in to go over your file with you if you'll give me the pleasure" asked the doctor.

"So long as you don't mind that I smoke" he said.

The doctor smirked and nodded. "Go ahead Mr. Blackgate" said the elderly man.

Thomas slipped a pack of 'Coffin Nail' brand cigarettes out of his pocket and slipped a cigarette out, lighting it as the doc opened his file and began to read.

"Now, according to the file you were a Private Investigator before you checked yourself in here?" asked the doctor.

Thomas took a drag of his cigarette and nodded. "I still am last time I checked. Just taking an extended vacation at the loony bin" he said with a chuckle.

The doctor took another look at the file and then looked up with a raised eyebrow. "According to your business card your also a Demonologist and Master Warlock?" inquired the doctor.

Thomas raised a finger and gave an embarrassed look. "I really need to get that changed to 'Minor Warlock'. I'd hate to make someone nervous" he said in a bit of an absent minded tone.

"And why exactly do you believe in such fields?" asked the doctor.

Thomas smirked. "Because they're real" he said.

"What makes you say that?" inquired the doctor as he readjusted his glasses and took a sip of his tea.

"Because I've seen them with my own eyes" said Blackgate.

"Delusions Mr. Blackgate, images conjured by the mind. As a detective, you saw gruesome things. You simply saw illusions projected by an overworked mind" stated the doctor

Thomas grew angry as he put his fist on the table and stood up from his chair, shouting in anger. "That's what you people keep telling me . . . . now make ME believe it!" he shouted.

Blackgate's Office
- New York, New York -
Present Day....

Thomas Blackgate sat silently in his chair and stared quietly at the files on his desk. Some where case files he'd yet to officially close. Others were old files he simply took out to review. In all honesty, Blackgate wasn't even focused on the files. He was more focused on the fact he couldn't sleep and that he didn't have any new clients or cases for him to keep his mind preoccupied. It's not everyday one finds themselves missing the loony bin. When he'd been in there he'd had plenty of activities to do. Sleep, Read, Finger paint, listen to the delusional crying and screaming of the insane, mocking the staff for being blind to the things that existed in his world. God he missed it. Besides, the food wasn't half way bad. At least he'd gotten variety and wasn't ordering Chinese every single night.

Thomas' "office" was really just his apartment that played the role of his office when clients showed up. It wasn't exactly in the best place in town. In fact when he'd found it, the landlord described it as a "shithole roach motel". It was, but it was Thomas' shithole roach motel. The room itself was cluttered with files, trash, Chinese food boxes and unwashed dishes. Either the man was a slob or he was often so busy and so focused on work that he didn't have time to take care of little things like that. Thomas liked to believe it was the latter but who was he to decide?

Thomas sighed as he leaned back and stared up at the sound of his noisy ceiling fan, watching the blades spin as time itself simply seemed to slow. Was it too much to ask for a case? He was so bored. Hell he was almost tempted to go to Styx and see if there was any odd jobs that he could do but he wasn't that desperate yet. He wasn't one for praying but if he was? He'd be praying for someone to drop dead right now just so he was so ungodly bored.

[megatrash]

To say Caroline Clarke was exhausted at this point would be a gross understatement. Between all of the paperwork, funeral planning, and hounding the police to do something other than sit on their fat asses was wearing her down fast. Lack of sleep was also an issue, often waking up night after night in a pool of sweat with images of Keith’s lifeless body flashing before her in the dark room they used to share. After she’d wake up, she'd shoot her arm over to the other side of the bed to touch him, but when she felt the cold sheets, she would resort to screaming into her pillow until she felt faint. After the funeral passed, she was crying less, but frankly, she was still a wreck. Her normally silky, blonde hair resembled a rat’s nest, and she hadn’t worn make up since it happened. Her blue eyes were followed by bags, dark and puffy, but Caroline couldn’t give a shit anymore. She had left the house only twice since she got the call and was living off the food brought to her by friends and family.

It had been two weeks since her husband was found in an abandoned industrial strip of warehouses after a noise complaint came in from an adjacent apartment building. Caroline wanted to completely forget the image she saw when she pulled up to the warehouse, but the police report had listed the gruesome details of his death, constantly reminding her of what she saw. His eyes and teeth had been removed, and after scrubbing the crime scene, it was confirmed that they were nowhere near the area. He had a symbol etched into his skin, reaching from his chest down to his lower torso. One of the cops confirmed that it was referred to as the “Sigil of Lucifer.” He had also been beaten, because according the Caroline, he wouldn’t have let this happen without putting up a fight.

Caroline had been calling the precinct multiple times to day to question them about any leads they might have gotten, but there had been nothing pointing to Keith’s murderers that had come across their desk. This frustrated her, mainly because of the almost condescending tone that they used when they told her nothing new had unfolded.
“Don’t talk to me that way, asshole. My husband’s dead, and you’re sitting there getting annoyed with me?” Caroline was about to hang up on the officer when she heard the voice again on the other end.
"Look, lady. If you think you need someone else on the case, I'll give you a number. He's a little, well, eccentric, but he's got experience in stuff my officers and I don't. I'll send you the information if you're interested."
Caroline sighed at the offer, but ultimately took it. “Fine, I’ll give him a call.” She hung up the phone and and put her head down on the table.

A day later, after taking the first shower in at least a week, she scrolled to the contact she had created and stared at the name for a moment. “Thomas Blackgate,” she mumbled to herself as she pushed the ‘call’ button and heard the line trilling. Once she heard a voice on the other end, she immediately began to speak, barely letting the man get out a sentence.
“Hi, yes, my name is Caroline Clarke. The police department referred me to you. I need your help solving the murder of my husband. I don’t know if this is your forte, I don’t really know anything about you, I just –“ She stopped and took a breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blackgate. Are you taking cases at the moment?”

[LordOfTheNight]

Thomas was the police's least favorite person in all of New York. They didn't like him. Not a single bit. If the police sent someone his way it meant one of two things. They either had no idea what they were dealing with or someone was about as desperate as you could get. They thought of Blackgate as a know it all. Not to mention, they thought he was completely and utterly insane. Demons? The Occult? Magic? Smoke and mirrors to them. For Blackgate, these were very real. So real in fact that he'd voluntarily checked himself into a mental institution. These were things he'd seen and dealt with for years, things that made him believe that he was as crazy as everyone said he was. Crazy didn't explain the demons he ripped out of a person's body. Crazy didn't explain the Things he was capable of doing. Crazy didn't make the things he saw any less real. You can only call yourself crazy so many times until you begin to think you are crazy. It's funny how madness can somehow give way to truth. How the insane and the unbelievable somehow become the only things that make sense in this world.

