The Outsiders: The Price You Pay (Part Three)

  

“What are you thinking about?”

Patrick was driving, and he tended to be quiet for long stretches when we were on the road, but this latest stretch of silence was a record even for him. He glanced at me, a ghost of a smile flickering on his face as he gave a small shrug.

“Just wondering how likely this is to be another waste of time. Another goose chase.”

I let out a small sigh as I nodded. “I know it’s frustrating. The data we got from Tattersall, even combined with your own research and my contacts…we’re looking for something…” I trailed off as I saw his jaw tighten.

“Say it. We’re looking for something that might not exist.”

I put my hand on his arm. “No. I didn’t say that. I worry it could be true, sure, but I don’t really believe it. We know there are ways into the Nightlands, right? Jason found a way there, and…” I swallowed and forced myself to go on. “And Josh found a way through Martin.”

He met my eyes briefly. “We don’t have to talk about this again.”

Shaking my head, I went on. “No, it’s okay. My brother died so that monster could get across. It’s terrible, but that also means it’s possible. And is it an easy or common thing? No. The House has spent centuries searching for a way in, and even with their resources and their access to these things they worship, they only had rumors and theories. Scraps of information that weren’t very useful on their own.”

Patrick nodded. “You’re right, of course. These past few months have been hard, but we have made progress. And I never would have made it so far so fast if not for you and your people.”

“Our people. They may be my groupies, but more and more of them are seeing you as the boss.” I snickered. “Mainly because they’re terrified of you, but still.” I looked to see if he smiled, but his face was still serious, his eyes sad as he studied the road ahead.

“It’s just…we’ve checked five rumored ways across so far and they’ve all led to nothing.” He paused and shook his head slightly. “Or at least not to the Nightlands. To Jason. And every time we come up empty, I feel like he’s slipping further away.”

I looked out at the road. “I know. But we’ll keep trying, right? And I have a good feeling about this one. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think the ones that come too easily are bound to be wrong. The real paths are always a bit hidden, with some mystery at the end of the path.” I pointed to the county line sign as we passed it. “Plus, we’re already here.”

Patrick regarded the sign skeptically. “Yes. Let’s see what Tulset County has to offer.”

---

Before two days ago, the information we had consisted mainly of three disparate threads. The first thread were the rumors and legends. I had collected a few mentions of a “Mystery Cave” in the area over the years, but they were few and far between. Nothing that, by itself, prompted me to investigate it as an Outsider-related phenomena, or anything more than urban legends. Of course, Janie’s network, with its impressively vast ties to so many sources of occult and esoteric knowledge, were able to lend more credibility to the idea that something noteworthy was going on in Tulset County.

The other two threads had come from the volumes of data we had harvested from Tattersall. One, which had been easily accessed once Janie’s people were past the initial encryptions, was collected data Tattersall had scraped from national crime statistic databases. If you knew where to look, it showed subtle but unmistakable patterns—imperfections in the weave of the fabric of life and death in several places across the country. Spots where there were anomalies one way or the other, or even blanks where there should be none. One such anomaly radiated out from Tulset County.

Statistical variances aren’t that noteworthy on their own, of course. They can be influenced by so many unseen or unknown factors that it becomes easy to see patterns where there are none. Still, it was the way that this pattern manifested that caught my attention. I’d asked Janie if she saw anything odd looking at a map of the five hundred miles around Tulset County. The map was color coded with hot spots of unsolved disappearances, and at a glance, it might look fairly uniform in its lack of uniformity. More people went missing in bigger towns and cities, of course, and some of the smaller places had very little activity, including the area around Tulset County.

I watched her expression change slightly when she saw it. She really was a smart young woman, and aside from her utility, I had come to appreciate her company and keen mind, as well as her reservoirs of courage. While I’d never asked her to come with me on the few hunts I’d gone on while we searched for a way to get Jason back, she’d often volunteered, and in time I could see her becoming a good hunter in her own right.

“You see it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded, pointing at the map and tracing a finger along a thin line of pink that trailed around in a rough, uneven circle. “Yeah. It’s like…There’s nothing much near the place where Mystery Cave is supposed to be, but for the last thirty or so years there’s been more than average all along here. And it’s not like these other spots, bunched up in cities or along major highways or interstates. This is kind of a ring, with Tulset County in the center and always a couple of hundred miles away from where people are going missing more.”

