Grimnoir

{(set:$firstOffice to "yes") (set:$firstMenu to "yes") (set:$firstMorgue to "yes") (set:$firstFight to "yes") (set:$seenJeanette to "no") (set:$causeJ to "no") (set:$timeJ to "no") (set:$anyJ to "no") (set:$armsJ to "no") (set:$faceJ to "no") (set:$torsoJ to "no") (set:$walkedOut to "no") (set:$metGrim to "no") (set:$firstHouse to "yes") (set:$talknoahHaunt to "no") (set:$talknoahFriend to "no") (set:$laptoppass to "no") (set:$talknoahDeath to "no") (set:$talknoahLap to "no") (set:$metJayla to "no") (set:$houseJ to "no") (set:$jtalkgames to "no") (set:$talkgarden to "no") (set:$jtalkparents to "no") (set:$eastfirst to "yes") (Set:$purified to 0) (set:$killed to 0) (set:$trueKilled to 0) (set:$truePurified to 0) (set:$morris to 1) (set:$checked to 0) (set:$dcounter to 0) (set:$redemption to 0) (set:$failures to 0) (set:$case1notes to (a: "I spoke to the client, who claims his girlfriend was murdered by a ghost haunting their house.", "Solene took a statement from him when he came in: says his name is Noah Turner. Victim's name is Jeanette Hawkins.","I'll need to take a look at the property, which is at 221 Fairview Street in Riverside. I'll also have to see the body at the morgue.")) (set:$case2notes to (a:"The client, one Jayla Shepard, reports numerous thefts from her property. She also reports strange sightings and sounds from her garden, on which she did not elaborate over the phone.","Her property is located in Shade Hills, on the outskirts of the city.")) (set:$case3notes to (a:"The client's name is Roberta Wheeler. She lives in Eastshore, at 35 Terrence Road.","The client was distraught about the death of someone named Charlie. I'm not sure of the relation. She seems insistent that a monster is at work.","Something about getting a glimpse of teeth in the dark.")) (set:$soleneconvos to (dm:"drugsmurder",0,"grimcase",0,"dogmurder",0,"songgarden",0,"prewifesearch",0,"catprof",0,"hierophant",0)) (set:$dermotconvos to (dm:"drugsmurder",0,"grimcase",0,"dogmurder",0,"songgarden",0,"prewifesearch",0,"catprof",0,"hierophant",0))} Tuesday night in Steel City. So far, it's been one of those nights where time doesn't really seem to mean much. Rain pounds the window behind me, dull and flat and constant, and the humid air's a rope around my neck, thick and suffocating. A pair of ice cubes melt into a whiskey-filled glass, and smoke wisps up from my ashtray like the ghost of the past few hours. I've become a regular statue, leaning back in my chair with my shoe heels propped up on my desk. Solene's voice bubbles in from the other room, though I can't make out the words, just the sly tones of her business voice. I lower my fedora over my face and try to close my eyes. No use. Restless. And bored. Eventually I hear the signature //clack// of heels approaching, never quite as loud as it seems like they should be on these old oak floors, and I see Solene's frame blurred in the clouded glass of my office door. She swings the door open without a knock and slinks over to the desk. Solene's sleek and slender. She's usually dressed in a low-cut tight dress, the deep red of either wine or serious blood loss, depending on her mood. Today she's wearing black, matching the curly tresses that drape her shoulders. "Cases for you, Morris," she says. "Hm," I acknowledge. I can hear her leaning over the desk, and then my fedora is snatched from my face. I sigh. Solene stares flatly at me, and then shoots a disgusted look at my shoes on the desk. Golden, cat-slitted eyes broadcast her annoyance in my general direction. "Asleep on the job, while I do all the work, huh?" she says. "Your eyes are showing," I tell her. Her eyes instantly cut to a rich brown, and she tosses a manilla folder at me. "Murder and a theft," she says. "And a man who insists on speaking to you in person." I take my feet down from my desk reluctantly and sit up, reaching for my glass. "I hope this isn't another haunted house guy," I say. "I'll let him up," Solene says, turning away from me and slipping back into the other room. [[Continue.|firstClient]]

I straighten my tie and listen to the rain outside pick up to an insistent tap on the window, like a crowd of desperate hands. Solene's heels return, and she leads a figure to my door. The door swings open, and a man enters. Sloppily dressed, sleepless eyes. No older than twenty-eight or twenty-nine, might be much younger--face screams hard drugs. He shuffles awkwardly up to the desk and stands blankly in front of it until I gesture at the chair across from me. The man nods, takes a seat. "S-so, you're Morris. They say you've never dropped a case." "They're right." A moment of silence. The kid squirms in his seat in a way that reminds me inexplicably of an insect flipped on its back. Definitely younger, I think. Maybe twenty-two. "My house is haunted," he says. Fantastic. I open a drawer, lift the whiskey bottle. "Might I direct you to a psychic? Priest, maybe? You got a favorite god?" His eyes turn hard, gain a surprising glint. "Are you a fucking occult detective, or what?" "That's right," I say, unscrewing the cap. "Means I solve murders. Assaults. Not spooky sounds in your house at night. Find someone else." "It killed my girlfriend," the guy blurts. "Everyone says she OD'd, but I know that's not what happened." He sits there a moment, seeming rattled. I watch his face. Slowly, I open another drawer and pull out a second glass. I pour us both one hell of a shot, and hand him his. He downs it and clutches the glass over his lap in both his hands, oddly gently, like the way a kid might hold a baby bird. "You know ghosts don't normally kill people, right?" I say. He's looking past me. "I know what I saw. I know there was something...in there. Wasn't new. But it was getting worse. And then...Listen, she'd gone clean. And I...I saw the thing that killed her in her sleep that night. I saw the eyes. Saw it leaning over her. There was a terrible smell...It was like I couldn't move. Thought I'd dreamed it. But when I woke up...she was dead." "Any noticeble injuries? Might have to see the body myself, you realize," I tell him. He nods stiffly. "She had some tiny marks on her neck. That was it. She's already been...taken away, though." The morgue. Great, always fun. "I don't work for free," I say. The guy nods, or maybe a sharp twitch. "Just figure this out. I owe her this much." Solene is already at the door; she always has the best sense of timing. She opens it and leads him out, and I can hear him walk past her, out of the offices and into the grim hallway outside. A spectral killer? My eyes fall onto the manilla folder, with two other cases inside. Seems my night just got a whole lot more interesting. {(set:$case1 to "drugsmurder")(set:$case1label to "The Haunted Space")(set:$case2 to "songgarden")(set:$case2label to "The Song Garden")(set:$case3 to "dogmurder")(set:$case3label to "The Night Teeth")} [[Continue.|office]]

I'm sitting in my office, at the desk. {(set:$state to "office") (set:$location to "Office") (set:$tunnel to "no") (set:$sequence to "first")} Rain taps urgently on the window. [[Review active cases.|cases]] [[Speak to Solene.|solene]] (if:$firstOffice is "yes")[>>NOTE: Morris is currently in his office, which serves as a sort of main hub. From his office, you can (colour:blue)[review notes] on his active cases and travel instantly to any of them. The (colour:blue)[menu] is accessible via the (colour:blue)[⎊ ⎊ ⎊] on the left. From your menu, you can check your (colour:blue)[inventory], (colour:blue)[save] your game, instantly (colour:blue)[return to your office], or (colour:blue)[call Solene] for advice about your current case. (Solene will offer hints about monsters' names.) You can also check the (colour:blue)[Grimoire]. The Grimoire is a sort of encyclopedia of occult creatures. The Grimoire often contains hints about Morris's cases--and how to deal with the culprits. Read it to learn the names of monsters, so that you can defeat them.(set:$firstOffice to "no")](else:)[ ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/11bsljkl2osph6w/346642__inspectorj__rain-on-windows-interior-a.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

I light a cigarette, flick on the desklamp, and examine the case notes spread out over my desk. (if:$case1 is not "solved")[ [[$case1label|case1]] ] (if:$case2 is not "solved")[ [[$case2label|case2]] ] (if:$case3 is not "solved")[ [[$case3label|case3]] ] [[Back.|office]] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/11bsljkl2osph6w/346642__inspectorj__rain-on-windows-interior-a.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

I open my office door and slip into the small front room. Solene sits at her desk, typing on a computer. Her desk's neat and orderly. Lamps in the room provide a comfortable level of light, a far cry from my dim cave of an office. "What, Morris?" she says without looking up. [["Wanted some advice."|advice]] [["Nothing at all."|office]]

[[<img src="data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAAOpJREFUaAXt mEsKwzAMROOSs/T+5+ll8gMbdxFkDxphxGRTKNLIes+lkHJ8t2NL8HwS7PCsoEVWM7l7Haj85pOu 36fbk+ZquRmpaEcoI/Zq/ttnGiMly//I39WylNdrY9W96R/9fnROrbtz29ViH250iZm6/sxtkZmA FWu1yGpWZERGSAR0tUhg4VgZgdGRGmWEBBaOlREYHalRRkhg4VgZgdGRGmWEBBaOlREYHalRRkhg 4VgZgdGRGpuR/j0qaZZ7bH/mNG/jmxF3XMGBWiQYuDlORkxEwQUyEgzcHCcjJqLgAhkJBm6OOwFQ lhTUWzDT/wAAAABJRU5ErkJggg=="/>|inventory]] [[<img src="data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAAUBJREFUaAXt VkEOwyAMK9Pesv+/Z59pl0mRIkYKJLVWIfdSBthJ7HRQ9te2bws8jwVq+JbAQu7mJB2hIyAF2Fog YcO0dCQsHQi4jCPPrEDl/cvwub91nyjOIy6RS2MrCS+ALSqK87jt/FQhM4nYIJmxFeKMZ+gbkQL+ UYQkPho3/Y20FBsJHsV5roQKaSVhA+h6XZDO2712rOs1zu7xxkOt5YHvNM9C7uSG5EJH6AhIAbYW SNgw7TKOhE52lc07gfWE1n31O4qreezvoduvF9gSIcc9YST2Mq21TCGpb8SzvNeKHk5apIeVPa0n VMhZIhJE1+ukdL6ViM7pnhqr6957urU0kEd41fxsnKF/rauSQ/JMO4JMJsPNQjLqIbB0BKFqhpOO ZNRDYOkIQtUMJx3JqIfA0hGEqhlOOpJRD4E9AM58NI9AAmp9AAAAAElFTkSuQmCC"/>|grimoire]] [[<img src= "data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAAR9JREFUaAXt mlEOwyAMQ9tpZ9n9z7PLdGVSfjrAaQLWhNyfSoRg7Nf2g20/XtuxLXA9FvDwtSAj/0ZyGSLPTLL7 O9P923t+eMJXmMhoE8VBZs0QEY9gLd3SV8Z7/TbnLpqQEY9Ia7Otcc+avTkpI7XUe2KoljEZfkfQ pth1GWEnjvREBCXErosIO3GkJyIoIXZdRNiJIz0RQQmx6yLCThzpiQhKiF0XEXbiSE9EUELsuoiw E0d6IoISYteXIZI6Ms0ccY4mNp1IOR8efUZcC2GqEfsJoZCbbWaaETNh6c02M82IGWDdQ0Y8j8mV wJVQy6Bn7VrvfjaG//ng+WrZxu7MrW0UjaWMoMWZ9dCjxdygV0tGvEmx5okIK2mvzjJEPqhJKo6H d1yrAAAAAElFTkSuQmCC"/>|callSolene]] [[<img src = "data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAARNJREFUaAXt lwEKwzAIRduxs/T+59ll2lkQJIyYUI3ifmHYUkn/88d27uexnVuB41WA4UYASDYn4QgccarAW1t3 /2gZa+5/PxPdAz3SLU/AzTKOqD3SFlfbq21+e+3Vc9MgrbCRay/x8tkuICuESwg6NwGJEG4KkgGA gcq8tQDClmaJcCSLE6wDjnAlskQ4ksUJ1gFHuBJZIhzJ4gTrgCNcCRlpDH46Csv1Zs7NHCEAmk/o FwFjBjJTPY9ck1GXhEknIiZHMxCG8aj2yJplthZARuxemQNHVlZ75FllHJl+/UZ8I/7KkTJbqwyI 2iO9f7IW/dJbf6Q3OEcF4USLaCX6lxY3EE/RriCrhbcwjxyJFi9hLioQHKReILyxAAAAAElFTkSu QmCC"/>|office]] [[<img src="data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAARhJREFUaAXt mG0OgyAMhnXZWXb/8+wybu5XYzp4SqRCrb8QC/T9oE1ct9eyLQGeRwAMPwgJZDQlU5HRFHlqCa1v bfaauW9VRY8KRFtJN9TWWuaOJO7v5GwMxJLMv9hjknscSZKAmeayayRIwqYBsiddAjMVkBKY6YBI O8lxApFsjDBORUZQQeYQRhHXzk66uGTZMsZASs3IcmCv2PtYq6cdLOrUHBFGkTBA0GWvyWqxSEss sTcCQjZqSfDMNWmtM9ms7UUckdaqsej9HSmSVctRlqxajmSjn3jojpDy5wlMOyutpbHSa444Iq3V i/3WfZEi2RBb6W1Yd5+qdbWtqDhhFAkDRK1apAFRyb3iwiiSQLwsQ88Jo8gHmrMoH9gTAjEAAAAA SUVORK5CYII="/>|save]] (link: "Back")[(goto: $state)] (set:$menustate to "menu") (if:$firstMenu is "yes")[>>NOTE: This is your Menu.

Here's what I've got: My phone, wallet, and keys. The key to 221 Fairview Street. A silver dagger. A pen-sized flashlight. A small container of salt. (if:$foundfeather is "yes")[An unusually large feather.] (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

//Solomon's Modern Grimoire//, the familiar title reads, embossed on the soft, faded leather. I flip it open and thumb through the well-worn pages. "All monsters have a (colour:blue)[name] and (colour:blue)[purpose]," states the title page. [[Read the Foreword|foreward]] [[View monsters by Alphabetical Order|alphabetical]] [[View monsters by Categories|categories]] (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

I slide my phone out from an inner trenchcoat pocket and dial Solene. Solene: (if:$state is "office")["Morris, have you seriously gotten this lazy?" ](else:)[(if:$region is "drugsmurder")[(if:$metGrim is "no")["Hmm. Have you been to the morgue yet? I suspect you'll find some leads there about what kind of monster you're dealing with."](else:)["So Grim thinks it probably wasn't a vampire? Well, consider how smart you think this thing is. Is there evidence for a (colour:blue)[cursed]'s level of intellect? If not, there are some (colour:blue)[beasts] with vampire-like traits."]](elseif:$region is "songgarden")[(if:$foundfeather is not "yes")[(if:$metJayla is not "yes")["Have you spoken yet with the client? I left her address in your case notes."](else:)["Sounds like I'd inspect the (colour:blue)[garden] closely, if I were you."]](else:)["I guess the feather explains how the thief was getting in and out. Might check the Grimoire for feathered (colour:blue)[beasts]...I know they can be quite similar to one another in appearance."]](elseif:$region is "dogmurder")[(if:$sawcharlie is not "yes")["Have you talked to the client yet about the victim? That's probably a good place to start."](else:)["Hmm. Sounds it could be a (colour:blue)[beast], but...it seems a bit too carefully planned. I'd take a look at (colour:blue)[cursed] monsters."]](elseif:$region is "prewifesearch")["Have you spoken with the client yet? You'll need to hear the details of the case."](elseif:$region is "catprof")[(if:$talkedFaculty is not "yes")["You'll want to speak with the client first, as always, Morris."](else:)["Hmm...if it's taking things from the fridge, it's not an ethereal. Doesn't sound like a demon. And if it's small...I'd check for smaller (colour:blue)[beasts] and (colour:blue)[cursed], I think.]](elseif:$region is "grimcase")["Hm? Weren't you going to go see Grim about whatever he wanted to talk about?"] ](link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

Save your progress so far? >>NOTE: game data is stored in your web browser's storage. Clearing your browser data will delete your saved game. [[Yes.|savesucc]] (link: "No.")[(goto: $state)]

//Phantom// Intellect: human Appearance: dark figures, human silhouettes, disembodied faces, shadowy masses Weaknesses: incense made from sandalwood or myrrh Category: ethereal Phantoms do not usually retain much memory of their human lives. They feed on fear. In contrast with popular belief, phantoms do not have to appear only at night and are perfectly capable of showing themselves during the day. They may be more likely to manifest at night, however, to take advantage of the darkness in creating fear. Phantoms do not injure or kill and are thus considered relatively harmless--though a phantom's victim, after several sleepless nights, may disagree. If trapped in place and submerged in incense, they disintegrate. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Sigbin// Intellect: animal Appearance: kangaroo-like in silhouette, with a long, ratlike tail. Two prominent fangs in snout. Large eyes adapted for darkness. Weakness: silver Category: beast The sigbin, when standing upright on its hind legs, comes up to about a human's chest in height. Sigbins have an exceptional sense of smell. They can scurry quickly on all fours. Sigbins feed exclusively on blood. They are opportunistic feeders, and much like rats, are adept at getting into human dwellings and nesting there. Sigbins may or may not drain their victims entirely. They typically feed only once every few months, and so a building infested with a sigbin may only notice occasional sounds of scurrying or movement most of the time. Sigbins are fast and deft, but are more likely to avoid confrontation. They have a vicious bite when cornered. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Succubus// Intellect: human Appearance: winged, horned, and scaled in true form. They are adept at disguising themselves as humans with magic Weakness: can be warded off with salt circles or runes Category: demon The female counterpart to the incubus. As with the incubus, they are masters of mesmerizing and seducing prey. They have no power, however, over those who would not normally be attracted to them. Succubi do not typically kill, feeding instead on humans' desire. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Lycanthrope// Intellect: human Appearance: human by day, monstrous wolf by night. Weaknesses: silver Category: cursed The lycanthrope is a wrathful beast. During the day, they are fairly indistinguishable from humans, and may even appear meek and timid to others. At night, they are driven by anger. A lycanthrope is unlikely to carefully plan its kill or stalk prey long distance. They are driven to fits of blind rage. Beware their fangs, claws, and brutal strength. Watch for animal tracks that seem to indicate only two feet, or tracks that indicate two feet and alternate with a loping run on all fours. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Incubus// Intellect: human Appearance: winged, horned, and scaled in true form. They are adept at disguising themselves as humans with magic Weakness: can be warded off with salt circles or runes Category: demon The male counterpart to the succubus. As with the succubus, they are masters of mesmerizing and seducing prey. They have no power, however, over those who would not normally be attracted to them. Incubi do not typically kill, feeding instead on humans' desire. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Vampire// Intellect: human Appearance: human-like, though with sharp teeth and dark red to reddish brown eyes Weakness: disoriented by bright light, weak to silver Category: cursed Vampires are extremely canny foes with incredible regenerative powers, thus making them very dangerous adversaries. They are nocturnal, built (much like felines) for stealthy hunting in darkness. While legend holds that vampires cannot sustain exposure to sunlight, the truth that likely spurred the myth is that sunlight is quite disorienting to them, and may momentarily blind or stun them. Vampires are excellent at stalking prey. They hunt at night, and typically drain humans of blood completely in order to be sated. A vampire must be stabbed through the heart with a silver knife or beheaded--otherwise, there's a good chance they will withstand their injuries and survive. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

''Solomon's Modern Grimoire: A Brief Foreword'' Ours is a tragic world. Sometimes, when a person dies filled with a thought of immense emotion--a plea for justice, a desire for revenge, obsessive love--their anguished soul calls out to the abyss. Sometimes the abyss answers. Tethered to the world by a singular desire, twisted into monstrous shape, these souls terrorize the world of the living. A hunter of such monsters must be armed with wit, provisions, and knowledge. This tome assists with the latter. Names are powerful. A monster can be instantly stunned if identified correctly by name. If its reason for existence--that which tethers it to the world--is named, it can be purified. Alternatively, and of more interest to hunters, they can be killed. Use this book. Learn their names. Learn their weaknesses. Learn their patterns. Hunt well. -Solomon Reeve [[Back.|grimoire]]

$case1label (for: each _item, ...$case1notes)[_item ] (if:$case1 is "drugsmurder")[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|case1location]] ](elseif:$case1 is "grimcase")[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|case1locationSecond]] ](else:)[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|caseFinalLocation]] ] [[Back to reviewing other cases.|cases]] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/11bsljkl2osph6w/346642__inspectorj__rain-on-windows-interior-a.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

$case2label (for: each _item, ...$case2notes)[_item ] (if:$case2 is "songgarden")[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|case2location]] ](else:)[(if:$partTwo is not "yes")[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|case2locationSecond]] ](else:)[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|solenereturn]] ] ] [[Back to reviewing other cases.|cases]] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/11bsljkl2osph6w/346642__inspectorj__rain-on-windows-interior-a.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

$case3label (for: each _item, ...$case3notes)[_item ] (if:$case3 is "dogmurder")[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|case3location]] ](else:)[ [[Continue investigation for this case.|case3locationSecond]] ] [[Back to reviewing other cases.|cases]] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/11bsljkl2osph6w/346642__inspectorj__rain-on-windows-interior-a.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

{(if:$walkedOut is "no")[I exit my office and pass Solene in the front room, leaving her at her desk. I walk out into the moldy hallway and down to the first floor.(set:$walkedOut to "yes")]} {(set:$region to "drugsmurder")} The rain's coming down harder than it had seemed from my office out here on the street. I watch the occasional car pass and create wings of filthy water from pools on the streets. {(set:$state to "case1location")} [[From here, I can grab a cup of coffee from Dermot's Diner on the opposite corner.|dermots]] (if:$seenJeanette is "no")[ [[The morgue is three blocks over.|walktomorgue1]] ](else:)[ [[The morgue is three blocks over.|morgue]] ] (if:$case1 is "drugsmurder")[ [[To get to Riverside, I'll have to catch a cab.|riverside]] ] (if:$allowGrim is "yes" and $metGrim is "no")[ [[A ten minute walk to the metro, and I can take the subway to Highview, where Grim lives.|walktoGrim1]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/nujxdoe190qwbgk/376810__theneedle-tv__long-thunder-rolls-and-heavy-rain_reduced.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

{(if:$firstdermot is not "no")[(set:$firstdermot to "no")Dermot's is a small corner diner, the windows overlooking the frantic intersection of 5th and Finley. You might expect a place called Dermot's Diner to be owned by a guy called Dermot, but you'd be wrong. The owner is in fact one Clementine Hayes, the late Dermot's daughter. Clem herself usually works the counter, and she's there now, as I walk in and take my hat off and then, sidestepping a bustling waitress, head over.](else:)[(if:$region is not "hierophant")[I walk into Dermot's and approach my usual seat at the counter.](else:)[I walk up to the door and am surprised to find Dermot's dim and empty. The door's locked. Dermot's, closed?] ]} (if:$dermotconvos's $region is 0)[(set:$dcounter to ($dcounter+1))(set:$dermotconvos's $region to 1)(if:$region is "drugsmurder")["Another day, another monster," Clem says without looking up at me. She slides a mug at me on the counter as I take a seat on a stool, and then fills it with coffee from a pitcher. "Business as usual," I say. "How's Grant?" "Wrapping up his freshman year, apparently. He loves it." She chuckles. "Called to tell me about some group project he did." "Glad to hear," I say. "I always hated group projects." "Well, there's a surprise," Clem says flatly, giving me a side glance as she moves a stack of plates behind the counter. "What're you lone-wolf-ing, now, theft? Murder?" "Murder. Not sure what to make of it yet." "Watch your ass, as always," Clem says. She grins. "You're practically half my business, after all." "Hardly," I say, looking around at the place. I look down wistfully at my near-empty mug, and finish it off. "Well," I say, grabbing my hat. "Take care, Morris," Clem says, with a nod.](elseif:$region is "songgarden")["Try this," Clem says, handing me a small plate with an omelette alongside my customary black coffee. I obediently lift a fork and cut off a piece. "Jesus Christ," I say. "That bad?" "No, it's good, it's just...it's, uh, really spicy." "Worth it spicy? Or too much?" "I'll let you know next week when my taste buds recover." "Damn," she says. "I knew those ghost peppers were too risky." She slides me a glass of milk. "Felt like trying a hot pepper omelette for the menu. Dad was crazy about pepper stuff." Clem looks at me curiously. "You know, I've never heard you talk about your parents." I shrug. "Not much to tell. Pretty typical stuff, nothing really crazy. My dad was kind of an asshole. I lived with my mom. Moved out at 18, went to college, never came back." "How's your mom these days?" "Doing well, I guess. That's my impression, at least. We don't really talk." "I guess I can kind of understand," Clem says. "Dad was the only family I had. The world was a lot colder of a place after I lost him." "Yeah." "Well," Clem says, "If I get the omelette right, you're welcome to another on the house. As reparations for your taste buds, may they rest in peace." "Look forward to it," I say, standing up.](elseif:$region is "dogmurder")[It's busy in here, lots of people crowding around, so it takes Clem a little while to come over to me. She hands me my coffee with a sigh. "Long day already?" I suggest. "You know it." She walks away to take an order at the end of the counter, and then returns. "Times like this I wish had an assistant like you do." "Won't find one like mine," I say, lifting my coffee to take a sip. "True. Gotta say, Morris, much as I like Solene, how the hell'd you rope her into working for your gloomy ass?" "Well, I didn't exactly put out an ad," I say. "Tell you the truth, I ran into her while working a case. Figured she might know something about a thief. Turned out I was right. She was the thief, seducing men left and right and taking their money to get by." "That's the dream, ain't it?" Clem says. I take a sip of coffee. "She tried to charm me to get out of it, naturally, not realizing I'd be immune. I offered her a legitimate job. Clever, personable--she had a lot of potential. I was right about that too." "And now you'd trust her with your life." "I can and I do. She could've left long ago now if she really wanted to. Human contracts and laws don't mean shit to them." "But she stays." "But she stays," I agree. I finish my coffee.](elseif:$region is "prewifesearch")["You ever had a pet, Morris?" Clem says abruptly, sliding me a mug of coffee and a pastry thing as I take a seat. "Mmm-hmm." "Let me guess. Dog? You seem like a large breed kinda guy." "No. Very much cat." "I'm surprised." "Yep. We--I used to feed him scraps. Huge mistake. He was a huge pest at the table." "Heh." Clem sighs. "Grant's heartbroken at the moment. His old mutt died yesterday. Just gave up the ghost in his sleep. I honestly debated not telling him." "He strikes me as the type who'd rather know." "Yeah," she says glumly. "I felt guilty, so I called him. I know he's really down about it. That dog was his favorite part of coming home." "I'm sorry." "Eh. That's life." "Yeah." "How's that scone?" "That what it is? It's nice. Not too sweet. Goes well with coffee." "Thought so. You and your black coffee." "That's the true taste of coffee," I say. "Rich. Deep. Bitter." "Sugar doesn't change any of that, except the bitter," Clem says, gathering some dishes on the counter. "It doesn't hurt."](elseif:$region is "grimcase")[As I near the counter, I'm immediately struck by a familiar voice. A guy sitting near my customary seat, back to me, leaning over the counter, making Clem laugh about something. I consider turning around and heading back out the door. Clem looks up. "Oh, hey, Morris," she says with a broad smile. Wyatt turns to look behind at me. "Oh. Hey," he says, with a nod. "Hey, Wyatt," I say, walking forward and sliding onto my seat at the counter. "How's things with you?" "Doing pretty well, myself," he says quietly. "That's an understatement," Clem laughs, pouring me a coffee. "He's getting hitched." For a second I must've slipped up and looked surprised as surprised as I felt, because Clem chuckles and Wyatt laughs uncomfortably. "I asked Sam to marry me," he says. "She said yes." Had I known Wyatt was still with Sam? Been, what...four years? Not sure. Surprisingly, Wyatt's love life isn't top of the list of things I think about. "I...congratulations, Wyatt. And my condolences to Sam, for being stuck with you forever." Wyatt laughs. Clem gives an exasperated sigh. "Play nice, boys. I'll never understand why you like to be at each others' throats...you're practically the same no-nonsense, gloomy asshole, anyway." Not quite, apparently. "I wish you both the best, Wyatt," I say genuinely. He nods. "Thanks. Still got about a year." "Plenty of time for Sam to come to her senses." From Clem: "Morris." "Sorry," I say with a grin. "Well, uh. Guess I'd better get back to it," Wyatt says, standing and putting on his jacket. "Take care, Morris." I nod. He shuffles through the other patrons, out the door. "I'm glad for him," Clem says, wiping down the counter. "He deserves a light in that line of work." She pauses, realizing what she said, and quickly glances at me. "Much as I hate to admit it, you're right," I say. "Good for him." I take a swig of coffee. I suddenly find myself not really in the mood for conversation.](elseif:$region is "catprof")[Clem places a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me, followed by a mug of coffee. "So, Morris," she says without introduction, "what would you do if all the monsters in the world disappeared tomorrow?" "Wait for the next batch to show up," I say, lifting a fork. "You know what I mean. A world totally without 'em." "That wouldn't happen." "Jacob Morris, bartender? That might suit you." "Hope everyone likes whiskey." "A whiskey-only bar?" "Yep. All kinds, though." "Oh, who am I kidding, Morris. You'd pull a Wyatt, stay within arm's reach of the field. Go into forensics, police work maybe." "Good thing my job's going nowhere fast. Wouldn't be a cop." "Yeah," says Clem, cleaning with a rag. "You ever think about that? How in a perfect world some jobs would make themselves obsolete? It's like an ecosystem where everything is in balance. Cops //need// criminals." "Maybe," I say. "Thanks for the eggs." "No problem. You looked hungry. You should, you know, eat every now and then." I stand up and take my hat. "See you, Clem."](elseif:$region is "hierophant")[(if:$dermotconvos's "drugsmurder" is 1 and $dermotconvos's "dogmurder" is 1 and $dermotconvos's "prewifesearch" is 1 and $dermotconvos's "grimcase" is 1 and $dermotconvos's "catprof" is 1 and $dermotconvos's "songgarden" is 1 and $clemSolved is not "yes")[I peer through the glass to see Clem on the other side. She catches my eye and rushes to the door. (set:$takeclem to "yes") [[Continue.|clemcase]] ](else:)[Guess there's nothing I can do here.] ] ](else:)[(if:$region is not "hierophant")[(either:"Clem's cleaning plates and mugs off of the counter. \"Not that I mind having you around, Morris, but don't you have somewhere else to be?\" she tells me.","The dull roar of talking and the clinking of plates and silverware. The smell of food. And coffee...no. I probably shouldn't have another right now.")](else:)[Still shut and locked, it seems.]] (if:$takeclem is not "yes")[ (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)] ]

I enter the morgue and head to the back room. [[Inspect Jeanette's body.|jeanette]] [[Ask Wyatt about Jeanette.|askJeanette]] [[Leave.|case1location]]

(set:$state to "riverside") Riverside. A nice neighborhood in a quieter part of the city. Its namesake rolls alongside the street a couple blocks over, I can hear it from here. And smell it. The river's a polluted mess. I can't imagine why people enjoy looking at it, but they certainly seem to: a park runs along a good portion of its length, a wide concrete walkway edging right up to the water, and while this area is mostly residential, many of the restaurants and businesses upstream have decks overlooking the water. Right now, the river's probably swollen with rain. I'm standing on the sidewalk in a residential area. Old two-story houses line my view, squeezed closer together then they build them these days. (if:$firstHouse is "yes")[ [[221 Fairview Street is just up ahead.|221fairview]] ](else:)[ [[221 Fairview Street is just up ahead.|221fairviewsecond]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

(set:$state to "case2location") Hmm. Shade Hills is pretty far, about a forty-five minute drive. Looks like there's no getting around it, I'll have to drive to this one. (set:$region to "songgarden") Traffic gives me a headache. Ah well. I'm standing right outside the building that contains my office in the Factory District. [[I can get my car from lot and drive over to Shade Hills.|driving]] [[I could pop into Dermot's Diner for a cup of coffee first.|dermots]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/nujxdoe190qwbgk/376810__theneedle-tv__long-thunder-rolls-and-heavy-rain_reduced.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

{(set:$state to "case3location") (set:$region to "dogmurder")} Eastshore. Cheapest route's probably taking the subway to the Fort Wallace station, then catching a cab over to the client's address. I'm standing in the Factory District, outside of the building containing my office. Rain spatters the sidewalk, the street, my hat. It's never not raining here, huh? (if:$eastfirst is "yes")[ [[From here, I could make my way over to Eastshore.|eastshore]] ](else:)[ [[From here, I could make my way over to Eastshore.|eastshore2]] ] [[I could stop in Dermot's Diner for a quick bite.|dermots]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/nujxdoe190qwbgk/376810__theneedle-tv__long-thunder-rolls-and-heavy-rain_reduced.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

(save-game:"grimnoir") Completed. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

"Hmm," Solene says. "If you call me while you're on a case, I can give you (colour:blue)[more specific advice]." [[Back.|office]]

{(if:$sequence is "first")[(if:$case1 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convoCase1]] ](elseif:$case2 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase2]] ](else:)[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase3]] ]](elseif:$sequence is "second")[(if:$case1 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase4]] ](elseif:$case2 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase5]] ](else:)[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase6]] ]](elseif:$sequence is "third")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase7]] ]} [[Back.|solene]]

I fasten my coat tight against the driving rain and trudge down the street, securing my hat with one hand as the wind picks up. The morgue. Doubt it's anyone's favorite place, except for maybe Wyatt, but I really hate coming here. Not much bothers me anymore. But only there, seeing the bodies neat, nude, and still, lying in orderly arms-at-sides-dead-face-upward fashion, reminds me of...no. Not doing this. Wyatt. Better give him a call. I pull my phone from my pocket, press it to my face, squinting against the rain, straining to hear the dialtones. "Morris?" Picked up on the first ring. "Hey, Wyatt. I'm dropping by." "When?" "Now," I say, ducking into the alcove containing the somber brick building's entrance. I pocket my phone and slip inside. [[Continue.|walktomorgue2]]

"Couldn't manage a heads-up?" Wyatt says quietly, turning a corner. "I gave you one," I say. He sighs, gestures for me to follow. "No Solene?" he asks. {(set:$seenJeanette to "yes")} "Not today. You'll just have to deal with my pretty face," I tell him. "Lovely," he says, leading me into a hall that seems to get darker with each step. The lights overhead are flourescent and yellow. It's quiet enough to hear their faint buzz. "Why are you here?" "Got a case," I say. "And here I thought you were here to paint our nails, have a pillow fight," Wyatt snaps. "Christ, Morris, you got a name?" "Jeanette Hawkins." "This way." Wyatt has always struck me as a creepy fucker, but he has his uses. No, maybe that's unfair. He's always been helpful beneath that sandpaper-like personality, and knows his stuff, as both forensic personnel and retired monster hunter. Still can't stand the guy. He leads me into the familiar, clinically-scented room. [[Continue.|morgueJeanette]]

(if:$firstWyatt is not "no")["Here," Wyatt says, sliding the body out. He hovers off to the side, opening a laptop at a computer station on the side of the room, watching.(set:$firstWyatt to "no")](else:)[Wyatt stands at the side of the room, staring at the computer there.] [[Inspect Jeanette's body.|jeanette]] [[Ask Wyatt about Jeanette.|askJeanette]] [[Leave.|leaveMorgue]]