Thomas had fallen asleep with his cigarette in hand when he was jarred awake by the sound of his phone ringing. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as he slipped the halfway burnt cancer stick into his lip as he took the phone off the receiver. "[b]Blackgate...[b]" he said simply, waiting quietly to hear whomever was on the other line. He was quickly interrupted by a female voice as she explained that she needed help with the case concerning her husband's murder, finally stopping to take a breath and ask if he was taking any cases at the moment. Thomas realized his cancer was burnt out and put the but in an ash tray as he grabbed another cigarette and lit it. "Slow down a sec ma'am. Take a breath" he said. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a notepad as he scribbled down her name and what the case concerned. "Fortunately for you I am accepting cases at the moment. I think it would be a wise idea for you to come to my office and speak to me in person. Do you have a pen and paper by you? I'll give you my address" he said.

As he spouted off the address and hung up, he sprung to his feet and did a fist pump. "YES! Oh thank god!" he yelled out. He stopped and then realized why he was cheering and what made him so excited. "Wow, no wonder everyone thinks I'm a damn freak" he said to himself as he took a drag of his cigarette. Having a free moment, he grabbed a folder from his filing cabinet and labeled it. He'd need to hear the details concerning the case once she got there. Something told him this wasn't the run of the mill murder case. If it was than she wouldn't be calling him. No the police didn't have any leads and were fumbling around in ignorance. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Finally a case, a case after weeks of nothing. He would need to wait a bit until this Caroline would be knocking on his door. Perfect opportunity for him to get some rest. Walking to his couch, he cleared off some trash and laid down, resting his head back as he released a sigh and began to fall asleep.

Sleep for Thomas was rare and when he did sleep he either had dreamless sleep or he had dreams. Though he wouldn't exactly call what he experienced 'dreams'. More like visions. Magic came from two things, heredity and when you were born. Those who had magic based on heredity often had visions of places that weren't of this plain. Thomas was often haunted by visions of plains he couldn't understand, alien landscapes ruled only by chaos. Places where science made no sense at all. Places that would drive any normal person insane if they were there themselves. Those who could use magic were immune to such effects. Magic was forbidden knowledge, knowledge that had been lost after thousands if not millions of years.

[megatrash]

"Yes, yes of course," Caroline replied as she scrambled around her desk to find a pen, and when she did, she jotted down the address in a messy yet artistic script that only she could probably read. "I'll be there in a few hours. Thank you." As she hung up, she breathed a sigh of relief as she stared at the scribbles on the piece of paper in her hand. It was a glimmer of hope, albeit a strange one, in a sea of vagueness that surrounded Keith's death. She was ready for answers.

She stood up and tried to run her fingers through her hair and was stopped by the knots that had formed. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, thinking to herself that she should try to improve her appearance a bit before meeting someone new. Although people usually don't take a blonde seriously, it was especially difficult to be understood when you looked like a madwoman. She walked into the bathroom and worked a flat brush through her silvery blonde hair until it was to her liking. She stared at her face for a moment. Keith said when they met that he loved a woman who looked "done up," which had been a foreign concept to the Georgia-raised girl who never took the time to enhance her appearance. She had to admit, it had been nice to see her face au naturale the past two weeks.

After tidying up the house that looked like a tornado ripped through it and enjoying a joint on her back porch, she slipped on black sunglasses and a black purse and left the house. She sat in her car and gripped the wheel as her eyes closed for a moment. Was she ready to find out the truth? Was she ready to possibly get dicked around again? She wasn't sure at the moment. But she knew she had to try. Keith at least deserved that.

She drove the rumbling pick up through the city until she arrived at her destination: a large, gloomy apartment building. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she thought to herself as she contemplated turning around, but she ultimately forced herself to get out of the truck and make her way to the front door of Thomas Blackgate.

She lightly knocked on the wooden door, scanning the hallway around her. A mix between the dilapidated building, the loud vent blowing on the back of her neck, and the mystery that awaited behind the door in front of her caused goosebumps to scatter across her freckled, tan skin. A noise from the other end of the hallway caused her to turn around to investigate when she heard the door creak open behind her. She swiveled back around quickly to meet his eyes. She assessed the tired looking man, and then offered a hand for him to shake, while the other hand held a manila envelope.

"Hi, I'm the one who called you earlier. Caroline," she greeted him anxiously, and she suddenly became aware of how hoarse her voice was. The usual buttery tone was now strained and quiet. "Excuse my voice, I'm in a metal band," she said jokingly, instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry, I get corny when I'm nervous." She winced at her last comment and mentally told herself to just shut up already.

[LordOfTheNight]

Thomas enjoyed his brief moment of sleep, though he didn't sleep for very long. An hour at most and he was sitting up, grabbing his journal and sketching the things he'd seen. To anyone who wasn't magically inclined, they were the doodles and scribbles of a mad man who hadn't taken his medication. To him, these were maps to places he may one day have to trek and navigate. In his mind, he'd rather be prepared and not need to than to need to and not be prepared. Thomas sighed as he finished and put the journal back in it's respective file listed 'Blackgate'. Upon seeing the file, one may wonder what actually lied inside. What was so important that Blackgate required his own file. That was a question for him to know the answer and only him. He sighed as he made his way to the bathroom, lighting another cigarette and taking a long drag as he stopped just in front of the dirty mirror in his bathroom.

His hair was the color of milk chocolate and messy as though he'd stuck a fork in an outlet, his eyes the same shade as well. His chiseled jaw was covered with a rough and prickly stubble. Grabbing a hairbrush, he ran the brush through his hair though it didn't make it seem any neater. His attire didn't help either, wearing a white dress shirt that was half way tucked in and the other half sticking out sloppily. His black tie hung loosely around his neck and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked like he'd just had a rough night at the office and had only haphazardly gotten undressed. He often wore a jacket of some sort that held his artifacts and equipment. He took a drag of his cigarette as he flicked the burnt up ash into an ash tray, making his way back towards his desk when he heard a knock. He looked at his watch and figured it must be his client. He checked through the peephole first as he unlocked the door and opened it to see her looking down the hall.

He looked to her when she offered her hand and confirmed his suspicions that she was indeed his newest client. He looked to her as she made a joke about being part of a metal band. He smirked and then finally took her hand, giving it a shake. "Glad to see that I'm not the only one who looks like they need some sleep and a cup of coffee" he said with a chuckle. He let go of her hand and motioned for her to follow. As she entered she would no doubt notice that the threshold of the door had symbols carved into it. Some of the symbols were obviously Egyptian and Christian, some were Jewish or Pagan, and others didn't appear to be from any religion of any kind. They looked like they had more of a place in a story from Lovecraft than anything. He lead her in and motioned for her to take a seat in the chair that was before his desk. Thomas took a drag of his cigarette and looked to her as he realized that his smoking may offend her. "Hope you don't mind my smoking" he said with a chuckle as he took a seat at his desk.