I nodded, hiding a smile. “And what does that tell you?”

Janie glanced at me and then back down to the map, her brow furrowed. “That somebody is doing it. Making the numbers go up more than they would be otherwise. And that they are either making a slow circle around the whole region or…” She met my eyes again. “Or they’re trying to hide what’s in the center.”

I’d smiled at her then, but driving past the sign announcing we were entering Tulset County, I tried to keep my thoughts and emotions from being too evident. I was excited at the prospect of a viable lead, but I was nervous too. Not because I was afraid of this being another dead end, but because I was increasingly sure it wasn’t. I was hiding this growing certainty from Janie not because I didn’t trust her—I had resigned myself to the fact that I was starting to view her less as a colleague and more as a surrogate granddaughter—but because of the last thread I had managed to pull from Tattersall’s tangled web of information just a week ago.

It was an apocryphal account by a House member from 1893. According to them, they had been part of an expedition sent out to discover possible doorways to other realms, including the home of their gods, the Nightlands. They believed they had found such a place—a magic cave that served as a nexus to many other wheres. Their exploration of the cave system had been cut short, however, by the arrival of a creature, a monster, that demanded something from them. “Tribute” was the word she used in the account.

Whether they refused or gave something that was unsatisfactory was unclear, but in either case, the creature began to slaughter them in short order. This expedition party was not without resources or defenses of its own—aside from firearms and torches, the leader of the party was one of the House’s vaunted Ascendants—a young man capable of becoming a being described as something akin to a large flaming serpent.

Whatever his abilities, they did not fare well against the thing they found in that cave, and the Ascendant and the author of the account tried to escape back the way they had come. They almost made it, but just outside the cave’s entrance, the House’s little god found itself seized, and its panicked final attacks on the monster of Mystery Cave did little to dissuade it from tearing the fire snake in half, spraying its burning blood across the nearby trees and setting them ablaze.

The last surviving member of the party barely made it out of the forest alive, and of what might have happened to her after that account, I had no sign. It would have been easy to dismiss the whole story as the ramblings of some insane cult member trying to justify coming back alone, but that somehow didn’t ring true. The House was insane, but they were not generally stupid, and their religious fervor tended to make them treat anything related to Outsiders or the Nightlands as sacrosanct. Consequently, the likelihood of fanciful embellishment or outright lies was, at the very least, mitigated, and a quick bit of research on the area showed that there was, in fact, a major forest fire around the time the account described.

But while this all served to increase my certainty that something noteworthy was happening at Mystery Cave, it did little to assuage my concerns. If this was real, it was a place of sacrifice and death, controlled by something we had never encountered and didn’t understand.

And normally that would have been reason enough to proceed slowly and cautiously. To temper our excitement with care and calculation. But two days ago, Janie came across something new.

It was on an internet forum devoted to people discussing self-harm and suicide. Some of it was a detached form of grief-counseling or pointing people toward the help they needed. But other posts were people describing what they were going through or how close they were to stepping over the edge.

One such post had been written by a young man who said he couldn’t live with himself anymore. Not after all he had done, all the people he had hurt. Through a back and forth with commentors on the post, it was revealed that his name was Tommy Johns and he was twenty-four years old. And for over a decade, he had worked with an older man to hurt people.

When someone asked for more details of where he was or what he had done, Tommy quickly grew more taciturn. He was smart enough to not say too much, lest someone contact local authorities. He did finally make one final admission, however, which is what triggered Janie’s crawlers to pick up the post in the first place.

Tommy assured a commentor that he hadn’t actually killed anyone himself, but he knew that was “ a cheat—a bullshit answer” because of what he had done.

He’d tied them up. Tied them up and left them outside of a place he called Mystery Cave.. 

---

Credits

 

The Outsiders: The Price You Pay (Part Two)

  

Loss is supposed to mean the absence of something. You lose your keys or some money or someone you love, and whether they are truly gone or you’re just unaware of their presence, their loss is supposed to be subtractive. And in some ways it is—your peace of mind is less or your happiness is stolen. At its worst, loss takes your life’s reason to be.

