The last few months something had changed. In this day and age it was rare for people to go missing. Yet already there had been three missing persons. Murders, abductions and odd sightings were also on the rise. They had just come from such a scene, of an abduction gone wrong. The murder was brutal; the wounds were many, heavy gashes and even a torn limb were strewn about. He was surprised how well his new partner was taking it. It was her first day in the field, she had been timid, quiet, with a silent excitement of finally being out of the academy, not all together uncommon for most graduates that he'd ran across. Most wouldn't have seen an actual death for months after they were out on the beat, and she managed one on her first day. Even some seasoned veterans had an air of uneasiness around death. The autopsies at the academy did little to prepare anyone for the range of grotesque expressions and scenarios of the lifeless they would face. He himself had thrown up his first time.
It was after their day he invited her to the bar. Help ease the tensions, or at least his tension from the scene. If the mangled corpse weren't enough, the room had been filled with strange drawings, a few small livestock in cages filling most of the room, and a shelf lined with jars of macabre animal parts suspended in some fluid. The sights alone would have been enough, but the animals had been living in their own feces since their owners death several days previous, the aging body, ammonia, and a faint smell of charcoal. Even with the masks the smell seemed to permeate his mind, all these hours later.
The bar was pretty empty. Not unusual for a Wednesday. He sat down at the counter, relieved for a moment to let his mind at ease. His partner sat down, and instead she seemed to light up. A moment of rest seemed to give her time to compile all the events of the day.
He was knee deep in old books, and papers. Dust constantly kicking up with all of the moving of these manuscripts. A constant ticking of the clock in the corner. An old brick room in an ancient building. Strange whispers of the wind flowing through the cracks in the windows and the walls. The tapping of the branches on the glass. Flickering of the gas lamps dancing off the walls; Specter's playing just out of sight. The long hours were getting to him. Drooping eyes, he had to take a nap, but his dreams gave way to terrible frights. No, it was best to keep awake and finish his work.
It started off simple enough. After witnessing an archaic, violent ceremony, he started seeing strange visions in his sleep. He was just trying to find an answer, someone to remove these visions. It started on the net, looking through forums. Many hours wasted on pretenders. So many more fond of a past that no longer existed, of fictitious stories. He finally started to discover sites of truth. Some spells to clarify the visions. Then to find mentors to help him sort out all he had seen.
When he finally had a response he wasn't sure what to expect. It went well enough, clarifying the confusions easing the fears that were creeping into his mind. That was until he mentioned it's name. More tonal and barbaric he dared not speak of it again. It changed the demeanor of this man. From calm and collected to manic, and violent. He jumped him without warning, not thinking of the sacrificial knife he held. It ended quick with him falling back in his own blood.
Now he was the panicked one, he searched through out the apartment for any books or an address book. The man had talked about other advisers, and sources on visions. He left the room a mess, running out as inconspicuous as he could once he found the address book. After a few less than cordial meetings, he discovered a mad old man. He spoke in riddles and afraid of his own shadow, but speaking the name of the horrible beast, he consented to let him use his library.
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