He released the smoke from his lungs as he looked to the woman and set down the file he'd made concerning her, starting his audio recorder as well. "This is Thomas Blackgate beginning case number 49, I am with Caroline Clarke" he said into the recorder. Taking a moment to relax, he looked to her and sighed. "I caught a majority of what you'd said on the phone but for the record..." he said as he motioned to the recorder, "Can you describe why you are here and what exactly happened to your husband?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't like going through this process. It was difficult on the client but it was just tedious to him. However he had every confidence that any details she had would help. By the sound of things her husband had been targeted by a cult of some sort but he needed to hear the details concerning the death before he could know just what cult and what their intentions were.

[megatrash]

She followed him, instantly noticing the intricately carved doorway surrounding her, and her finger traced one of the markings as they made their way inside. She was hit with the strong smell of tobacco, although it didn’t bother her. Keith had been a long-time smoker, and luckily for Caroline, she had never picked up the habit. She had a field day as she observed the man’s apartment. It was a wreck. He led her to his desk and they both took a seat quietly, and she was snapped out of a day dream when he began talking into his recording device.

Caroline watched the man’s mouth move as he spoke as she tried to keep her tired mind focused on what he was saying. Her attention span had been zapped, and she was sure that the weed wasn’t helping, but it hurt too much to be stone cold sober. Her eyes moved to analyze the rest of Thomas’s face. He didn’t look like he put any effort into his appearance, which made Caroline feel slightly at ease since she felt she must have looked just as tired as he did. There was something about his eyes, though, that she could not put a finger on. They were almost mesmerizing, nearly putting her into a trance as she watched them move about as he spoke. ”I need to stop smoking so much weed,” she thought to herself as she scratched her forehead.

“Yes, well, my husband Keith Clarke was murdered two weeks ago. He was in sales and traveled a lot, sometimes for a couple days, sometimes for weeks at a time.” She cleared her throat to try to stop the raspy sounds coming from it. “I was only 22 when we met; he was 30 at the time. He was in Georgia on business, and he came to the bar I was working at during the day. We hit it off, and after a while, he asked me to move up here with him.” Caroline nervously picked at her short, unpainted fingernails as she spoke. “Things were good for a while. I loved him. I still do.” She cleared her throat once again as her throat became irritated from talking. “We got our nice apartment, I became a freelance artist, we didn’t have a worry in the world. He proposed and we got married about a year after we met. It was something out of a dream.” She realized what she had been doing to her fingers and placed one in her lap, the other playing with the ends of her hair. “Then, he confessed that he wanted kids, and I didn’t, and that kinda set him off. But I thought we worked it all out.” Caroline looked up and met Blackgate’s eyes before continuing.

“Well,” Caroline began, straightening her posture in the wooden chair, “things were getting pretty rocky in the last year or so. Couples therapy, fighting constantly, growing distant. He, um,” Caroline paused. She was embarrassed of her past and of how her relationship turned out, and telling a complete stranger about her personal issues was disarming. “One night, during an argument, I told him I had been dancing when we first got together to pay for college, but I quit when I moved to New York. He didn’t know, and he…” She felt herself getting emotional and did her best to hold herself back from completely losing it in the disheveled office. “He got angry. Left. He didn’t come home for three days, but he had no business trips scheduled then. He wouldn’t answer my calls, texts, nothing. He came home finally, and he was… different.” Her eyes shot to the corner of the room to avoid the mysterious man’s glare. She took a deep breath, pushing herself to continue. “It was like he wasn’t there anymore. I couldn’t get anything out of him. I even tried to piss him off, but nothing. After a few months, I told him I wanted a divorce; I just couldn't stand it any longer. He didn’t get upset, but he told me that he wasn’t gonna let that happen. He disappeared again, this time for almost a week.”

Caroline took a deep breath as an attempt to calm the nerves that were fluttering throughout her body. “That’s when things started getting weird. Since he came back, the house felt strange,” Caroline said as she scrunched her up her nose. She felt silly talking about the paranormal realm; it was something she never believed in. “I mean, you usually never get peace and quiet in a New York City apartment. But, I started to hear things. Whispers. Scratching at the door. I’d see shadows in the corners of my eyes late at night. I thought it, at first, was just the stress of everything that was happening. But,” she got the chills, and her body shook and her hair stood up, “then, doors started slamming on their own. Dishes breaking. I’d even feel things grabbing at my legs at night. And it only ever happened when he wasn’t there.” She put her hand up to her face and used her middle finger and thumb to rub the bridge of her nose. Bits of her southern accent were popping out when she spoke, often happening when she got worked up. “I’m sorry. I don’t… Well I didn’t believe in this type of stuff before. Never had a reason to. Now that he’s gone, I thought it’d stop but, it seems the house is becoming more active. I’m even getting bruises now.” Caroline stood up and lifted the black maxi dress that resembled a long tank top, showing him the marks that littered her calves. “They go up to my thighs,” she nearly whispered as she sat down. “I tried to look up his bank records, but everything seemed normal. The only thing different was a bar he started frequenting. The Black Dame, I think.”

“No one will listen to me, Mr. Blackgate. They all think it’s the stress caused by the murder. I get that, and if it wasn’t happening to me I’d probably think the same thing. But…” She stopped and pulled out the envelope that she had sitting under the chair. “Pictures from the crime scene. Feel free to keep them, I don’t want to see them again. He had some sort of symbol carved on him. Teeth and eyes missing. He was also showing signs of a struggle.” She sighed. “Well, I didn’t think at 28 I’d be a haunted widow,” she said quietly and chuckled nervously. “Sorry, the corniness again…” she trailed off, realizing how extensive the story was that she had just shared, but it felt so good to tell her side of the story without being interrupted or questioned.

[LordOfTheNight]

Thomas noticed her touch the carvings, admiring the intricacy of some of the carvings. The carvings all served a purpose, ensuring that no evil spirits could enter his home. Each symbol ensured that regardless of what kind of demon it was, it wouldn't be able to enter his home. He was often a bit paranoid but it simply meant that he was prepared for anything. He was like a boy scout in a way....if boy scouts could practice magic, smoked a great deal of cigarettes, and banished demons to whatever plain they had come from. Thomas relaxed quietly in his chair as she seemed a bit distracted. He wasn't going to push her if he didn't have to. It didn't get him anywhere and just made things worse. It was true that his gaze could be a bit mesmerizing. Looking too long into his eyes without breaking eye contact had often strange effects. Sometimes it caused hallucinations, sometimes some would hear whispers, and some even felt their own sanity begin to crumble.