Jeanette lies on the silver tray. (if:$faceJ is "no")[ [[Her face|jeanetteFace]] ](else:)[Her face ]is drawn and sallow--she looks very dead by this point. (if:$armsJ is "no")[ [[Her arms lie|jeanetteArms]] ](else:)[Her arms lie] stiffly at her sides. (if:$torsoJ is "no")[ [[Her torso|jeanetteTorso]] ](else:)[Her torso ]is a series of lumps beneath the stark white sheet. [[Back.|morgueJeanette]]

(if:$causeJ is "no" and $timeJ is "no" and $anyJ is "no")[I look to Wyatt. "What?" he asks.](else:)["Anything else?" Wyatt says.] (if:$causeJ is "no")[ [["Cause of death?"|causeJeanette]] ] (if:$timeJ is "no")[ [["Time of death?"|timeJeanette]] ] (if:$anyJ is "no")[ [["Anything you think I should know?"|anything]] ] [["That's all I needed."|morgueJeanette]]

"Gotta run now," I say. "Other leads to look into." "Suits me," Wyatt says. "Speaking of suits, Morris, do you have to dress like it's the 1950s?" I'm already in the grim, sickening-flourescent hallway. Glad to leave Wyatt and the clinical body room and Jeanette's placid, sad stare behind me in favor of the pouring rain outside. [[Continue.|case1location]]

Pale blue eyes. Her hair was a sort of dishwater blonde, if someone had filled the sink with a capful of cheap red hair dye. {(set:$faceJ to "yes")} The dye job was fading, her natural color a few inches in from the roots. There's a distant, slightly sad look on her face, like she's forever realizing something. [[Back.|jeanette]]

Thin arms. A tattoo on her right bicep--a sparrow gripping a thorny rose in its tiny feet, or maybe it's some sort of finch, I was never good with my birds. Another on her interior left wrist, pretty faded, amateurish. A simplified, cartoonish outline of an angel, not unlike a Christmas ornament. Almost certainly a stick-and-poke job. {(set:$armsJ to "yes")} And telltale track marks around both main veins. [[Back.|jeanette]]

Thin. Too thin: ribs showing. A small heart tattoo near the top of her right breast. {(set:$torsoJ to "yes")} Interesting: two small punctures on her neck, just as Noah had described. [[Back.|jeanette]]

Wyatt types on the laptop. "Officially, fentanyl," he says. "But I know your line of work, and I know what you're wondering. Overdoses are harder to confirm than people probably think. Toxicology showed fentanyl. Toxic dose? Sure. Lethal? Tough to say. Fentanyl's usually a death sentence, but given tolerances..." {(set:$causeJ to "yes")} He looks thoughtfully at Jeanette's still body, and then back to the screen, scrolling with the mouse for a second. "Ah, was a weird thing. They didn't know what to do with it, but she'd suffered extreme exsanguination. Wasn't enough blood found with her body to account for all of it. That's probably the detail you were looking for." {(set:$case1notes to $case1notes + (array:"Seems Jeanette was still a junkie. But her cause of death may have actually been blood loss."))} It's almost too obvious to say aloud. "Vampire?" I say aloud anyway. Wyatt nods slowly. "Could be. An avenue worth pursuing at least." So Jeanette hadn't gone clean. But she hadn't OD'd either. "Ever hear of a ghost with fangs?" I say. "This a setup to a joke?" Wyatt says. [[Continue.|aboutGrim]]

He glances at the screen. "Two nights ago," Wyatt says. "Almost certainly late at night." {(set:$timeJ to "yes")} [[Back.|askJeanette]]

Wyatt widens his dark eyes in mock surprise. "I'm a fucking mind reader?" he says. He sighs. "No, nothing stands out I'm aware of about the poor kid. As far as things I think you should know, I do think you should know that you owe me." {(set:$anyJ to "yes")} "You don't help me from the kindness of your heart?" I say. "Thought we were friends, Wyatt." "I risk my job every time I bring you in here," he mutters. Well, that was true. "I'll bring you a beer sometime," I say. "You owe me more than that, but a beer and I might start to actually like you." [[Back.|askJeanette]]

So, vampires are on the table. Sounds like it's time to pay my old pal Grim a visit. {(set:$allowGrim to "yes")} [[Back.|askJeanette]]

Seems it's time to pay Grim a visit. Ingram "Grim" Walters, the remnant of a trust fund baby whose life was cut tragically short by a jealous ex. These days, he maintains his prior identity publically, pretending to be a human playboy--really, he's only faking the "human" part. Doesn't look a day over twenty-five, and never will. Pretty harmless as far as monsters go, unless you happen to be challenging him to a vodka drinking contest. Feeds lightly on willing victims, of which there's apparently no shortage of in this city. He's a good-looking man, I'll give him that. Thick, dark hair, kind that looks really soft. Undeath made him a bit paler, but he hides it well in careful lighting. Eyes are subtle. You can get lost in them easily, noticing small shifts in hue. Stare in them long enough and you realize that the dark tones are actually unnatural shades of red. Grim and I have an agreement: he provides occassional consultation, and I keep his little secret between us. I head to his apartment in Highview, where he has a spacious loft that overlooks the city. He's fond of having parties on his roof. Has a great view, I'll admit. The doorman knows me, lets me into the building. I try to ring his apartment. No luck. Guess second time's the charm. "Morris?" comes his voice through the speakers. He doesn't waste any time. "Come on up." [[Continue.|grim2]]

[<img src= 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"/>]<title| (click: ?title)[ (replace: ?title)[ (align: "==><=")[ [[Start new game|opening]] (if: (saved-games:) contains "grimnoir")[ (link: "Load saved game")[(load-game:"grimnoir")] ](else:)[No save data found.] >>NOTE: Clearing your browser's data will delete your saved game. [[Info|about]] ] ] ] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/avd19bhljd761tf/noir.mp3?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

//Imp// Intellect: near-human Appearance: small, winged, horned, long tail, scaly Weakness: can be warded off with salt circles or runes Category: demon Among the least threatening of demons, the diminutive imp is at worst a pest. They are often found in the command of more powerful demons. Conversation is unlikely to be easy with an imp, though if one has patience, one will find they can be easily deceived. The claws and fangs of a single imp are little threat, but in a pack they can be dangerous. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Alkonost// Intellect: animal Appearance: body of a huge bird, head of a woman Weakness: silver Category: beast Unlike its relatives, the siren and the harpy, the alkonost is harmless and arguably beneficial. Though they seem to be drawn to tragedy, the singing of an alkonost is blissfully sweet and mildly sedative. They feed on fruits, seeds, and berries. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Siren// Intellect: animal Appearance: body of a huge bird, head of a woman Weakness: silver Category: beast A relative of the harpy and the alkonost, the siren is a winged predator. Their song is beautiful and has a hypnotic effect, which allows prey to be easily caught. They are predators, and will feed on large animals or, more occasionally, humans. Their talons are extremely sharp and dangerous, but their wings--with a span of 4 to 4.5 meters--can knock a man unconscious. Trapping or shooting them to ground them is an effective strategy. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Harpy// Intellect: animal Appearance: body of a huge bird, head of a woman Weakness: sage smoke Category: beast A relative of the alkonost and the siren. The harpy is an opportunistic creature. Harpies are largely scavengers, feeding on berries, seeds, and other creatures' kills. Harpies have a penchant for theft, as they are strangely attracted to shiny objects and will fill their nests with them. Harpies will generally only fight when cornered, but their talons are a serious threat. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Cat Sidhe// Intellect: human Apperance: a dog-sized black cat, with a white diamond on its chest Weakness: silver, catnip Category: beast The cat sidhe is said to steal human souls. In fact, it is more likely to steal a human's lunch. They are natural pranksters. Fond of warmth and high places, it is not uncommon for them to sneak into human establishments for free food, shelter, and their own entertainment. They are quite stubborn but can sometimes be reasoned with and convinced to leave. If angered, a cat sidhe can seriously injure or kill a human. They sometimes prey on household pets. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Bakeneko// Intellect: human Appearance: typically resemble a very large cat with two tails; can have a variety of coat colors Weaknesses: silver, catnip Category: beast While bakeneko can speak, they are considerably less verbose than other speaking monsters. It is said that a bakeneko can reanimate a corpse by leaping over it, but there's no evidence for this claim. What is true, however, is that bakeneko are masters of creating illusions to defend themselves. They are insatiable hunters, and are not above eating humans, especially in urban areas. Bakeneko can charm humans into approaching them voluntarily. Due to the deceptive nature of their magic, utmost care should be taken when dealing with bakeneko. A protective talisman can help repel their abilities. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

(set:$state to "221fairview") 221 Fairview Street is a small, old house. Faded yellow siding clings to its flanks. The upstairs windows have a great view of the powerlines a few feet away swaying in the wind. Hard to say what color the door was originally meant to be. It's mostly a faded gray, flecked with peeling paint. Seems home renovation wasn't at the top of our young couple's list of hobbies. (set:$firstHouse to "no") I pick my way through a semi-overgrown yard. Noah is sitting hunched on the front steps in front of the door, smoking a cigarette. He seems cold, wet, and miserable. "Wasn't sure if you'd be here," I comment, approaching the door. "Haven't stayed here lately," he says. "Haven't wanted to since. But I figured I should be here. Help you out. I dunno." "Appreciated," I say. Actually, I'm glad he has no desire to come in. Makes my job easier. Can look through at my own pace, no one with an attachment to the scene to get in my way. "Left the key with the chick in your office. Hadn't decided if I'd come here then." "I have it," I say, and I unlock the door. [[Continue.|221inside]]

(set:$state to "221inside") Pretty dark in here. I'm greeted with blackness I can't see through, and an unpleasant smell. I fumble at the nearest lightswitch panel until one of them turns on lights around me. Seems the outside was a pretty good indicator of the inside. Clothes, empty glass bottles, takeout cartons, pizza boxes, and other assortments are strewn across the floor. More likely to find a cockroach than a monster in all this. It's pretty quiet in here. The first floor's pretty open. The front door opens into the living area. There's the [[kitchen|221kitchen]], with no wall separating it from the living room. The living room doesn't contain much: a [[sofa|sofa]], a [[TV stand|tv]], all the [[garbage|garbage]]. There are [[stairs|221secondfloor]] in the back right corner of the room. A [[backdoor|221yard]] near the stairs leads outside. [[Back outside.|221fairviewsecond]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

I'm standing in the front lawn of 221 Fairview Street. Rain patters in the long grass around me. (set:$state to "221fairviewsecond") Noah sits smoking on the front steps of the house. [[Talk to Noah.|talknoah]] [[Go inside the house.|221inside]] [[Head back up through Riverside.|riverside]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

I step outside. Noah exhales a long stream of smoke into the wet air. "Hm?" he says. (if:$talknoahHaunt is "no")[ [["Said this place seemed haunted. Want to tell me about that?"|noahhaunt]] ] (if:$talknoahDeath is "no")[ [["I need to know details about the night Jeanette died."|noahnight]] ] (if:$foundPhoto is "yes" and $talknoahFriend is "no")[ [["Who's the blonde woman?"|jfriend]] ] (if:$foundLaptop is "yes" and $talknoahLap is "no")[ [["Do you know the password to Jeanette's laptop?"|lapPass]] ] [["Nevermind."|221fairviewsecond]]

Only a few dishes piled in the sink. Window behind the sink overlooks a tiny fenced-in lot. Some appliances and spices on the cluttered [[counter|kitchencounter221]]. A tall white [[fridge|221fridge]] hums behind me. A row of wide [[cabinets|221cabinets]] above the counter and sink. {(set:$state to "221kitchen")} [[Back to living room.|221inside]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

An old, green fabric sofa. Mysterious stains and a broken armrest leaning away from the rest of the couch at an odd angle add character. Doubt there's anything here. Besides, it's disgusting. Not gonna touch that. [[Back.|221inside]]

The TV is a small flatscreen. A coaxial cable plugged into the back trails down to the floor where it lies in a coil, its other end gleaming, suggesting that at one point, it was plugged into the wall for television. Funds were low for these two, it seems. Not so surprising. Not much of interest here. [[Back.|221inside]]

Greasy takeout containers, empty bottles, the gleam of a needle attached to a syringe. If there's anything important amid all this, I'd never find it. Maybe the monster was a killer cockroach. There's one for the headlines. Huh. Never seen mold that color before. [[Back.|221inside]]

I climb the creaky steps to the second floor. (set:$state to "221secondfloor") The second floor is smaller in area than the first. There's a [[bedroom|221bedroom]] up here, a [[restroom|221restroom]], and a small [[spare room|221spareroom]]. (if:$firstUpstairs is not "yes")[Not a very large pla--was that a shuffling sound? I listen closely. Silence. Just the light patter of rain. (set:$firstUpstairs to "yes")](else:)[] [[Back downstairs.|221inside]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

A tall wooden privacy fence closes in the yard, hardly a strip of land. Nothing here I can see but weeds. [[Back.|221inside]]

Cluttered, but I don't see much of interest for the case. A few syringes and metal spoons sit in their own grim corner. [[Back.|221kitchen]]

Hmm. Could stand to be thoroughly cleaned with bleach. Or maybe a flamethrower. Whole little ecosystem, growing in what little food's been abandoned in here. Scattered leftovers, half a deli bag of sandwich meat, a couple of cheap beers, thick, very expired milk. Noah wasn't kidding. He clearly hasn't been staying here. {(set:$inside221 to "yes")} In fact... it seems like only enough for one person to have been living here. Interesting. [[Back to kitchen.|221kitchen]]

Spices, pots and pans, dinnerware. Nothing here. [[Back.|221kitchen]]

(set:$state to "221bedroom") King-size [[mattress|mattress]] on the floor, sheets and quilt in disarray. Beside the bed is an oddly placed faux-fur [[rug|221rug]]. Discarded clothing in a mound on the floor, womens' and mens' articles alike, presumably Jeanette's and Noah's. A window looks out to the gray overcast sky, blinds rolled all the way up. There's a [[dresser|dresser]] against one wall. A [[laptop|laptop]] lies closed on the floor near the bed. A power cord is plugged into the side and leads to an outlet in the wall. A slowly blinking light on the computer suggests it's still on. I can hear scratching. It's not coming from in here, but somewhere outside the room. [[Back into the hall.|221secondfloor]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

Small shower, relatively clean. Sink, toiletries, toilet. Just seems like a bathroom. [[Back.|221secondfloor]]

(set:$state to "221spareroom") The spare room was probably meant to be a study, but it's clearly being used now for mostly storage. A cluttered desk that doesn't seem to get any use as a desk, several boxes, a vacuum cleaner. The [[attic access|attic]] is in this room. The attic...if this house truly is infested with something, that's gotta be where it is. Better make sure I'm (colour:blue)[completely prepared] to face it before I open that up. [[Back to the hallway.|221secondfloor]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

Sheets and covers pulled back after someone got up from bed. All the pillows are on one side of the bed. I don't see anything here. [[Back.|221bedroom]]

Soft faux-fur, in a black-and-white tiger stripe pattern. It seems oddly placed, in a hasty angle and with one side turned up against the mattress. I drag it over. Deep red stains on the carpet. That's not coming out of these fibers. Must be where Jeanette died. Guess Noah moved the rug to cover it. Probably couldn't stand the sight. [[Back.|221bedroom]]

I start by checking the drawers. There are six of them, two-by-three. I start with the top left. Undergarments, bras and underwear. Small stash of money. Vibrator. Nothing out of the ordinary. I'm entirely numb to seeing the delicate innards of people's private lives at this point. The next two drawers below contain shirts, jeans and skirts. The top-right drawer contains boxers, a pack of condoms. Shirts and jeans below. {(set:$foundPhoto to "yes")} Hmm. Nothing useful in the drawers. The top of the dresser holds a few odds and ends. A single framed photograph: Jeanette and another woman, sitting side-by-side atop a stone wall, laughing, sky bright behind them. The woman is blonde, dark eyes, thin. Her right arm is upturned, hand extended expressively. On her bare right shoulder is the tattoo of a bird--sparrow, maybe?--tangled in a rose branch, the green stem twisting around its body, the red rose flower behind, a thorn piercing the bird's heart. [[Back.|221bedroom]]

I lift the laptop. Its fans whir to life with a noise like an exasperated sigh. I'm greeted by a lock screen. "jeanette", the user profile says. Guess this was hers. {(set:$foundLaptop to "yes")} (if:$laptoppass is "no")[I'll never guess the password on my own, though.](else:)[I enter "nightingale62" and hit Enter. I'm greeted with a somewhat cluttered desktop, the background a vibrant sunset over a mountainscape. It would take me forever to go through everything on this machine. I scan the Desktop for anything that stands out. A folder called "Important Photos": I open it. A few smiling photos of Jeanette and Noah. Dozens more--the vast majority--of Jeanette and the blonde woman, the same depicted in the framed photo on the dresser across from me. I pull up photo after photo. Jeanette and the mystery woman at a concert. The two of them at some event downtown, smiling in a crowd. The two of them camping, Noah lingering beside...beside the blonde woman, that is. Seems to be a candid photo. There's Jeanette, looking over her shoulder at something. Beside her, the blonde, looking in her direction. Noah sits beside the blonde, intimately close, his attention focused solely on her. Interesting. (set:$sawlaptop to "yes")] [[Back.|221bedroom]]

(set:$talknoahHaunt to "yes") "Man, it's creepy," he says. "It wasn't like this at first. Started some time over the summer. We'd both noticed it, too. Went a long while before we finally said something, like, //'hey, you've been hearing this too, right?'//, and we both realized we weren't losing it." "What kinds of things were you hearing?" "Just...weird little sounds, mostly," Noah says. "Lot of scratching. Shuffling. The sound of things being moved. Sometimes things //were// moved. Never when you were looking, but like...sometimes you'd put something somewhere, and you'd come back, and it was moved, just slightly. Like something just blew right past it, and knocked it down. And you'd never see a thing." Noah seems to pale a little. "Actually, now that I think about it...Jeanette did say she saw something. Only once. She was up in the bedroom, I was in the kitchen, washing dishes. Heard her scream my name--nearly dropped the damn plate, she's never scared of anything. I bolt up there, and she's standing near the dresser." He swallows hard. "Swore she saw something crawl past the bedroom doorway in the dark hall. I tried to convince her we should sleep in the living room that night." He gives a small, humorless laugh. The house looms behind us. Suddenly even the steps outside feel too close, like we're trespassing. On whose territory, exactly? [[Back.|talknoah]]

He looks down at his shoes. Picks wet blades of grass from their sides. "No," he says. "I'd rather not." "Kid, you hired me to solve this case," I say. "It's hard to talk about," he says. Irritability builds in his face...and something else, something harder for me to place. [["Fine. Another topic, then."|talknoah]] (if:$inside221 is "yes")[ [["You weren't here, were you?"|accusenoah]] ]

"The blonde woman? Nico," he says. There's a strange note in his voice. "Where can I find her?" "Greenwood," he says. "That a housing project?" "Cemetary. Up the road," Noah says. "She overdosed in July." "Were she and Jeanette close?" I ask. There's an odd moment of hesitation. "Yeah," Noah says. [["What can you tell me about her?"|jfriendcon]] [["How about a different topic."|talknoah]]

"Hmm? Yeah," Noah says. "It's probably nightingale62, like she used for everything." (set:$talknoahLap to "yes") [[Back.|talknoah]] (set:$laptoppass to "yes")

Noah's face swings up sharply. Surprise and defiance. He turns away just as quickly, puts the cigarette to his lips. "Not sure why you'd say that," he says, finally. As if his reaction alone didn't confirm it. "I've been inside the house, Noah. It's obvious Jeanette was living there on her own for a while." "It wasn't that long," he snaps. He brings a hand up to his face. "Explain yourself," I tell him. He sighs. "I'd only been gone a couple nights. I was gonna be home soon." "And where were you?" "Picked up a late shift at the plant." Something about his face. A twitch. He's lying. "Listen, kid," I say. "I came out here to find out what really happened to Jeanette. With every passing second, you're moving higher up the suspect list yourself. If you know something, you'd better fucking talk." "I was with a girl," he says slowly. "I met up with Robin on the side sometimes. I met up with her after work, meant to come home that night, but we...lost track of time." That, I'd believe. With the help of a rubber band, a needle, and a syringe, no doubt. "When I got home, Jeanette..." he takes a ragged breath. "So there were no witnesses," I say, more to myself than anything, but Noah gives a grim nod. Noah wasn't there. Explains why he hadn't known Jeanette was strung out when she died. "She was there, alone, with...whatever's in there," he says quietly, and when he looks behind him at the house, there's genuine fear in his eyes. I glance at the house, myself, mentally putting myself back in that upstairs room. I imagine Jeanette, alone in the dark. Something scratching, shuffling. (set:$talknoahDeath to "yes") [[Back.|221fairviewsecond]] {(set:$case1notes to $case1notes + (array:"Turns out Noah had been cheating on Jeanette. He was out with his current girl when Jeanette was killed."))}

"Nico and Jeanette were inseperable. Their relationship was like...like, Jeanette was this unstoppable force, and Nico would've followed her to the ends of the earth," he says. He takes a deep breath, breathes it out as a sigh. "They had a...falling out," Noah says. "Back in April or so. Nico died before they ever had a chance to make up." "What turned them on each other like that?" I ask. "Something personal," he says. "And not relevant to this case at all." (set:$talknoahFriend to "yes") [[Back.|talknoah]]

I position myself under the attic access and take hold of the rope cord. This is it. Confronting whatever's up here will likely be the end of this case, one way or another. [[Go to the attic.|atticFight]] [[Back.|221spareroom]] (if:$firstFight is "yes")[>>NOTE: You're about to encounter a monster for the first time. Remember, (colour:blue)[names] are powerful. If you identify the monster correctly, it will be stunned. You can then either kill it, or attempt to identify its (colour:blue)[reason].(set:$firstFight to "no")]

I pull the cord. The attic access panel flips open reluctantly with a loud //creak//. The wooden ladder extends. I hear the front door open and footsteps head my way. "You need to stay here," I say, as Noah ducks into the room. "I want to know--" "You'll know. After I'm done. Don't need you getting in the way." I shove my flashlight in my teeth. Noah watches reluctantly, gives a stiff nod. He thrusts his hands in his pockets and watches me climb the ladder. I get to the top, look around. My beam of light throws shadows wildly around the room. It's a spacious attic, apparently fully floored. Boxes, spiderwebs, wooden beams. A window across from me: I hardly need my flashlight. Window's open. I can clearly hear the rain. The window: the bedroom would be right below there. I'd bet that's how it was getting around. Jeanette must have have had her window open sometimes. Movement, coming from one of the wooden beams in the corner of my eye. Something crawling. Quickly. I whirl around to face it. "I know your name," I say. It's dashing at me, with a squealing cry. "It's..." [["Vampire."|atticwrong1]] [["Sigbin."|atticcorrect]] [["Churel."|atticwrong2]]

The creature flings itself from the wooden beam at me, and I'm caught in a tangle of confusion and razor claws. A sharp, tearing pain across my limbs and face as I try to throw the thing off of me. I stumble toward the attic exit behind me...Shit. I'm bleeding badly. I collapse. The creature crawls over to me... Everything goes dark. [[Retry|221spareroom]]

The creature freezes just before taking a leap at me, causing it to hit the floor with a thud. It growls, watching me, stunned. It's pretty big, the length of nearly a human. Short fur, razor claws on its fingerlike front paws. Long, thin tail. A face like a dog and a rat had an ugly kid. Two prominent fangs protruding. It watches me with black, animal eyes. Won't be stunned for long. As always, better make this quick. [["You didn't want Jeanette to be with Noah because you loved him."|atticreasonwrong]] [["You were jealous of Jeanette and Noah, and you wanted to get back at them."|atticreasonwrong2]] [["You were close to Jeanette until she turned on you, and you felt betrayed and abandoned."|atticreasoncorrect]] [[Forget the reason and just kill the monster.|attickill]]

Hmm, doesn't seem like that was its reason. The sigbin is twitching now--it'll recover from being stunned any second. No time. Have to kill it now. I draw my silver dagger and approach the stunned sigbin. I can hear Noah climbing the ladder slowly behind me. "What the fuck," he gasps, peering up into the attic. "What the fuck is that!" {(set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1)) (set:$killed to ($killed + 1)) (set:$failures to ($failures + 1))} Just as the sigbin begins to regain use of its limbs, I drive the dagger down into its neck. With a squealing shriek, it spasms, and finally grows still. The body collapses into a heap of ash on the floor. "It's gone," Noah says numbly, behind me. [[Continue.|leaveAtticDead]]

Hmm, doesn't seem like that was its reason. The sigbin is twitching now--it'll recover from being stunned any second. No time. Have to kill it now. I draw my silver dagger and approach the stunned sigbin. I can hear Noah climbing the ladder slowly behind me. "What the fuck," he gasps, peering up into the attic. "What the fuck is that!" Just as the sigbin begins to regain use of its limbs, I drive the dagger down into its neck. With a squealing shriek, it spasms, and finally grows still. {(set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1)) (set:$killed to ($killed + 1)) (set:$failures to ($failures + 1))} The body collapses into a heap of ash on the floor. "It's gone," Noah says numbly, behind me. [[Continue.|leaveAtticDead]]

With a last shrieking cry, the sigbin shimmers and begins to glow white. I can hear Noah ascending the ladder. "What the fuck," he says, climbing into the attic behind me. The light intensifies and then fades, and suddenly there is not a monster, but a young woman, pale and transparent. The woman from the photographs. "Nico," Noah gasps like he's been stabbed. "You," the woman says, looking past me. She looks anguished. "You ruined everything." Noah's breathing raggedly. "And Jeanette, that bitch, how could she just //leave// me like that? After everything! Because she saw //you// try to get in my fucking pants, and she believed //you//! After all the years, all the trust I thought she and I had. After she got me hooked on heroin. She left me to rot." Nico's crying. Suddenly, I can see it, in my head. //Nico and Jeanette, at a party. Laughing. A stranger spilling a drink on Nico's blouse, she goes upstairs to change. Noah watching. Following. An argument when she notices him: he tries to kiss her. Jeanette walks in, a spare shirt in hand. Then, A series of blistering fights. And Nico, in the dark. Heart slowing in an alleyway. Eyes upward. Stars and nothing else. Alone.// Seems Noah can see it, too. He whimpers. Then it fades. "I'm done here," she says. "There's nothing left for me here, is there." "W-wait..." Noah says. Nico's already fading away. {(set:$purified to ($purified + 1)) (set:$truePurified to ($truePurified + 1))} Then there's just the empty attic. I walk back to the ladder, leaving Noah crying into his hands, kneeling on the floor, shoulders shaking. I walk back down through the house. It no longer feels sinister. It feels like a graveyard. I want to be gone from here. {(set:$case1 to "solved")} I'm glad to step out into the jarringly cold rain. I can feel it washing that house off of me. I could use a drink. (if: $case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|officeSet2]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

I draw my silver dagger and approach the stunned sigbin. I can hear Noah climbing the ladder slowly behind me. "What the fuck," he gasps, peering up into the attic. "What the fuck is that!" {(set:$killed to ($killed + 1)) (set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1))} Just as the sigbin begins twitching, starting to regain movement, I drive the dagger down into its neck. With a squealing shriek, it spasms, and finally grows still. The body collapses into a heap of ash on the floor. "It's gone," Noah says numbly, behind me. [[Continue.|leaveAtticDead]]

{(set:$case1 to "solved")} "It's dead?" Noah says. "For certain," I say, walking back to the ladder. He descends and moves out of the way so I can climb down. "Wasn't a ghost, but you did have a monster." "It's over, then," Noah says. He looks around the room, almost seems a little lost. With the threat removed, the house no longer feels sinister, and what's left is an emptiness. It feels sad here. A hollow shell. "I'll send the payment," he says. "You sure will," I say. "Good luck, kid." I walk back down through the house, leaving him standing in that upstairs room. I'm glad to walk out into the cold rain. I head back. (if: $case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|officeSet2]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

//Churel// Intellect: human Appearance: extremely ugly; corpselike; typically female. can appear as an extremely beautiful woman. Weakness: silver, sage smoke Category: cursed The churel feeds on vitality. This can take the form of blood, in which they prefer to trap their (usually male) victims and draw small amounts over a large period of time. More commonly, they prefer a different sort of fluid altogether. To this end, they can enshroud themselves in an illusion, making them appear as beautiful young women. The churel will use it to seduce an initially willing victim. Once in the churel's lair, it will discard the illusion and exhaust its victim until his death from either heart attack, dehydration, or starvation. The churel's method of keeping a victim trapped is exhaustion of body and life force. Victims become too fatigued to escape. It is therefore advisable to exercise extreme caution when venturing into a churel's lair. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

When I reach his apartment, the door's cracked open. I slip inside, close it behind me. His apartment's got a modern, minimalist look, black and white theme that works well. Grim is lying back on a black leather couch, a glass of wine in his hand, a book in his other. "You read?" I say. "Got centuries' worth of time," he says lazily. "Books can help fill it." "When you're not drunk as hell and dancing on the roof," I say. "I can be refined, Morris," he says. He snaps the book shut, gestures at the wine bottle and an empty glass on the table. "That actually wine?" I say, recalling one horrible incident. He nods. "That's all right. Thanks anyway. Listen, I've got a case." "You always do," Grim says, rising and walking over. A smile breaks across his painfully handsome face. "How can I help?" "Need to know about a potential vampire. Got a case in Riverside," I say. "Riverside?" Grim says. "Hmm. Riverside's been a no-man's-land since two years ago. When Thursten got killed, there was scrambling to fill the vacuum. Bit of a massacre. End result, no one really calls it their territory. Thursten's allies seem to still keep a wary eye on it. No one really risks hunting there. Not worth it." "So, probably not a vampire, then," I say. "At least not one you know." Grim shrugs. "Can't be one hundred percent certain, I guess. But I'd say odds are pretty low, and if it is a vampire, he's gotta be new, or suicidal." I see. So vampire's moving further down my list. "Thanks," I say, moving for the door. "That's it?" Grim says. "You should stick around a while. Came all the way out here." (set:$metGrim to "yes") I'd sure love to. "Sorry," I say. "Next time." I walk back down to the street. [[Continue.|case1location]]

(set:$state to "shadehills") Shade Hills is a quiet, fairly affluent neighborhood of Steel City. Large homes. Large shopping centers in town. Lower crime rates. I follow my phone's directions till I get to the address: 15 Lark Circle. Must be the place. I park in the driveway of a spacious house. Modern Dutch colonial, two floors. Built, as with most homes in this part of Shade Hills, fairly recently. Well-groomed lawn and flowers out front. I approach the door. My finger's barely off the doorbell when a woman answers the door. I'd guess early thirties. (set:$metJayla to "yes") "Jayla?" I ask. She nods. "You must be Morris. Come on in." I follow her into a clean and tastefully-decorated home. There are framed photos on the wall. Jayla and friends, presumably. Jayla and people who look like they're her parents. Jayla holding hands with a woman at the beach--wife or girlfriend, she appears in several of them. She leads me to a kitchen where a small TV plays a crime drama as something boils on the stove, and switches off the TV. "Water? Coffee?" she asks me. "I'm brewing tea now. Grow it myself in the garden back there." I instinctively start to decline, but change my mind. Never had homegrown tea, and I'm curious, even if I don't expect much of a difference. "So, you've been having some problems with theft?" I ask. "I need you to describe what happened." Jayla nods. "I only just moved in here three years ago. Before that, this was my parents' house. They had it built and lived in it the whole time--never had any problems. But then I get here, and, well." She cuts the heat the pot on the stove. "Once I started keeping the doors closed and locked, nothing disappeared from the house. But anything out in the garden is fair game." "Not that I doubt you, but thefts happen all the time," I say. "What makes you think this is a job for me, and not, say, a cop?" "For one thing, I haven't seen it, but it happens so quickly...like, I could be on the opposite side of the garden, or maybe I just stepped inside for a minute. And I turn around, and just like that! It's gone. Sometimes I swear I could hear a rush of air, but never footsteps or anything." She takes the pot from the stove and pours steaming tea into two mugs on the counter. "It's also, just...the things that disappear make no sense. A lot of metal. Coins, two watering cans, a spade, some other garden implements. I take off bracelets and necklaces when I'm working in the garden. I leave them inside now, so much has gone missing. Sometimes other things. I've lost a book, a pair of glasses...there's no rhyme or reason. If it gets left out there, it will disappear." "You've seen no footprints? Any evidence of animals?" "It's outdoors, there are animals. But I've never seen a squirrel or a finch steal a watering can," Jayla says. She sets our mugs down on the table and takes a seat across from me. "Any person would have to climb the fence to get in and out. I've never seen anyone." I drink some of the tea in the mug I'm grasping. A fresh, green taste. Not bad. Not bitter. (set:$metJayla to "yes") "That's not the strangest thing," Jayla says. "At night sometimes, I hear singing. In the garden." She watches me closely, expecting me to laugh, or maybe react in surprise. "What kind of singing?" I say. "A woman's voice. It's gorgeous. When I look outside, I never see anyone or anything standing around out there. Zoe thought I was losing my damn mind until she was staying over night when it happened and she heard it too." Jayla chuckles. "She doesn't laugh at me now." I set my empty mug down on the table. "Mind if I look around?" Jayla gestures broadly with a hand. "Go ahead," she says. "I won't get in your way. Let me know if you need me." "Thanks," I say, standing. [[Continue.|shadehills]] {(set:$case2notes to $case2notes + (array:"Jayla says odd things disappear frequently from the garden behind the house. She's never seen the thief. She also hears singing from the garden at night."))}

I get into my sedan and head out onto the street, and eventually get onto the highway. Once I'm on the highway I get into the slow lane and let my mind clear, the only sounds the drone of my engine and the forceful tapping of rain against my car. Maybe the radio? I switch it on. Don't really know the local stations, after all this time. Don't listen to it much. Actually...not my thing. I switch it off. Eventually, I'm taking the exit for Shade Hills. (if:$metJayla is "no")[ [[Continue.|shadehillsfirst]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|shadehills]] ]

{(set:$state to "shadehills")} I'm standing in the kitchen of Jayla's spacious house. Jayla sits nearby, reading something on her phone. [[Go up to the second floor.|jsecondfloor]] [[Examine the basement.|jbasement]] [[Go out into the garden.|jgarden]] [[Talk to Jayla.|talkjayla]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

(set:$state to "jsecondfloor") I walk up the stairs. More framed photos against the wall beside the staircase. A [[master bedroom|jmaster]] to my left. The hall has a [[linen closet|linen]] with folding doors, a guest bathroom, a [[spare room|jspareupstairs]], and a [[study|jstudy]]. [[Go back downstairs.|shadehills]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

(set:$state to "jbasement") I walk down the creaking wooden steps to the basement, and flip on the light. It's a finished basement, carpeted floors and plaster walls. [[There's a large TV with some sofas in the corner.|entertainmentcenter]] There's a small restroom, and what looks to be a [[spare bedroom|sparebasementbed]]. [[Head back up to the first floor.|shadehills]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

(set:$state to "garden") I walk into the garden. The light rain sighs through all the flowers and leaves. It's an elaborate, well-planned garden: [[grass walkways|grassJ]] around groups of [[shrubs and flowers|jflowers]] surrounded by circles of stone. A tall, thick [[tree|jtree]] stands in the center of the yard. A wooden chair sits under its branches. A high [[wooden fence|jfence]] walls in the large garden. [[Go back inside the house.|shadehills]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