Thomas looked to her as she began to speak, going into detail concerning their background with one another. For the time being, it wasn't anything worth note. He was starting to think that the NYPD was getting lazy and were just sending her there because they were 'too busy'. He perked up for a moment when she commented that he'd gone to a bar known as 'The Black Dame'. He'd heard of it but he hadn't been there before. He took mental notes as she began to discuss the paranormal happenings that had occurred before her husband's murder. He had two theories in mind that could be possible but he needed two more pieces of info. One theory was that she had a link to magic and it was starting to manifest itself. The other theory was that a demon had latched itself onto her husband at some point and the ritual was a means of releasing it. Both could be very likely but he needed more info before he could make a sound thesis. He maintained a stony expression, barely moving aside from the occasional drag of his cigarette. It was brutal to say the least, the way Keith had been killed.

Thomas watched as she showed him the bruises on her calves and explained that the house was becoming more active. Interesting. It appeared he had not only a murder to solve but an exorcism to perform. He held the cigarette in his lips as he took the envelope and looked over the photos. Nothing concerning the apparent symbol that had been carved into Keith's chest. At that point, Thomas adopted a slightly annoyed look. Leave it to the police to leave out the most important clues for him to look for. Thomas listened as she made a joke and raised an eyebrow, smiling a bit as she admitted she was being corny. Tapping the spent ashes into his ash tray, he grabbed a notepad and a pencil as he began to scribble a few things down. "Well it's obvious from what I'm hearing that you have quite the unique situation" he said. Thomas looked to her and continued his doodling as he spoke. "You had mentioned that the police had found 'satanic symbols' at the scene. This is usually the polices way of saying that they have no idea what the symbols mean. Unfortunately, there aren't any pictures of said symbol. Without it I have no idea what I'm looking for. So..." he began. It was at that point that he handed her the notepad.

On the page were four symbols. "Did it resemble any of those?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. This was important. He needed to know what sort of cult he was dealing with. If he didn't have the proper pieces, he didn't have proper preparation. Without proper preparation, he could very well wind up with his pants around his ankles and his cheeks being spread wide. He didn't need that. Not if he could help it. Thomas wasn't sure if she would pick any of the symbols but he needed to cover what ground he could. Any piece of info helped.

[megatrash]

She nodded as she was handed a note pad. Her eyes scanned over the sheet and immediately locked on the one that resembled a kite. A deep chill started at her scalp and ran down her body, making her shake for a second and closed her eyes. “That one,” she quietly mumbled as she pointed to the symbol and then handing the paper back to the man. “I mean,” she began, keeping her eyes closed, envisioning the brutal crime scene she had seen, “it was obviously a little, uh, messy, but I think that’s it.”

Her curiosity had been piqued. The man obviously was the right one for the case, and although he had not offered her much insight yet, she felt as though he could be trusted. After two weeks of being on edge, she let her thin frame slouch in the chair for a moment. She reached in her purse and a pulled out a small, silver flask, taking a swig of its contents, and then securing it back inside the large, black bag. After her mind registered the impression she must be making, she covered her mouth and sprung back up into a more respectable posture. “I’m so sorry, I…” her mind searched for the right words, “I guess after two weeks in solitude, I forgot how to act in public.” Great. She had become the tired, stoned, stripper turned widow who possibly had a drinking problem. Just the first impression she was hoping to make. Based on Blackgate’s job description, she was assuming that he had seen much stranger people, but that didn’t stop the dreaded feeling of embarrassment creeping up on her cheeks, casting a pink hue across them.

She rested her elbows on her thighs and let her face fall into her hands, lacing her fingers in to her hair. Without looking up, she began to speak. “I just want answers. I want whatever is in the house to fucking leave. I want to sleep without being felt up by something I can’t see.” She removed her face from her hands and looked back up to the eyes she had been trying not to look into since she got here. “Whatever you need from me – information, assistance – just let me know.” She smiled faintly at the man, nodding to confirm what she had just said. “I’ll try not to be such a trainwreck next time we meet.”

Her eyes wondered around the apartment she had been sitting in. It was in shambles, and the thought of seeing it after it had been cleaned spotless nearly excited her. She snapped her eyes back on Thomas as she pulled her wallet out of her purse. “Um, if we could discuss payment, that’d be great. I...” she paused as she looked through the receipts and membership cards she had crammed in the large wallet, “If you’d like, I can clean for you too. Used to do it on the side when I first moved up here. Not that your apartment is dirty,” she squeezed her eyes closed to stop herself from continuing. “I forgot my manners.” She whipped out a check book and grabbed a pen off of his desk, waiting for him to rattle off an amount.

[LordOfTheNight]

Thomas watched as she began to look over the notepad, looking for her reaction. He had no idea what reaction he was looking for but he would know that she recognized the symbol if it was on the page. He watched as she began to stiffen the moment she looked at the first symbol. He sighed and rubbed his eyes as he nodded, taking the notepad as she handed it to him. "I was afraid of that. I know exactly what we're dealing with" he said. He'd encountered these guys before and they weren't ones to be messed with. Though it seemed he wouldn't have a choice at this point. He took a drag of his cigarette and set the pad down. This wasn't their usual MO, though human sacrifice wasn't necessarily out of the question though. Perhaps they were changing it up a bit, trying something new. By the sounds of it whatever they tried was apparently working from their perspective.

Lodging the cigarette in his lips, Blackgate pushed his office chair back to his wall of filing cabinets and went to the cabinet labeled 'G'. He began to mutter to himself as he went through the files. "G-O-R.....G-O-R.....Ah! There you are" he exclaimed as he pulled a file out labeled 'Gorr'Rylaehotep'. He watched as she pulled out a flask and took a swig from it as she seemed to realize how it appeared and then straightened herself up, commenting that she was sorry and that she'd been in solitude for more than a few weeks and that she'd forgotten how to act in public. "I understand. What you're going through isn't easy. Lord knows I have gone through some of my own problems as well" he said as he let her relax. "I put myself in the loony bin for almost 2 years just because I was starting to think I was crazy. Trust me, you came to the right guy" he said with a chuckle.

He looked to her as she commented that she just wanted answers, information, anything. He took a final drag of his cigarette and put it out as he ran a hand through his hair. "Trust me. I will give you what answers I can. You've given me some important puzzle pieces that I needed but I won't be able to solve it without more pieces. The picture is at least a bit more clear. Like I said before, I know who we're dealing with now at the very least" he said. He remained silent for a moment as he rubbed his chin, thinking about what he should do next. He was brought out of his trance as she said she wanted to discuss payment now. He looked to her and chuckled as she produced her wallet, offering to clean his apartment if he wanted. He smirked and chuckled, shaking his head. "We can discuss payment once we've solved this case. As to the apartment, I wouldn't say it's dirty.....just organized chaos" he said with a small laugh.

He ran a hand through his hair and gave a moment of thought about what he could or even should do. He gave it a moment of thought and scratched the stubble on his jaw. "Alright, do you know where Keith's body is at the moment? If I can get a moment to see him, I may be able to get some information out of him. It's not a guarantee but if I can get a name than I may be able to track down the guys responsible and we can put this thing in the ground permanently" he said with a serious tone. If they didn't have access to Keith's body than he would need to visit the scene of the crime. One mistake was all he needed, just one fuck up was all he needed and he could have a monster of a puzzle piece in his lap

[megatrash]

She nodded at what he said regarding payment before she stuffed her wallet back into her purse. Although Thomas was all business, he seemed kind, or at least patient enough to deal with her recently adopted ridiculous antics. It was a definite change of pace from what she had been dealing with at the precinct, and that was enough to make her feel better. If she had one more man tell her to stop freaking out, she'd probably punch them square in the face. She watched the investigator as he sat in his thoughts, and her eyes followed the man’s hand as he reached up to scratch his jaw. He wasn’t hideous by any means; his dark features and facial structure were definitely something to be admired. He just looked tired. Like he didn’t take care of himself. Caroline didn’t blame him though, if she dealt with what she was dealing with now for a living, she’d probably look horrendous compared to him. The fact that he said that he checked into a mental institution did make her curious though. Again, with his job title, it was understandable.

She realized she had been staring when he began to speak, which startled her. Her eyes shot away from the man’s face and down to her feet, and at his question regarding Keith’s body, she sighed. “We buried him last week. Cops said they didn’t see the need to keep his body at the hospital any longer. I can give you the address to the, uh, warehouse he was found in. If it’s okay with you, I’d rather not go. I don’t like it there.” Her eyes slowly made their way back up to meet the man’s gaze. She grabbed a sticky note and the pen from his desk and tried her best to write the address down legibly and scooted it towards him. “It’s abandoned, but I think it’s easily accessible. If you need something, you can call me.”

She picked up her large, black bag and plopped it into her lap, slipping her sunglasses out. She adjusted the straps of her dress before standing up, and she offered a hand out to him. “Thanks again for everything, Mr. Blackgate. I look forward to working with you,” she smiled and made her way out of the apartment. She was hoping that she didn't seem rude, but this was the most socializing she had done in a while, and she felt like she nearly had her fill for the day. Once she made it to the bustling street, she got into the older pick-up truck and made her way back to the apartment she dreaded sleeping in.

[LordOfTheNight]

Thomas didn't concern himself with payment this early into an investigation. Some cases sure but when it came to the paranormal investigations he didn't bother until all was said and done. He could handle normal cases well enough. Paranormal ones he never knew if he'd be dead by the end of it all, hence why he didn't ask for payment. He could see that she was doing her best to keep a grasp on the situation but when it came to the supernatural, it was just better to simply just embrace the chaos and roll with it. Thomas had tried to make sense of it before and it put him in an institution. Understanding it drove you to madness and you either succumbed to the madness or you simply followed the rabbit hole down and found what was waiting for you. It was your only option. Some doors can't be closed once you open them. Magic, the supernatural, the paranormal, all of it; once you experience it you won't be able to go back to normal. You may try, but like a hangman's noose for a murderer, it's still waiting.

Thomas listened as she said that Keith's body had been buried last week. Well that wasn't necessarily a problem. He could call up a guy he knew who could exhume the body and he could do what was needed. However as he'd stated he could go to the warehouse. Either way he wanted to look over the crime scene and see if there was any evidence the police could have possibly over looked. It was unlikely but then again they didn't have his resources or his knowledge. He listened as she stated that she didn't want to go to the warehouse, too painful for her. He understood. "It's alright. I should be able to take care of it from there" he said as she wrote down the address for him. He nodded when she commented that the warehouse abandoned and easily accessible. "Well you have my number and I got yours. If I need you I will definitely call, however the same goes for you. If something goes bump in the night, call me immediately. No ifs, no ands, no buts" he said with a serious tone.

Blackgate watched as she grabbed her bag and offered her hand. He smirked a bit as she called him 'Mr. Blackgate'. "You don't need to call me Mister Blackgate, you can either call me Thomas or you can call me Blackgate" he said with a chuckle as he gave her hand a firm shake. "But regardless, I hope I can figure out what in the hell is going on" he said with a nod as she made her way out and onto the street. He sighed and grabbed his cigarettes, taking a cancer stick out and lighting it. He scratched his eyebrow as he made his way to the desk and hit stop on the recorder, taking a seat as he looked over the file on 'Gorr'Rylaehotep'. The file was more than a little thick. It was obvious that he'd been tracking this case, that and the case went back far. VERY far. They weren't dealing with some new age religion like Heaven's Gate or the Peoples Temple. This was something that stretched as far back as you could imagine. This was serious to say the least....very serious.

[megatrash]

When Caroline got back to her empty apartment around half an hour later, she fastened the deadbolt and leaned up against the heavy front door and shut her heavy eyes for a moment. Recounting the details of not only the murder, but her relationship as well took the microscopic amount of energy she had out of her. She tossed her purse and keys on the island in the kitchen and walked over towards the Bluetooth speaker to turn on some music. She had resorted to almost constantly having it playing, the louder the better, thinking that it would somehow scare off whatever had been lurking in her home. Not a good plan, she knew, but she decided comfort over logic would work best for her until she found out the answers to the questions she had.

Shitty Future by The Bronx filled the quiet house as she slid her long black dress off and walked towards the bedroom. She unclasped her black lace bra, threw it on the floor in the living room, and looked through Keith’s t-shirt drawer. Once she found the soft gray t shirt she wanted, she pulled it over her head and headed back to the kitchen. The cold, black granite felt glorious on her bare skin as she climbed up onto the island, knocked her purse on the floor, and lit a joint as she laid down. A cloud of white, milky smoke formed above her, and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was the best she had felt in weeks.