"(either:"This article claims you can lose weight by eating only beans. Don't even want to think about what else that would do to you,","21 Birds You Can't Believe Exist, huh?","Are millennials killing the diamond engagement ring industry...ugh. Who writes these?")" Jayla says, looking at her phone. She sets it down on the table. "What do you need?" [["Nothing right now. Still looking around."|shadehills]] [["We'll probably have to lure out the thief."|lurethief]] (if:$houseJ is "no")[ [["What can you tell me about the house?"|houseJ]] ] (if:$sawflowers is "yes" and $talkgarden is "no")[ [["A lot of work went into that garden."|askgarden]] ] (if:$jvideogames is "yes" and $jtalkgames is "no")[ [["About that console..."|jtalkgames]] ] (if:$foundjphoto is "yes" and $jtalkparents is "no")[ [["You were close with your parents, weren't you?"|jparents]] ]

(set:$houseJ to "yes") "My parents bought it as a custom home, so there was no one here before. Just the woods, is my understanding," Jayla says. "It was a really big deal to them. They both came from nothing, and they wanted a better life for themselves, and eventually, me." "If there's history to the property before the house was built, I wouldn't know about it," she says. "I'm not even sure who I'd ask, to be honest. As far as the house itself...it's nice. I'm lucky to inherit a place like this. Or maybe it's not luck. My parents were careful planners. They wanted the world for me." [[Back.|talkjayla]]

It's a nice entertainment center. Decent sound system. And...huh, this console just came out this year. Been a while since I picked up a controller, but I was a hell of a gamer in college. The couches are soft leather. It's a comfortable little area, illuminated by warm lamplight. {(set:$jvideogames to "yes")} Not much relevance to the case, though. [[Back.|jbasement]]

Tidy, organized. There are paintings of flowers on the walls. It's bare of the kinds of things people accumulate in their lives, clearly doesn't see regular use. Not really anything to see in here. [[Back.|jbasement]]

"Yeah, they were sold out almost everywhere. I only got one because I waited in line for almost ten hours opening night," Jayla laughs. "I already have the new Fatal Kombat." "I was pretty good at Fatal Kombat," I say. (set:$jtalkgames to "yes") "Then maybe we should play a few rounds after you finish this," Jayla says with a grin. "You'll lose, though. You should accept it now. Zoe's never beaten me." [[Back.|talkjayla]]

Not much evidence of digging animals in the grass. No mole or groundhog tracks. Just soft, healthy grass. {(if:$foundfeather is not "yes")[Wait...no, there is something. I pick it up. A flight feather...it's unusually huge, and glossy blue. Hmm. I put it in a pocket. (set:$foundfeather to "yes")]} [[Back.|jgarden]]

The flowers are pretty, though I don't know their names. Someone really put a lot of care into this garden. (set:$sawflowers to "yes") [[Back.|jgarden]]

It's a very old oak tree, with a trunk so big around I could probably fit three of me inside. The branches are dense, twisting. [[Back.|jgarden]]

It's a sturdy fence, and easily 7 feet high. It wouldn't be a breeze to climb, but if someone's agile enough, it could be done. The posts are wide and tightly connected. Definitely no gaps wide enough for animals to pass through. No evidence of anything burrowing under it anywhere along the perimeter. So, nothing larger than a cat or squirrel, something that could climb the fence. But how would a cat or squirrel make off with a book? [[Back.|jgarden]] {(set:$case2notes to $case2notes + (array:"From my inspection of the garden, it doesn't seem likely that someone or something is climbing in and out. So how are they getting in to steal?"))}

(set:$talkgarden to "yes") "That was my mom," Jayla says. "She planted all of it. She loved that garden so much. I do my best with it, but I always somehow feel like it's not the same. It's really pretty, though, right? It's so peaceful out there." [[Back.|talkjayla]]

Must be Jayla's bedroom. Seems comfortably lived-in. It's mostly neat, in a very human way. A small piled of discarded clothing on the floor. Some clutter on the dresser. She makes her bed, though. The walls have paintings of birds. Seems she likes them. Or her parents did. [[Back.|jsecondfloor]]

Mostly folded linens. Not really sure what I expected. [[Back.|jsecondfloor]]

Neat and orderly. Soft-looking bed. Paintings of flowers on the walls. Relatively empty bedside table, just a lamp, an alarm clock, and a TV remote. A few womens' shirts and pairs of pants in the dresser. Extra storage for Jayla? No, probably her girlfriend's. Not much to see in here. [[Back.|jsecondfloor]]

A large wooden desk with built-in shelves. Desktop computer on the desk, numerous papers and files. A printer on a small table nearby. A framed photo on the wall: old photo, was captured in film. A smiling man and woman, a laughing baby between them. Probably Jayla's family. (set:$foundjphoto to "yes") [[Back.|jsecondfloor]]

(set:$jtalkparents to "yes") "Absolutely," Jayla says. "They had rough lives growing up. Both were really poor. They never wanted me to go through any of it. They were so proud to be able to provide for me to make sure I never have to worry. When they passed, it was...really hard. Zoe was amazing during that time." She picks up her mug, inspects it without drinking. "And it was unexpected. At their age...wasn't ready." A long silence. She glances at the glass doors to the garden. "I used to spend a lot of time in the garden with Mom. I'd help her...don't know how much help I actually was, as a kid, but I tried." She laughs. "One year I almost killed her sweet pea flowers by accident." "Dad," she continues, "Dad was serious most of the time, but when he wanted to be, he was really funny. It was always unexpected, which made it even better. He pushed himself really hard to make sure I never had to worry about finances. Amassed enough that we could all live comfortably. They both loved spending time with me. I learned a lot from them." [[Back.|talkjayla]]

Jayla nods. "Let me know when you're ready, whatever you need." Better make sure I'm ready to face whatever we find, first. [["Let's do it."|jfightthief]] [["On second thought, I need a minute."|shadehills]] (if:$firstFight is "yes")[>>NOTE: You're about to encounter a monster for the first time. Remember, (colour:blue)[names] are powerful. If you identify the monster correctly, it will be stunned. You can then either kill it, or attempt to identify its (colour:blue)[reason].(set:$firstFight to "no")]

I look outside through the sliding glass doors. The sun is starting to turn orange over the garden. "We should probably hurry," I say. "Won't be as easy when it gets dark. And no guarantee our monster is nocturnal." "What are we going to use to lure it?" Jayla asks. "You say it likes metal?" I say. "We'll put so many shiny objects out there it won't be able to resist itself." Jayla nods. "Let's do this," she says. Soon, I'm standing in the yard beside her, a pile of irresistable treasure on the grass between us. Irresistable treasure, for our monster, consists of two handfuls of silver coins, a few pieces of silverware, a metal spatula, a coil of silver wire, and a pair of sunglasses, for good measure. "All right," I say. "Like we talked about." Jayla nods and goes into the house, waiting by the glass doors and watching. I climb into the largest shrub I can find and try to make myself as flat as possible, while keeping my eyes locked on the bait. A spider crawls across my wrist in a panic. Birds tweet in the old oak tree. I wait. [[Continue.|jthief]]

I'm starting to feel the strain that comes with crouching in a bush for a long period of time when I hear a rush of wind. I focus. And there it is: something huge dives down from the sky, grabbing fistfuls of our bait in its claws, and then rapidly takes off, up and out of the yard. Over to the forest behind the fence. It was human-sized, birdlike in form, not enough time to see much else. But our monster, for sure. I leap from the bush and run inside the house for the front door. Its nest will be close by, for it to return so contantly to this area. Jayla's hot on my heels. We wordlessly dash into the forest. I manage to draw my flashlight as we run. After awhile, I stop, look around, panting, shining my light up into the treetops. Had I missed it? Not likely...its nest should be relatively huge. And then I hear it: the faintest //clink// of metal. I run for the sound. ...And there it is. I shine my light up into an enormous thatched nest high in a gnarled oak. The monster screams indignantly. "I know your name," I say. It's leaping from the nest and diving at me, talons out. "It's..." [["Alkonost."|jwrong1]] [["Siren."|jwrong2]] [["Harpy."|jcorrect]]

The monster connects with my chest, knocking the wind from me, sending me to the ground. I'm vaguely aware of Jayla screaming somewhere behind me as gleaming talons strike my face and neck. A blinding flare of pain...A feeling of flowing outward, receding...the talons coming back for more... Everything goes black. [[Retry.|talkjayla]]

The harpy freezes up and crash-lands beside me, temporarily stunned. It lies splayed, striking blue and black wings and body, scaly gray legs and feet, gleaming black talons. Its head is like a human woman's, if human women had sharp teeth and all-black eyes. It lies there making sounds that sound awfully close to human. Unsettling. A clinking and rolling sound off to my right, from the tree: its nest must be full of its "treasures". I face it carefully. [["You loved Jayla. You wanted to make sure she has all the resources she needs."|jreasoncorrect]] [["You were jealous of Jayla. You hate that she's always lived comfortably."|jreasonwrong]] [["You felt you sacrificed too much for Jayla. You wished she was more independent."|jreasonwrong2]] [[Forget the reason, just kill the monster.|killjthief]]

The harpy explodes into a flare of white light. The light shimmers, blinding in this darkening forest, and I have to lift my hand to protect my eyes. When it dies down, Jayla's father stands, see-through and glowing. He's smiling, and a tear rolls down his cheeks. "Dad," Jayla chokes. She runs forward. I see something in my head: //Young Jayla playing with a plastic toy car in the study, rolling it on the floor beside her father sitting at the desk. Jayla running into the house with a scraped knee, tears on her face, her father kneeling down beside her. Jayla bringing home a father's day card that she wrote in school, full of sprawling, shaky handwriting and crayon drawings of birds and flowers.// "I'm doing okay, Dad. I'll be okay," she says. {(set:$purified to ($purified + 1)) (set:$truePurified to ($truePurified + 1))} He fades away. I give her as long as I can spare: forest's getting dark. Shouldn't stay in here too long. "We should go," I say. She nods, already drying up her eyes, coming back to herself. I'm good at everything that comes with the job except for this. "You okay?" I say. "Yeah," she answers. "I'm...honestly, I'm just glad I got to see him one more time." We're emerging from the woods, nearing the house. Moon's already out in the sky. I stop. That sound: a woman's voice singing. Jayla looks at me, confused. "Then, it wasn't...?" I motion for her to be silent. We sneak beside the yard. [[Continue.|jalkonost]]

Hmm. Nothing happened. But now the harpy is starting to wriggle, struggling to get upright. It's regaining its ability to move. No time. I draw my silver dagger and drive it down into the harpy's chest. She screams, an agonized, terribly human sound. After a moment of writhing, she lies still, and her body turns into a mound of ash. {(set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1)) (set:$killed to ($killed + 1)) (set:$failures to ($failures + 1))} Suppose that's that. "It's gone, then," Jayla says. "I can't believe the thief was a giant...bird woman thing." I nod. I've seen stranger, actually. "We should go back," I say. "Don't want to be in the forest while it's dark." She nods, and we walk back through the woods. Soon, we're emerging from the forest, nearing the house. Moon's already out in the sky. I stop. That sound: a woman's voice singing. Jayla looks at me, confused. "Then, it wasn't...?" I motion for her to be silent. We sneak beside the yard. [[Continue.|jalkonost]]

I draw my silver dagger and drive it down into the harpy's chest. She screams, an agonized, terribly human sound. After a moment of writhing, she lies still, and her body turns into a mound of ash. Suppose that's that. {(set:$killed to ($killed + 1)) (set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1))} "It's gone, then," Jayla says. "I can't believe the thief was a giant...bird woman thing." I nod. I've seen stranger, actually. "We should go back," I say. "Don't want to be in the forest while it's dark." She nods, and we walk back through the woods. Soon, we're emerging from the forest, nearing the house. Moon's already out in the sky. I stop. That sound: a woman's voice singing. Jayla looks at me, confused. "Then, it wasn't...?" I motion for her to be silent. We sneak beside the yard. [[Continue.|jalkonost]]

Up there, in the enormous oak tree: the shape of a huge gray bird, a woman's head. "Another harpy?" Jayla whispers. "No. An alkonost. They're benign. Some would even say they're good luck." The singing is ethereal and hauntingly beautiful. {(set:$case2 to "solved")} "If the other monster was Dad," says Jayla, "then..." I nod. "I think you're probably right." She watches the alkonost, mesmerized. I look to the monster. [[Kill the alkonost.|alkonostkill]] [[Leave it up to Jayla.|jaylaalkonost]]

"I should kill it," I say, and Jayla looks at me, startled. "You just said it's harmless!" she says. "Your mother's soul is trapped in there. Unless we free it, it may remain that way forever." Jayla appears to be fighting with herself, wrestling for an answer. But I already know the answer. "I'm sorry," I say. "But I kill monsters. That's my job." {(set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled +1)) (set:$killed to ($killed + 1.5))} I jump to grab the edges of the fence, and slowly pull myself up, not without effort. I swing myself sideways, and then let myself fall into the yard. The alkonost pauses at the disturbance, looking my way, and then resumes singing. I approach the tree. "I know your name, alkonost," I say. Immediately the alkonost freezes, falls the fair distance to the ground below, landing in feathery heap. It shrieks. I silence it quickly, plunging my silver dagger into its chest. It struggles against the blade for only a moment before collapsing into ash. Now it's done. For real this time. I stand and walk into the house. [[Continue.|jendalkodead]]

She looks up at the alkonost, watching and listening for a long pause. "Let it stay," she says. "Mom can keep watching over the garden for as long as she wants. In a way...it's comforting." I nod. We walk around front. "This is where I leave," I say. "I feel like I can't thank you enough for this," Jayla says. "Not true. Payment's all that's necessary." She shakes my hand. "Good luck out there, Morris," she says. I climb into my sedan, turn the key, and start the long drive home. (if: $case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|officeSet2]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

Jayla's quiet, somber. "Thanks," she says. "I appreciate your help with all of this. Never imagined..." She trails off a moment. "I guess they're both gone now. For good this time." She reaches out and shakes my hand. "Thank you, Morris." I nod. "Just my job," I say. I walk back outside, climb into my car, and start the long drive home. (if: $case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|officeSet2]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

//Barghest// Intellect: animal Appearance: black dog with burning red eyes Weaknesses: salt, runes, sage smoke Category: ethereal Folklore states that beholding a barghest is an ill omen, and hearing its howling is a harbinger of one's impending death; it is said that wounds inflicted by a barghest never heal. There is some seed of truth to the former in that barghests commonly stalk their chosen prey, howling to mark it and claim it from other creatures. They are remarkably dangerous, with the ability to become invisible and intangible at will. When tangible, their claws and fangs can be deadly. They fight savagely and defy counterattack by retreating into ghostly form. They have an aversion to large bodies of water, especially running water. Trapping them in a salt circle forces them into physical form, at which point they can be killed. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Inugami// Intellect: near-human Appearance: a bipedal doglike creature, or a typical dog Weaknesses: silver Category: cursed The inugami has a fascinating and unique history, in that practitioners of magic in pre-Heien southwestern Japan would intentionally create them to serve as occult servants. An inugami is created when a soul is driven to desperation, often by being chained in front a food source and starved, and killed, usually by beheading, at the moment of peak desperation. This tortured soul may become an inugami, which the occultists would immediately bind to their service. An inguami's true form is a monstrous, bipedal doglike creature, not unlike a lycanthrope in shape and form. It can use an illusion to disguise itself as a normal dog when with its master in public. Inugami are deceptively clever, but do not typically remember their past lives. They can be formidable to fight. Inugami that are not intentionally created are known to be more aggressive. It was not uncommon for an occultist to lose control of his or her inugami and be killed by it. The practice of creating them has of course been, thankfully, outlawed for many centuries. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

{(set:$eastfirst to "no")} I walk the few blocks over to the subway station, go down the concrete steps as rain blasts the plastic covering overhead. It's quiet down here, must be an odd time. Only a relative scattering of people waiting for the trains, engrossed in their phones, a book, a quiet conversation. When the train comes and the doors slide open, I take a seat in the near-empty car, and then the train jolts forward and carries us through the dark tunnels. When I emerge at the Fort Wallace station, I brace myself for the rain and spend a few minutes hailing a cab. Finally, the cab drive pulls over, and I pay and hop out. A squat row of townhouses on either side of the street. Must be the place, I guess. I pick out the door for 35, and approach it with a sharp rap on the door. A metal star...what do they call those? Barnstars?...affixed to her door rattles with each knock. I can hear shuffling inside, but no answer. "Miss Wheeler? This is Detective Morris." I can hear the shuffling approach the door. It cracks open, and I'm greeted with the combined scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Roberta's an elderly woman, frail as a bird. Her eyes are red and puffy. "Come in, come in, dear," she says. I follow. She walks slowly, and so I get a good look of the inside of her townhouse while walking. Orderly, clean. Carefully decorated in a "country", rustic style--not at all my thing, but she's got a good sense for pairing things. Some framed photos of her family, but no evidence of anyone else living here with her. Ah, photos of a man who must have been her husband. She's been living without him a while...so, not Charlie, then. We get to her living room, and she gestures at a soft recliner, while she perches on a sofa. The living room's cozy. A large dog sleeps on the carpet, a saint bernard. It barely lifts an eye toward me when I enter. "That's Bernice," Roberta says, following my gaze. "She misses Charlie, too." "This is a difficult topic, Miss Wheeler, but has Charlie's body already been taken to the morgue?" "Oh, no, dear," she says sadly. "He's right out in the backyard. I just found him this morning. I mean to bury him today, but...I thought you might want to take a look at him." Her eyes get watery, but she holds herself together well. "Uh...well, thank you," I say. The backyard...? "I need to know as much as you can tell me. What was Charlie doing when it happened? I need you to describe last night as well as you can." "Well, it was a typical night, as far as I know, at first," she says. "I took Bernice and Charlie up to bed around ten or so, I watch a bit of television some nights, and then fall asleep. Well, around two in the morning or so, Bernice had to go out. Sometimes it happens. I took both of them out, waited by the backdoor, with the porchlight on, as always." She trembles a little. "Bernice came in first, and well, with all the rain, I dried her paws a little so she wouldn't track the mud all through the house. I had my back turned to the door for maybe a few minutes...but Charlie, out in the yard behind me, he makes the most awful growl, and then, a--a scream. And he was..." She grinds to a halt, fighting tears. So Charlie's a dog. "Roberta," I say, trying for a gentleness that doesn't come naturally to me, "I know this is hard, but I have to ask, what makes you sure it was paranormal? There are wild animals, sociopathic teens..." Roberta shakes her head firmly, taking a tissue from the table beside her and blowing her nose. "I //saw// it," she says. "It was in the dark yard, but I saw it. Crouching over Charlie. I saw a flash of fangs reflecting the light back. It stood up and leaped clear over the fence. And Charlie...was..." Interesting. "Thank you, Roberta," I say, standing. "I'll take a look at"-- "You should also know," Roberta says quickly. Her eyes gain a surprisingly hard glint. "This isn't isolated. There were a string of pet disappearances here lately. I wanted to believe it was just coincidence, people accidentally letting their dogs and cats out...I never thought it would happen to poor Charlie. He was such a good dog." Hm. If this is has been multiple occurences, it's doubtful the culprit has any personal connection to Roberta. Probably no need to waste time investigating her place. Seems this townhouse complex has become something's hunting grounds. Time to find out what. "Thanks," I say. "I'm going to check out the backyard now." She nods. "I'll be here," she says. She picks up a remote and switches on the television. [[Continue.|eastshore2]]

(set:$state to "eastshore2") I'm standing in the living room of Roberta's townhouse. It's cozy, not terribly large. A staircase in front of the front door leads up the the second floor; adjacent to the living room's a small dining room, beside it the kitchen, with the back door. [[Talk to Roberta.|talkroberta]] [[Investigate the yard.|investigateyard]] (if:$Rneighbor is "yes")[ [[Go outside the house.|rcomplex]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

"What can I do, dear?" Roberta says, looking up. (if:$Rother is not "yes")[ [["You said there were other cases?"|rother]] ] (if:$sawcharlie is "yes" and $Rneighbor is not "yes")[ [["What can you tell me about your neighbors?"|Rneighbors]] ] (if:$paul is "yes" and $rpaul is not "yes")[ [["What do you know about Paul?"|rpaul]] ] (if:$paul is "yes")[ [["I'll have to lure this one out."|lurewolf]] ] [["Nothing right now, actually."|eastshore2]]

(set:$state to "investigateyard") The backyard is a tiny, fenced-in affair. There's a postage stamp of a back patio. All of the townhouses in this complex are physically connected, with all of the yards forming a row of boxes. (if:$sawcharlie is not "yes")[Beside the patio, [[Charlie|charlie]] lies in the grass.](else:)[A recently-disturbed square in the yard is all that remains of the violence. Not much else of interest here.] [[Back inside.|eastshore2]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

(set:$sawcharlie to "yes") Not a pretty sight. Charlie was a white German shepherd...not the little terrier of my guessing, but a dog that could have put up a real dangerous fight. The spattered, sticky blood is stark against his white fur. Serious claw wounds on his back, dragging down into his left side, against his ribcage. Belly torn open, with clear evidence of feeding. Another wound to the face, on the muzzle, possibly defensive--a shallow scratch by comparison to the other wounds, likely inflicted when Charlie either bit the monster or attempted to. I take a quick glance up at the yard. That fence is no easy jump. A fleeing teenager could definitely make it, but...this doesn't look like human work. Hmm. Rain continues falling on the body, washing gore down into the grass, making a bloody mess. There's a shallow square of grass upended beside me. Turning back toward the house, I see a shovel, still-damp with mud--apparently, the implement used to make it. I look at the half-dug hole. Even that little square must have been a lot of work for her. I take the shovel, deepen the square, scoop Charlie's remains into the hole, and fill it. Well. Nothing left here. [[Back.|investigateyard]] {(set:$case3notes to $case3notes + (array:"Seems pets are disappearing, and definitely getting eaten by something."))}

(Set:$Rother to "yes") "Oh, yes," she says, gravely. "There were. As I mentioned, I'd been hoping it was just careless owners letting their animals slip outside...I hoped they'd find em." She shoots a glance in Bernice's direction, her gaze distant, unfocused. "Well, we did start finding them, lately. Adrian's cat, Natalia's dog. They looked as bad as Charlie. Still, I never thought..." Doesn't seem like she's got anything else to say on the topic. So the disappearances were going on before they started finding bodies. Interesting. Monster stop carrying them off to its lair? Becoming desparate? Careless? Not sure. [[Continue.|eastshore2]] {(set:$case3notes to $case3notes + (array:"Pets began disappearing some time ago, but it seems only recently are bodies being found. It seems to be a change in hunting behavior, whatever it means."))}

"Well, let's see," she says. "Now, I don't know about everyone. I guess I could write up a list of people whose names I know and where they live, if that's helpful to you. Some of them lost their pets as well." "That could be a start," I say. (Set:$Rneighbor to "yes") Roberta takes a moment to get a notepad and pen from the kitchen, and then she sits back down on the sofa. I give her a long while to write the list. Bernice gives a long, sigh-like snort through her nose, sits up and shakes her head. She eyes me warily, and then jumps up on the couch beside Roberta. "Bernice, get down," Roberta says mildly, staring at her list. "Okay, I think this is it. Hopefully it helps you in some way," she says, handing me the paper. "Thanks," I say. I hope so too. [[Continue.|eastshore2]]

(set:$state to "rcomplex") (if:$firstRComplex is not "yes")[I leave Roberta to her TV romance and head to the door. Bernice lifts her head to watch me with dull interest. "I'll be back," I say, and head out into the rain. I glance down at her list. Guess I might as well go through the list. Damn. Here we go, I guess.(set:$firstRComplex to "yes")](else:)[I'm standing outside of Roberta's townhouse, her hand-scrawled list in my hand.] The list reads: (if:$sara is not "yes")[ [[//Sara, #34 (next door)//|sara34]] ](else:)[Sara, #34 (next door)] (if:$glen is not "yes")[ [[//Glen, #23//|glen23]] ](else:)[Glen, #23] (if:$ivette is not "yes")[ [[//Ivette, #36//|ivette36]] ](else:)[Ivette, #35] (if:$paul is not "yes")[ [[//Paul, #38//|paul]] ](else:)[Paul, #38] (if:$adrian is not "yes")[ [[//Adrian, #39//|adrian39]] ](else:)[Adrian, #39] (if:$natalia is not "yes")[ [[//Natalia, #25//|natalia25]] ](else:)[Natalia, #25] [[Head back inside Roberta's house.|eastshore2]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

I walk a few steps to the left of Robert's entrance and rap on the door. A harried looking woman answers, and behind her, the frenzied screaming of a toddler going nuclear. "Yes," she says, and then, looking me up and down, nervously, "Who are you?" "I'm a detective," I say. "I understand there've been a string of disappearances of pets around here?" "Of...pets?" the woman echoes. Behind her, stomping feet signal the approach of the disaster zone. "Johnny, //please//," she says, turning from the door to face the kid. "I want another juicebox! I want another juicebox!" he repeats in a rising wail that picks up speed. (set:$sara to "yes") "I have to go," the woman says. To Johnny, "Back inside. Go. Now." Slam of the door. Johnny's wailing, retreating deeper inside. Christ. I prefer with dealing with my kind of monsters. [[Back.|rcomplex]]

I knock on the door. (set:$glen to "yes") Seems no one's home. [[Continue.|rcomplex]]

I walk to 36, knock on the door. I wait a while. No answer. Well, so much for that. (set:$ivette to "yes") [[Continue.|rcomplex]]

I walk over to 38 and knock on the door. I'm about to give up and turn back when a man answers the door. He looks haggard, seems aged even though he's almost certainly younger than 40. "Yes?" he says. He has a timid voice. "I'm a detective, investigating the string of pet disappearances around here," I say. He nods. "What's your name, detective?" "Morris," I say. He nods. "Morris," he says, extending a hand, "I'm Paul." He backs away from the door, motions for me to follow. "So, how can I help?" he asks, back to me, as he leads me into his house to the kitchen. There's something sad about the place. It's like it seems comfortable, but if you look too long, you start to see through it. Layers of dust. Piles of things like clothing, papers. "You live alone?" I ask. "Yeah," he says. "My sister used to live with me, but she's gone now." "I'm sorry for your loss," I say. "No," he says, with a sad laugh, "Not dead gone. She's across the state, at Westbrook Hospital. For longterm care. Maybe...forever." "You miss her?" I find myself saying. "Of course," he says immediately, forcefully. "Of course I do." He shrugs oddly. Paul doesn't seem to be much for eye contact. "I took care of her for so long. It's just, ever since my accident, I've been thinking a lot about things." "Accident?" (set:$paul to "yes") "Hit by a car. While walking. It was bad. Almost didn't make it." "Incredible," I say. "I'm glad you survived." "But you didn't come to talk about me," Paul says. "The pets, right? They've been going missing. I'm afraid I don't know much more than that, though. I hope I haven't wasted your time. I don't even own a pet." "Haven't seen or heard anything unusual?" He shakes his head. "Afraid not." "I see. Well, that's really all I'm looking for from people right now. I'll come back if I have further questions." He nods. "Good luck, Morris. Hope you figure it out." I walk myself back to the door and leave. [[Continue.|rcomplex]]

I walk to 39, knock on the door. A man answers: tired, balding. Well-dressed. He looks at me expectantly. "I'm a detective. I'm investigating the string of pet disappearances around here lately," I say. "Ah, jeez," he says. "Yeah. Poor Tile." "Tile was your cat?" "Yeah. Long story." He shakes his head. "We had all these pets go missing. I didn't know what to make of it. Tried to keep Tile in more often, but, well, he'd already been an outside cat. It was impossible, he'd drive me nuts scratching at the door...I didn't really want to believe anything was going on here, anyway, you know? Haven't had so much as a break-in in forever." He looks sadly at the ground. "Well, Tile didn't come inside two weeks ago. Found him by the street, right there. What was left of him. Either there's a fucking wild animal here in the middle of the city...or there's a monster." "There won't be for much longer," I say. "Sounds like you didn't get a glimpse of the culprit. Did you hear anything unusual?" He shakes his head. "No, I was in the living room watching TV, with the game turned up. Don't know that I would've. Had no idea about poor Tile till I went to take the garbage out the next morning." "I see." I shake his hand. "Thanks for the information. I'm sorry about Tile." (set:$adrian to "yes") He nods sadly, and walks back inside. "Good luck," he says before closing the door. [[Continue.|rcomplex]]

I knock on the door. A young woman answers. "Hi," she says. "Hi, I'm a detective investigating the recent pet disappearances," I say. "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions." "Oh, sure," she says, and her face darkens. "My dog, Pepper, was one of them. A lot of the others, they just went missing...they're lucky that their animals are probably still out there somewhere. Pepper's definitely not coming back. I found him in the backyard. Dead and eaten. I have no idea how or why." "Did you hear or see anything unusual?" She nods. "I didn't see anything--I wasn't watching. The yard's fenced in, I figured I didn't have to worry about him escaping from there. It was just like any other night, you know? I was gonna let him in soon. It really hadn't been dark all that long. But anyway...I did hear it. Heard Pepper growl in a way he never does, and there was a shorter sound, something I hope I never hear again in my life. I don't care if you think I'm crazy, it was a //snarl//, like a wild animal snarl. Then Pepper yelped and whined." She fidgets. "When it started, I was upstairs, and I started running down as soon as I heard Pepper growling. I was still on the stairs when he yelped, and when I thrust open the door, flipped on the light, and burst outside...there he was. Like something had...had bitten a huge piece off him." "I see." "You think I'm crazy." "I don't think that at all. I think you've given me useful information," I say. (set:$natalia to "yes") She nods. "I hope you find whatever this thing is and kill it," she says. "I'll do my best," I say. She retreats back into her house. [[Continue.|rcomplex]]

(set:$rpaul to "yes") "Oh, he's sweet," she says. "He's a little strange, but he's kind. He looked after his sister for years, it was just the two of them. She was a schizophrenic, poor thing. Paul was tireless and patient. When she relocated to the hospital, well, I honestly worried about him a bit. Taking care of her was so much of his life...and now he's left with just himself. I don't see him around much, so I just don't know how he's doing, I'm afraid." [[Continue.|eastshore2]]

"Oh, my," Roberta says. "How will you do that?" I have an idea...but I'd (colour:"blue")[better ensure that I'm ready] to face whatever this thing is, first. [["Here's the idea."|sendbernice]] [["Actually, not ready just yet."|eastshore2]] (if:$firstFight is "yes")[>>NOTE: You're about to encounter a monster for the first time. Remember, (colour:blue)[names] are powerful. If you identify the monster correctly, it will be stunned. You can then either kill it, or attempt to identify its (colour:blue)[reason].(set:$firstFight to "no")]

"Our monster seems to prefer feeding on pets," I say. "I'm going to have to set a trap." I look at Bernice. "I'll need a pet to lure it out with..." Roberta pales, eyes big as dinnerplates. "You are not suggesting--" "--Nothing'll happen to her. That's on me. But I need to draw this thing out." "No. This is insane," Roberta says. Yeah, it kinda is. "I don't have much choice," I say. "It doesn't go for humans." "You can't be sure nothing'll happen to her," Roberta says. "Absolutely not." "Got a better idea?" "In fact," Roberta says, "I do. The man up the road at 22 insists on tying up his dog at night lately. Thinks it's his guard dog--why he's worried about intruders is beyond me. You can hear it barking from down here, I'm sure he's gotten complaints. But he's a stubborn ass, and neither the disappearances nor common decency seem to have changed his mind. He's been putting it outside for the past five nights, it's only a matter of time." Well, I guess that could work. I nod. Time to go stake out 22 Terrence Road. [[Continue.|stakeout22]]

The fenced-in yards don't make this an easy task, turns out. Eventually, I settle on waiting in the strip of trees and undergrowth behind the townhouses. I climb on the tallest, sturdiest one I can find that would give me a view of 22's backyard. Man. The things I do for this job. At least the rain has stopped. Once perched, I relax my back against the trunk as much as possible and wait for night. The dog in question, my unknowing bait, lies sleepily beside a doghouse, a big boxer dog. An animal like this, with some real bite to it, probably wouldn't be the monster's first choice. But with everyone else keeping their pets inside more often now, it may be desperate enough to try it. Either that, or extend its hunting grounds, but...something tells me that's not the case. This thing's getting sloppier, if anything. Not much going on as the sun takes its sweet time setting. An ant crawls onto my neck. I can hear chattering of birds in the nearby trees, soon to be quiet. I wait. [[Continue.|monsterappear]]

My back's stiff as hell by the time it's good and dark. I'm tempted to rest my eyes, but being fifteen feet up off the ground is good incentive not to. I've dimmed my phone's screen so that I can check the time without a surge of light up here in my hiding place. Late. I try to estimate how much longer I'll wait it out up here. But...wait. Is that something approaching from two yards over? It's low to the ground, and in the dark, I can't tell if I'm imagining it. No, the boxer hears it too. The dog lifts its head, ears perked up. The neighbor's fence gives the dark shape only momentary pause, and then it's in the adjacent yard. The dog begins to growl low and genuinely menacing. It rises to its feet. The thing pulls itself over the fence and now it's in the dog's yard. And I'm up here in a tree. Fuck. Gotta think fast. The thing is hulking on two legs, with a loping gait. It nears the dog, lifts an arm... "Hey!" I yell, and the monster's head swivels to me instantly, a flash of eyes and teeth. In that second, the boxer in the yard clamps down on its nearest leg, tugs its head to the right. The monster gives a whining snarl, kicking away the dog, and it's backing toward the front yard as I move to climb down the tree. I see it pull over the fence and flee toward the street, leaving the dog barking at the end of its chain. I scramble down the tree as quickly as I can in the dark feeling like the world's biggest squirrel. And dumbest. What the hell was I doing, forgetting to prepare anything to tag it with once I saw it? Maybe I'm getting old, I think as I run toward the street. [[Continue.|street]]

I run down the street toward the sound of the boxer barking. The monster's trail is more obvious than I was expecting. Guess the dog did a number on its leg. Dark blood spatters down the fence, on the sidewalk, down the street. This way. I follow the trail, and it leads me to Paul's front door. The door in question is ajar, and I can see lights on inside. I draw my silver dagger and listen: not much. I shove the door open till it touches the wall, and edge my way inside. Lights hastily switched on. The blood goes through the living room, heads to the kitchen. I'm not all the way in when I see it: the large shape on the ground. As I approach the kitchen, the monster tears itself up off the floor with a snarl. Hurt. Bad, but not badly enough to be harmless. Seven feet tall easy, on two legs. Hulking here on all four, about three. Monstrously wolfish face, glaring white eyes. "I know your name," I say, as it lunges, "it's..." [["Lycanthrope."|rcorrect]] [["Warg."|rwrong1]] [["Inugami."|rwrong2]]