As the song ended, Caroline heard something shatter in the bedroom and immediately sprang up from her relaxed position – one leg bent with her foot resting the other, making a sort of triangle, with one hand under her head and another holding the paraphernalia. She licked her fingers to put out the lit joint and swung her legs over the edge of the island trying not to make a noise. After she hopped down, she turned off the speaker before it could start another song and tip-toed slowly towards her room. The familiar feeling of goosebumps crashed over her as she neared the doorway, and she immediately identified where the noise had come from. She ran over to the corner of her bedroom and picked up a large frame holding shatter glass that sat face down a few feet away from the wall, as if it’d be knocked off the wall forcefully. The picture that it held was from her and Keith’s wedding day. She had worn a flowing, beige, and beaded dress the clung to her curves, and Keith wore a dark gray tux. They had looked so happy in the picture that it always made Caroline wonder what had changed.

She noticed blood dripping from her finger as she held the wooden frame and set it down gently. She cursed quietly, stuck the finger in her mouth, and sucked on the metallic taste as she scurried to the bathroom. She stopped in front of the sink, staring at herself in only a large t-shirt, her hair flowing in every direction, and her finger in her mouth. The sight made her smile briefly. She took the finger out of her mouth and ran it under the water, then found a band-aid under the sink, wrapping it delicately around the slice. She heard a loud thump that she recognized instantly to be her bedroom door, closing her eyes tightly hoping that she would wake up in bed instead of having to deal with this any longer. After three seconds, she opened her eyes to see her reflection again in the mirror. “Damn it,” she mumbled as she walked over to the door slowly.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she repeated nearly with each step she took. Her hand reached out for the lever-style door knob, and as she attempted to open it, her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. It was locked. But how? It locked from the inside, and it was open. Caroline placed both of her small hands on the door knob and began to jiggle it up and down. That wasn’t working. Caroline jiggled the lever up and down and used her body weight to try to pull the door open. That didn’t work either. She began to feel nauseous at the thought of being locked in the room with whatever had been knocking things around in her apartment. She took deep, exaggerated breaths as she felt herself slip in and out of panic. After about a half an hour of trying to open the stubborn door and screaming curses that echoed against the walls, she grabbed her phone and scrolled down the contact list. Caroline’s least favorite role to play was a damsel in distress, but the situation was something she didn’t know how to deal with, and that trumped her pride momentarily.

The trilling seemed to go on for hours until a familiar voice greeted her on the other end. “Long time no see, Mr. Blackgate, or, uh, Thomas,” she said in a whisper. “Seems the malevolent forces want me to stay put for the night. My bedroom door is jammed. I’m stuck in here.” She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She was trying her hardest to keep her shaking body from effecting her voice, but she began to hear her voice wavering. “I have a key underneath the plant outside. Could you please come help me?”

Normally, she’d just call a friend to come help her out, but she really didn’t feel like trying to explain that something invisible had locked her in her room. They had already made her feel crazy enough with what she chose to share with them that the thought of her trying to explain her house being haunted was horrifying. But, she knew that no one could handle the current situation like Thomas. No matter how unconventional he was. That was what she hired him for, right?

Before he arrived, she scrambled to make herself decent. She remembered that she left her bra and dress out on the floor near the doorway, and the apartment probably stunk of pot. ”He’s going to think I’m fucking nuts,” she thought to herself as she sat on the foot of her bed, still on edge and head swiveling about as if to watch out for any uninvited guests. She couldn’t put up with this fear anymore. Maybe she should stay at a hotel. Maybe she should call a priest to come bless the house. Maybe she was fucking nuts. She wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. All she knew at that moment was that the air felt heavy on her body, as if someone was sitting on top of her making it hard to breathe. The minutes began to feel like hours.

[LordOfTheNight]

Blackgate read over the files concerning Gorr'Rylaehotep and the cult that worshipped him. There was a great deal of info he needed to go through and yet none of the info was helpful. At least not in the way he was looking for but that was neither here nor there. This cult went back thousands of years, all the way back to the unification of Ancient Egypt. Legends spoke of a god who appeared before the Egyptians and placed a curse on the land. Not much is known of the creature but enough is known that it has come to have many names. The Germans refer to it as "Der Großmann", the Japanese referred to it as "Noppera-bō", the Chinese called it "Hùndùn", the pre-Colombians called it "Taíno". Different names, same faces. There was no such thing as coincidence to Thomas Blackgate. They were all connected. It all pointed to the same being, Gorr'Rylaehotep. The creature however didn't seem to have any motives like the other deities he'd encountered. Khorne was a blood god that demanded blood and violence, the Gods of Chaos only demanded chaos and corruption. Gorr'Rylaehotep didn't seem to demand or desire anything. It just simply was.

Blackgate was so tied into his work that the sound of his phone ringing shocked him back into reality. His cigarette was half way burnt to ash as he put it out and picked up the phone. "Blackgate..." he said as he listened to whom ever was on the other line. It was Caroline. Apparently this poltergeist was keeping her trapped in her room, possibly worse should time go on. Blackgate sighed and nodded. "I will be their in just a few. I need to gather some equipment and I will be there as fast as I can" he said. He needed to make it fast before whatever was in her home tried to rip her open. He was quickly on his feet as he hung up, grabbing his signature brown trench coat. If he was going to fight a malevolent spirit, he'd need at least one item and it wasn't for him.

He knelt before a trunk and unlocked it quickly as he began rifling through the few artifacts he had in his own home. Within no time, the artifact he was looking for was in his hands. The Eye of Horus. The artifact was older than one could imagine but it held power. When someone held it in their hand they could feel the energy rolling off of it. It made the hairs on your skin rise but not as though there were an evil spirit. It was like there was lightning in the air. It was a pleasant tingle that one eventually got used to.

With the amulet in hand, Blackgate grabbed his Browning HP pistol and holstered it quickly. It was a precaution just in case the cult was there. If they were there, then he was ready. If not, then at the very least he was prepared. Patting himself down, he looked at the clock to see he'd been ready in almost 5 minutes flat. Easy. He grabbed his cigarettes and lit one quietly. As he took a drag, he closed his eyes and envisioned the location that she'd told him about. He imagined himself in the living room of her home. He felt a tug in his gut, a sharp and powerful tug that one would immediately feel. "God I hate this part" he said to himself. Within a moment faster than the blink of an eye, Blackgate disappeared from his office and reappeared in the very living room of her home. Blackgate took his cigarette out of his mouth and held his stomach for a moment and then regained his composure. He took a drag and walked quietly towards the bedroom as he knocked on the door. "Caroline, it's me Blackgate. Everything alright in there?" he asked.