The lycanthrope freezes in place. It collapses onto the tile floor. A pool of blood is collecting under its injured leg. The white rings of its eyes look at me exhaustedly. "So you didn't survive that car accident," I say. "You died and came back as this." "Kill me," it says. "Just do it." I kneel beside it. The ferocity in its face subsides. It starts changing shape: suddenly Paul is lying beside me, a serious wound on his leg. "I can't control this," he says. "I can't control anything. My whole life...I gave everything for Lily. I know she can't help it." "You blame her?" I say. "No," he says. "It wasn't her fault! But I never got to live. My friends...their families, children...and when Lily left to the hospital, I have nothing." Suddenly, he's semi-monstrous for a moment, his face terrifying: "//Nothing!// My whole fucking life wasted!" And then he's back, and he seems scared, and he's crying. "I thought I could contain it..." he says quietly, crying. "I never kill people. I'd take their animals to the woods to eat them...I'm losing it, though. I'm losing control." His fingers begin to twitch. He's regaining movement. "I'll kill you," he says sadly. "Your reason..." I say. [["You secretly hate your sister, don't you?"|rwrongreason]] [["It's okay to feel angry. You don't have to contain it. It doesn't mean you hate Lily."|rreason]] [[Forget the reason, just kill him.|rkill]]

The monster takes me down in a leaping tackle, and I fall with my back against the wall, the creature on top of me. A flash of fangs...searing pain...Warm breath... Silence. [[Retry?|lurewolf]]

"What," he hisses sharply. "No!" And he transforms again, a huge, monstrous wolf, shuddering, trying to get up. Well, nothing else to do but this. I kneel on his back, straddling his shoulders, and open his throat with my dagger in one quick motion. Instantly, he collapses with a choking sound. His body collapses into a mound of ash beneath me. I stand, brushing my pants. An empty house now. Just ash and blood. {(set:$killed to ($killed +1)) (set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1)) (set:$failures to ($failures + 1))} I leave. [[Continue.|robertaafter]]

Paul begins to sob quietly, his whole body shaking. I put a hand on his shoulder. He's becoming blinding white light. My mind is flooded. //Paul and Lily as kids, laughing and playing in the yard. Paul as a teen, leaving a party, anxious, on his way to find and pick up Lily. Lily and Paul as young adults, arguing here in the townhouse, Paul stopping to collect himself, letting Lily shout. Lily about to leave to the hospital. Embracing. The silent, empty house after the door shuts. Paul, sitting down in a chair, face in his hands.// "It's okay now, kid," I find myself saying. {(set:$purified to ($purified +1)) (set:$truePurified to ($truePurified + 1))} The light increases to a blinding flare, and then he's gone. Only the small puddle of blood from earlier on the kitchen floor. I walk to the front door, fumbling in my coat pocket for a cigarette. I light it as I walk back toward Roberta's. Gotta say. That was the most restraint I've ever seen in a lycanthrope. [[Continue.|robertaafter]]

I kneel on his back, straddling his shoulders, and open his throat with my dagger in one quick motion. Instantly, he collapses with a choking sound. His body collapses into a mound of ash beneath me. I stand, brushing my pants. An empty house now. Just ash and blood. {(set:$killed to ($killed + 1)) (set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1))} I leave. [[Continue.|robertaafter]]

"Roberta?" I say, knocking the on the door. It occurs to me that I have no idea what time it is. After a while, Roberta answers, wrapped in a shawl, looking just out of bed. She squints at me. "Do you want to come in?" she says. Bernice noses in behind her. "Not necessary. I just wanted to inform you that Bernice is safe. Everyone is. The monster won't be bothering you again." "Oh!" Roberta says. "That's amazing!" (set:$case3 to "solved") It starts to rain. "Yep. Shouldn't have any reason to be worried now. And if you'll excuse me, I'm done here." "It's five in the morning," she says, shocked. "You can sleep on the sofa. You've been up the entire night." "I'll be fine," I say, already backing off of her front step. "You take care." I head back outside before she can say anything else. (if: $case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|officeSet2]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

Solene's not at the front desk when I return to the office. It's not a mystery: my office doorway is filled with the glaring orange of the overhead light inside. I walk in, taking off my drenched hat and coat. "Why do you always sit here in the dark?" she says. She's standing over my desk, looking over some files, one of my whiskey glasses in her hand. Her horns are out. She always forgets to look human when she's really interested in something. "Which did you pour?" I demand, hanging my coat and hat on the rack by my door. "The Jameson in the bottom drawer," she says without sparing me a glance. "If you're going to steal my shit, at least drink the good stuff," I say, walking over to my desk. I open one of the top drawers and pull out the Balvenie, pour myself a glass. Seems enough of an occassion to open it. "You've got new cases," she says. "A missing woman, another theft, and a rather unusual request." "Don't like the sound of that," I say, leaning back in my chair to stretch my arms. "Tell 'em I'm not interested." "The client insists on meeting you in person." (set:$sequence to "second") "I'll save them the cab fare: not interested." "You know the party," Solene says, looking up at me with an amused smile. "Quit messing around, Sol, just tell me what the hell you're on about." "It's Grim. He insists he speak with you." Grim? "He okay?" "I think so," she says. "He wants your help. Honestly, I'm not clear on the details myself." I sigh, let myself lean forward on the desk. "Does that mean I should make an appointment with him, then?" she says, making her way toward my door. "No. I'll go see him myself," I say. "You're so predictable, Morris," she laughs, and then she closes the door behind her. I consider getting up and switching off the light. The rain patters against the window. Instead I lift my glass and down it. {(set: $case1 to "grimcase")(set:$case1label to "The Gaping Maw")(set:$case1notes to (array:"Solene says Grim has a case for me. Guess I'd better go talk to him."))(set:$case2 to "wifesearch")(set:$case2label to "The Sly Grin")(set:$case3 to "catprof")(set:$case3label to "The Monster Emeritus")(set:$case2notes to (array:"The client, Marcus Fenley, states that his wife is missing. He lives in Northshore Village.","He insists there's something paranormal at work, but wouldn't say more over the phone."))(set:$case3notes to (array:"The client, Patricia Maślanka, would like to discuss the case with you in her office on Steel City University's campus."))} [[Continue.|office]]

{(set:$state to "case1locationSecond") (set:$region to "grimcase")} (if:$purified > $killed)[I walk outside of the office and stand on the street. The rain has reduced to a half-hearted drizzle. Even the clouds are threatening to lighten up a few shades.](else:)[The sky managed to get even darker than it was before, there's no hint of the sunset that should be somewhere behind that dark mass. The rain comes down in a roar. The wind seems to have picked up a bit as well. I hear muted thunder roll over the city.] I'm standing in the Factory District. (if:$talkedgrimcase is not "yes")[ [[Guess I'd better go see Grim.|grimcase]] ](else:)[ [[I should probably go back to where Grim's waiting for me.|grimcaseAfter]] ] [[Could always drop into Dermot's Diner...|dermots]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> (if:$purified > $killed)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/7byxzwqtfp5gusb/380651__bonnyorbit__light-rain-on-street.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>](else:)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/nujxdoe190qwbgk/376810__theneedle-tv__long-thunder-rolls-and-heavy-rain_reduced.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>]

{(set:$state to "case2locationSecond") (set:$region to "prewifesearch")} I'm outside my building in the Factory District. (if:$purified > $killed)[The rain seems to have tapered off to a light drizzle. The pools of water in the gutters and on the sidewalks around me are still enough now to reflect the hazy streetlamps and the sharp reds and greens of streetlights and neon signs.](else:)[The rain is coming down in sheets, the sky above dark and angry.] The muted roar of rushing water floats up from the sewer grates. (if:$firstVillage is not "no")[ [[Northshore Village is pretty close by.|northshoreVillage]] ](else:)[ [[Northshore Village is pretty close by.|northshore2]] ] [[I could always stop at Dermot's Diner for a minute.|dermots]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> (if:$purified > $killed)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/7byxzwqtfp5gusb/380651__bonnyorbit__light-rain-on-street.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>](else:)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/nujxdoe190qwbgk/376810__theneedle-tv__long-thunder-rolls-and-heavy-rain_reduced.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>]

{(Set:$state to "case3locationSecond") (set:$region to "catprof")} I'm standing on the street outside my office. (if:$purified > $killed)[The clouds are parting just enough to see a streak of pale sky.](else:)[The rain is torrential, the clouds making it dark enough to activate the street lamps, despite it only being early evening.] (if:$unifirst is not "yes")[ [[Guess I'll take the metro to Steel City University.|university]] ](else:)[ [[Better get back to the university.|universityoffice]] ] [[Of course, there's always Dermot's Diner...|dermots]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> (if:$purified > $killed)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/7byxzwqtfp5gusb/380651__bonnyorbit__light-rain-on-street.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>](else:)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/nujxdoe190qwbgk/376810__theneedle-tv__long-thunder-rolls-and-heavy-rain_reduced.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>]

Northshore Village is a trendy place on the edge of the Factory District. Lots of renovated buildings, lot of indepedent coffee shops, lot of exposed brick. I hate to admit that the place has kind of grown on me, maybe helped by the excellent food that sprang up close to my office. I guess it also appeals to me that it's not the kind of place where actual humans were displaced for these shops and coffee joints. It was only empty factory buildings before. These hipsters evicted only dust and ghosts. Several people out today, hurrying on the sidewalk. Rain hasn't deterred them much. I'm tempted by the warm scent of coffee, steaming up from the mug of a man seated at an outdoor table beside the sidewalk, his eyes fixed to his laptop. I pull myself away from the coffeeshop and keep walking. Marcus's apartment should be somewhere around here. I find the place that I hope is his, walk up to the door and pound on it. There's no panel to buzz his individual apartment. I wonder if I should check my case notes for his phone number. It takes him a while to answer the phone. "Marcus? I'm Detective Morris, here to speak with you. Outside your building, actually." "I'll come let you in," Marcus says quickly, and then there's the sudden silence of an ended call. I hear scuffling coming to the door, and then I'm greeted by a thin young man. He has a short, well-maintained beard, lean body, sharp green eyes. Handsome man. Reminds me a bit of an ex. "Come on up," he says. I follow him to his apartment. [[Continue.|marcusApt]]

(set:$state to "northshore2") I'm standing in Northshore Village, a popular, trendy area. (if:$foundHelena is not "yes")[ [[Guess I'd better go toward Riverside Brew to look for Helena.|riverbrew]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

He leads me up two floors to a studio apartment. It's clean and organized, makes good use of its space. Doesn't feel too cramped, though two people live here, or at least two people did, before his wife disappeared. He's clearly kept up with the cleaning. Smells nice in here, like cinnamon. The glass coffee table in this central room is spotless. So, nothing like my ex. He motions for me to take a seat, and sits opposite me on the sofa, leaning forward, hands clasped, brow furrowed. "So, Helena, right? She's been missing for two weeks. I can't...I haven't slept that great. I'm worried as hell." "Do you have any hints about where Helena was last headed? Any texts from her?" Marcus rubs his with his hands and sighs. "People have seen her around. With a man." "So that's why you haven't called the police," I say. "Listen, you'll have to find another detective. I don't work these kinds of cases." I start to get up. "It's not like that," he says. "Something's not right, I'm telling you! She's not...she's out of it or something. I saw them once myself, two days ago at the co-op. It was really fast. The guy noticed me staring, and they were gone through the crowd in an instant. But, like, in that instant...there's something wrong with his eyes. I know I saw it." "What's he look like?" "Normal guy. Except really good-looking, I guess," he says bitterly. "Dark hair, well-dressed. I swear his eyes were black. Completely. At least for a moment." "I see," I say. "That's not all. Last month, a woman went missing from right around here. I'm sure you saw it in the news. They found her dead in the river. Helena's in danger." I hadn't heard about it, actually, but it sounds like I might need to pay Wyatt a visit. "A buddy just texted me," Marcus says. "He says he thought he saw Helena going inside Riverside Brew just now. You can catch them maybe, if you leave now." "I'll go look for Helena," I say. "But I'm warning you, if this is just a ploy to get me in the middle of a dispute between you guys, I'm dropping this. And you'll still be paying me for my time." "It's not," Marcus says urgently, standing. "Go. Please. Kill that thing that's kidnapped her. That's what you do, right?" (set:$firstVillage to "no") "Maybe," I say. He opens the door for me, and I walk back down and out to the street. [[Continue.|northshore2]] {(set:$case2notes to $case2notes + (array:"Seems Helena's been seen in the company of a strange man. Marcus believes him to be a monster of some sort.", "There was another disappearance a month ago, one that ended in a murder. Better get the details from Wyatt."))}

I head toward Riverside Brew, following the sidewalk as it crosses over the next few blocks and then falls alongside the river. The river gleams far below, choppy waves reflecting city lights. There's a low concrete wall topped by a railing beside me, and tall, circular lamps on poles alongside the sidewalk give it a decent kind of ambience. It's actually a pleasant walk, and the sidewalk here is a little less crowded. I can see Riverside Brew up ahead, a tall, square factory building repurposed for beer. It's a successful local enterprise. I can see people surging inside. Finding Helena in the bar might not be that easy of a task, I realize. But as I approach, I notice a couple ahead: they've stopped on their way out of the bar, standing at the railing. They're facing the river, enjoying the scene, the man's arm around her. The odds are against me, but... I get closer. The woman matches Helena's description from the case notes Marcus had filed with Solene: brunette, about four foot five, black leather purse. She's sharply dressed, complete with heels. The man is also well-dressed, dark hair. "Excuse me," I say, approaching. They turn sharply. The man's so handsome I almost feel my chest ache, a reaction I haven't felt since college. Dark hair. Warm brown eyes, unfortunately guarded and suspicious toward me. "Are you Helena?" I ask the woman, focusing pointedly on her. "Who...are you?" she says, frowning. "Don't bother her," the man says. He seems spooked. "Leave us the hell alone." "She's a missing woman," I say. "And that would make you a suspect. Step away from her now." I reach my hand into my coat, slowly, wrap my hand around the handle of my silver dagger. The man seems worried. He steps forward suddenly. Those warm brown eyes look me full in the face, and they look sad...it almost makes me hurt. I find my hand relaxing a little off the dagger. "We don't have to do this," he says, reaching out with a hand. He rests it gently against my cheek. Something in the back of my head is struggling, some nagging thought. It's irritating. Keeping me from enjoying the moment. "Let her go," I'm struggling to say, surprising myself. Why do I want to say this? "Or I'll..." He leans in and kisses me, and then regards me with a warm smile. "You know what you should do?" he whispers. "You should jump into the river. Jump into the river now." [["You're right."|riverjump]] [["You're definitely right."|riverjump2]] [["You're absolutely right."|riverjump3]]

I climb up on the concrete wall. The woman's watching with huge eyes, clutching at the man and desperately saying something. He looks scared, but when I turn to him, he gives me an encouraging smile. He seems to be trying to pull the woman away, to back out of here. But he's still watching me, and I'd do anything to make him happy. There's still that nagging thought--I try to brush it aside. I climb up to the railing, and lean forward-- "--//Morris!// Get the fuck down from there," says a familiar voice, and I suddenly feel two small but very strong hands under my arms, pulling me backward. I stumble down onto the sidewalk. Helena and the dark-haired man bolt. "Damn it!" Solene says. She moves to run after them, but then stops, sighs. I can feel my head returning to normal, the numbing, pleasant sensation washing out of me in waves, giving way to cold, grounded reality, like a receding acid trip. "Oh fuck," I say. "Are you all right?" I nod. "We need to go after them." "There's no 'we' for this one," Solene says. "I'm taking over this case. I'd realized this sounded like it had incubus written all over it, and I came to warn you." Well, it's no mystery how she'd found me. I allow my phone to send her my coordinates at all times. I have a dangerous job, and sometimes it's been helpful. Take, for example, a minute ago. "Solene," I say, still trying to clear my head. "That's not--" "Not hearing it, Morris. You almost just broke your neck, or drowned, whatever would've happened first. I'm taking this one. Go catch a break." I sigh. "Fine. Here's the case notes," I say. "Call me if you need anything." [[Continue.|soleneriver]]

I watch Morris leave for a moment, just to make sure he really does. His coat disappears down the sidewalk, back in the direction of the office. Well, all right. Time to catch myself an incubus. It takes one to catch one, I guess? Let's see, here... {(set:$solene to "yes") (set:$partTwo to "yes")} I open the case notes. God, Morris's handwriting is terrible. It's surprisingly bad every time I see it. Okay, anyway... Hmm. Looks like I should go talk to Wyatt. Might be worth giving this Marcus fella a talk as well, in case I can learn more than Morris did. [[Continue.|solshore]]

{(set:$state to "solshore") (set:$region to "wifesearch")} I'm standing in the trendy neighborhood of Northshore Village, on the sidewalk. There are several people out around me, mostly young, upwardly-mobile-looking types. Repurposed brick buildings loom all around. (if:$purified > $killed)[The rain is little more than a mist, chilling the air around me.](else:)[The rain is a million little freezing daggers coming down on me.] (if:$solmorgue is not "yes")[ [[I haven't checked with Wyatt about the woman whose body was found.|morgSol]] ] (if:$marcusol is not "yes")[ [[It might be helpful to check in with Marcus.|marcusSol]] ](else:)[ [[I could check in with Marcus.|marcusapt]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

I walk briskly back toward the morgue, passing near the office along the way. I wonder momentarily what Morris is up to--he's almost certainly inside. He doesn't really tend to know what to do with himself outside of work. I take cover from the light rain in the alcove of the morgue's entrance and send Wyatt a text: "hey wyatt! i'm really sorry about the short notice, but can we meet? i'm here". I receive a quick reply: "sure be right there". Wyatt opens the door, and I step inside, where it's blessedly warm compared to the cold, damp air outside. "I've gotta admit, I'm surprised to see you," Wyatt says. "To what do I owe the visit?" "I'm working a case, actually," I say. Wyatt's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I know Morris wants to work alone. What makes this case special, if you don't mind?" "I told him I'd take it," I say with a shrug, and Wyatt laughs. Morris and Wyatt despise each other, which is funny, considering how similar they are: gloomy, avoid close personal relationships (well, okay, that's mostly just Morris), hearts are ultimately in the right place. Wyatt's already leading me over toward the body rooms. "I've heard there was a missing woman case in Northshore Village recently," I say. "She was found dead in the river. I need to find out if it was related to this case." "Ah, yes," Wyatt says. "She wasn't found in the river. Fortunately for us, because her injuries are much more distinctive. I'll be surprised if it's related to one of your cases, though." "Why's that?" I ask. We've reached the room, and Wyatt's moving toward the rows of bodies, opening one in particular. He slides out the tray, and a sheet-covered human shape emerges. "Injuries seem pretty human-inflicted," he says. He peels back the sheet with a surprising carefulness, almost respectful. "Come take a look," Wyatt says. [[Continue.|morgsol2]]

I make my way over to Marcus's apartment and stand outside of the entrance. I wonder if Marcus or his neighbors are fastidious about keeping this door locked. I try the door knob and find it open. Handy. A bad habit, but handy. I double-check Marcus's apartment number and then walk up to his door, a couple floors up in the dizzyingly narrow staircase. I knock on his door. Marcus answers it after a few minutes. (set:$marcusol to "yes") "...Hello?" he says. "Hi, I'm Solene, Detective Morris's assistant," I say, shaking his hand. "I'm here to follow-up. Mind if I come in?" "Not at all," Marcus says, stepping inside to make room in the doorway for me. I look around. What could easily be a cramped apartment is cleverly furnished and decorated to maximize space, with a modern-simplistic style that I actually find quite appealing. It's incredibly clean in here...almost creepily so. It would pass better as a staged showroom than a lived-in apartment, and yet the small signs of life are here: shoes in the rack by the door, something cooking on the stove, some spices and things (organized) on the countertop. "Mind if I look around? It might help me find some clues about what's going on with Helena." Marcus doesn't seem crazy about the idea, but he nods, gesturing broadly with his hand. "Go ahead," he says. "I'll be here if you have any questions." He returns to the kitchen. [[Continue.|marcusapt]]

The contents of my purse: Ibuprofen. A silver dagger. Sunglasses. My cell phone. Pen and notepad. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

I fish my phone out of my purse and call Morris. (if:$solmorgue is not "yes")[(if:$premorgue is not "yes")[I'm greeted with a rustling sound and voices in the background before I finally hear the terse "Hey." "You're out among people?" I say. "Went to the park," he says. I picture him shuffling morosely around the park in his hat and coat, people with kids and dogs and young couples meandering around him. Boy, he must really not know what to do with himself. (set:$premorgue to "yes") "About this case..." I say. "Have you checked with Wyatt yet? Would be unusual if the incubus was a killer, but you should find out if Helena's in danger."](else:)[I can hear screaming in the background as he answers. "God, kids are loud," he says. "And someone's dog almost tackled me." "You should spend more time out, Morris," I tell him.]](else:)[(if:$morris is not "yes")["Hm?" Morris answers. "How's your day off?" I say. "Had too much coffee," he says. "On my fourth." "Why the hell did you order four coffees?" "Well I didn't want to sit here drinking nothing at a coffee shop, so I ordered another. And then another..."(set:$morris to "yes")](else:)[No answer. Hope he didn't give himself a damn heart attack from all that coffee.] ] (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

It feels like I should take a break from investigating and review what I've got. I head back to the Factory District, and go up through the dimly lit hallway into the office. I take a seat at my desk. I can hear Morris shuffling around papers in his office. (set:$solene to "no") [[Continue.|office]]

"I'll take those case notes back," I say, stepping into Morris's office. "Heading out again? Good luck," he says. I put the notes in my purse and head out the door. [[Continue.|solshore]] {(set:$solene to "yes")}

The dead woman, whose name I still don't know, lies stiffly on the tray, posture uncomfortable, shoulders rigid, (if:$morhead is not "yes")[ [[head|morhead]] ](else:)[ head ]twisted to the right. Her (if:$morarms is not "yes")[ [[arms|morarms]] ](else:)[ arms ]lie at her sides. There are deep bruises along her (if:$morchest is not "yes")[ [[collarbone and chest|morchest]] ](else:)[ collarbone and chest]. A long, roughly sutured (if:$morincision is not "yes")[ [[incision|morincision]] ](else:)[ incision ]bisects her body vertically. (if:$morhead is "yes" and $morarms is "yes" and $morchest is "yes")[ [["I guess I've learned what I need to. It doesn't seem like her murder was related."|solleavemorgue]] ] {(set:$solmorgue to "yes") (set:$case2notes to $case2notes + (array:"I spoke to Wyatt about the other missing woman's body. It seems like that murder was committed by a human, not our demon...not too surprising. Incubi and Succubi aren't known for violence."))}

Her face is blue and awful. Eyes wide, mouth affixed in a gasp. There's an angry red mark all the way around her throat. Pretty clearly manual strangulation. (set:$morhead to "yes") [[Back.|morgsol2]]

There are serious welts around both of her wrists. An incubus or succubus would never do this. We wouldn't need to--we can charm people into complicity. More importantly, it still wouldn't add up. Incubi aren't usually violent except in self-defense, and nothing about this is self-defense. This screams human work to me. And irrelevant to my case, however tragic. (set:$morarms to "yes") [[Back.|morgsol2]]

"Some nasty bruising," I comment. "Some were postmortem," Wyatt says. "She was found under the 8th Street Bridge, wedged under some crates beside the river. It's likely the culprit intended to return at some less conspicuous point to move her into the water." This was carefully planned. The culprit probably sought to kill her from the start--not an incubus's MO at all. We feed on desire. A dead human has no use for us. (set:$morchest to "yes") [[Back.|morgsol2]]

"That's postmortem," Wyatt explains. "From the autopsy." (set:$morincision to "yes") [[Back.|morgsol2]]

"Thanks, Wyatt, I really appreciate your help," I say, walking back toward the building entrance. "I hope they catch the guy who killed this woman." "Hey," he says, and I turn back. He stares at me for a moment. "About Morris," he says. "I feel like every time I see him lately, he seems...a little worse for the wear." "Worse than his usual self?" I ask. "I was in the business once, too," Wyatt says. "You get a pretty good sense for these things. I'm not saying I'm worried about him, but..." You're not saying you're worried, but you are. "I'll keep an eye on him," I say. He nods awkwardly. "Good to see you, Solene. Good luck," he says. I head back outside, into the cold, wet city. [[Continue.|solshore]]

(Set:$state to "marcusapt") I'm standing in Marcus's and Helena's studio apartment. It's an open floor plan, so I'm in the [[living room|marcuslivingr]], with the front door behind me, and I can see the [[kitchen|marcuskitchen]] ahead of me. Beside the kitchen is a small [[hallway|marcushallway]]. [[Talk to Marcus.|askmarcus]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

(set:$state to "marcuslivingr") There's a glass coffee [[table|marcustable]], and a black leather (or perhaps faux-leather?) [[sofa|marcusofa]]. A [[TV stand|marcustv]] supports a moderately-sized flatscreen TV. [[Back.|marcusapt]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

Clean and organized, like everything else. The sink has a plate, a fork, and a glass in it, which is, frankly, shocking by Marcus's apparent standards for the rest of the place. (set:$checked to ($checked +1)) The floor's spotless. [[Back.|marcusapt]]

The hallway connects to a bathroom on the left, almost certainly organized and spotless. The [[bedroom]] lies at the end of the hall. [[Back.|marcusapt]]

Marcus sits in a kitchen chair, typing at his laptop. "How can I help?" he says, looking up. (if:$helenachange is not "yes")[ [["Did you notice any change in Helena's behavior in the weeks before she disappeared?"|helenachange]] ] (if:$marcusclean is not "yes" and $checked > 3)[ [["You sure keep this place spotless, huh?"|cleanask]] ] (if:$foundscrap is "yes" and $askedscrap is not "yes")[ [["You know anything about this River Dog place?"|askedscrap]] ] [["I'm fine right now, thanks."|marcusapt]]

The table is spotless, and entirely clear. There's a small stack of books. More interestingly, there's a vase. It contains a cluster of red asiatic lilies, their rich, deep color pale, their petals curled and dried. I reach out to examine them, and a petal crumbles off onto my hand. (set:$checked to ($checked+1)) The tag reads: "To my star. Love M" [[Back.|marcuslivingr]]

Even looking at it closely...I still can't tell. Maybe faux? (set:$checked to ($checked +1)) It's clean, and seems soft and comfortable, though. [[Back.|marcuslivingr]]

There are a lot of DVDs in the shelves of the TV stand: classic science fiction films, mostly. They have good taste in films...but whose are these? Marcus's, Helena's, or both? (set:$checked to ($checked +1)) They're all neatly organized and alphabetized. [[Back.|marcuslivingr]]

Marcus exhales a long sigh through his nose. "I don't think so, really," he says. Hmm. That doesn't seem like the full story. Marcus stares pointedly at his laptop screen. I do have some tricks that Morris doesn't... [["Come on, Marcus, you trust me, right?"|marcuscharm]] [["Okay, another topic, then."|askmarcus]]

The charm I'm casting is working. Well, probably no harm here, right? Whatever helps solve the case. "Yeah..." Marcus says, turning to look me in the face. He smiles shyly. "I trust you." "I'm happy to hear that," I say. "So, can you tell me...what was going on with Helena before she disappeared?" Even under my spell, Marcus falters a bit, a frown crossing his dreamy expression. (set:$helenachange to "yes") "Helena...was...she was unhappy lately," he says. "She seemed sad and disinterested for the past few months. I tried talking to her, but...she insisted she was fine. I couldn't get through. She'd just been unhappy. She went out every Friday with her friends, came back drunk, didn't want to talk to me. Was this monster threatening her? Was she just miserable? I don't know." "I see," I tell him. "Thank you." "Mmm-hm," he says amiably. [[Back.|askmarcus]]

(set:$marcusclean to "yes") "Ha...yeah," Marcus says quietly. "I've always been kind of...like this. But with Helena gone, I've been...I don't know what else to do with myself, so..." [[Back.|askmarcus]]

(set:$state to "bedroom") I'm standing in Marcus's bedroom. It's as simplistic yet stylish as the living room. White walls, black furniture. The [[bed|marcusbed]] lies in one corner of the room, a small window in the wall alongside it, blinds drawn. The [[dresser|mardresser]] stands opposite the bed. A [[framed poster|marposter]] hangs above it. A [[closet|marcloset]] door lies just to the right of the entrance door. [[Go back into the hall.|marcushallway]] <div id="menu"> (if:$solene is not "yes")[ [[⎊ ⎊ ⎊|menu]] ] (else:)[ [[⎊ ⎊ ⎊|solMenu]] ] </div>

The bed is perfectly made, of course. It almost doesn't look like he sleeps in it. I lean closer and see what could possibly be a fine layer of dust on the black pillowcases. Maybe he really doesn't. [[Back.|bedroom]]

A very square, wooden dresser with a black finish. There's nothing sitting atop it but Marcus's wallet and keys. I open the drawers. The left three are empty. The right three have clothing. If Morris were here, he'd be rummaging through Marcus's shit, no doubt. I close the drawers. I'm not really expecting to find anything in the man's boxers. [[Back.|bedroom]]

The film's name isn't anywhere on it, but it depicts a stylized scene. Oh, I recognize it, I think...I can't seem to remember the name, but I remember Morris recommending it to me. A serious-looking man in a black coat holds a gun, a neon cityscape behind him. Beside him, another man in a coat, this one with white hair. There's also a dark-haired woman smoking a cigarette between them. I can't remember the things Morris told me he really liked about it...something about the ending. [[Back.|bedroom]]

It's a shallow closet. There are some boxes stacked on the small shelf at the top of the closet. There are shoes, look like men's, along the bottom, on the right side. Various shirts and jackets hang on plastic hangers, pressed neatly against the right half of the closet, as if to make room. The left half, though, is barren, just a few empty plastic hangers. I kneel down. There's a fallen hanger on the empty carpet of the floor on the left half. There are shoe-shaped imprints on the carpet, surrounded by the slight discoloration of dust around what were clearly rows of shoes. It's surprising that Marcus hasn't cleaned up in here. Maybe he can't bring himself to. It's all still organized as though he expects her to come back at any moment and put all her things away in here again. (if:$foundscrap is not "yes")[Hmm, what's this? There's a scrap of paper on the floor in here. I pick it up. It's a worn receipt, looks like it's from "River Dog". On the back, [[a phone number's scrawled.|callscrap]](set:$foundscrap to "yes")](else:)[ [[Back.|bedroom]] ]

Well, only one way to find out if it's relevant, right? I take out my phone and dial the number. It rings several times. No answer. The voice mail message is automated, a default voice. I turn the receipt over and look at it closely, as if it might reveal some subtle clue that I had missed. It seems like a bar--she'd run up quite the tab, in fact. I pocket the receipt. It's not much to go on, and might be nothing at all, but it's the closest thing to a lead I've got right now, I guess. [[Continue.|bedroom]]

"Hmm, yeah," Marcus says. "Helena's favorite bar. That was one of the places she'd always go to, usually with Jenny and Amanda. It wasn't really my kind of place." "Have you been there lately? Know if she's been seen stopping by?" I ask. Marcus shakes his head. "Jenny might know. I didn't really care much for Amanda, so I don't know her really well. I'd texted Jenny a while ago to see if she knew where Helena was and that was it, but she might be willing to meet with you." I'd better make sure I'm done here, first. [["Do that."|textjenny]] [["Hold on, not quite ready."|marcusapt]]

(set:$askedscrap to "yes") "I'll just call her, actually," Marcus says, lifting his phone to his ear. "That way she'll know it's urgent." Jenny picks up, and I listen hopefully. I can't hear Jenny's side of the conversation, but I hear Marcus tell her about a detective who would like to speak to her as soon as possible. Jenny apparently takes it seriously, and the conversation moves quickly. "Uh-huh, you can meet in half an hour?" Marcus says into the phone, sending me a questioning look. I nod. "Great, she'll see you then. Sure, that works. Sounds good. Thanks, Jenny." He hangs up. "Jenny said she'll talk to you. She suggested meeting at Bean Me Up, a block over." "Thanks," I say. He shrugs. "I just hope it helps. Good luck." [[Continue.|beanmeup]]

I walk over to the coffee shop and enter it. A bell jingles as I open the door. The cafe is warm and comfortable; I'd been considering an outdoor table, where street noise could mask the conversation a little and provide semi-privacy, but there's enough of a chatter in here for white noise. I walk up to the counter. A chalkboard lists probably fifty different coffee brews, with the image of a man in a yellow shirt getting pulled up in a beam of light in the center. That's not even how it worked, I think to myself. (Morris made me watch that show, too. I'm slowly being acclimated to human science fiction culture thanks to his singlehanded efforts, the nerd.) I order a coffee, and take a seat in a corner near the front of the store. It occurs to me that I have no idea what Jenny looks like. I don't think Marcus described me to her, either. I take out my notepad and a pen and set it on the table in front of me, and I resolve to keep my eyes peeled, keeping an eye on the door. Eventually, I watch a young blonde woman enter. I make tentative eye contact with her, and she watches me carefully. She orders a coffee and waits for it. Then she slowly approaches. "Detective Solene?" she asks hesitantly. I nod. "Take a seat," I say, gesturing. "Marcus told me this is about Helena," she says. She looks down into the steam of her cup. "I seen haven't her for a while either, to be honest. I can tell you that right now." "You'd spent a lot of time with her before she disappeared," I say. "You guys went out almost nightly, right?" "It wasn't nightly," she says, "but it was pretty frequent. We do drink a lot, but I mean, we never //overdid// it, you know? We were still careful." "I'm not actually here to talk about your drinking habits," I say, hopefully reassuringly. I don't want to put her on the defensive. I can tell she's holding back. "Was Helena having a hard time lately? Is that why she'd been going out more?" Jenny nods. She folds her hands around her cup. "She'd just been miserable. She wasn't happy with her job, with Marcus..." "With Marcus?" "Have you met him? He's a great guy, I don't mean anything against him, but...he's really precise. Helena called it obssessive. It never used to bother her, but it's like every little thing about him irritated her lately. Honestly, I think they just had nothing in common. They'd been married two years, and I think the realization that maybe she'd made a mistake was bumming her out." "I see," I say. "Jenny, this is important. Helena may be in danger." That catches her attention, even if I'm pretty sure it's a lie. Means and ends, right? "Did you know she'd been spending time with a man lately? Do you know anything about him?" Jenny stares down at her coffee, struggling. She takes a long, intentional sip. Eventually the guilt wins out. "You won't tell Marcus?" she says. "That's not what this is about," I say. "I won't." "We met David at a bar one night. God, he was...he's amazingly handsome. When he came up to Helena, giving her this sly grin...Amanda was pissed. I was happy for her. We were all keeping an eye on them--you know how it is with men in bars," she says. "But they just talked. All night. He gave her his number. After that, they started spending more time together. David would join us when we went out at night." "I felt pretty bad. That Marcus didn't know. It's the kind of thing Amanda would do, but it was kind of a first for Helena. But she was so much happier than she'd been...I couldn't bring myself to do anything," Jenny says. "But you haven't seen or heard from them lately?" I say. "I think this is where David lives," she says, taking my notepad and scrawling an address. "I gave Helena a ride there once. You might find them there. I haven't really tried to contact her, I didn't know...that anything was really wrong. I just figured...she was occupied, you know? I'd hear from her here and there and she seemed happy. Figured, maybe she didn't need to be going out with us anymore." Jenny takes to staring into her cup again. "Do you know anything else about David? A last name?" "Di...Dimakos? Something like that? I only heard it once, but the alliteration made it stand out." "Thank you, Jenny," I say. I gather my notepad and pen. I want to check out David's apartment right away. "I have to go now. Thank you for your time." She nods. When I leave, she's still sitting there, on her side of the table. Holding her cup with both hands, and staring down into its depths. [[Continue.|davidapt]]

I take a cab and head straight to Highview. The address she's given me is a tall, incredibly high-class building. I walk into the first set of glass doors, and find myself locked, unsurprisingly, behind a second set. Through them, I can see a man in uniform behind the front desk. He looks up and sees me. I give him a shy smile, and hold my purse, pointing. He presses a button, and a green light suggests the door is unlocked. I walk up to the desk. "I'm so sorry," I say, "I realized I left my keys up in my apartment!" The man laughs like it's a well-delivered joke, smiling broadly. Excellent. I decide to turn it up. I give him a truly radiant smile and tug a little on the front of my dress. I lean closer to him. He's really under the spell now. "I heard a man named David Dimakos lives here," I whisper. "I need to see him. Can you do me a huge favor and look up where he lives?" "Of course," he breathes, and types at a computer. "705," he says promptly. "I need one more favor, okay?" I say, leaning close, again. "It's a big one. I need a key to 705. Can you do that for me?" "One moment," he says, and walks away. He returns with a key. "Thanks, babe," I say, and kiss him on the lips before darting over to the elevator. I hit the button for the seventh floor. The doors close. Humans are adorable. [[Continue.|david705]]

I approach 705 and listen carefully at the door. I don't hear anyone immediately near it. I insert the key and turn slowly, and carefully open the door. It's dark inside. I creep in, closing the door behind me. I wonder if they're home--no, there: definitely a quiet murmur. I walk toward the sound, as quietly as possible. I can see a wash of light from an open doorway around a corner. I have no idea how to handle this part. What would Morris do? Morris, it occurs to me, probably would have planned this more carefully, such that he doesn't end up breaking into a stranger's apartment. Ah, well. Direct approach it is. I walk into the room. "Helena! I'm working wi--" I manage to get out, before Helena shouts in surprise. The two of them are lying in bed, side by side, and thankfully, mostly clothed. Lamps on bedside tables at either side cast the room in a comfortable glow. David is shirtless, wearing a pair of reading glasses, a book in his hand; Helena is holding a tablet, a glass of wine at her side. "Who the fuck are you," says David, jumping up. "Get out of my apartment! Wait..." Helena recognizes me the same instant. "You're with that detective," she says, surprisingly calmly. She sounds resigned. "What do you want?" "Helena," I say, "this might sound crazy, but that man is an incubus." "I know," she says bluntly. David walks right up to me. "What the fuck are you doing?" he says coolly. "She knows. She's not charmed. She wants to be with me of her own will." It's true, I realize. I don't sense any magic from her. "Me?" I say. "What are you doing? She's a missing woman." "She wants to be with me." "Human laws don't work that way," I say. "She's legally tied herself to another human." "Meaningless," David insists. "I love her." "You expect me to believe that? You love her?" He actually seems offended. "You're one to talk," he says. "Why do you stick around that detective? He's immune to you, I sensed it when I charmed him. So, then, why..." "That's different. We work together." "Because you choose to. Because you're fond of him. You consider him a friend." David turns to look at Helena, and some of the anger melts from his face. "We're happy," he says. "Here's the thing," Helena says. "We're about to leave Steel City. We're going to go somewhere new together. Whatever Marcus offered you, we'll double it. Just go back, and tell him I'm dead. Hell, tell him you killed the monster. But tell him I won't be coming back." Hmm. Morris would never betray a client like this. But I'm not Morris. [["No. You need to go back and at least talk to Marcus. Tell him you're leaving yourself, and I'll leave you and David alone for good."|responsiblehelena]] [["Alright. You've got yourself a deal."|dealhelena]]

David's furious. "You'd lift a hand against a fellow demon? Who the hell do you think you are?" "I wouldn't. But I might just tell a hunter where to find you," I say. "Enough," Helena says, climbing up from the bed. She lifts a sweater off of the floor and pulls it on, and starts sliding her feet into a pair of shoes. "I'll go with you to talk to him now," she says. "Helena..." David says, uncertainly. "It's fine," she says. "Babe, after this, we're free. We can leave, and I won't have to worry about any of this following me. I'll go settle this now." "I'm coming with you," he says. "No." She walks up to him and gives him a kiss. "Seeing you will only complicate things with Marcus. I need to tell him myself." "We can split the cab," I say, leaving the room. [[Continue.|marcusresp]]

"Great," Helena says. "We'll be gone from here soon anyway. It won't really make a difference as far as he knows." "I'll give you call about wiring you the money," David says, nodding. "And...thank you." I leave, thinking about how easily the human left her husband for David. I wonder if she'll stay happy with him, or if eventually, she'll grow bored of his charm and extrahuman appeal. Pairing off with a single human...does David truly understand what he's getting himself into? Not my problem, I think as I step back out into the hall. [[Continue.|marcuslie]]

We walk into Marcus's apartment together. "Did Jenny help..." Marcus rises to his feet as Helena walks in. "Helena." He moves toward her, but she shakes her head. "No, Marcus. I'm sorry. I'm not coming back to stay." It seems like it takes some effort. It's occurring to me that I don't really want to be a part of this. "I'll be leaving now," I announce. Marcus looks at me helplessly. "I...good luck. With everything." I leave the two of them as they sit down at the kitchen table. I head outside. The cold air actually feels refreshing. I head back to the office. [[Continue.|findmorris]]

I walk into Marcus's apartment. "Did Jenny help you?" he asks, hearing me enter. "She did," I say. "And I found the demon. He's dead now." "That's fantastic," Marcus says, standing up. His face is tense, and his anxiety bubbles up with urgency, "And Helena?" I don't answer immediately. I don't really like this. "She's dead. I didn't get to her in time. I'm sorry, Marcus." He sits back down numbly. His hand rests over his mouth, and tears start to roll silently down his face. I want to show myself out. Instead, I find myself walking over to him. I put my hands on his shoulders. "I'm so sorry," I tell him. That, at least, is the truth. After a while, I quietly leave. The cold air is refreshing. I walk back to the office. [[Continue.|findmorris]]

(set:$case2 to "solved") I enter the office and close the door behind me, taking off my coat and hanging it on a hook on the wall. Damn. I'm glad to leave that business behind. Humans are messy. "I'm back," I yell, heading for my desk. "I'm a master detective, Morris. I should be the one with my name on the door." No response. I turn and listen. I don't hear movement from inside his office. I wonder if he fell asleep. I knock on the door and walk inside. It's dim in here, as always, but I don't see him at his desk. Huh. I guess he's out. I'm about to turn to leave when I see him--slumped against the wall under the window. He's crouching there, one hand over his face, the other around a glass. {(set:$solene to "no")} "Morris," I say, surprised, and walk over slowly. He looks up, and his eyes are tired, red-rimmed. I've rarely seen him like this. I sit down beside him. He smells so strongly of whiskey I wouldn't light a match near him. "Is this about Roy?" I say. He nods. "Yeah." I don't really know what to say now. I don't think there's anything I can say. So I opt to just sit there with him. I put one arm around his shoulders, and he doesn't pull away, and we just sit there, staring forward into the shadows of his office, (if:$killed > $purified)[rain driving at the window,] until he passes out. I let him rest there and return to my desk. Some hours later, I hear him stir, and pull himself off the ground. He shuffles over to his desk and takes a seat. (if:$case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|getlastcase]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

Grimnoir - ProP, 2018 Writing, coding, cover image, menu icons, and title image by ProP Cover image reference: "Film noir 1" by Joost Assink, CC BY 2.0 license Title theme: "Thunderstorm 5" by EphemeralRift, CC BY-NC 2.0 license; and "Jazz street musicians" by reinsamba, CC BY 2.0 license Other audio: "Light Rain on Street" by BonnyOrbit, CC0 1.0 Universal license; "Rain on Window, Interior" by InspectorJ, CC BY 3.0 license; "Dark Horror Drone" by kinoton, CC0 1.0 Universal license; "City Traffic" by embracetheart, CC0 1.0 Universal license; "TV Static" by FunnyMan374, CC0 1.0 Universal license; and "Long Thunder Rolls and Heavy Rain" by theneedle.tv, CC0 1.0 Universal license. Special thanks to Brian and Brian, Moriah, and Megan. [[Back|title]]

//Peryton// Intellect: human Appearance: winged stag, hind legs have eagle's claws Weakness: silver projectiles, poison from anise seeds Category: cursed The peryton is a lethal predator, and its antlers make it as dangerous on the ground as it is in the air. Perytons prefer to maintain their aerial advantage, and will only fight landside if backed into a corner. Their mouths are full of many small, sharp teeth for tearing flesh, but they tend to use these for eating rather than fighting. While non-vocal, they are as intelligent as any human. As such, extreme caution is warranted. Stealthy tracking from a distance, culminating in killing with a ranged weapon, is the recommended approach. Tricking them into eating poisoned food may debilitate or kill them, but it is a much less reliable method. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Naga// Intellect: human Appearance: an enormous snake, dark green to black in color Weakness: silver Category: cursed While naga are predatory, they are usually content to live and let live, feeding on large animals in their vicinity. They will easily devour humans who they decide become pests. Surprisingly, they are capable of a guttural and distorted but intelligible form of human speech. In South India, they have traditionally been revered, imparting advice and occasionally protection, almost like 15-meter-long, ornery gods. Attemping to kill a naga alone is an extremely inadvisable task. With their prodigious size, their cleverness, and their fatal venom, they are one of the few monsters it is almost certain suicide to hunt alone. Swallow your pride and split the bounty across a team of other hunters, or the naga will likely swallow you. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Basilisk// Intellect: animal Appearance: an enormous snake, usually black Weakness: silver Category: beast The basilisk averages at 12 meters in length, but lengths of 15 meters have been recorded. Basilisk venom is remarkable for its rapid paralytic effect. Basilisks prefer their prey immobile, and they will wait till the venom takes hold to easily swallow the paralyzed victim. A basilisk will nest in a large, dark space; their ideal homes are narrow caves, but outside of the wilderness, they will settle for other locations such as subway tunnels and basement levels of abandoned buildings. As its size and venom make it very dangerous, setting a trap to pin it in place and then finish it off is recommended. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//White Lady// Intellect: human Appearance: an enormous snake, white in color; can cast an illusion to take the appearance of a woman Weakness: silver Category: cursed White ladies tend to dwell at the bottoms of lakes, deep in forests, or in high mountain caves--places where, in other words, they tend to remain peaceably undisturbed. They are regarded with respect in many places in China. A white lady cannot communicate verbally, but can cast an illusion to appear as a young woman in order to interact with humans. Typically, they will leave humans entirely alone--unless they are wronged, in which case they will carry a grudge until they have enacted vengeance on the wrongdoer. If you must kill one, as with nagas, it is highly recommended you bring a team. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

(set:$talkedgrimcase to "yes") I take a cab to Highview and dial Grim. "Morris? You'd only call if you were already here. I'll come down." There's a //click// before I have the chance to say anything. He's already waiting near the curb, leaning against his apartment building and smoking a cigarette, by the time I pull up and hop out. "You wanted to talk out here?" I say, surprised, as I instinctively look around my shoulders for passerby. "I wanted to talk as we walk," he says. "Uh...all right," I say. "You gonna tell me where we're going?" He starts walking, his thin frame moving already at an effortless quick pace. (if: $purified > $killed)[The remnants of the sunset are low on the horizon, casting a weird glow reflected on the buildings around us, night overhead.](else:)[The relentless rain and wind don't seem to deter him a bit. Thunder cracks overhead.] "People have been disappearing around here," he says. "Just walking out on the streets at night, and they aren't seen again. At first I was keeping a wary eye on the situation, not sure what to make of it. Disappearances in Highview...that's a pretty big deal." He pulls on his cigarette. "Then some of my girls disappeared. If it was some hungry beast, you'd think the homeless people would be an easy meal--not that, you know, that's a good thing. But it's completely avoided them. So I--and I realize I'm an arrogant bastard--I have to wonder if something's sending a message to me. Encroaching on my territory." "A rival vampire, then? Does that happen often?" "Ocassionally people like to test my limits," he says. "Do you have any actual proof it was a vampire?" "Nope," Grim says nonchalantly. "But whatever it is is killing humans on my territory. I don't like that." "Grim," I say, "not that I don't enjoy a lovely evening walk with you, but I have to return to my original question here and ask where the fuck we are going." We've walked down the hill and turned down some smaller streets, with residences becoming fewer along the way. We're in some weird abandoned corner, now, wooded hills surrounding run-down buildings. That's an interesting thing about Steel City: a few blocks can make a hell a of a difference. We near a huge, yawning black cement tube in the hillside, metal tracks emerging and stopping abruptly on the grass, long overgrown. An abandoned subway portal, one of a few dead ends scattered throughout the bowels of the city. A small cluster of homeless men sit and stand beside it, eyeing us carefully. Grim drops what's left of his cigarette and grinds it out with his heel. "I've narrowed its location to here," he says. "Whatever it is, that's it's base of operations." "Great," I say. "I'll go in and look around." He shakes his head. "I'm going with you." I'm a little surprised, but he's serious. There's something strangely sobering about seeing eternal playboy Grim standing without the hint of a smile here, unfazed by the (if:$purified > $killed)[wind](else:)[rain]. Even his posture seems different. "Grim, that's not how this works," I tell him. "The client gives me a job, I do the job and solve the client's problem. The client doesn't really come with me to hold my hand." "You'll be paid the full price, of course. You know I have money. But I'm coming with you. My territory, my problem. I'm hoping you'll be willing to help me out as I consider you my friend." "Whatever's in there could easily be incredibly dangerous," I say. I'm angling for anything here to change his mind. Grim is great, but I hate being slowed down. "I have years of experience doing exactly this." "Morris, I don't kill humans," Grim says with a smile. "You might mistake that for weakness. Sometimes others do. And let me tell you: it's their last mistake." The smile is gone. "I've probably killed more vampires than most monster hunters have. Now let's stop wasting time, yeah?" The look in his eyes is convincing. "All right," I tell him. "Fine. Let's do this." [[Continue.|grimcaseAfter]] {(set:$case1notes to $case1notes + (array:"Something's been killing people, or at least making them disappear, in Highview. Grim wants my help to find it and deal with it."))}

{(set:$state to "grimcaseAfter") (set:$region to "grimcase")} I'm standing with Grim outside of the abandoned subway portal. (if:$purified > $killed)[The wind whispers around us, shaking the trees in the hillside.](else:)[The rain is like a sheet. A flare of lightning casts the world in eerie false daylight for a split second.] There are [[homeless men|talkhomelessoutside]] clustered by the subway entrance, watching us warily. There's a trash can fire inside the subway portal, illuminating the area with warm red light. [[Talk to Grim.|grimreview]] [[Go inside the abandoned subway.|subwayentrance]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

//Lüdérc// Intellect: human Appearance: can disguise itself in many forms. Its true form is horned and winged. Weakness: silver, protective runes Category: demon The lüdérc is a relative of incubi and succubi, but is far less innocuous. It is fond of illusions, and can control dreams. It is unlikely to reveal its true form to a waking human, preferring sleeping victims whom it can manipulate through their dreams. If they do appear in physical form, they will cast illusions on themselves to alter their appearances; effectively, they are efficient shapechangers. Unlike incubi and succubi, lüdércek care little about the willingness of their victims. They will also drain their victims of energy entirely--sometimes this is steady and over time, if they have a favored victim, or it can happen in a single night. They don't always kill, and can be unpredictable. There have been historic cases of lüdércek growing fond of victims and sparing them. Sometimes, they appear only to cause nightmares. They are dangerous because of their cleverness, but fighting them can be disorienting--a lüdérc can make it difficult to determine what is real. Falling asleep in one's vicinity while hunting it is certain death. Protective runes are strongly recommended. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Oni// Intellect: human Appearance: a towering, muscular humanoid, with two horns and red skin Weakness: silver Category: demon Oni are distinctive in appearance, with a hulking, muscular body often two and a half meters tall. They typically wear only trousers or a loincloth, and prefer heavy, blunt instruments. Oni are aggressive and easily roused to ire, but they are not among the most clever of monsters and demons. An oni can easily be outwitted, but they can be lethal in combat. A direct fight is inadvisable. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Jinn// Intellect: human Appearance: horned humanoids; a ball of smoke Weakness: silver Category: demon Jinn, in physical form, appear as horned and winged humans with skin color ranging from red to black. They can take the form of a ball of smoke at will, and can make their bodies as immaterial as they choose between the two forms. Jinn have motivations as varied as humans. They tend to be naturally curious. There are records of jinn interactions with humans ranging from exchanging information about human and demon customs, to love affairs with humans, to pranks, or even murder. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Fiend// Intellect: human Appearance: winged and horned red humanoid Weakness: silver Category: demon Fiends typically fall into the human height range, with red skin. Fiends may also be seen with horns on their shoulders or an additional pair on their head. They have sharp teeth, and may have small, bony protrusions along their shoulders and back. While fiends have a generally ferocious appearance, they are not the most aggressive of demons, and tend to be, for the most part, uninterested in humans. They are noted for a cold, logical approach to matters, and they can often be dealt with pragmatically, sometimes by cutting a deal. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

(if:$talkedhomeless is not "yes")[(set:$talkedhomeless to "yes")The four men stiffen as I walk over, Grim trailing. "Easy," I say, "I'm just here to talk." "About what?" says one of the men, the youngest. He could be anyway from late teens to thirties. Having to survive, being trapped out in the world, it weathers your face. They're all glaring. "I'm a detective, and I'm tracking something dangerous. We think it might have passed through here. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary? Particularly at night?" They stare. "Like what?" the young man says. "Well, I...I'm not entirely sure," I say. "Something huge, or fast, or aggressive, or...just not human." A couple of the men turn instinctively toward the tunnel. The young man keeps his passionless gaze on me. "No," he says. "Nothing like that."](else:)[The men stare stoically at me and Grim. "We've got nothing left to say to you," one man says.] [[Continue.|grimcaseAfter]]

"What is it, Morris?" Grim says, and I catch the hint of impatience in his voice. "Easy, we'll be going in there in a moment. But if I'm gonna handle this like any other case, I've got a few questions first," I say. (if:$disdetails is not "yes")[ [["Any details at all about the disappearances?"|disdetails]] ] (if:$monsterlair is not "yes")[ [["How'd you narrow the monster's lair to here?"|monsterlair]] ] (if:$talkedhomeless is "yes" and $grimweird is not "yes")[ [["Don't you think it's strange that no one's seen anything?"|grimweird]] ] [["Actually, nevermind."|grimcaseAfter]]

(set:$state to "subwayentrance") We walk into the cover of the yawning subway portal. The sides and floor are littered with belongings and empty bottles. A [[trash can fire|trashfire]] in a burned-out metal barrel provides light and warmth for several feet in diameter. The tunnel continues ominously beyond, the light giving way to deep black. (if:$homelessinside is not "yes")[ [[A few men|homelessinside]] ](else:)[A few men] stand by the fire, speaking quietly to one another and glaring at us. [[Go back outside.|grimcaseAfter]] (if:$tunnel1 is not "yes")[ [[Go into the tunnel.|tunnel1]] ](else:)[ [[Go into the tunnel.|tunnel2]] ] (set:$tunnel to "yes") <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

"Not much, unfortunately," he says. "No one knows much. It's like they just...disappear. We don't find bodies, or a blood trail. Once we found a girl's phone on the sidewalk, another time a man's hat. It's like they just dropped 'em there, but...what they saw or experienced? Uncertain." (set:$disdetails to "yes") [[Back.|grimreview]]

(set:$monsterlair to "yes") "The pattern lined up, is the short answer," Grim says. "I did some detective-ing myself. Went around, talked to people, convinced shop owners to show me CCTV tapes." I must have raised an eyebrow, because Grim laughs. "I can be quite charming, Morris. But I was trying to assess //where// people were disappearing. Turns out most of their evening commutes took them past this hill. This subway is the only obvious place that could hide a monster. This hill is mostly empty forest." [[Back.|grimreview]]

(set:$grimweird to "yes") "What's your implication?" Grim says quietly, so that the men by the tunnels can't hear. "I'm not really sure, to be honest," I say. "I just find it strange, if something were in the tunnels, and it was coming out regularly to hunt, surely these guys'd have seen something. They've clearly been camped out here for a while." Grim shrugs. "It is odd. Doesn't mean it's not in there, though. It could simply be using an exit that I don't know of, somewhere discreet. These tunnels are largely unmapped these days, they've been out of use that long. I'm sure they hide a few secrets." "Could be," I say. [[Back.|grimreview]] {(set:$case1notes to $case1notes + (array:"Apparently, no one has seen the thing, though Grim's pretty sure it's in the abandoned subway tunnels."))}

No service in this tunnel. Can't call Solene, or anyone else. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

"Need to fall back for a minute?" Grim says. "Yeah, for now. I need to make sure I'm ready." "No problem. Just don't take too long." Grim and I return to the subway entrance. [[Continue.|grimcaseAfter]]

(if: $dream is "yes")[<script>$('tw-passage').addClass('dream');$('tw-story').addClass('dream');</script>]\ (elseif: $dream is "after")[<script>$('tw-passage').addClass('default');$('tw-story').addClass('default');</script>]\

An old burned-out metal barrel stuffed with newspapers and similar garbage. The heat and light feel oddly reassuring in this tunnel mouth. [[Back.|subwayentrance]]

(set:$homelessinside to "yes") The three men fall silent as Grim and I walk over. "What do you want?" says one. "We're here to investigate a monster in these tunnels. Maybe you've seen it?" I say. "Weren't no monster--" the man starts to say, but an old man sitting with his back against the tunnel wall starts to laugh. The speaking man casts him a quick glance. "A //monster// you lookin' for?" the old man says, still laughing. "Won't find a monster, no. //God// lives in there. Hungry God. An' you won't come back ou--" "Ignore him," says the first man. "Ol' Sam has his good days and bad days." "Good luck finding your monster," says another. "If it is in there." [[Continue.|subwayentrance]]

(set:$state to "tunnel1") Grim and I head side-by-side into the darkness. I can feel the eyes of the men at the fire burning into my back as we leave their line of sight. I look at the curved, concrete walls, lined with pipes and wires. There are small puddles of water in ruts along the ground. I can hear dripping. I have to admit, the tracks below me are rusted and worn, but they unnerve me. Some irrational corner of my brain keeps expecting the rumble and bright circular lights of a train to appear from the depths ahead. "Any evidence of monster activity?" Grim says. (set:$tunnel1 to "yes") We're out of range of the firelight now, and I'm pulling out my small flashlight. I click it on. "//Agh!// Damn it, Morris, you could've warned me before blinding me," he says. "Sorry." "Can you point that...to the side more? I can't see directly ahead of us like this." "Pal, without this light, I can't see what's directly ahead of us or in other direction. At all." Grim makes a small, irritated sound, but says nothing else. "I don't see anything really obvious," I say, stopping to shine my light and take a closer look at the tunnel all around me. "There are footprints coming and going both ways, but clearly shoe prints. Hard to say if it was a monster, or our buddies up at the entrance, maybe." "I don't hear anything yet," Grim says. "Rats, mostly." "Should we keep going?" "I guess so." [[Continue.|tunnel2]]

After a long walk through homogenous tunnel, we come upon something in the darkness. I stop. There's a [[mattress|tunnelmattress]] against the wall. There's a camping-style electric [[lantern|tunnellantern]] beside it. There's [[something on the wall.|tunnelwall]] (set:$state to "tunnel2") (if:$foundtunnelfork is not "yes")[ [[Continue further into the subway.|tunnelfork]] ](else:)[ [[Continue further into the subway.|tunnelforkwait]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

A small cot-sized mattress, long ago molded over. It doesn't look like it's seen use in a long time except for the black mildew having a party on it. Odd. It's pretty far in here. Someone called this tunnel home. [[Back.|tunnel2]]

Broken. And old, from the look of it, though it can be hard to tell. Sitting in an abandoned tunnel doesn't do great things to material objects. Or people, for that matter. Wait, there's something caught against it. A giant spiderweb? No...I pick it up. A torn fragment of a shed skin. The scales are enormous, easily each the size of my hand. [[Back.|tunnel2]]

I shine my light on the wall. There's a stark mess of white lines: chalk drawings. They span an amazing portion of the wall--it would take a very long time to parse them all out. A sketch of a winged rat. A scattered handful of years and dates, with no clear reference. In large letters, by the mattress: //LEFT TO STARVE BY MAN AND GOD / here is my hiding place, / here is my trouble, / where are my songs of deliverance?// [[Back.|tunnel2]]

We walk deeper into the tunnel and come to a fork: two gaping dark mouths meeting in front of us at a 45-degree angle. We stop. "Don't tell me you want to split up," I say. "You wanted to come in here on your own in the first place," he says. He thinks for a moment. "I can't think of alternative to doing this efficiently. If something's in here, I don't want to give it the chance to realize we're after it and escape." "That's what I figured," I say. I have the sudden strong urge to light a cigarette, but I don't want the smell to broadcast the news of my presence into the tunnel like a billboard to a monster's sensitive nose. "I'll just take the tunnel on the right. I think we should survey it, and then meet back here in twenty minutes to review. If you need anything, Morris, give me a shout. I'll hear you. Probably. I've got really good hearing." "Well, if you need anything, you'd better be pretty damn loud about it, because my human ears might not," I say. (set:$foundtunnelfork to "yes") "Are you ready?" Grim asks. I'd better make sure I'm prepared to face this thing on my own, in case I find it in here. [["Yeah. See you in twenty minutes."|tunnellair]] [["No, I need a minute first."|tunnelforkwait]]

I walk down the left tunnel, sweeping my small beam of light of back and forth in front of me, watching closely for movement. Soon I can't hear Grim's echoing footsteps, and the darkness closes in around me. My free hand is ready to draw my silver dagger at a moment's notice. A rat skittering out from a pile of debris has my blade in my hand in an instant, heart pounding. Damn. Losing my edge. There's something ahead: a wider chamber, with side-by-side sets of tracks emerging from the tunnels in parallel. I enter it slowly, looking around. A low, strange voice resonates in the chamber: "//Human...you would walk willingly into a god's domain? How brazen...or did my acolytes send you?//" Its voice reverberates in the chamber. Hard to localize. I slowly place my hand around the handle of my dagger. "Acolytes?" I say. I need to keep it talking, to figure out where it's at. "They are hungry. They serve the Hungry God. I keep them safe." "How kind of you," I say. "But you are not one of my chosen," it says. "You are merely a tribute." Above me. Shit. I shine my light directly above, drawing my dagger. I see shining black scales reflected, a body as thick as a car, god knows how long. And then it's moving. It uncoils and slides down the wall from its ledge above, moving fast. "Your name," I say, "it's--" The monster drags the end of its tail at me, and it catches me full in the side, sending me backward. I hit the wall in a burst of pain and collapse, struggling to sit up right. Blinding pain. It hurts to breath. The monster's head is facing me now, and it's rising to strike. I whisper, [["White Lady."|tunnelwrong1]] [["Naga."|tunnelcorrect]] [["Basilisk."|tunnelwrong2]]

The tunnel forks ahead. Grim stands waiting impatiently. "Ready to go ahead and find this thing?" he says. (set:$state to "tunnelforkwait") [["Yeah, all right. Let's split up."|tunnellair]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

The monster's enormous head is upon me in a flash. I'm lifted into its jaws, and then being compressed into darkness...I can't move...can't breath... [[Retry?|tunnelfork]]

The naga stops as it rears, as if its head was suddenly too heavy. It wavers and then slowly collapses in front of me--nearly on top of me. Its mind-numbingly huge head, mere feet away from where I'm sitting backed against the wall. One of its eyes stares directly at me. Shit. Shit. Neither of us can move. And of the two of us, the naga will get back up much more quickly. Head feels like it's floating. Breathing still hurts sharply. Ha. What a way to die. Jacob R. Morris, eaten by a giant snake. Not the worst of fates in this trade, honestly. I hope Solene takes over the business. I can see naga stirring slightly now, struggling against the torpor. I cough, and it sends a wracking pain throughout my body. I don't have the strength to shout for Grim. I can barely speak above a whisper. "Your reason," I say, the swimming sensation in my head getting worse. It's getting hard to focus. [["You're compassionate. You were driven to help the other homeless men."|tunnelreasonwrong1]] [["You were bitter about a world that left you to die. You wanted vengeance."|tunnelreasonright]] [["I don't even care. Just kill me."|tunnelreasonwrong2]]

The monster's enormous head is upon me in a flash. I'm lifted into its jaws, and then being compressed into darkness...I can't move...can't breath... [[Retry?|tunnelfork]]

The naga starts to shiver as it regains movement. It slowly starts to pull its head up. I can feel myself start to fade away as I watch. And then, suddenly, it jerks forward, and I slowly realize there's someone on the back of its head, stabbing it through with something long and sharp. The naga writhes, and collapses into a heap of ash. I'm losing focus. I have the vague perception of the person approaching, of being lifted by a pair of superhumanly strong arms, carried close to his chest. He starts to run. He's saying something, but I can't understand. {(set:$killed to ($killed +1)) (set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1)) (set:$failures to ($failure + 1))} It all fades. [[Continue.|tunnelafter]]

I can feel myself start to fade as the naga explodes into a burst of brilliant white light that hurts to look at. In the shining white, a shadow of a person appears...coming near me... I feel myself lifted by a pair of human arms with superhuman strength. The arms lift me to his chest and he carries me closely as he starts to run. He's saying something, but I'm losing focus. {(set:$purified to ($purified +1)) (set:$truePurified to ($truePurified + 1))} It all fades. [[Continue.|tunnelafter]]

Disorienting. Scenes of white. Familiar faces floating over me. Suddenly awake. And then suddenly awake again. When did I...? I look around. White walls. My mind starts sliding into focus as if with a cosmic microscope, bringing the hazy nothingness into sharp awareness. A voice. Roy...? "He's up." No. Grim. Not sure why I thought that. I turn my head toward the voice. Grim and Solene sit in a couple of chairs beside me. "Hi," I say. "That fucking sucked." Solene snaps a book shut in her lap. "Do me a favor and let's not almost die again, kay?" she says, standing. "You had a concussion and three fractured ribs. It could have been worse, all things considered." Grim jumps up. His face is managing to look sleepless even though I know for a fact he doesn't need sleep. "Morris, I am so sorry," he says immediately. "That was a terrible idea, I should never have made us go through with it. It was incredibly short-sighted of me." "I should have just thought it through better," I say, resting my head on the hospital pillow and staring up at the ceiling. "I can't speak for Grim, but you're never this careless," Solene says cautiously. "What are you saying?" I say. I feel tired already. And I don't think sleep can fix this kind of tired. "It's just a little concerning. Have--are you okay?" Even Solene thinks I'm losing my edge. "Got crushed by a giant snake, but yeah, I'm good." I pull myself up, swing my legs over the side. "You shouldn't," Grim says. "You need more rest." "//You// need to get back home, because you're probably starving and you're annoying when you're hungry and irritable." Grim looks sheepish. "Yeah, you were a little cut up, and carrying you back...you did smell pretty good the whole way." "Grim. Did you..." "No! Christ, Morris. You have the self-control to walk past a hamburger without eating it? I've got self-control." "This hamburger still expects payment," I say, standing and looking around for my clothes. "Of course," he says. He walks over and shakes my hand. "And, listen, thanks for your help. With the naga taken out, Highview is safe again." Not really safe for the homeless people, though. I wonder what will happen to them, their "god" out of the picture. (set:$tunnel to "no") "Just part of the job," I say. "Take care, Grim." He leaves. "I hope you're not thinking of heading back to the office," Solene says quickly. "You're right," I say. "I'm stopping at Dermot's first." "You're taking a day off. At least one. You're not going out like this." I know that tone. No point in arguing. "Fine," I sigh. "I'll be back in the office tomorrow." Guess I'll spend the rest of the day at home. Maybe I'll actually get some sleep. (set:$case1 to "solved") "See you tomorrow," Solene says. I head home to an uneventful night of rest, and will head to the office tomorrow, as always. (if:$case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|getlastcase]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

I walk down into B3F, watching and listening carefully. Nothing. Wait--a sound? A breath? I pause and listen. Silence. I turn the corner, piercing a narrow slice of the dark with my flashlight's beam. A flicker of movement behind a concrete pole. I sweep my light around. Nothing but stillness. The concrete floor and walls echo my footsteps back at me, creating the mocking illusion of several feet moving with mine. Something in the corner of my vision. I swing around, turn toward it. I don't see anything there. Something's watching me--I can't shake the feeling. Something feels...wrong. I feel like I'm high. I stagger back a couple steps. Get a grip, Morris. (text-style:"blur")[I'm losing focus. It's like the world is sliding out from under me. Struggling to not lose hold...] (text-style:"blurrier")[Everything's fading into black. I'm losing Fading] [[???|dream1]] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/5thydx2q5xkaxh3/351417__kinoton__dark-horror-drone.mp3?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

(set:$dream to "yes") Birds. People walking past, laughing. Occasional splash. "I'm a little underwhelmed." "Sorry." "I thought there would at least be more ducks." "I mean, there're at least three. There're definitely at least three ducks here, so..." "I don't think three ducks is enough to be called Duck Lake. That's definitely in the lake naming rules." A pause. "It's really nice here, Jake." "Yeah, it is. It's nice to come here and think." "Daydreaming of going on to grad school?" "Ha. Good one, Roy. Like I could ever be so disciplined." "Hmm. It's not that, really. I think it's just hard to imagine you dedicating yourself so completely to any one thing." "I do like not boxing myself in." A pause. "I'm dedicated pretty completely to you, though." Laughing. "That's not what I meant. I know you are. Come here." We spend a while longer by the water, and then head home. [[Continue.|dream2]]

{(set:$state to "dream2") (set:$dream to "yes")} I'm standing in the kitchen of our apartment. There's a [[fridge|dreamfridge]] across from me, and beside me is the [[stove.|dreamstove]] (if:$foodbowl is not "yes")[There's a [[food bowl|foodbowl]] on the floor.] The kitchen opens out into the [[living room|dreamlivingr]]. <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

Vegatables, meats, cheap beers. The leftover salmon I grilled last night. That package of meatless burgers from Roy's brief stint as a vegatarian that really needs to be thrown away by now. (set:$dream to "yes") [[Back.|dream2]]

A small green bowl, mostly empty, beside a small green bowl filled with water, both the property of our cat, David Bowman. Wait. No. We didn't have David, here, did we? (set:$foodbowl to "yes") Didn't he die in our old apartment? (set:$dream to "yes") [[Back.|dream2]]

{(Set:$state to "dreamlivingr") (Set:$dream to "yes")} I walk into the living room. Bright, with the blinds open, and comfortable. At night, the lamp provides a warm glow that's nice to settle into on the couch. There's our TV, with a row of DVDs on the shelf below it, and our game console. Roy's laptop sits on the floor in front of the couch, power cord trailing over to the wall. I hate when he does that. I have a tendency to trip on the cord. (if:$dreamlr is not "yes")["Hey Jake?" he calls from the bedroom. "Yeah?" I say. (set:$dreamlr to "yes")](else:)["Jake?" "I'm coming," I say.] [[Head to the bedroom.|dreambedroom]] [[Back to the kitchen.|dream2]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