[megatrash]

In the time she had spent curled up on her bed, her mind wandered – trying to figure out where the confident, extroverted, and courageous woman she used to be had gone. She became so anxious and quiet that she was barely recognizable in the past few years. Yes, Keith’s death exaggerated these new traits in herself, but they didn’t appear overnight. New York City had probably wore away at her, she figured, along with the troubles that the couple had experienced, but she missed who she was. Freelancing was becoming harder, seeing as she was becoming more and more self-conscious of the artwork she was producing, and without Keith there to help with bills, she was getting distraught thinking about how she was going to afford anything. Selling the apartment would probably be first; she didn’t need something of this size for just herself. Maybe try vending some of the work she had done years ago that she had kept for herself. He had also bought her some expensive jewelry that was truly too flashy for her taste that she could probably pawn. She physically shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts away from her mind.

The wave of relief Caroline felt to hear Blackgates’ gruff voice on the other side of the door was so intense that it had almost knocked her over. The wait for him had been uneventful besides the whispers she had heard, speaking in a tongue she didn’t understand. She had her bruised legs up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, and she rocked back and forth as if it would bring her some comfort. Part of her desperately craved to clean up the mess that the mysterious entity had caused, but she concluded that it’d be best to leave the it where it fell as evidence. As Thomas spoke, she popped up to a standing position, smoothing out her large t-shirt and pajama shorts she had thrown on. “Yes, yes, I’m okay. The door is still jammed.” She walked up to it and wiggled the lever again to no avail. “Thank you for coming, Thomas,” She said quietly, the southern inflection of her voice extremely present. She felt better already knowing that she wasn’t alone in the house. “How’d you get here so quickly?”

[LordOfTheNight]

Upon appearing in her living room, he could feel the presence that lurked within the home. With perhaps the right spell and the right goading, the entity would manifest and Blackgate could use a spell to perhaps expel it. Blackgate took a drag of his cigarette as he felt the temperature of the room grow colder. Cold enough to see his breath even. That wasn't a good sign. Whatever was in the house was absorbing Thomas' magic energy. It appeared to be getting stronger. Most spirits fed on emotional energy, this was feeding on magical energy. That wasn't normal. Blackgate produced the amulet from his jacket pocket. The moment he produced the amulet, the temperature changed immediately. Returning to normal. The amulet had done it's job rather well. At least he'd hope so, he'd be very concerned if he'd gotten a bogus amulet. With the room returning to normal, Thomas held the amulet in hand as he took a drag of his cigarette and relaxed as he approached the room she was in.

He was relieved to hear that she was still alive and coherent. Good. He wasn't too late. Granted it only took a few minutes to get what he needed and to shift from his office to her home. He listened as she spoke, saying that the door was still jammed, asking how he'd gotten here so fast. "I used my ability to teleport. I figured you were in danger, so I decided that my distaste to use magic can take a backseat if it means getting someone out of danger" he said. She probably didn't believe that he could teleport but was there a better explanation. Thomas put his hand against the door and closed his eyes. The presence was definitely holding the door shut. Thomas jiggled the doorknob and pondered for a moment as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Alright. Give me a sec, I should be able to get the door open" he said. Thomas took the amulet and hung it from the doorknob for a moment. Resting his hand against the door once more, he could sense that the presence that was holding the door shut had left the door. It wasn't permanent but for the time being it would do the trick.

Thomas opened the door and raised an eyebrow as he looked her over. "Interesting choice for attire but I'm not one to judge" he said with a chuckle. He took a drag of his cigarette and looked around. "Well you weren't kidding. There is definitely something in the house. Something with power, something that is feeding off of magical energy and getting stronger" he said. He looked to her and spoke. "I'm going to advise that you leave the house. For now anyway. Whatever is here is going to make life very shitty for you and the best course of action for now is to just leave. Is there anyone you can stay with that you trust? Anyone at all? If not than I suppose you can shack up at my place. It may not be the ritz motel but you're guaranteed not to have any demons try and make life any shittier than it needs to be" he said as he took a drag. It had been a bit of a mouthful but it needed to be said. Something in the house wasn't right, it set Thomas' teeth on edge.

[megatrash]

Caroline decided not to question what he had done, or if he was serious about teleporting. Her head was already swimming with all of the events of the day that she didn't want to add more information to her plate besides what the hell was in her house. Her family all lived in Georgia, and Samantha was out of town. She was completely out of options, but she wasn't ready to make her choice yet.

“Well, before I make any reservations at Hotel Blackgate,” she began as she walked out of the room to the kitchen, “maybe we can talk about what that unpronounceable name on the folder means.” She pulled out two wine glasses from a cabinet, but not without climbing up on the counter to reach them. At 5’4”, plenty of the things in the apartment were simply inaccessible to her. Keith was 6’2” and often was the one to grab most of the items she needed in hard to reach places. “Do you like red wine?” she asked, not looking up at the man, and pulled out a bottle from one of the lower cabinets. Without waiting for a response, she popped out the cork and began to fill each delicate wine glass.

Caroline reached her arm over to the bar stools as to offer a seat as she took one for herself. She reached for a drawer arms-length away and pulled out a joint. “You don’t mind, do you?” She lit it slowly, taking her time, and took a large inhale of the intricately rolled indica. She blew it out one side of her mouth to avoid blowing it all over Blackgate. “I think I’m ready to talk about this all means. What’s been happening to me.” She took another hit of the joint and exhaled again. “Will it follow me where I go?”

The thought of staying at Blackgate’s made her feel uneasy. She had just met the man, but at the same time, he would probably be the only to keep her from experiencing the increasing activity going on around her. She had never had a problem with being by herself until recently, and now being alone was a frightening concept. “If I do stay at your place, I will warn you, I’ve been waking up… screaming. Night terrors. It’s a bit embarrassing,” she said as her cheeks flushed. She didn’t like feeling this helpless.

[LordOfTheNight]

Thomas could tell she was doing her best to try and believe him or even wrap her head around the idea of him being able to just teleport like it was some everyday thing. For him, it was one of the few magical means for him to travel but it also took a toll on him energy wise. It's not easy to just disappear from one location and just appear in another, physically speaking and magically speaking. True there was a great deal of things he could do with his magic abilities but teleportation was something that only got easier with use and Thomas tried not to use magic when and IF possible. He preferred brains and bullets first before he chose abracadabra. Thomas ran a hand through his hair and could see that she was thinking of her connections and soon found that there were none. He didn't mind taking her in if that's what she needed. She was his client after all. If he didn't protect her that wouldn't make him a very good private detective.