An electric stove. Roy burned many a food item here. We're both pretty glad I'm a great cook. (set:$dream to "yes") The digital clock displays a different time every time I glance at it. [[Back.|dream2]]

[[Grimoire|fakegrimoire]] [[Call Solene|fakecallSolene]] [[Return to office|fakeoffice]] [[Save|save]] (link: "Back")[(goto: $state)] (set:$dream to "yes")

I open the Grimoire. The pages swim. I can't grasp the shifting letters. (set:$dream to "yes") (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

I take out my cell phone. Phone: ... There's only static. (set:$dream to "yes") (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/fvqu9jom8o9z8nj/116395__funnyman374__tv-static_reduced_processed.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

No...I didn't have that yet. (set:$dream to "yes") (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

(set:$dream to "yes") I walk into the bedroom. Roy is standing in front of the bed, looking into the mirror. He's wearing a dress shirt and boxers, and staring intently as he ties a necktie. "I think you should definitely go to your interview just like that," I say. "Wha?" he says, and then looks down, remembering he's not wearing pants, and laughs. "Your interview's not till tomorrow morning. I know you're serious, but you don't have to get there //that// early..." "I'm just setting out the outfit beforehand. Don't want to be worrying about it in the morning." I watch him. "You're nervous," I say. "You don't need to be. You've got this in the bag, Roy." "It's my first corporate interview. I'll be nervous no matter what." He straightens the tie and then looks at me. "But thanks, babe." "For what? Watching you get dressed and complimenting you? Anytime." I flop onto the bed, lying on my back and folding my arms beneath my head. "You know, if you want to do me a real favor...we're out of dish soap and almost out of toilet paper. Could you pick some up?" I give an exaggerated groan, and roll over toward him. I can see myself behind him in the mirror: his light brown hair, bright green eyes, me, dark in both accounts. "I dunno...it'll cost ya," I say, smiling. "I feel like I could find a way to make it up to you," he says, turning and bending down to kiss me. "I'll go now, I guess," I say, standing. "I appreciate it, Jake," Roy says. "Hm. I don't like this tie after all." He starts undoing the knot. He sighs. "I really need to stop thinking about this interview." "Fatal Kombat when I get back?" I say from the doorway. "You're on," Roy says. I leave the bedroom. [[Guess I'm heading to the store.|dreamstore]]

(set:$state to "dreamstore") I find myself walking down the street, toward our apartment. I've got a grocery bag in my hand, the toilet paper and dish soap. {(Set:$dream to "yes")} It's the remnant of a nice day out here, the sun starting to set, the temperature pleasant. My heart is picking up speed. I'm confused about why. I'm trying to silence the anxiety, but some part of me is screaming. I reach my apartment. Something's wrong. I shouldn't know that yet, but it is. [I have to go inside.]<firstend| (click-replace:?firstend)[ [I can't. Please. I can't.]<secondend| ] (click-replace:?secondend)[ [I can't do this again.]<thirdend| ] (click-replace:?thirdend)[ [I have to, don't I?]<fourthend| ] (click-replace:?fourthend)[ [[This is my fate.|dream3]] ]

(set:$dream to "yes") I open the door and walk inside. It's darker than it should be. I feel a sense of deja vú as I wonder why Roy would be sitting in the dark. I know the answer, though, don't I? I flip on the light. A living room window is busted, shattered glass littering the carpet. I set the groceries down immediately. "Roy?" Littered glass, dirt and debris on the pale carpet. Tracked down the hall. I follow the trail. The smell of blood. The bedroom: on the floor. A mangled mess wearing Roy's dress shirt. The dark thing, crouching over him. Eating him. The dark thing will escape, breaking the bedroom window as it flees. I will fall on the ground, and I will be broken, and my pieces will never quite rearrange themselves. My life ended by, as I would learn, a common warg. A pest. Some part of me is screaming. Fuck this. Fuck this. Not this time. I lunge at the creature. I will kill it with my hands. It backs up, changes shape. Something not a warg at all: shadow of a person, outstreched wings, a pair of horns with a burning flame between them. Somehow my dagger is in my hand. The fabric of this world is breaking at the seams. Caught by surprise. (if:$failures is 0)[ [[I slide my dagger into its throat.|return]] ](else:)[ [[I slide my dagger into its throat.|badreturn]] ]

After a while, I hear the clicking of heels on the concrete. "I'm over here," I manage to say. The heels hurry in my direction. "Jesus Christ, Morris," she says as she comes into view. "You could have picked up the phone! Are you hurt?" "I'm fine," I say. She gets closer, sees my face. Her anger melts. "Morris. What happened?" "Killed it," I say. "A lüdérc." "A demon," she says. "That could have gone badly." I can hear several other people now, their steps and voices echoing in the garage. I hear a radio squawking as Garcia appears. She looks at me, and then to Solene. Solene gives her a nod, and Garcia walks back up to the second level. Solene walks the couple of feet over to me, smooths her skirt, and sits down beside me. "When I hadn't heard from you all morning and didn't see you in the office, I called Garcia. She told me you were headed here." I nod. {(set:$dream to "after")} "Hey," she says, after a while. "Can I tell you something honest?" "Go for it." I finally remember my lighter and take it out. "I don't think you should keep doing this." I can't help a surprised look. I take a long drag. "Look, you can tell me if you're wanting to go do something else." "I'm serious. This isn't about me at all. In fact, I'd miss working with you very much. But you," she sighs. "Morris, you're killing yourself. You've gotten reckless. I don't know if you're distracted, or passively suicidal, or...and here's what I think...both. But you need a break. You need to take time off to work through your past." "It was one case. Fifteen years ago." "It wasn't a //case//, Morris! You were twenty-three! The man you were going to spend your life with was...You've never given yourself the opportunity to recover." "What do you want from me? Therapy?" I snap. "That would be a good start," she says calmly. "And you need distance from this job." I'm not sure what else to say to that. Solene gets up, places a hand on my shoulder, and walks away. Eventually I stand up and do the same. I take the filthy stairs up to the ground floor of the parking garage and step outside, into the night. (if:$purified > $killed)[ [[Continue.|returnGood]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|returnBad]] ]

The sky is clear. I can see the odd glow indicating dawn will be soon. I shove my hands in my coat pockets and find myself meandering through the city, taking a long, improvised route back toward the office. The realization hits me like a brick in the gut. Solene is right. There's no point fighting against it anymore. I've spent so long among monsters. I should find my own reason. By the time I get back to the office, I've made up my mind. I'm surprised by how calm I feel about it. Solene interrupts me when I tell her my decision to walk over and wrap her arms around me. A week later, I'm moving the last box of my things out of my office. My stomach feels odd when I look back at the empty room, the bare desk. For two decades, that was my primary space. "So, Detective Solene," I say. "Room's all yours." She smiles. "You've still got my number," I say. "I hope you realize, if you ever need advice, or really anything--" "I'll be calling you, count on it. Probably not about cases. I'll manage. Especially with my new assistant." I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?" {(set:$dream to "after")} (if:$clemSolved is not "yes")["Grim Walters, I think you might know him," she grins. "With me moving up and taking over, gotta keep up the habit of keeping a pretty face at the front desk. He signed on a couple days ago. I think he's excited." I laugh incredulously. "Well," I say. "I hope he doesn't lose interest. Good luck, Solene."](else:)["Grim Walters, I think you might know him," she grins. "With me moving up and taking over, gotta keep up the habit of keeping a pretty face at the front desk. He signed on a couple days ago. I think he's excited." I laugh incredulously. "Well," I say. "I hope he doesn't lose interest. Good luck, Solene." That's not all," Solene says. "You might be interested to know that I've recently been contacted by a certain monster-hunter-in-training, too. Seems suddenly she's interested in a more detective line of work." "Daisy," I say. "Damn. It's a dangerous job, but...well, she's clever. She'll be great."] "Text me when you get there," she says. "It's a long drive. Be careful. And hey, Morris: if you ever feel like coming back to visit Steel City, you'll always know where to find me." "Thanks, Solene." That feels inadequate as I walk to the door, so I stop and turn back, but I can't think of anything else to say. She smiles. "Get out of here, Morris. I'll be fine." And soon I'm in my car, the boxes of my few belongings in the trunk and backseat, my hat and coat lying on top of them. The sun is bright in the sky as I get on the highway. I wonder, not for the first time, how I'll handle this very regular job. How I'll handle confronting myself. Trying to get better. Green hills around me. The highway is a strip of pavement amid a painting-perfect horizon. [[I fish my sunglasses from a pocket and put them on, and I drive into the bright day.|finish]]

The sky is pouring. I'm drenched within minutes. A flash of lightning, and then thunder, deafening, cracks through the city. Quit my job? What Solene doesn't realize is that this all I have left. This is who I am. The stuff in the past, it's too late to fix that. I'll solve people's cases. I'll make the city that much safer, even if doesn't really make a difference. And if Solene's right--if I get killed one of these days, so be it. I have to die sometime. Everyone does. {(set:$dream to "after")} I navigate my way through the pouring rain back to the office, stopping to pick up a fifth of whiskey along the way. I've drunk quite a bit of it by the time I reach the office. Solene watches when I walk in, but says nothing. I'm a little relieved that she's silent, honestly. I get back to my office, slip out of my coat, and sit down with the open whiskey bottle at my desk. I review the new batch of cases sitting in folders on my desk, patiently awaiting my attention. Well, I think, taking another drink, time to get back to work. Murders, robberies, rapes. Monsters out there killing and feeding. Monstrous people and monsters who were people. Steel City's like an endless night. And I'm a part of it, too. A insignificant pinprick of light that tears a meager hole in the darkness until it burns out, as all stars do. I open the topmost file folder. [[Here we go again.|finish]]

(align:"=><=")[ (colour:"red")[Grimnoir] by ProP (set:$dream to "after") (live:0.5s)[ (if:time>2s)[Monsters killed: $trueKilled] (if:time>4s)[Souls purified: $truePurified] (if:time>6s)[Coffees consumed at Dermot's:(if:$dcounter is 0)[ none.](elseif:$dcounter is > 0 and $dcounter <= 3)[ a few.](else:)[ so many.] ] (if:time>8s)[(Thanks for playing) ] ] ]

I walk into the office building. I can hear voices inside before I open the door. They pause as I walk inside. Solene and a stranger are standing in front of Solene's desk. A cop in uniform, cap in hand. They turn to me. "What's going on?" I say. Law enforcement and people in my field tend to coexist with surprisingly little interaction. We're both a vital part of the ecosystem, but they're a legitimate authority, and we're...well, we're just something everyone knows about. "This is Officer Garcia," Solene says. "She...has a case for you." "Pleasure to meet you," Garcia says, extending her hand. "I gotta admit, this is a bit unusual for me," I say, shaking her hand. "Same here," Garcia says. "But the fact is, we have an unusual case. It started out that we thought we have a serial murderer. And well, it seems we do...but we don't think he's human. Our efforts to locate and trap him proved useless. He's unnaturally elusive." "I see," I say. "Tell me more about the murders." "At first we thought the pattern seemed consistent with a serial killer, as I said. Which is bad news, means the fed could step in and makes things more difficult for us. But its victims: men and women alike, death by either suffocation or strangulation. Sometimes evidence of sexual assault. Bodies always left in an obvious place overnight. A signature: this symbol, typically on a scrap of paper left in the victim's pocket. People have taken to calling this thing The Hierophant." Garcia hands me a note card with a copy of the symbol: a traditional triple cross, each bar longer than the bar above. At the bottom of the cross, on either side, two curving mirrored designs...antlers, maybe? Hmm. "That's all dark stuff, but it sounds pretty human so far," I say. "That's what we thought too. Until we started investigating further. Trying to see if there was a pattern. The victims come from all over Steel City. One of the only things they had in common, turns out, was the onset of strange dreams, days to weeks before their deaths." "What kind of strange dreams?" "Unpleasant ones, apparently. Spouses and friends reported being told about nightmares. The dreams were all over the place, sometimes nonsensical, but they tended to include the appearance of some malevolent entity. We've confirmed with family that in at least some of the cases, the victims were last seen sleepwalking out. They disappeared and weren't seen again until the body turned up. In many cases, they'd begun acting erratically prior to death." "That does sound a little more in my arena," I admit. "Strange pattern, though. Of the three classes of monsters, only cursed have the presence of mind for premeditated killing. Something like a vampire or werewolf might even enjoy the notoriety, but this isn't their style at all. There are demons, too, but they're much rarer to encounter." "Look, I don't need the details. I don't know anything about this stuff," Garcia says, putting her cap on. "But I thought I'd drop this case off with you, to see if you make any more headway than we currently are. At this point, we just want to bring this thing down, whatever the hell it is." She walks to the door. "Good luck, detective," she says. "Let us know if you find anything." Then she leaves. "Interesting case," Solene says. "I'd say so." I look at the file in my hand. "In fact, I think it deserves my unique attention. I'm going to prioritize this one, so please put accepting new cases on hold until further notice." (set:$sequence to "third") "You got it." Cops and a serial killer. Well, here we go, I guess. [[Continue.|office]] {(set:$case1 to "hierophant")(set:$case1label to "The Hierophant")(set:$case1notes to (array:"It seems a serial killer who has been dubbed The Hierophant has been on the loose in Steel City. The police have unofficially asked for my help with the investigation.","The killer prefers suffocation and strangulation. Leaves a calling card. Likes the attention, it seems.","Victims seemed to show erratic behavior and experienced sleep disturbances prior to being killed.","In the notes Garcia left me, here's a lead that seems promising: Joey Hart, survived by a wife, Audrey Hart, and a daughter. Audrey was interviewed by an Officer Mueller and was able to provide a lot of information. I might try to speak with her myself."))}

{(set:$state to "caseFinalLocation") (set:$region to "hierophant")} I'm standing outside of my office building. It's still morning. (if:$purified > $killed)[The clouds are loosely scattered today. We might actually see some sunlight. What a crazy thought.](else:)[The storm is coming down in full force out here. The rain is freezing cold, and the wind is helpfully blowing it right into my face.] (if:$audreyhart is not "yes")[ [[Audrey Hart lives in Riverside.|hartresidence]] ] (if:$clemSolved is not "yes")[ [[Could stop at Dermot's Diner...this case may be urgent, but coffee is always a priority.|dermots]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div> (if:$purified > $killed)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/19sy1tocihcjcnz/345313__embracetheart__city-traffic-outdoor.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>](else:)[<audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/nujxdoe190qwbgk/376810__theneedle-tv__long-thunder-rolls-and-heavy-rain_reduced.wav?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>]

I take a cab to Riverside and arrive at the Hart residence. It's a nice, clean, two-story house. The yard is well-maintained, the house, siding a pale blue color, seems like a home. It's the kind of place that it's hard to imagine something terrible happening inside. (if:$purified <= $killed)[The rain assumes a personal challenge to see how much it can drench my clothes before I reach the Harts' front door.] I walk to the door and knock. A very tired but otherwise fairly together-seeming woman answers. "Hello?" she says. "Hi, Audrey Hart? I'm Detective Morris, with the investigation of your husband's death." "Oh, hello. I admit I'm a little surprised. We already spoke with that other officer a few times," she says. "That's right, I have Mueller's notes right here. I'm just here to ask a few additional questions, if that's all right." "Come in." I follow Audrey into her house. Reasonably clean, but lived-in. Tastefully decorated. We walk into her living room and take a seat on opposite beige cloth sofas. "My daughter Janet will be home from school in about an hour and a half. If it's possible to wrap this up before that, I'd really appreciate it." "I understand completely. This won't take long," I say. I flip open the notes. "Let's start with the dreams. You say Joey was having some strange dreams? When did that start?" "About a...a couple weeks or so before, I think," she says. "I didn't really pay attention to it at first. He just seemed really tired a lot. But I noticed when it became a consistent thing, you know, and so I asked him about it. That's when he started telling me about the crazy dreams." "What kinds of dreams did he tell you about?" "Oh, I don't know. They were weird, usually disturbing. He..." she frowns. "He become convinced something was trying to use them to communicate with him. That some mystic was going to reveal the sacred truths of the world to him, or something really bizarre like that." "Was this part of the erratic behavior you described?" "Yes," Audrey says. "He was...god, he was nearly delusional by the end. Not like himself at all. It was really hard to watch. And Janet..." she shakes her head. "The night he disappeared, I was asleep. We all were. I just...woke up the next morning, and he was gone. The front door was unlocked. He hadn't taken his keys. He just got up and walked out. He had to have. 'Turn off the bathroom light.'" She laughs sadly. "That was the last thing I ever said to him." "I see. Thank you, Audrey." She's staring off into a corner. I feel like I should say something. "I'm sorry for the loss of your husband." "Just find this thing," she says quietly. "One more question. Did Joey ever say anything that would give any hints about this thing's appearance? In his dreams, maybe?" "It took different forms," she says. "He had a few dreams about a black dog. Sometimes a naked young woman." A subtle change of emotion, there--something that passes over her face quick. "By the last several days, though, he'd taken to calling it the Horned Man." "Thanks," I say. I stand up. "I'll be leaving now." Audrey follows me to the door, and I leave her in the doorway. "Take care," I tell her as I leave the house, and she gives a slight nod. She remains in the doorway, and I see a schoolbus pull up as I'm starting my car. In the rearview mirror, a highschooler gets out and walks quickly up to Audrey, smiling and pointing to something on her phone. The change in Audrey is impressive: no hint of the quiet woman in the house several minutes ago. All wide smile and expression. She casts a hasty, nervous glance at my car that her daughter doesn't notice. I leave. [[Continue.|phonecall]]

I'm not even out of Riverside when my phone vibrates insistently in my pocket. I struggle to pull it out for a second before lifting it up to answer. "Morris." "It's Garcia. I have someone I'd like you to talk to." I can hear voices in the background. She sounds tense. "Where?" "I'll text you the location. Get here as soon as you can." "What's--" "--You'll see when you get here. I have to go. See you in a few." She hangs up. Well, all right. My phone buzzes a second later. I pick it up and glance at the address. 183 Lark Ave. Looks like a residence. Guess I'd better head over. [[Continue.|183larkave]]

I turn onto Lark Ave and pull up to what my phone tells me is 183. Not hard to be sure I have the right place: cop cars on the driveway. I'm wondering whether to call Garcia back or knock on the door as I get out of my car, but someone must have seen me pull up, because the door opens as I approach it. "Garcia's in the kitchen with him," the cop at the door tells me. He gestures down an entranceway. I can hear people talking in there. "Him?" "The latest guy. You'll see." I walk to the kitchen of the small house and see Garcia sitting at the kitchen table across from a young man. There's another cop behind her, speaking quietly with a fraught young woman. "So you personally spoke with him, Logan?" Garcia is saying. I stand back and watch. Logan smiles peaceably. "Of course. Not with words. He takes my mind, shows me things. Sometimes he takes my body. When we become one...it's ecstasy. I become a part of //god//." "That what he tells you?" "That's what I know. I can feel it. I will meet him soon in the flesh." A wide smile. "It will be amazing." The young woman bursts into tears. "Thank you, Logan," Garcia says, standing, and she leaves him sitting there to turn to me. We walk back into the foyer. "Logan's wife called us because she'd been reading the reports of the murders and got scared. Says he's been acting strangely too," she says. "Have you learned anything?" "No," she shakes her head. "He speaks in mystic bullshit. It's all too vague to be of any use, but maybe you'll understand something from him." "I can give it a shot," I say. We walk back into the kitchen, and I sit down across from Logan. [[Continue.|logan]]

Logan smiles. (set:$state to "logan") (if:$relationshiplogan is not "yes")[ [["Tell me about your relationship with the Horned Man."|relationshiplogan]] ] (if:$scarelogan is not "yes")[ [["Don't your dreams scare you?"|scarelogan]] ] (if:$meetlogan is not "yes")[ [["Tell me about your meeting with him."|meetlogan]] ] [["I've learned all I need. Thanks, Logan."|endlogan]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

"Oh, it's wonderful," Logan says with the same casual pleasantness that a person would use to describe a favorite clothing brand or restaurant. "He's opened my eyes to true power. He shows me things in dreams...puts the knowledge right in my head. When I give my body to him, it's bliss." "Uh, you're saying...you...have sex with The Hierophant?" "Yes, sometimes. When he wills it. My soul is very happy to yield. As I said, it is bliss." "So you've already met him?" "In dreams. Always in dreams." "Hmm. I see. He teaches you things?" "He shows me them, puts the knowledge right into my mind. I'm honored to be one of his chosen acolytes." (set:$relationshiplogan to "yes") [[Back.|logan]]

"He can be...frightening at times. But he doesn't mean to harm me. He's just wild, like a storm, or an animal. It's his nature." It seemed that briefly, a shadow of unease had passed over his face. It's gone now. (set:$scarelogan to "yes") [[Back.|logan]]

"He says it will be soon," Logan says. "I'm almost ready to see him in the flesh." "Where? Logan, where did he tell you to meet him?" "He hasn't yet," Logan says. "He'll tell me when it's time." (Set:$meetlogan to "yes") [[Back.|logan]]

Garcia pulls me aside again. "Any thoughts?" "He's in deep," I say. "I'm still not much more sure what we're dealing with. It doesn't fit any typical patterns, whatever it is. I do think it's arrogant. We know it likes the attention of the killings. It seems also to get off on owning its victims sexually and mentally until betraying them with murder." Garcia sighs. "With respect, Morris, a goddamn psychological profile of the monster isn't what I need right now." "Sorry. That's all I've got so far." She nods. "That's all right. I knew it was a long shot." She glances at the kitchen, where Logan's wife is tearfully sitting down across from him, gently reaching for his hand. "All this business about meeting soon...I'm posting these men here to keep an eye on the place overnight for the foreseable future. Make sure no one comes in or out who shouldn't be. Maybe we'll end up catching Hierophant in the act." "Doubtful on that part," I say. "Once he's got them in his grasp, he might not need to be in close physical proximity to manipulate them." "It's all we've got for now while we look into other leads," Garcia says. "Go on. I'll call you if we find anything else." I walk outside, into (if:$purified > $killed)[the cool, clean night air.](else:)[the terrible storm.] [[Continue.|morrisnight]]

I call Solene. It goes to voicemail. She's almost certainly busy with a client. Well, no big deal. I can figure this out. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

There's no need to do that, I've made this case my priority. I can take a moment to review my case notes, though: (for: each _item, ...$case1notes)[_item ] (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

I walk back to the car and sit down. It's already evening, I realize. I check my phone to a text from Solene, an hour ago: she's finished up at the office and is taking the rest of the evening off. Asked how the case is going. I send her a brief, disheartening summary. I consider returning to the office, as is my habit. Focusing on this case, though, there's not much else I can do in there. And for some reason, though I've spent many a long night in there working alone, I don't really feel like going back there and sitting with only myself. I find myself driving aimlessly for a while. (if:$purified > $killed)[Eventually, the sky is dark, and I can see the moon up above in flashes, between buildings. It's calming.](else:)[The steady pounding of rain, the rhythmic turn of the windshield wipers: it's oddly mesmerizing. Quieting.] I finally return to my apartment. I walk in, shut and lock the door, open the perpetually understocked fridge. I'm forever lacking the time to properly stock up on groceries. That's what I tell myself. Really, I'm just forever lacking the motivation. I settle on a bag of frozen vegetables, the kind that can be cooked in the microwave (a godsend) and throw them in. I undress and pour a glass of whiskey, and stand there, focusing on nothing, till the microwave blares at me. (if:$killed >= $purified)[The wind screams against my quiet apartment, rain drumming at the walls and windows.] I slide the vegetables into a bowl, pour another glass of whiskey, and retreat into the living room, where I sit and pretend to watch some TV show I can't get myself to focus on. Eventually, I start to feel worse about sitting there and getting lost in my own thoughts. Another glass usually helps. Third glass's the charm. Or fourth? I get up and stumble into the bathroom. [[Continue.|morrisBathroom]]

My eyes fly open. Disoriented. A sound in the darkness. My hand is already reaching for my dagger, and I panic, not finding it. Then I remember I'm in my boxers, in my bed, in my own apartment. My phone, on the side table beside me, is lighting up and buzzing like crazy. "Hello?" I mumble, thrusting it to my ear. "Morris," says Garcia's voice immediately. "We've got a situation." My awareness of everything snaps back into place. "At the house? Your guys find him?" "No. Morris, it's Logan. He's gone." "Gone?" I say, standing up. I grab my pants from my floor and start trying to tug them on with one hand. "Did your guys leave their post?" "No. Somehow Logan knew their exact routes and timing beforehand. He went out a back window of the house during a split-second window of opportunity. We think Hierophant was guiding him." "Where the hell'd he go?" "He was seen heading up Summer and then going up Fifth Street. He'd disappeared somewhere before the intersection of Fifth and Eastman. There's mostly shops there, closed and locked at this hour--the Fifth Street parking garage is only obvious choice." "I'm heading there right away." "We're going to send a few men over to meet you. Be careful." A //click//. I take a second to make sure I'm fully dressed, fully equipped. I have everything. I rush out the door. [[Continue.|parkinggarage]]

I park my car on the side of Fifth Street and walk to the parking garage. The entrance is at ground level, beside a bakery. I don't see anyone on this street but me. And no wonder: it's three AM. Just me and (if:$purified > $killed)[the moon.](else:)[the pouring rain.] I open the door and find myself in the dimly lit, piss-scented stairwell. Tracks, I notice immediately: muddy footprints. Could easily have come from Logan's yard. They exit the stairwell at the first level door. I consider. Where the hell is Garcia's backup? Anything could be past that door, and I know I should wait for her men. And yet...I look again at the tracks. Logan might still be alive. He won't be much longer. (set:$region to "end") I follow the tracks, opening the door, a painted yellow "B1F" on the wall beside it. The tracks continue into the empty lot, and the mud soon becomes less and less clear, until the tracks are imperceptible. He must have walked most of it off by now. Great. The dim, orange flourescent lights in the ceiling cast odd shadows in here. The lot curves, sloping downward around the bend to the next level below. Behind me, nearer the entrance stairwell, the garage doors facing the street are closed and shuttered, meant to reopen sometime in a few hours for the morning crowd. Concrete support poles and barriers create potential hiding spaces that my eye is drawn to, but I don't see--or hear--anything. Part of me wants to call out to Logan, but the experienced monster hunter in me isn't about to do that. He's either not on this level, or the champion of disguise, I'm forced to conclude after a careful walk around the place. I approach the sloping floor down to B2F. Hmm. Very odd: if the lights have power up here, they should absolutely be on in the lower levels. But B2F is pitch black, the sloping floor giving way to darkness. I take out my flashlight and click it on, and cautiously walk down. [[Continue.|garageb2f]] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/5thydx2q5xkaxh3/351417__kinoton__dark-horror-drone.mp3?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

I cast my beam of light around slowly, careful to watch for anything resembling movement. The concrete beams and barriers down here are not only potential hiding places, but they cast deceptive shadows as the light falls on them. My flashlight beam finds an EXIT sign in the ceiling, as dark any other fixture in here. Now I know that something's very wrong. Under no conditions would the emergency lighting be off. Something behind a support beam ahead: low and on the floor. Not moving, I realize. I carefully approach. Ah, fuck. Logan. Lying on his back, spread-eagle. Expression vacant, mouth agape. His right hand, I realize, is pointing off to the right. I follow the cue with my flashlight...to the sloping floor leading down to the third level. My phone buzzes suddenly, startling me. "Morris," says Garcia. Her voice is slightly muffled with static. "I apologize for the delay. My guys were investigating a tip along the way that he might've darted through an alley. They're checking it out." "No need," I say. "I found him. He's dead." "Oh, no. Shit." "I think it's in here," I say. A wave of static is overcoming the call. "Morris? You're breaking up." "Garcia? Hey." "Hello?" Then dead silence. Dropped call. I look at my phone. No service. I look at the gaping dark of B3F. I walk over. [[Continue.|hierophantencounter]] <audio src="https://www.dropbox.com/s/5thydx2q5xkaxh3/351417__kinoton__dark-horror-drone.mp3?dl=1&m=" autoplay loop>

//Chat d'Argent// Intellect: animal Appearance: a white, gray, or black cat; white, red, or black eyes Weakness: silver Category: beast The chat d'argent, as it was so-named by the French, and the Japanese maneki-neko were once widely believed to be separate monsters, distinguished essentially by coat color. However, it is now understood that they are one and the same, and can appear in a small variety of different color morphs, for reasons that remain unknown. Across cultures, the chat d'argent is associated with good fortune and prosperity. They can be tamed and trained as much as any material cat can. Their unique ability to disappear and reappear in a new location may have made them useful trained thieves. Alternatively, they were simply seen as good luck because of their relative benevolence, keeping other pest monsters away from the vicinity that they claim as their territory. As their behavior is essentially that of an especially clever domestic cat, a chat d'argent's negative impact on humans is likely to amount to little more than missing scraps of food. In fact, humans who encounter them often assume they have simply seen a very strange-looking cat. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Jersey Devil// Intellect: animal Appearance: winged, bipedal stag, with a long, thin tail and sharp teeth Weakness: silver Category: beast Thought to be a relative of the peryton, the Jersey devil is fearsome, but far less clever. The Jersey devil is an ambush predator, known to emit a piercing scream both defensively and to startle prey. They greatly prefer broad forests in mostly colder climes, and will actively travel out of more urban areas to seek their preferred habitat. Though their environment makes encounters with humans relatively less likely, those who travel through such forests should be wary: they have been seen killing and eating creatures as large as horses, and of course, humans, with no difficulty. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

I get off at the Parkline Station, which is near where most of Steel City University's buildings are clustered. It takes half an hour's worth of detective work just to find the damn building, but eventually I do: Clemont Hall, fourth floor. I pass swarms of college students entering the building with me, and immediately search for a stairwell. I wander the fourth floor until I find an office that seems like the location of 427 Clemont Hall. A professor's office. I walk over and knock on the door. "Miss Maślanka?" I say. "Uh, Dr. Maślanka, rather. I'm Morris. You spoke with my assistant on the phone." "Oh, come on in, and take a seat," she says. "Just Patricia's fine." I follow her suggestion and sit, feeling a little uncomfortably like a student, in the chair across from her desk. "Patricia, what seems to be the problem?" "Is this the detective?" says a man quietly, peering in the doorway. She nods. He enters. "Stephen, can you close the door?" Patricia says. "There's something here, on the fourth floor," Stephen says, once the door's closed behind him. "We're hiring you more or less off the books. Keeping it from the department chair. To be honest, we don't think he believes us," Patricia says. "But several people in our department pitched in," Stephen says. "Honestly, everyone on this floor knows it's here." "Uh, well," I look from Stephen to Patricia. "What kinds of things have you been experiencing?" "Odd sounds, especially when you're alone. Shadows darting behind things. Food goes missing from the breakroom fridge," Stephen says. "Uh, I'm not sure that's..." "You don't understand, it happens even overnight. And the janitors don't have a key. There's not really a good explanation for it." "It's just quietly understood that you don't work here late at night," Patricia says. "Not by yourself. If you do, you feel it: it's up here with you. And sometimes you see it, in the corner of your vision." "The newest hire to the department, James, didn't know about any of this. But he recently told me he sometimes hears things falling over in Richard's old office next door. That office is locked and unused, Detective Morris," Patricia adds. "I...see," I say, closing my notebook. "Well, I guess I'll take a look around, see what I find." Stephen nods. "This late in the day, there won't be many students up here. People start will start to trickle out and go home. Like we said, no one likes to work late in here." "I'll stick around in case you need any help," Patricia says. I shake my head. "You can wait elsewhere in the building, if you'd like," I say, "but to properly conduct an investigation, I need everyone out of the way. No offense." "Well," Patricia says, "I guess I can do that. I'll hand you the keys on my way out...please be careful with those," she says, in a warning tone. (set:$talkedFaculty to "yes") "Won't betray your trust," I say. "Just part of the job." "Give me a few minutes," Patricia says. "Then I'll be out of your way." Stephen walks over to his own office nearby. I find a chair in the common space outside of Patricia's office, and wait. [[Continue.|universityoffice]] {(set:$case3notes to $case3notes + (array:"The clients, a group of faculty members at Steel City University, insist that the fourth floor of their building is haunted by something. They've hired me to find and remove it."))}

(set:$state to "universityoffice") I'm standing in the common area of a group of faculty offices on the fourth floor of Clemont Hall. I'm the only one here. Just me and clusters of closed doors. There's a [[corkboard|corkboard]] on the wall beside me. A [[potted plant|pottedplant]] stands in the corner, beside the door to the [[break room.|breakroom]] Patricia left the break room door open for me. There's a [[plaque|plaque]] on the wall. Behind me is the [[doorway|fourthfloorhall]] leading out to the rest of the fourth floor. Somewhere around here should be the [[office|richardoffice]] they mentioned a professor hearing sounds from. I should be able to find it by the names beside the doors. <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

Articles, information about upcoming grants, news about professional organizations and conferences in psychology. Guess I'm dealing with psychologists. I had a minor in psychology in college. Roy thought he might major in it before he committed to business accounting. Hm. Should probably keep focused. Nothing of interest here. [[Back.|universityoffice]]

Tall, thin. Frond-like leaves at the top. Looks direly in need of water. Maybe the ghost of this poor neglected plant is haunting the office. [[Back.|universityoffice]]

There's a fridge and a microwave. A small table with a coffeemaker, and some coffee implements. A sign taped to the side of the fridge says: "to whom it may concern: please stop using my coffee, or at the very least, replace it when you use the last of it. seriously...come on." Nothing really stands out in here. [[Back.|universityoffice]]

I'm standing in the hall outside of the faculty offices. There are [[restrooms|restroom]] across from me. A window at the end of the hall reveals that it's dark out. I don't hear anyone else up here with me. There's an [[elevator|elevator]] around the corner. Don't see much else of interest here. [[Go back into the offices.|universityoffice]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

This must be it: Dr. Richard Singh. The only Richard I can find. I listen quietly at the door: faint...scratching? Intermittent. Hmm. I'd bet the nest of whatever stalks the fourth floor is in this unused office. I'd better be ready to take it on before I open the door. [[Open the door with the set of keys Patricia gave me.|richarddoor]] [[Not ready just yet.|universityoffice]]

I try, as quietly as possible, to test each key in the lock and gently see if I can turn it. Three keys in, the door opens. I flip on the light immediately: stacks of boxes and old equipment, a desk at the back of the room. Seems they use the room mostly for storage at the moment. A paper hanging on the edge of the desk, as if recently disturbed, slides to the floor. I look around. Empty. Hmm. I guess...I was wrong. I don't even sense a ghost in here. Guess I'll have to keep looking. [[Continue.|richardencounter]]

I enter the men's room. Both of the stalls are empty. I look in the mirror. God, I look tired. Nothing much of interest but the graffiti on the stalls from college students who think they're really clever. I walk out and knock on the women's room door, then enter. Same deal, minus the graffiti. No mystery feet under the stalls, no faces in the mirrors. I leave. [[Continue.|fourthfloorhall]]

I see no reason to call the elevator up. The digital number on the panel with the call button says it's waiting down on the first floor. Nothing really special about it. [[Back.|fourthfloorhall]]

The plaque reads: "Winners of the Richard Singh Memorial Award For Outstanding Research: Susan Barley, Latisha Burnett, Lucas Moore." [[Back.|universityoffice]]

I walk back out, close the door, and turn back toward the office common area...and see, in the break room, something small standing in front of the fridge, uplit with the small amount of white light coming from the fridge, standing still with one arm halfway in the fridge, tail high, eyes fixed on me. "Hey," I say. It backs away from the fridge...and darts directly at me. "Your name," I say, "is..." [[Bakeneko|wrongcat1]] [[Cat Sidhe|corrcat]] [[Chat d'Argent|wrongcat2]]

The creature isn't slowed at all. It rushes at me...nips my leg, and then darts away. It...mildly hurts. "Hey!" I yell. "You asshole. Your name is..." [[Cat Sidhe|corrcat]] [[Chat d'Argent|wrongcat3]]

The creature isn't slowed at all. It rushes at me...nips my leg, and then darts away. It...mildly hurts. "Hey!" I yell. "You asshole. Your name is..." [[Bakeneko|wrongcat3]] [[Cat Sidhe|corrcat]]

The cat sidhe freezes in its tracks and locks up. "Oh...shit..." it manages to say, glaring at me. I crouch down beside him. "So, the fearsome monster of Clemont Hall." "Cut...the...shit," he growls. "Just...don't...kill...me." [["Sorry. Just my job."|killcat]] [["All right. I'm listening. But don't fucking bite me again."|talkcat]]

The feline monster runs up and tackles my ankle, grasping it with claws while it nips me. "Cut that out," I say, shaking it off of my leg. "Your name is..." [[Cat Sidhe|corrcat]]

I take out my silver dagger and deliver a quick blow to the back of its head. The cat sidhe collapses, and instantly becomes a pile of ash. Job finished. I stand, put away the dagger. I dial Patricia. "Job's done," I say. "Monster's taken care of." "Oh, that's wonderful! Was it terrifying?" "Not...exactly. But it won't pester you again." {(set:$killed to ($killed + 1.5)) (set:$trueKilled to ($trueKilled + 1))} "Fantastic. We'll send the payment right away." "Of course." I hang up the phone, and walk back down and onto the street. (set:$case3 to "solved") If only all my cases were that simple. But then I'd get bored, wouldn't I? (if:$case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|getlastcase]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

The cat sidhe shudders, starting to regain movement. Eventually, he twitches, and then shakes his whole body. He then sits and faces me. This one's only a little larger than a typical cat. The signature black fur and white diamond of his kind. He fixes me with a golden-eyed stare. "I'm Dr. Singh," he says. "You remember your past life. That's pretty common with cursed." "Correct," says Dr. Singh. "And I know what's next: I don't want you to purify me. I know my reason. And I want to keep sticking around. I put so much into this place. Dedicated so much of my life to my research here." He lifts an accusatory paw at me for emphasis. "I don't want to leave." "Wouldn't you want your soul to move on?" I say. "You really want to hang around in that form forever?" "Easy for you to say. 'You should die now because it's the natural thing to do' doesn't sound as convincing when I put it that way, hmm?" Dr. Singh turns his head indignantly. "If I get tired of it, I can always find another monster hunter." "I prefer occult detective." "Fine, //detective//. But for now, I'd very much prefer to keep existing." "Hmm. What exactly I am supposed to do now if you plan on sticking around? Your former colleagues hired me, can't exactly tell them, 'sorry, case is over because the monster didn't want to leave.'" Dr. Singh's tail twitches thoughtfully. "Maybe...I have an idea," he says. [[Continue.|singh]]

"Patricia? Yeah, you can come on up now. I found your monster. That's fine, Stephen too." Moments later, Patricia and Stephen enter the office. "It's dead, right? Where is it?" Stephen says curiously. "Right here," I say, and I turn around, holding Dr. Singh in my arms. I scratch his head, and he gives a convincing meow. "Just a stray cat. Been getting in through the windows. Here's your food thief." They laugh. Patricia gives a puzzled look. "But, the break room is sometimes locked..." Dr. Singh and I look at each other. "Uh, you know cats..." I say. She laughs. "Whatever. I'm happy it wasn't a monster." She walks up and scratches his head. He seems a little uncomfortable. "You should keep him around," I say. "They're good luck." Stephen smiles. "Well, I guess he wasn't causing too much trouble as it is. Nice to meet you, little guy." "An office cat," Patricia says, laughing. "Unofficially, obviously." "Office cat needs a name," Stephen says. "Hmm. How about Richard? Seems he liked to get into Richard's office anyway," Patricia says. "I like that. Man, Richard'd be stoked to see a cat named after him." "I leave him with you," I say, putting Dr. Singh on the ground. "I, uh, still expect payment though." "Of course." I nod, and walk back out into the hall. Dr. Singh follows me. "Thank you," he says, as I call the elevator. "I'm glad to have the chance to keep watching over this place. And without the obligation of faculty meetings." "A guardian cat," I say. "There are stranger things, I guess. Good luck." (set:$case3 to "solved") I step into the elevator, and the doors close. I head back to the street. (if:$case1 is "solved" and $case2 is "solved" and $case3 is "solved")[ [[Continue.|getlastcase]] ](else:)[ [[Continue.|office]] ]

//Warg// Intellect: animal Appearance: monstrous wolf, somewhat larger than a living wolf; red eyes Weakness: silver Category: beast Wargs resemble huge, monstrous wolves. Though their coats can be a variety of colors, their eyes are always red. Though wargs are not as dangerous as some other monsters and lack sentience, they do have animal cunning, and much like real wolves, can inflict fatal injuries. Uniquely among monsters, wargs have been observed seeking company with living wolves (and in one recorded and notable instance, other wargs; see Notre Dame Incident of 1450). It is unknown how wargs gain acceptance by wolves, but wolf packs led by wargs can be a serious threat: they abandon their typical behavior in favor of reckless and aggression, and become fearless of humans. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

//Banshee// Intellect: animal Appearance: pale, cloaked or long-haired woman Weakness: silver, sage smoke Category: ethereal Banshees, despite their humanoid appearance, are non-sentient and thus cannot be communicated with. They are easily identifiable by their signature wailing shrieks. Though they are harmless, infestation with a banshee generally leads people to quickly seek a monster hunter to take care of the problem, as banshees' screaming can be unnerving and disruptive. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

⎊ ⎊ ⎊ {(click: ?statlink)[ (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] (replace: ?stats)[] ]}

⎊ ⎊ ⎊ {(click: ?statlink)[ (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "showStats")] (if:$solene is "yes")[ (replace: ?stats)[(display:"solStorage")] ] (else:)[ (if:$dream is "yes")[ (replace: ?stats)[(display:"dreamStorage")] ] (else:)[ (if:$tunnel is "yes")[ (replace: ?stats)[(display:"grimStorage")] ] (else:)[ (if:$region is "hierophant")[(if:$clemCase is "yes")[ (replace:?stats)[(display:"clemStorage")] ](else:)[ (replace: ?stats)[(display:"finalStorage")] ] ] (else:)[(replace: ?stats)[(display:"storage")] ] ] ] ] ]}

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-solene case: warping back as solene causes you to repeat the bridge scene: fixed? test? -FAILURES overrides REDEMPTION, such that if failures reaches a certain amount, Morris dies against the luderc. -if failures is below the critical amount (at least 2, since there are only 4 that would count toward it): high redemption-->good ending, low-->bad -dummied TalkSolene code, if reimplement: {(if:$sequence is "first")[(if:$case1 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convoCase1]] ](elseif:$case2 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase2]] ](else:)[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase4]] ]](elseif:$sequence is "second")[(if:$case1 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase5]] ](elseif:$case2 is not "solved")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase6]] ](else:)[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase7]] ]](elseif:$sequence is "third")[ [["Wanted to chat."|convocase8]] ]}

//Siguanaba// Intellect: human Appearance: a beautiful, long-haired woman with horse skull for a face Weakness: runes, salt Category: ethereal Siguanaba appear as beautiful women, often bathing or combing their hair, in fairly dark and isolated places, such as ponds and rivers or empty swimming pools. If addressed, they tend to gently laugh or giggle, but will make no coherent reply. When a person approaches one, it will turn around and reveal its face: a horse's skull. Legend holds that the victim will immediately die of fright. However, the true level of danger posed by a siguanaba is disputed. While there are cases of fatal heart attacks suffered by siguanaba victims, most people survive the encounter just fine, if quite rattled. Siguanaba will laugh and disappear immediately after the encounter, only to reappear soon nearby to startle another victim. Their motivations are unknown, and even their level of intellect is unclear: while thought to be humanlike, they may well be operating on base instinct alone. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

Clem unlocks the door and opens it, drawing me inside. She's a frantic mess, eyes distraught. Speaking too quickly for me to understand as she closes the door again. "Clem?" I say. I'm getting more than a little concerned. She takes a breath, grasping my arms. "It's Grant," she says. "Help me." "It's okay. It's okay, Clem," I say. Her eyes are threatening tears. "What's going on?" "His girlfriend texted me an hour ago. He hasn't been seen in three days." "Did anyone report it to the cops yet?" "No. I don't think so. I just found out, and Daisy says...says he was taken by //something//. If he's...if..." "All right, I'm going to need more information," I say. "And I'm not convinced this isn't something the police should know about." "We need to go find him," she says. "I'm going to go look. I'll need to know where he lives, who he last talked to, and give me his girlfriend's information," I say. "I'm coming." "You're in no state to go investigating, Clem," I say gently. Her face is a battlefield, and resignment wins. She wraps her arms around me and buries her face against my right arm, her body shaking with silent sobs. "Just find my son, Morris. You're the best in the city. Please just find my son." "I'm going to." I hand her a sheet of paper to write down all the information she can think of. I watch her scribble furiously. I know the Hierophant thing is important, but...I'm going to have to switch priorities until I figure out what happened to Grant. For now, I'll direct my full attention to this. [[Continue.|clemcase2]]

{(set:$clemCase to "yes") (set:$state to "clemcase2") (Set:$case2notes to (a:"This one's for Clem. Her son, Grant, appears to be missing.","According to his girlfriend, he hasn't been seen in three days.","I'll need to talk to her, and probably look around campus. Grant attends St. Martin University, near the city outskirts. He lives in Hemlock Hall."))} All right. I shove the Hierophant stuff off into a corner of my mind. The noise of the streets helps me center myself on this case. Not sure when the last time I had a case so personal would have been. Can't think about it, though. (if:$purified > $killed)[The storm howls around me, throwing rain at my face. I shove my hands in my coat pockets.](else:)[The drone of cars and a distant siren is almost comforting. Living people all around me, engrossed in their own lives.] Better get to the university. That's my best bet. [[St. Martin University is at the outskirts of the city.|stmartin]] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

(if:$convo1 is not "yes")[(set:$convo1 to "yes")Solene leans back from her chair and stretches. She spares a brief sideways glance in my direction. "So ](else:)["We both have work to be doing, Morris. No offense," Solene says without looking up.] [[Back.|solene]] ]

Double-click this passage to edit it.

(if:$convo7 is not "yes")[(set:$convo7 to "yes")"So. This is a big case," Solene says. ](else:)["Please be careful, Morris," Solene says quietly. [[Back.|solene]] ]

Double-click this passage to edit it.

[[<img src="data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAAOpJREFUaAXt mEsKwzAMROOSs/T+5+ll8gMbdxFkDxphxGRTKNLIes+lkHJ8t2NL8HwS7PCsoEVWM7l7Haj85pOu 36fbk+ZquRmpaEcoI/Zq/ttnGiMly//I39WylNdrY9W96R/9fnROrbtz29ViH250iZm6/sxtkZmA FWu1yGpWZERGSAR0tUhg4VgZgdGRGmWEBBaOlREYHalRRkhg4VgZgdGRGmWEBBaOlREYHalRRkhg 4VgZgdGRGpuR/j0qaZZ7bH/mNG/jmxF3XMGBWiQYuDlORkxEwQUyEgzcHCcjJqLgAhkJBm6OOwFQ lhTUWzDT/wAAAABJRU5ErkJggg=="/>|inventory]] [[<img src="data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAAUBJREFUaAXt VkEOwyAMK9Pesv+/Z59pl0mRIkYKJLVWIfdSBthJ7HRQ9te2bws8jwVq+JbAQu7mJB2hIyAF2Fog YcO0dCQsHQi4jCPPrEDl/cvwub91nyjOIy6RS2MrCS+ALSqK87jt/FQhM4nYIJmxFeKMZ+gbkQL+ UYQkPho3/Y20FBsJHsV5roQKaSVhA+h6XZDO2712rOs1zu7xxkOt5YHvNM9C7uSG5EJH6AhIAbYW SNgw7TKOhE52lc07gfWE1n31O4qreezvoduvF9gSIcc9YST2Mq21TCGpb8SzvNeKHk5apIeVPa0n VMhZIhJE1+ukdL6ViM7pnhqr6957urU0kEd41fxsnKF/rauSQ/JMO4JMJsPNQjLqIbB0BKFqhpOO ZNRDYOkIQtUMJx3JqIfA0hGEqhlOOpJRD4E9AM58NI9AAmp9AAAAAElFTkSuQmCC"/>|grimoire]] [[<img src= "data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAAR9JREFUaAXt mlEOwyAMQ9tpZ9n9z7PLdGVSfjrAaQLWhNyfSoRg7Nf2g20/XtuxLXA9FvDwtSAj/0ZyGSLPTLL7 O9P923t+eMJXmMhoE8VBZs0QEY9gLd3SV8Z7/TbnLpqQEY9Ia7Otcc+avTkpI7XUe2KoljEZfkfQ pth1GWEnjvREBCXErosIO3GkJyIoIXZdRNiJIz0RQQmx6yLCThzpiQhKiF0XEXbiSE9EUELsuoiw E0d6IoISYteXIZI6Ms0ccY4mNp1IOR8efUZcC2GqEfsJoZCbbWaaETNh6c02M82IGWDdQ0Y8j8mV wJVQy6Bn7VrvfjaG//ng+WrZxu7MrW0UjaWMoMWZ9dCjxdygV0tGvEmx5okIK2mvzjJEPqhJKo6H d1yrAAAAAElFTkSuQmCC"/>|clemCall]] [[<img src = "data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAARNJREFUaAXt lwEKwzAIRduxs/T+59ll2lkQJIyYUI3ifmHYUkn/88d27uexnVuB41WA4UYASDYn4QgccarAW1t3 /2gZa+5/PxPdAz3SLU/AzTKOqD3SFlfbq21+e+3Vc9MgrbCRay/x8tkuICuESwg6NwGJEG4KkgGA gcq8tQDClmaJcCSLE6wDjnAlskQ4ksUJ1gFHuBJZIhzJ4gTrgCNcCRlpDH46Csv1Zs7NHCEAmk/o FwFjBjJTPY9ck1GXhEknIiZHMxCG8aj2yJplthZARuxemQNHVlZ75FllHJl+/UZ8I/7KkTJbqwyI 2iO9f7IW/dJbf6Q3OEcF4USLaCX6lxY3EE/RriCrhbcwjxyJFi9hLioQHKReILyxAAAAAElFTkSu QmCC"/>|clemOffice]] [[<img src="data:image/gif;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAADIAAAAyCAYAAAAeP4ixAAAAAXNSR0IArs4c6QAAARhJREFUaAXt mG0OgyAMhnXZWXb/8+wybu5XYzp4SqRCrb8QC/T9oE1ct9eyLQGeRwAMPwgJZDQlU5HRFHlqCa1v bfaauW9VRY8KRFtJN9TWWuaOJO7v5GwMxJLMv9hjknscSZKAmeayayRIwqYBsiddAjMVkBKY6YBI O8lxApFsjDBORUZQQeYQRhHXzk66uGTZMsZASs3IcmCv2PtYq6cdLOrUHBFGkTBA0GWvyWqxSEss sTcCQjZqSfDMNWmtM9ms7UUckdaqsej9HSmSVctRlqxajmSjn3jojpDy5wlMOyutpbHSa444Iq3V i/3WfZEi2RBb6W1Yd5+qdbWtqDhhFAkDRK1apAFRyb3iwiiSQLwsQ88Jo8gHmrMoH9gTAjEAAAAA SUVORK5CYII="/>|save]]

I take out my cell phone and dial Solene. (if:$firstClemCall is not "yes")["Morris?" (set:$firstClemCall to "yes") "Hey, Sol. Slight change of plans." "What's going on?" A pause. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine. It's Clem. Her son's gone missing. I'm going to help her find him. She thinks monsters are involved." "Oh. Oh, no. Got it." "I'll take up this Hierophant stuff again as soon as it's settled. I know I said it was my priority, but..." "No, I understand. Good luck. I hope you find him." "I'll find him, all right," I say. "I just hope he's still breathing when I do."](else:)[] (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

No time to return to the office. Besides, I can review my case notes right here. (for: each _item, ...$case2notes)[_item ] (link: "Back.")[(goto: $state)]

The tunnel is short. It opens into a surprisingly large room. I creep inside. The place is lit with candles, the tall, red tapering kind. I hear movement and swing around. Lying on his back, tied to a table: a young man. He struggles to weakly lift his head. "God," he says, in disbelief, "M-Morris?" "That your name, sweetheart?" says a voice from behind me. I swing around. A woman, standing directly behind me. Long, flowing red hair, gentle curls. She's wearing a black hooded robe (currently un-hooded) and nothing else, the front of the robe unfastened and open. She takes another step forward, cat-silent. She was likely standing there the whole time--I wouldn't have seen or heard her. She shrugs the robe a little further down her arms, baring her breasts, and walks right up to me with a smirk, tracing a finger along my shoulder. "Barking up the wrong tree," I say. Then, "I won't hurt you if you don't make me." "Who said anything about getting hurt?" she says. She places her hands on my chest and unfastens my coat, and then slides her hands along my waist. As I move to stop her, her hand brushes against the hilt of my dagger, and she freezes. Her eyes get narrow. "Well," she says, "I take it you're not happy to see me." "Gonna need you to let this kid go." "And then what? You'll let me live?" Her smirk twists coldly. "I'll think about it." She backs away, glaring at me. "I won't give you the chance," she says. She's moving to do something, and quickly. "Your name is--" [["Banshee."|churelwrong1]] [["Siguanaba."|churelwrong2]] [["Churel."|churelright]]

She's unaffected. Her eyes flash white, and I collapse to the floor, body paralyzed. She crouches on top of me, her gorgeous eyes gleaming, and grips my throat with superhuman strength. My limbs can't move to throw her off. I think I hear Grant screaming something. Mostly I hear my heart pounding in my ears. I'm choking, my head feeling cloudy, vision fading. The last thing I see her smiling face drifting nearer to mine. Then darkness. [[Retry|graveyard]]

Her eyes flash with a brief white light almost simultaneously with my words, and I can't move my arms or legs. I collapse to the floor. In front of me, she does the same. She's glaring at me, clearly taking this time to mull over how to make me suffer. Well, shit. I should have brought protective runes. I might've realized that if I'd given it more careful thought, rather than rushing into this. "Morris?" Grant calls weakly, terror in his voice. "--Fine," I say. Which isn't exactly true, seeing as the churel in front of me is already struggling to move, to get back up on her feet. She'll recover a hell of lot quicker than this charm she put on me. And the name trick doesn't work twice in a row. Eventually, I watch her climb to her feet. She stares furiously down at me, and then lifts me up, not without some effort, but still with disproportionate strength. And suddenly the red-haired woman is gone and I'm face-to-face with a corpse. "You...fucked...up," it says. The churel drags me over to an empty table and lays me down on top of it. Then it leaves, heading to the doorway. Not good. "Morris?" "You alright, kid?" "Yeah," he says. I look over and see some deep cuts on his neck. Hope he hasn't lost too much blood. I hear footsteps approaching the room. [[Continue.|churelden2]]

The corpse-like churel enters the room again, its black robe flowing. "Came...alone..." it says. "Mistake." "You're telling me," I say. I try shifting my weight on the table. I twist a bit, but it's no use. I could roll myself onto the floor, maybe, but then what? And I can't purify it, either...its reason could be anything. "You...die...a...slow...death," the churel says, walking back over to us. Not likely. Solene will notice my absence before long, and she'll come find me via my phone's GPS. But it's Grant that I'm worried about. I glance at him: he's tired and thin, breathing shallowly. I don't think he can last much longer. The churel approaches Grant. Shit. I can't let it keep feeding on him. I need to do something. Distract her? [["Hey, I gotta say. Really like what you've done with the place. Where'd you find all those candles?"|candles]] [["Anyone ever tell you that robe really matches your eyesockets?"|robe]] [["Hey, you want to hear a joke?"|jokeden]]

The churel watches me carefully. I can't read its very dead face. Beside it, Grant is struggling to turn his head to look back and forth from the monster to me. "What...you...trying?" it rattles. It walks over to me, traces my jawline with a clawlike finger. "Seek...death?" it says. "Why, is death single, too? Skull faces are definitely my type." With a snarl, its fingers start to close around my throat and squeeze. I struggle to twist my shoulders, but my limbs are all useless. I try to struggle uselessly for a second before it lets go. "No...easy...death..." it says. "Feed...on...you...for...days...months..." It caresses my face again with its gnarled claws of a hand as I'm still gasping, trying to catch my breath. "Your...life...mine..." it says. "More...planned...for...you...just...you...wait." "I don't think so," a voice says. The churel straightens up from its position hunched over me, and is still turning to look when its head explodes with a deafening //crack//. Grant yelps. The churel's head bursts. It collapses, already disintegrating into ash, little more than a mound of the stuff by the time it hits the floor. My ears ring, and I see Daisy enter the room. "Silver bullets," she says. She walks over to Grant and immediately begins unfastening him. I can feel strength returning to my limbs with the churel's death. I pull myself upright. Daisy is helping Grant sit upright. He folds an arm weakly around her shoulder, and she--with some effort--helps him to stand. Daisy looks over her shoulder with an amused grin. I climb slowly to my own feet. "How long were you waiting?" "I got in here minutes ago. Thanks for distracting it." "So you followed me." "You thought I wouldn't? I've tracked stealthier." We amble back through the debris-strewn, shadowy corriders and back outside. I look to Grant, who seems about ready to pass out where we stand. We carry him back to the edge of campus, taking frequent breaks that slow "Wait here. I'll get help for him," I say. "Not necessary," Daisy interjects. "I arranged a ride already. I'm taking Grant to the hospital, make sure he's all right." "Probably wise." I look to him. "You okay, kid?" He nods. "Thanks. Uh, both of you." Daisy looks at me, all cool gray stare. "Thanks for your help, detective," she says. [["You shouldn't make a habit of facing down monsters on your own."|bristly]] [["No. That was mostly you, kid."|gratitude]]

{(set:$killed to ($killed + 0.5)) (set:$clemCase to "no") (set:$clemSolved to "yes")} Her face is unfazed, eyes deflecting my stare like slivers of gunmetal. "Why not? Everyone's gotta start somewhere," she says evenly. "But you don't have to worry. Monster hunting isn't my main career plan, at the moment." "What is?" I find myself saying. "Biology. I'm interested in field research. Living things contain plenty of mysteries of their own for me to solve." She peers up the road. "Our ride should be here soon." "I have to get going," I say. "Take care of Grant. You should call his mother." I want to call Clem myself, but now that I know Grant's safe, the other case--the Hierophant business--is already weighing heavily on my mind, and I need to go start working on it immediately. "Good thinking," she says. She twists to pull her cell phone out of her pocket while still supporting Grant. I head off as I hear her greeting Clem. Just before I walk away, I can hear Clem's quick, rising tones, muffled through Daisy's phone. A few steps later, and, like stepping into an ocean, I'm immersed in nothing but street noise. The light of sun is starting to cover everything around me. I head back to my car, get in, and drive. [[Continue.|caseFinalLocation]]

{(set:$purified to ($purified + 0.5)) (set:$clemCase to "no") (set:$clemSolved to "yes")} She smiles. "Thanks. Though monster hunting isn't my main career plan, at the moment." "What is?" I find myself saying. "Biology. I'm interested in field research. Living things contain plenty of mysteries of their own for me to solve." "I don't think of what I do as hunting monsters. It's really about people and how they live, mostly. You'd be good at it." "Maybe I would be," she says. "I guess that means a lot coming from someone who's been doing this since before I was born." "No," I say. "You're already more experienced than I was at your age." She peers up the road. "Our ride should be here soon." "I have to get going," I say. "Take care of Grant. You should call his mother." I want to call Clem myself, but now that I know Grant's safe, the other case--the Hierophant business--is already weighing heavily on my mind, and I need to go start working on it immediately. "Good thinking," she says. She twists to pull her cell phone out of her pocket while still supporting Grant. I head off as I hear her greeting Clem. Just before I walk away, I can hear Clem's quick, rising tones, muffled through Daisy's phone. A few steps later, and, like stepping into an ocean, I'm immersed in nothing but street noise. The light of sun is starting to cover everything around me. I head back to my car, get in, and drive. [[Continue.|caseFinalLocation]]

(set:$state to "stmartin") I'm standing in the center of the Main Quad of St. Martin University's campus. People, mostly students, stream all around me. (if:$killed > $purified)[They hunch forward, darting through the rain with their backpacks. Older men and woman walk stolidly through the storm, umbrellas in hand.](else:)[There's a sense of leisure in most people's pace. Students stride around casually with books in hand. Clusters of people sit outside. In some places, this morning's sun has dried the pavement enough already to sit.] [[Grant lives in Hemlock Hall. I might try to take a look there.|hemlock]] (if:$metdaisy is not "yes")[ [[I should get more information from his girlfriend. Clem gave me her number.|daisy]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

//Domovoi// Intellect: human Appearance: a humanlike man; a shadowy figure Weakness: protective runes Category: ethereal A domovoi is a powerful benevolent spirit. Any dwelling or structure that a domovoi considers its territory is guarded by its watchful eye. Domovye will drive out or kill encroaching spirits or other monsters, and they are known to be protective of their humans. They rarely make an appearance to the living people in their territory, though brief glimpses and unaccounted for sounds are more common. An exception appears to be children: anecdotes abound of children playing with and encountering these creatures in their homes, with whom the domovye tend to have a paternal relationship. Domovye are known sometimes to cause minor trouble, like causing phantom sounds or knocking things off shelves, when dissatisfied with the family in their home for a particular reason, such as perceived slovenlyness. More rarely, a domovoi will have difficulty accepting a new family if a house changes hands, and they become a persistent nuisance, though bodily harm does not extend beyond a pinch or bruise, and they will continue to defend the dwelling from other monsters. In some cultures, such as Russian and Czech, they are referred to as "grandfather." (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

(set:$state to "hemlock") (if:$metdaisy is not "yes")[I reach Hemlock Hall, a tall, flat, grim brick building a lot like all the other tall, flat, grim brick buildings around it. Fortunately, a worn, serious gray plaque clearly names this one Hemlock. I try the door. Locked. A card reader mounted against it. (set:$foundHemlock to "yes") I glance around. There are no students around, either coming or going. Flourescent yellow lighting taunts me on the other side of the glass door. I might have to come back to this one. [[Back.|stmartin]] ](else:)[(if:$foundHemlock is not "yes")[I reach Hemlock Hall, a tall, flat, grim brick building a lot like all the other tall, flat, grim brick buildings around it. Fortunately, a worn, serious gray plaque clearly names this one Hemlock. I try the door. Locked. A card reader mounted against it. ](else:)[I return to Hemlock Hall, Daisy beside me. We approach the door.] "I'd like to get in there and look around, and maybe ask a few people some questions," I say. (if:$killed >= $purified)[Rain tumbles down around us. Daisy doesn't flinch in the rain any more than I do.] Daisy produces a card--her student ID, I realize--and swipes it through the card reader. A light flashes green, and then she opens the door and steps inside, holding it open for me. "The card readers for Willow, Acacia, Birch, Hemlock, all the ones over here...they're interchangeable. Campus says otherwise, but it's the worst kept secret." "Thanks." Inside, we stand in a narrow white hallway, lit in buzzing flourescent yellow light and faintly smelling like vomit. I hear the scuffling sounds of movement from several directions, muted voices and laughter. "Can you take me to his room?" I say. She leads me to an elevator. I take one glance at it and tell her I'll meet her upstairs. Four flights and a small amount of regret later, I open the stairwell door to face her. "Here we are," she says. We're standing at 403. "Have you got a way in?" "Not exactly. His roommate's been on vacation. But I've been thinking about it while I waited." "And?" "And," she says, "Come with me this way. I'll tell you while we walk." [[Continue.|residentadmin]] ] <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

Better go ahead and get the girlfriend's account of what might have happened. Might give me some leads. I take out my phone and call the number that Clem gave. I hope this kid is fairly together at the moment. Clem has every right to be coming apart right now, but I don't know how well I can deal with another hysterical person. I brace myself for sobbing on the other end. The dial tone cuts out. "Detective Morris?" (set:$metdaisy to "yes") Her voice is even. I must have hesitated a moment, because she adds, "Clem texted me that you were coming. Where are you? I'll come meet you." "Main Quad, I think. In front of Weyer Hall." "I'll be right there." She hangs up. Well, all right. I'm crouching over the damp concrete, a cigarette in my teeth, studiously observing a bruise-purple earthworm ooze across the sidewalk, when I notice two legs approach and stop in front of me. I stand. "Daisy, I'm assuming." "Detective Morris. You're Clem's friend," she says, and I get the feeling she's discreetly sizing me up. She's average height, a little over average build. Deeply clever, shining, bird-bright eyes. "I gotta admit, you're not as shaken up as I would've expected." "I'm worried as hell," Daisy says, and it doesn't sound ungenuine. "But fixating on it accomplishes nothing." "Then let's get right to business. Why haven't you taken this to the cops?" "It's not an issue for cops," Daisy says. "I got wind that yesterday he was heard talking about some long-haired woman." "So that explains your ambivalence." "It's not like that. Grant is...not always the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's got a good heart. He's an honest guy. I know there's more going on." "There may be, but it still sounds to me like he could be in a very human kind of danger." "Grant had taken up an interest lately with his buddies in ghost hunting," Daisy says. "It started right before he started acting strangely and ultimately disappeared." "That's not much to go on. It could purely be coincidence." "It could," she agrees, "but I really have the feeling it's not. Grant had taken to exploring weird places to try to find ghosts. I think they found more than they bargained for somewhere." She pauses. "More specifically, Grant had been acting erratically the day before. He hadn't returned my calls, but some other people recognized him on campus. They said he seemed in a daze. Talking about the woman." For a moment, I think about Garcia telling me about the Hierophant in my office, and my insides tighten. "I should talk to them." "I thought so. I've already arranged for us to meet with them in the rec room in Hemlock," Daisy says. She turns to walk away, one hand tightened on a backpack strap. "Let's go." I almost start to thoughtlessly take a step to follow. "No. No way, kid." "I'm coming with you," Daisy says. "I'm going to see this through, too." "No way in hell. Clients and witnesses don't join the investigation. This isn't a fucking game, kid." "So then let's quit wasting time," she says, her eyes shining coldly. She pauses, then turns and opens her backpack meaningfully, so that I can see what's inside. A glint of metal--my hand instinctively moves toward my dagger, as I wonder if I'm being threatened--but then I see a very familiar leather book. No way. She's glaring at me impatiently, after zipping it back up and slinging the backpack across her shoulder again. "Fine," I sigh. "Let's go talk. But I'm doing the talking." "Fine," she says. [[Continue.|stmartin]]

I face my reflection. My vision swims for a moment, presenting two copies of me, and then it steadies. Bleary eyes, the lines of my face. For a second I see myself as any stranger or client must see me: a serious man, weary lines in his face, dark hair, dark eyes, my skin...what color do people call that? Olive? And always tired. Always haunted. I steady myself against the sink and address that awfully haunted face. [["You're falling apart."|fallingapart]] [["You've been through a lot."|seenalot]] [["You look like shit."|likeshit]]

(set:$killed to ($killed + 0.5)) Yeah. Maybe I am. I don't want to be awake anymore. I walk into my bedroom, stretch myself across the bed, finish my glass at once, and close my eyes. (if:$killed >= $purified)[All I can hear is the howling storm.] [[Continue.|morrisawake]]

(set:$purified to ($purified + 0.5)) I...have, though, haven't I? And despite how much I deny it, everything takes a toll. Like termites working a weakened frame over the years. Maybe the frame was weak to begin with. I don't want to be awake anymore. I walk into my bedroom, stretch myself across the bed, finish my glass at once, and close my eyes. (if:$killed >= $purified)[All I can hear is the howling storm.] [[Continue.|morrisawake]]

I feel stupid talking to myself. I don't want to be awake anymore. I walk into my bedroom, stretch myself across the bed, finish my glass at once, and close my eyes. (if:$killed >= $purified)[All I can hear is the howling storm.] [[Continue.|morrisawake]]

My eyes snap open. My back is pressed to the wall, a tall, red humanoid against me, open wings, twin antlers, the flame between them. His hand is against my throat, but he is reeling back in pain. I twist within his grip, draw my dagger. I kick him hard where it hurts and he backs away from me with a yelp, crouching down. "You're..." I say. My mind fumbles for names. I know the grimoire, and yet...I've been making a lot of mistakes, lately. Focus. A demon. Demons. A lüdérc. But I grasp the thought too late. The Hierophant has had enough time to recover, and I haven't been able to twist from its grip completely. Things happen quickly. The lüdérc opens its shadowy face, jaws unhinging in a very inhuman way, and it thrusts its free hand forward at my chest as I manage to turn my dagger toward it. Blinding pain beneath my ribs. A gasp, an awful sound: from my own mouth, I realize. The lüdérc's jaws start to close around my neck and stop, and it makes a strange sound. Its chest is warm against my fist: the dagger's up to the hilt in its heart. I'm half-aware of the lüdérc burning up before me in a bright, smokeless flame and turning to ash. My back, sliding against the wall. I rest on the concrete floor. So much pain. I look down to a mess of crimson spreading from my shirt. I half attempt to shrug off my coat, but I can barely breathe, and it hurts so much. {(set:$dream to "after")} With a gasp I lie back. Losing strength quickly. A hazy feeling, like sleep, pulling at my eyes. No. Can't lose consciousness. My phone...if I could just... But I'm so tired. A memory bubbles up for some reason, a Sunday morning. Early, too early, woken by the cat, sunlight a warm sliver through the curtain, Roy calling me back to the soft bed...So tired. I'm so tired. I've been tired for a long time. Why keep fighting? There's nothing left to hold on to. I have no reason. I can feel my own breathing get slower. My mind feels slow. In my mind's eye, I remember smiling sleepily, saying "Okay." I walk back across the carpet, climbing under the sheet. Warm and soft. Nowhere I need to be for a while. Roy folds an arm around me, says "Let's stay in." That sounds nice, I tell him. I close my eyes. [[I'm home.|finish]]