He watched as she made her way towards the kitchen, commenting that before she made reservations at the hotel Blackgate she wanted to talk about just what the hell the 'unpronounceable word' on the folder meant. He figured this was coming but nodded. "Well I assume you were going to ask at some point, better late than never I suppose" he said with a nod. Blackgate watched as she climbed up onto the counter and asked if he liked red wine. He shrugged, not one to turn down a drink as he took a drag of his cigarette. She produced two glasses and uncorked a bottle of the wine, pouring a glass for the both of them.

As she reached for a drawer and pulled out a joint, she asked if he minded. "I don't mind. I'm not one to judge" he said with a chuckle as he took a drag of his cigarette. He took a seat beside her as she took a moment to relax, commenting that she thinks she's finally ready to discuss what was happening to her. He nodded in understanding as she began to speak, asking if this being that was in her home would follow her. At least he assumed that's what she was asking. If she was asking about Gorr'rylaehotep, then that was a different story. "The spirit in your house may only be tied to your home. However, if it does follow you than I have an artifact that will ensure it doesn't harm you. It may still follow you but at least it won't bother you" he said. He stood up and walked to the door as he grabbed the amulet. "This is the Eye of Horus, an ancient artifact from Egypt. It's a symbol of protection and good health. In this case, you need to think of it as a supernatural bulletproof vest that protects you from supernatural bullets. If you wear this, you will not be harmed by anything supernatural. Only something as powerful as a god can harm you" he said as he handed her the amulet.

He took a drag as he took a seat and sighed. "Now if we are talking about what that folder is talking about, if we are talking about Gorr'rylaehotep, than yes. It's gonna follow you. It's not pretty, it's not friendly, and it's not something you want to mess with" he said with a grim tone. He took a breath and nodded. "I'm sure you're wondering just what the hell I'm talking about and wondering what the hell Gorr'rylaehotep is, among other questions of course. Now is your chance to ask" he said gently. He would answer as best as he could but he couldn't guarantee all the answers but he could answer a majority of them

[megatrash]

She watched the man speak, and her expressions changed as he explained the mysterious entity. She slipped the amulet over her head so that it sat comfortably on her chest. It was definitely an interesting piece, to say the least, and it looked like it was centuries younger than anyone living on the planet currently. Caroline took a sip of her wine as he asked her what she wanted to know. “Well, I don’t even know what to ask! What the hell do I do? How do I get rid of it? What is it? Where does it come from?” She was getting worked up and noticed the volume of her voice growing louder and louder as she asked the questions.

After taking a gulp of her wine and taking a deep breath, she began to calm down a bit, but she was obviously still very shaken up. “I’m sorry. This is all just really overwhelming, I-“ she paused and took another deep breath. “I’m just so scared. I don’t wanna live with this thing in my house anymore. I want it gone… for good.” She looked up at the man with a lip slightly quivering. “What is it?” She held a gaze for as long as she could before growing uncomfortable again. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She was exhausted, and this evil thing in her life was draining her completely. She would do whatever it took for her to finally get some peace back. “If it’s okay, I’ll stay with you. I’m pretty sure they don’t know how to deal with this shit at the Motel 8.”

[LordOfTheNight]

Thomas looked to her as she began speak, saying that she didn't even know WHAT to ask. Fair enough. She continued, asking what she should do, how did she get rid of it, what was it, and finally where did it come from. All very good questions as she began to get worked up and finally seemed to calm down, relaxing a bit as she took a sip of her wine and then apologizing for how she'd reacted. "It's ok, I understand" he said gently. He looked to her as she said she was scared, that she wanted it gone for good. He nodded and spoke. "I understand. I would be shocked if you weren't scared. I keep forgetting that you aren't magically inclined like I am. Forgive me" he said gently. he took a moment as she finally came to find a proper question to ask. What is it? Thomas sighed and took a drag of his cigarette, relaxing as he thought about how to comment.

"There have been hundreds of legends concerning this....creature, this being. Perhaps the oldest known record of it is the legend of Gorr'rylaehotep, from ancient Egypt. Legends speak of a being that came to our world from a place just beyond our own. For all intents and purposes, a god from another dimension" he began. Chances were he'd lost her by this point but he continued. "He....it; has been seen countless times throughout our history but each time, these cases follow a recurring theme and a recurring description of the being itself. Every time it makes contact with an adult, the adult has been through some sort of trauma or tragedy in their life. It seems to target those who have seen him as children and stalks them for years. It stalks the person, every encounter causing paranoia, memory loss, hallucinations, nightmares, bad shit like that" he said. He took a drag of his cigarette and put it out with the heel of his shoe. He took a breath and continued. "If this thing is stalking you, you wouldn't know it. You could be unaware of it for months or even years and you wouldn't know it until it showed itself to you and by then you are too late" he commented.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I wish I could give you more information than that and I wish I had better news than that" he said with a grim tone. "Truth be told I have more files concerning victims and the cult that worships him than anything. It's mostly legends and no facts if I'm honest" he said. Gorr'rylaehotep was a mysterious being that didn't stalk hundreds of victims at a time. He often stayed in single digits and spread the cases among countries and states. it was impossible to know who were victims and who weren't

[megatrash]

Unfortunately, what Thomas had told her did not make her feel any better about her current situation. If anything, it may have made her more confused than she was before. "So," she adjusted her position on the bar stool so she could comfortably rest her chin on knees, "you're saying that if he hasn't shown himself yet to me, I'm fine? I mean, I hear things. I see things in the corner of my eyes. The thing grabs my legs for Christ's sake. But I haven't seen anyone." Her eyes were wide as she stared at the floor. All of this was making her nauseous. What the fuck did Keith do to bring this upon her?

"Wait a minute..." The wheels began to turn in her mind. "So, if you're saying this thing stalks you for years, does that mean it's always been me? Keith didn't do this?" She was getting worked up again. "But, but, why me? I haven't messed with this shit before. I never even played with a ouija board!" She reached down for her joint that had stopped burning and lit it again, taking the biggest inhale yet. She spoke as she held the smoke in, straining anymore. "So, what do I do, Thomas? Before I see this thing standing in my doorway." She exhaled the thick cloud that rose above them and lingered with the hanging lights.

She stood up and grabbed the bottle to top off her wine glass. Without sitting back down, she took a swig and began pacing. Should she pack her things? Stay at the strange ghosthunter's house? Or should she stay here to get mangled by and invisible Egyptian god? "Jesus," she whispered as her thoughts kept racing. She slid her fingers through her hair and held her hand their for a second as she tried to come up with a solution in her head. Was there one? She felt like she was going to explode.