I walk down into the maintenance tunnel, flashlight in my hand, Daisy at my heels on the steps. I realize from the other beam of light sweeping beside my own that she must have pulled out her own flashlight. Nothing but close walls, long-abandoned spiderwebs deeply layered over years. Tubes and wires line the walls, and wide HVAC piping lurks against the close ceiling. I can hear the thrumming of machinery, and likely somewhere, the boiler. We're in the beating heart of an active building. "No sign of anything yet," Daisy ventures to whisper after we've crept forward a while. "Hm," I acknowledge. She's right. Not so much as a ghost, so far. We pass a doorway, minus a door. I shine my light inside. A massive boiler in the corner, locked behind metal chainlink barrier, sealed with a padlock. Some extra furniture for the dorms above, stacked neatly. Not much else. "Morris," a sharp whisper, from somewhere outside of the room. I realize Daisy isn't beside me. I duck out of the boiler room as quickly as I can, flashlight in one hand, angled low, and my other hand on the hilt of my dagger, at my side. Daisy is standing beside another doorway, ahead. She nods at me in the direction of it. I walk over to her and look inside. It's largely an empty square room, with only a few chairs along one wall. On the floor, there are... "Candles?" Daisy says, entering the room. I walk in with her. Almost the as soon as she breathes out the word, the three candles on the floor light up, a dim blue-green light shining from their wicks. And at the same time, at the back of the room, we realize at the same time that a still figure stands in the shadows, facing us. A man, it looks like. Tall, bearded, a stern face. And two endless black pits instead of eyes. Daisy moves instinctively to draw something from her bag. "No!" I say, grabbing her arm. "No. Do you know what it is?" She stares ahead at the man in the shadows for a moment. "A domovoi," she says, very quietly. She drops her arm. Out loud, I say, "Do you live here?" "Aye," he says. His voice is low and commanding. "This dormitory has long been my domain. What do ye seek?" "We don't mean any harm," Daisy says. "Not to your or your inhabitants." The domovoi gives a brief, sardonic, rumbling laugh. "Aye, I know. Else we would not be speaking here such as we are." [["Give us some information, and we'll be out of your way, old man."|giveusinfo]] [["One of your residents is in danger. Maybe you can help us."|residentdanger]] [["...You don't mind living in a basement?"|basementquestion]]

(set:$killed to ($killed + 0.5)) "Hmm," the domovoi grumbles. "Perhaps I misjudged you. You may well be in need of a lesson in proper conduct yourself." "We need the information for a good reason," Daisy says. "Please. One of your residents is in danger, and we're looking for him." "Who might that be?" "Kid by the name of Grant Hayes," I say. "We have reason to believe he's in danger. Hasn't been seen for days. "Please," Daisy adds. "Anything you might know about where he's gone...it could help us find him." The domovoi scowls, scratching his beard. "I can't read minds, mind ye. Let me think...aye, I know the lad," he said. "Dedicated young man, swarthy complexion, dark as you, there, young miss. Lives up on the fourth floor. Hmm." "Yes, that's him. Anything else?" Daisy says. She sounds a bit strained, like she's guarding her voice carefully, keeping it steady. "He an' his lads had taken to exploring the woods that line the borders of campus, outside of town. They spoke of it often, would come back with the dirt and sweat of hiking and exploration. I can't say for certain, but he was packed to go back out there, last I saw...I'd search there." "The woods outside of the city? He could be anywhere. We'd never find him, not without dogs and a huge group of people," Daisy says. "Hold a moment, lass, I know this," the domovoi says. "I am bound to this place. I could leave it only at great cost to my being, and only by extreme necessity. However...at the forest's edge, if still she's there, an old...friend of mine dwells. If you find her on the trails, she can guide you. She'll have seen the lad if he traveled within." "You have a friend living in the woods?" I say. "Aye, again, if still she's there. An old soul like myself." "Where can we find her? Specifically?" Daisy asks. "Hold on," I say, and I take out my phone and open my map app. "This is a map of campus," I say, zooming in with two fingers on the forest trails at the campus's edge. The domovoi's fathomless black pits narrow as he squints his eyes at my screen. I turn the brightness down a bit. "See?" I say. He barks out a laugh. "Aye, well that's a corker, isn't it. Ye humans carry magic boxes these days, to be sure." After a moment of concentrating on the map, he points. I mark it with a pin. "Thank you," I say. "We can't waste any more time, I'm sorry." He nods. "Do what ye need to." Just a touch softer, "I hope ye find the lad." "Thanks," Daisy says. We walk to the doorway. Behind us, he says, "If...ye do find her, tell her Virgil sends his regards." The odd blue-green light disappears, behind us. We both reach for our flashlights and click them on nearly in unison. [[We'd better leave the building and head to the woods.|campuswoods]]

"Hmm," the domovoi rumbles. "Who might that be?" "Kid by the name of Grant Hayes," I say. "We have reason to believe he's in danger. Hasn't been seen for days. "Please," Daisy adds. "Anything you might know about where he's gone...it could help us find him." The domovoi scowls, scratching his beard. "I can't read minds, mind ye. Let me think...aye, I know the lad," he said. "Dedicated young man, swarthy complexion, dark as you, there, young miss. Lives up on the fourth floor. Hmm." "Yes, that's him. Anything else?" Daisy says. She sounds a bit strained, like she's guarding her voice carefully, keeping it steady. "He an' his lads had taken to exploring the woods that line the borders of campus, outside of town. They spoke of it often, would come back with the dirt and sweat of hiking and exploration. I can't say for certain, but he was packed to go back out there, last I saw...I'd search there." "The woods outside of the city? He could be anywhere. We'd never find him, not without dogs and a huge group of people," Daisy says. "Hold a moment, lass, I know this," the domovoi says. "I am bound to this place. I could leave it only at great cost to my being, and only by extreme necessity. However...at the forest's edge, if still she's there, an old...friend of mine dwells. If you find her on the trails, she can guide you. She'll have seen the lad if he traveled within." "You have a friend living in the woods?" I say. "Aye, again, if still she's there. An old soul like myself." "Where can we find her? Specifically?" Daisy asks. "Hold on," I say, and I take out my phone and open my map app. "This is a map of campus," I say, zooming in with two fingers on the forest trails at the campus's edge. The domovoi's fathomless black pits narrow as he squints his eyes at my screen. I turn the brightness down a bit. "See?" I say. He barks out a laugh. "Aye, well that's a corker, isn't it. Ye humans carry magic boxes these days, to be sure." After a moment of concentrating on the map, he points. I mark it with a pin. "Thank you," I say. "We can't waste any more time, I'm sorry." He nods. "Do what ye need to." Just a touch softer, "I hope ye find the lad." "Thanks," Daisy says. We walk to the doorway. Behind us, he says, "If...ye do find her, tell her Virgil sends his regards." The odd blue-green light disappears, behind us. We both reach for our flashlights and click them on nearly in unison. [[We'd better leave the building and head to the woods.|campuswoods]]

"Nay, I travel the halls often to do my duties. I watch over the young men and women, protecting them as I can. Minor things, usually, but sometimes I must save them from themselves, or from each other. I have sometimes woken those in charge here, when someone has imbibed more liquor than their livers can hold...more, often, though I harass them into cleaning their rooms," he says. "Young men and women are so very stupid sometimes. But I do my best. Stupid though they may be, I am theirs." A pauses for a moment. "But you did not come here to see to my living in comfort, human." [["Give us some information, and we'll be out of your way, old man."|giveusinfo]] [["One of your residents is in danger. Maybe you can help us."|residentdanger]]

We hurry across campus, to the woods lining the campus's edge, saying nothing between us. After a while, guided by the phone in my hand, we reach the point, fairly far into the forest trail, that I marked on my phone's map. I look around. Tall evergreens stand around us, and birds, a whole chorus of them, calling out into the afternoon. It's shaded here, with all the tall trees. I know how close we are to campus, and yet it feels like a whole other world in here already. Daisy and I exchange a glance, but neither of us wants to say anything first, I think. She gives in pretty soon. "Did he give us a name? Or say anything, actually, about who this person is? What they look like?" "Don't think so," I admit. "Just that they should be right around here." "Well, I don't see anyone," Daisy says. "Thanks, Virgil." I pull up my map again, moving it around, trying to see if maybe I've lead us to the wrong place. I head Daisy's breath catch in her throat, followed by, "Morris." I look up. A woman in some old-fashioned kind of dress stands between two trees in front of us. She's really pale--inhumanly so. And a little light on the opacity side of things. "Whose name did you just utter?" she says quietly. "Virgil. He sent us. You're his friend, I take it?" I say. She gives a kind of choking laugh. "He's alive? The bastard...all this time...but it can't be. That was...very long ago." "You're still here," Daisy pointed out. "Yes," she says, with a note of bitterness. "Listen," I say, "Virgil thought you could help us. Someone's life is danger. We're trying to find him before it's too late." "I don't see why I should help you. I only just met you. And I don't usually talk to humans like this." Daisy opens her mouth to say something, and from her pissed-off look I can sort of gather what it would be, but I beat her to it. "Look, you clearly remember your past life. You know how much it means to worry about someone." She doesn't answer. "I don't owe Virgil any favors," she says. "But maybe you can help me, and if so, I'll do whatever you need." "First, we need to know if you really can help us," Daisy says. "The man we're looking for, he's my age. His skin's like mine, only a little bit lighter. Tall, wears glasses. Think you've seen him?" "Hmm...yes, I've seen a human like that recently," the phantom says slowly. "Prove it. What color was his backpack?" "Blue," she says without hesitation. "He came through two days ago." "That's him," Daisy says quietly. "What is it you want from us? We're clearly in a hurry," I say. "I want you settle a territory dispute," the phantom says. [["Are you asking me to do this right now?"|questchain1]] [["Are you SERIOUSLY asking me to do this right now?"|questchain2]] [["Sure, I love territory disputes."|questaccept]]

//Kitsune// Intellect: human Appearance: a nine-tailed fox; a flame; a beautiful human Weakness: protective runes Category: cursed Kitsune are remarkably clever beings. Stories abound of boons granted by gaining a kitsune's favor, but many stories exist of being killed and eaten by them, too. Their motivations vary, though they tend to be vain, and to prefer living just outside of human range. A kitsune's true form is a large, nine-tailed fox. They can cause hovering flames to appear at will, and can also take on the appearance of a human. There are many recorded incidents of humans being seduced by kitsune, unaware of their true nature...sometimes cohabitating right up until the human's natural death. It is strongly advised to exercise caution when fighting these wily creatures. (link: "Back.")[(goto: $bookstate)]

"It's important," she says flatly. "Listen, this has been a huge problem for me. People are avoiding the forests out of fear now, and I don't want that. Take care of this for me, and I'll take you wherever you want." "Did you miss the part where our friend's life is danger?" Daisy seethes. "Death isn't the worst thing," she says. Before Daisy can reply to that, I grab her arm to get her attention, and I say to the ghost, "All right. Who's the feuding neighbor?" "Here," says a woman's voice behind me. The phantom crosses her arms. I turn around. A massive fox--the size of a wolf, easy--with nine long tails strolls over from around a tree, and continues to approach. As it passes another tree near the trail, a human woman emerges instead of the fox. She walks over to the trail. She's gorgeous. Has pretty ornate robes, long dark hair, and a fox's gold-brown, slitted eyes. "A pleasure to meet you," she says, her voice sultry. She watches my face carefully. "Oh?" she says. And suddenly, standing there with the long dark hair and the ornate robes is an equally beautiful man. "Is this more to your liking?" he says with a smile. "Let's get this taken care of," I sigh. "So what the fuck is going on?" [[Continue.|woodsargument]]

"It's important," she says flatly. "Listen, this has been a huge problem for me. People are avoiding the forests out of fear now, and I don't want that. Take care of this for me, and I'll take you wherever you want." "Did you miss the part where our friend's life is danger?" Daisy seethes. "Death isn't the worst thing," she says. Before Daisy can reply to that, I grab her arm to get her attention, and I say to the ghost, "All right. Who's the feuding neighbor?" "A human? Really?" says a woman's voice behind me. The phantom crosses her arms. "He's impartial," she says. I turn around. A massive fox--the size of a wolf, easy--with nine long tails strolls over from around a tree, and continues to approach. As it passes another tree near the trail, a human woman emerges instead of the fox. She walks over to the trail. She's gorgeous. Has pretty ornate robes, long dark hair, and a fox's gold-brown, slitted eyes. "A pleasure to meet you," she says, her voice sultry. She watches my face carefully. "Oh?" she says. And suddenly, standing there with the long dark hair and the ornate robes is an equally beautiful man. "Is this more to your liking?" he says with a smile. "Let's get this taken care of," I sigh. "So what the fuck is going on?" [[Continue.|woodsargument]]

"I'll go first," the phantom says. "After all, I'm the one who has been most afflicted by this issue. Seeing as--" "--Perhaps you should just begin your appeal to the human," the man says icily, his beautiful mouth taking on a hint of bitterness. I'm starting to wonder if Virgil actually hated us. "Fine." She gestures to the forest around us. "After I died, which I'd rather not get into, thank you, I wandered around for a while. I settled here, near the campus, where humans would sometimes wander through. They already thought the woods were haunted. It worked to my favor." She pauses. "This was...let's see. When I came to settle here, it must have been about a hundred years ago. I'd drifted around for decades before." She sighs. "Unfortunately, I came to realize that this beast," she gestures at the fox-man, who is calmly watching, "was living deeper in the wood. It had no reason to bother me. We lived peacefully apart for such a long time. But of late," and now she shoots it an angry look, "it has come closer to the forest's edge, right into the heart of my territory. It eats animals and scares off the humans. I need their fear to survive." I sense a pause in her story, and turn to the man before I have to hear more about how badly she's been afflicted. "All right, what's your side?" "Thank you," he says. "As she implied, I was here long before her. This forest was my domain for hundreds of years, in fact. But I was content to spend nearly all of my time deeper in the forest. My encounters with humans were peacable and few. However...of late, humans with guns have traveled farther and farther into the forest. They have blazed trails. They hunt my prey. After nearly being shot myself, I have been forced closer to this edge, where humans don't hunt, but merely walk around in the trees." "You don't need all of this space! There's still plenty of forest where the humans don't go," the phantom says. "Not for long," he says. "But more importantly, this was my forest long before. I allowed her as my tenant, but now I must evict her." They look at me expectantly. Daisy sits by the trail, glaring. [["Can't you both just coexist here?"|coexist]] [["He's right. This was his forest. Just find somewhere new to haunt."|foxchoice]] [["She's right. You don't need that much space. Just make your territory smaller, and give her this."|ghostchoice]]

"No," they both say simultaneously. So, they do agree on something. "On this point, we are certain," the fox-man says. "One of has to go," the phantom says. "Morris, can you please hurry this up?" Daisy says, sitting by the trail. [["He's right. This was his forest. Just find somewhere new to haunt."|foxchoice]] [["She's right. You don't need that much space. Just make your territory smaller, and give her this."|ghostchoice]]

The fox-man nods his head humbly. "A respectable decision, human. Thank you." "What?" the phantom seethes. "You can't be serious! You're siding with that //thing//?" "I answered honestly," I say. "But where am I going to go? What am I going to--" she stops in her panic, and looks at us, wide-eyed. "Virgil! Where is he? I'll go be with him. Does he truly live?" "Not live, exactly," I say. I'm debating whether to answer her question. Daisy decides for me. "Hemlock. Right over on campus. Now it's your turn." But the phantom doesn't seem to have heard anything after the building's name. "Oh, Virgil. You'll forgive me, won't you?" she says. "But wait," I say. "You said you'd--" But just like that, she's gone. We look around. "Damn it!" I shout. I kneel on the trail. My only lead, gone. It's getting dark now, twilight starting to fall, the shadows between the trees getting deeper. I'll never find Grant with the entire forest to search through, not even if it were still daylight. A gentle hand falls on my shoulder. I look up. The beautiful fox-man stands behind me, smiling. "I would like to thank you, in my fashion, human," he says. "Is there anything you...desire?" I stand. "Actually, yes. But probably not what you're thinking. We're looking for someone. A boy." I describe Grant. "Ah," he says. "Yes. He traveled to the old graveyard. I can take you there." He steps back, and suddenly the fox is standing there in front of me again, nine long tails twitching. "This way," he says, and walks into the woods. A bright blue flame hovers above his body, easy for me to see in the shadows. I move toward it. "Let's go," Daisy says. I stop. "No," I say. "No way." She looks at me, incredulous. "You're not coming with me. I've got one kid's life in danger already. I will not be responsible for putting another in danger, too." "I helped you get this far!" "Kid, I've done this many, many times. I would've been fine." That's probably true, at least. "But this is where I draw the line. I'm about to go face something down, and hopefully get Grant. I'll let you know as soon it's over, but you're not coming with me. That's the end of it." Daisy starts to say something, and then stops, apparently trying to figure out what to say. In the end she says nothing, and I've already starting walking toward the fire. I only glance over my shoulder once, but when I do, she's still standing by the trail, glaring daggers in my direction. I follow the the floating blue flame as the forest keeps getting darker around me. [[Continue.|foxgraveyard]]

"Ha!" the phantom says smugly. "You heard him. Just go back in the forest." "And risk being accosted by humans? I think not." His face is cold and furious. "I have a better idea. You will leave my forest. And you...//idiot human//." Suddenly there's a huge fox standing in front of me, a snarling face and nine twitching tails, and then it leaps at me. "Y-" is all I can manage to get out before it tackles me to the ground, pinning me with a paw, its open maw inches from my face. I gasp, "Your name is--" "--Kitsune," Daisy says, standing behind us. The kitsune freezes, and then collapses. I roll it off of my chest and sit up. Its head lies sideways, a golden-brown eye glaring up at me. As quick as a bird, Daisy leans over, a silver dagger in her hand, lifts the kitsune's head, and slices its throat with one clean cut. It gasps, and disintegrates into ash, falling into a small mound beside my legs. "You good?" Daisy says. I nod, and stand. "See? An animal, in the end," the phantom says, in a smug tone that is really starting to piss me off. "No more games," I say. "Take us to the boy." "Now that we've cleared the forest of one monster, we could always finish the job," Daisy warns. "No need for that," she says, sounding offended. "I'll take you to the graveyard. Follow me." She disappears. We're standing in a forest, twilight starting to fall, shadows getting deeper between the trees, and I don't see her for a moment. Anger and despair start to well up before I see it: an orb of white light, about chest height, floating several feet away. I move toward it. "Let's go," Daisy says. I stop. "No," I say. "No way." She looks at me, incredulous. "You're not coming with me. I've got one kid's life in danger already. I will not be responsible for putting another in danger, too." "I just saved your ass!" "Kid, I've done this many, many times. You might have beaten me to the punch, but I would've been fine." That's probably true, at least. "But this is where I draw the line. I'm about to go face something down, and hopefully get Grant. I'll let you know as soon it's over, but you're not coming with me. That's the end of it." Daisy starts to say something, and then stops, apparently trying to figure out what to say. In the end she says nothing, and I've already starting walking toward the light. I only glance over my shoulder once, but when I do, she's still standing by the trail, glaring daggers in my direction. I follow the the phantom light as the forest keeps getting darker around me. [[Continue.|ghostyard]]

(set:$state to "graveyard") I'm standing in an old graveyard, deep in the forest. It's very much night at this point, so I'm using my flashlight. Weeds and vines creep over everything. Crumbling [[gravestones|gravestones]] sit tilted and covered in moss. (if: $killed > $purified)[The skies, after the brief reprieve earlier, have opened up again. The pouring rain doesn't make it easier to see.] There's a faded [[statue|gravestatue]] nearby. A small [[mausoleum|mausoleum]] on the opposite end of the graveyard. A particularly tall [[double headstone|doublegrave]] a few feet away. <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

After trudging through the woods for a while, the fox's fire getting easier to see as the darkness gets deeper, we come to an overgrown graveyard. "Here we are," the fox says. "This place has been long forgotten by humans, mostly, but every now and then, one will find its way here. I wish you luck." He disappears, then, but I hear his voice: "If you'd ever like to call on me again, human, please know that you'll be welcome." Then it's just me, and a dark, overgrown, surprisingly large graveyard in the trees. The last of the blue lining the narrow gaps between the treetops disappeared a long while ago, before we even got here. It's dark. I take out my flashlight. The fox was right. This place seems mostly forgotten. The headstones are old, crumbling and faded. Weeds and vines climb eagerly over everything. [[Continue.|graveyard]]

After trudging through the woods for a while, the phantom's pale light getting easier to see as the darkness gets deeper, we come to an overgrown graveyard. "Well, here," she says, and turns to look at me. "See? I held up my end. No need to worry." "I'm not going to expel you, if that's what you're worried about," I say. "Oh, good," she says. "Well, then." And she disappears. Then it's just me, and a dark, overgrown, surprisingly large graveyard in the trees. The last of the blue lining the narrow gaps between the treetops disappeared a long while ago, before we even got here. It's dark. I take out my flashlight. This place seems mostly forgotten. The headstones are old, crumbling and faded. Weeds and vines climb eagerly over everything. [[Continue.|graveyard]]

The gravestones are chipped and faded. Many are covered with moss, and some are just a pile of rubble in the grass. The ones that are still legible have dates from the 1890s and 1900s. I don't see any evidence that these gravestones have been disturbed in a long time. There's nothing particularly helpful about them. [[Back.|graveyard]]

It's a stone statue of a young woman sitting peaceably, if a bit sadly, in a hooded robe, her face cast down. A memorial statue of one of the graveyard's denizens, maybe, or a symbolic statue to commemorate their graves. It could be an angel, but I don't see any sign of the archetypal wings. Being out here in the weather on its own has done unkind things to its face. It's not the most comfortable thing to look at, out here in the forest in the dark. Fortunately, it doesn't seem helpful to me. [[Back.|graveyard]]

A stone mausoleum, about five feet by eight. An additional eight in height. It has some small cracks in its walls, and vines are eagerly climbing up its sides. I can see that it's dark inside through the cracks. With relatively little space, I'd be surprised if my culprit was lurking on the other side of the walls, but I crouch and listen for a while. (if:$killed >= $purified)[Nothing but the pouring rain.](else:)[Nothing.] I shine my light along the edges of the doors. Interesting: some scrape marks along the bottom. Stone chips and bare dirt empty of grass immediately in front of the left door. It's been opened. I ready my knife in one hand tuck my flashlight in my coat, and slowly open the door. There's a dull grating sound, but little else. Nothing leaps out of the darkness. Strangely, though, there's a dim light. I take my flashlight back out. On the mausoleum floor, there's a rugged hole, and it's a sizable one. A creep closer and look down. A rough-hewn stone staircase descends into a tunnel, and I can see the flickering light of a candle or brazier in there. I turn off my flashlight and put it away. Here goes. I descend into the tunnel. [[Continue.|churelden]]

It's a large double headstone, but it's just as damaged and old as the others. //MARCUS GREENOCKLE//, reads the left. Whoever is under there with him is impossible to make out on the faded rock. I see no signs that the ground around it, or the stone itself, has been disturbed. [[Back.|graveyard]]

We reach room 415. Daisy raps on the door. We wait a moment. I can faintly hear the sound of a TV inside, but no movement. "Josh, I know you're in there," she says. "I can hear the season finale of Seventh City. Open the door or I'll yell how it ends." There's a momentary pause, and then the TV sounds stop and there's a quick shuffle of footsteps to the door. A young man answers, neutral expression turning to surprise, which he then tries to hide, pretty quickly, to his credit. "Detective Morris, this is Josh, the fourth-floor RA," Daisy says. "Hello, Josh. I'm conducting an investigation. I need to see Grant Hayes' room," I say, with the requisite amount of authority. "What...I, sure," he says. He gets his keys from beside the door and walks with us outside into the hall. "Is it drugs? It's always drugs," he says. "I can't comment on the subject of the investigation," I say. I remember the rumor mill that was my first college dorm. "But no, not this time." Josh opens the door and turns on the light. "Here you go," he says. "Is it cool if I...wait here?" "I'd rather you didn't," I say. "This won't take long." Josh hesitates. "Just please be sure to lock the room when you're done." He leaves. I enter the room. Daisy walks in after. "Josh," she laughs. "He's in chemistry with me. Terrible at it. I help him with his homework, and he lets me in to see Grant whenever." The mention of Grant's name seems to snap her back into the all-business look she'd had in the quad. I look around. [[Continue.|grantroom]]

(set:$state to "grantroom") I'm standing in Grant's room. It's a small space, about ten feet by fifteen. There are beds on either side of the room, against the walls. One is a [[typical-height bed|grantbed]], a [[desk|grantdesk]] crammed in the corner between the head of the bed and the wall opposite me. A small [[window|dormwindow]] is centered in that wall. The other bed is a [[loft bed|loftbed]], with a [[desk|dormdesk]] underneath it. There's a [[closet|dormcloset]] near the foot of the bed. There's a small [[bathroom|dormbathroom]] near the door. [[Daisy|leavegrantroom]] stands nearby. <div id="menu"> []<statlink| []<stats| (replace: ?statlink)[(display: "hideStats")] </div>

The blue sheets on Grant's bed are in disarray. I get on my knees and look under it. A guitar, which surprises me, for some reason. A bottle of cheap vodka, still mostly full. A stack of textbooks. After a while, I give up looking here. There's nothing useful. [[Back.|grantroom]]

His laptop sits, off, on his desk. There's a mess of papers, mostly assignments, it looks like. There's a handheld gaming device in a drawer, along with several other papers and a calculator. I spend a while quickly flipping through the papers. Not a damn thing. A metal waste basket beside the desk holds only a crumpled receipt. Nothing here. [[Back.|grantroom]]

I slide the blinds out of the way. (if:$killed >= $purified)[It's coming down hard out there, no sign of stopping.](else:)[A pretty nondistinct view of a neighboring building.] I don't see anything of interest here. [[Back.|grantroom]]

I climb enough of the ladder built onto the bedframe to look at the bed at the top. White sheets in disarray. "That's Simon's bed. His roommate," Daisy says. Nothing stands out about Simon's bed, so I climb back down. [[Back.|grantroom]]

"Simon's desk," Daisy explains as I walk over to it. Grant's roommate keeps his desk clean. There's nothing on top of it at the moment but a jar of pencils. The drawers are full of papers, pens. Nothing useful here. [[Back.|grantroom]]

I open the closet. Shallow, and overcrowded. Guy's shirts. A mound of jeans sitting at the bottom, hopefully clean. A bong tucked under a jacket among them. A shelf at the top of the closet seems to serve as miscellaneous storage for them. I take a moment to glance through it. Some important paperwork, some office supplies, a few belts, a charging cable. Nothing that helps me solve anything. [[Back.|grantroom]]

A small cube of a bathroom, with a square shower and a toilet. I have to practically stand against the toilet to open the shower door. Still, better than a communal bathroom. Nothing stands out about the toilet. There's a concerning amount of mold along the bottom of the shower, but other than a few bottles of shower products (and a graveyard of empty bottles in a corner), there's nothing in there, either. [[Back.|grantroom]]

She stands with her arms crossed near the doorway. "Are you good?" Daisy says. (set:$roommatescount to 0) [["No, I'm still looking around."|grantroom]] [["Yeah. I'm done here."|whatnow]]

"What do you think? Any ideas?" Daisy says. "No," I say. "I didn't find anything. The only thing I've learned is that his backpack wasn't in there--he might have had it with him." Daisy nods. "Yeah, he tended to take it with him for ghost hunts. If that's what he was doing, that'd make sense." "Who would go on this ghost hunts with him?" "Simon, sometimes, when he's around. Usually it's Andres and Shawn." "Can you take me to them?" "Yeah. They live in Hemlock, too. I think that's they how they all met." I turn off the light and flip the lock on Grant's door. The room is dark and still, only (if:$killed >= $purified)[the sound of rain tapping on the window](else:)[a faint light glowing along the edges of the blinds]. I close the door. "This way," Daisy says, leading me quickly down the narrow hall. [[Continue.|shawnandryan]]

Shawn and Andres, it turns out, are roommates. Daisy leads me to their room, one floor up. They open the door for us immediately. "Come in, Detective," one says. "I'm Shawn." Daisy and I step inside. She must have texted them while I investigating Grant's room. Andres sits on his bed. Their room is similar to Grant's, except that neither has a loft bed, and it's more crowded. Crowded, and disorganized. Grant and Simon are the patron saints of order in comparison. I sidestep a pizza box on the floor and stand leaning against a desk, while Daisy hops onto the other desk and Shawn and Andres sit on their respective beds. "God, we...We hadn't seen Grant in a while, but I had no idea he was missing," Andres says. He's mindlessly entwining his hands together. "Yeah," Shawn says quietly. "What...do you know anything yet? What can we do?" "I'm going to find him," I say. "What can you do is give me information." (if:$gh is not "yes")[ [["Tell me about your ghost hunts."|ghosthunts]] ] (if:$ls is not "yes")[ [["When did you last see Grant?"|lastsee]] ] (if:$gah is not "yes")[ [["Can you think of anything that might tell us where he went?"|granthint]] ] (if:$roommatescount is 3)[ [["Okay. That's all for now."|roommatesdone]] ]

{(set:$roommatescount to ($roommatescount +1)) (set:$gh to "yes")} "You're...you're asking about our ghost hunts?" Shawn says. "You think it might be related?" "We're wasting time," I say. "Okay, so we'd go on ghost hunts together. Me, Shawn, and Grant," Andres says. "We'd find places that were supposed to be haunted around the city, and we'd go, like, with flashlights and cameras and shit to try find things." "We most often just went around campus, there's plenty of stuff right around here," Shawn says. "Did any incident stand out in particular?" "Like did we...actually find anything?" Shawn says. He and Andres look at each other. "Well, we recorded a voice by the old well at the edge of campus," Andres says. "Yeah, the one that was saying, //get me out//?" "Yeah. Also, that face at the old factory." "Ooh, yeah. That was fuckin' creepy." I don't think this is relevant. "Did Grant ever go by himself?" I say. "Not really. Well, he did like to scout places for us to go to, first. He'd usually go by someplace he'd heard about during the day, just to quickly scope it out, see if it's a good place for us to go," Andres says. Hmm. I can't think of anything else to ask about this. (if:$ls is not "yes")[ [["When did you last see Grant?"|lastsee]] ] (if:$gah is not "yes")[ [["Can you think of anything that might tell us where he went?"|granthint]] ] (if:$roommatescount is 3)[ [["Okay. That's all for now."|roommatesdone]] ]

{(set:$roommatescount to ($roommatescount +1)) (set:$ls to "yes")} "A few days ago. We met for lunch," Shawn says. "I just figured he was busy for the past couple of days," he adds quietly. "I texted him a couple of nights ago. It was just a dumb meme, we laughed about it. I sent him a message yesterday, but he didn't respond," Andres says. (if:$gh is not "yes")[ [["Tell me about your ghost hunts."|ghosthunts]] ] (if:$gah is not "yes")[ [["Can you think of anything that might tell us where he went?"|granthint]] ] (if:$roommatescount is 3)[ [["Okay. That's all for now."|roommatesdone]] ]

{(set:$roommatescount to ($roommatescount +1)) (set:$gah to "yes")} "Not really," Andres says quietly. He seems like the quieter of the two, in general. "I really wish I knew. I want him to be all right." "I really can't think of anything. Nothing weird in his texts..." "Did he mention anything about a woman to you guys?" Daisy asks. "Grant wasn't seeing anyone else, Daisy," Andres says. "Not like that. He'd started talking about some ghost near campus. A lady," she says. "I mean, he might've, now that you mention it," Shawn says. "Maybe in passing? He might've wanted it to be our next ghost hunt." I give it a minute, but there doesn't seem to be much else to say. (if:$gh is not "yes")[ [["Tell me about your ghost hunts."|ghosthunts]] ] (if:$ls is not "yes")[ [["When did you last see Grant?"|lastsee]] ] (if:$roommatescount is 3)[ [["Okay. That's all for now."|roommatesdone]] ]

"What do you think?" Daisy says to me. It feels weird and strangely irritating to be asked that out loud by someone else. I try to focus on my assessment of the situation. "His backback was missing, so he might have left of his own will. It sounds plausible that he was scouting a place." I look at the three friends of Grant's who are gathered in the room. "None of you have any idea what place that might be?" "I mean, not really," Shawn says. "There were some places that we had talked about a lot recently, but..." "Like what?" I say. "Well, I mean...one we'd wanted to do soon was the basement of Hemlock," Shawn says. "There's a basement to Hemlock?" Daisy says. "There is. Hemlock is supposedly haunted"-- --"Sure, I've heard that, but"-- --"and the ghost supposedly hangs out in the basement most of all. So we'd wanted to go there and check it out. It was so close, we figured we could do it at any time." "Well," I say, "I guess it would be a quick lead to check. And it's all I've really got right now." I head for the door. "I'll come by again if I have more questions tonight," I say. "Wait," Shawn says, standing. "We could come with you. Help you find Grant." "I don't need anyone getting in the way, and I'm not putting anyone else in danger." Shawn says nothing, but gives an automatic look at Daisy. What the hell am I doing? She's a witness. She shouldn't be coming with me either. She's still a suspect, for that matter. But she's been seemingly helpful so far. It continue to be helpful to have her nearby. For now. "I'll find Grant," I say, before I leave the room, Daisy behind me, and shut the door. "To the basement?" Daisy says. "To the basement." [[Continue.|hemlockBasement]]

We head down to the ground floor. I check under the nearest staircase. No basement entrance. I'm already starting to wonder if the basement itself is a campus legend, but when we get to the next staircase, there it is: an unobtrusive gray door built into the wall under the stairs. It occurs to me that the basement door is likely locked, but a quick test of the handle suggests otherwise. I look to Daisy, and she nods wordlessly. I open the door and take a step inside. I don't see an obvious light source. The place isn't a basement in the usual sense of the word, but it's clearly a maintenance area. I take out my flashlight. [[Continue.|hemlockBasementDomovoi]]

Grant, and beside him, the churel, both freeze, staring at me. I clear my throat. "So, a cop walks up to a man's house." "Morris?" comes Grant's weak voice. He sounds scared. "He knocks on the door. After a while, the man answers." "Human..." rasps the churel. "The cop shows him a photograph of a woman. Says, //sir, is this your wife?// Man says yes." "Human! Warning...you..." "You know this one?" "Enough." "Cop says, //I'm sorry, sir. It looks like she's been in a terrible accident//." Never thought something without much of a face could look exasperated, but man, is this thing coming close. "No...more...words...last...warning..." She's walking over to me. Leaving Grant. "I...am...going...to--" "--And the man says, //yeah, but she's got a great personality//." A deafening //crack// rings out, and Grant yelps. The churel's head bursts. It collapses, already disintegrating into ash, little more than a mound of the stuff by the time it hits the floor. My ears ring, and I see Daisy enter the room. "Silver bullets," she says. She walks over to Grant and immediately begins unfastening him. I can feel strength returning to my limbs with the churel's death. I pull myself upright. Daisy is helping Grant sit upright. He folds an arm weakly around her shoulder, and she--with some effort--helps him to stand. Daisy looks over her shoulder with an amused grin. I climb slowly to my own feet. "How long were you waiting?" "Long enough to hear your punchline." "So you followed me." "You thought I wouldn't? I've tracked stealthier." We amble back through the debris-strewn, shadowy corriders and back outside. I look to Grant, who seems about ready to pass out where we stand. We carry him back to the edge of campus, taking frequent breaks that slow "Wait here. I'll get help for him," I say. "Not necessary," Daisy interjects. "I arranged a ride already. I'm taking Grant to the hospital, make sure he's all right." "Probably wise." I look to him. "You okay, kid?" He nods. "Thanks. Uh, both of you." Daisy looks at me, all cool gray stare. "Thanks for your help, detective," she says. [["You shouldn't make a habit of facing down monsters on your own."|bristly]] [["No. That was mostly you, kid."|gratitude]]