But loss isn’t just a void. When you lose something that truly matters, it’s a tangible presence that takes with one hand while giving with the other, wrapping its cold arms around your shoulders as its weight bears down on you. It gifts you with guilt and regret and sadness, all the while whispering in your ear hard truths and sharp little pledges of loyalty. Promises that unlike that which you had lost, it will never, ever leave you.

It's been thirty-four years since I lost Rebecca. Thirty-four years since I felt such pain and desolation that I felt sure it would break me in two. Thirty-four years since I began my journey into a world that lies beneath the world I’d known—a dangerous world that has frequently terrified me and nearly killed me, but has also given me a renewed sense of purpose. Saving others from things like the monster that took my wife from me.

And all that time, her loss has hung on me, trying to pull me down. Telling me that it was my fault she died, and that despite all my time and work, it would amount to nothing. I would, in the end, always disappoint. Always fail the ones that trust me and that I love the most.

Two years ago, I lost my daughter and son-in-law, and that loss hurt me deeply, but it was of a different quality. Part of it was because I didn’t see them as often, though I loved my little girl very much and had great respect and affection for the man she had married. Part of it was because I’ve changed over the years. I’ve kept myself separate from the world and unattached from those I loved, telling myself it was for their protection, when in truth it was as much to protect myself from the risk of the pain I know love can bring.

I focused on the work and the research. On the hunting, and the atonement I hoped fighting these creatures and their servants would bring. And for a time, in its way, it worked. I was distracted and driven as I traveled through the dark and unfathomable waters of this other world. I stared up at night skies that were comforting in their increasing unfamiliarity as I moved farther and farther from my past, my family, and the man I’d been. It felt like I was escaping that life and all the pain it held for me. And while my loss had never left me, it was harder to hear the farther I moved from shore.

And then I met Jason.

Not Jason the child, Jason of fading and distant memories, but Jason the man. A man that seemed intelligent and kind, thoughtful and strong. He reminded me so much of my daughter—and my sweet Rebecca—that it was hard to bear at first. All the time I’d spent distancing myself from that love and pain fell away in a matter of minutes, and by the second night, I was telling him about her. Trying to guard my words and failing as I found myself back in the rotten field where Salk had left her. So I made excuses and left, going out to hunt, seeking refuge in the habits that had become my home.

And later that night, Jason saw me from his window.

In the days and weeks and months that followed, Jason was drawn deeper and deeper into my other world and way of life. He became more than a grandson to me. He became my best and only true friend.

The chain of coincidence that led to all of this isn’t lost on me. If we hadn’t been at that house together, if I hadn’t talked strangely and left abruptly, if I hadn’t taken that particular woman and brought her back, and if Jason hadn’t chosen that particular moment to look down and see me unloading her body…well, we might have remained passing familial acquaintances at most.

And yet.

I am a careful man, both by nature and necessity. I’m far from infallible, but I rarely act without reason or react without some idea of the branching probabilities laid out before me. And there are times when I wonder about the coincidences that led to Jason being drawn into this life.

Didn’t I know my truck was loud and the door hinges squeaked? Hadn’t I noted the moonlight as I’d laid in wait for the outsider at her home? And wasn’t I aware that Jason’s window gave a clear view of my return? Hadn’t I, in the deeper recesses of my always roving mind, seen a path that led to Jason being a bigger part of my life—of this life?

These thoughts, once uncomfortable and unwelcome self-doubt, have become something else of late. Fear that I have killed my grandson, or perhaps doomed him to a fate worse than death if he is still with the Gravekeeper or trapped in the Nightlands as I suspect. A growing, crippling terror that whatever others have done to Jason, the ultimate blame can be laid at my feet. At my failure to be strong and let my loss remain my only companion.

I tell you all of this because I want you to understand that I haven’t tortured you out of malice or some perverse desire. My friend, that young girl you glimpsed when I was closing the door, she is a strong and wonderful person as well. A good friend to me and Jason. But she can’t fully appreciate what this means to me or understand what I’m willing to do to fix things. And she is too useful for me to lose due to misplaced mercy.

So for now, in this, I’m alone. Well, not totally alone. I have my loss, and for a few moments more, I have you. It’s nearly over now. I believe you that you don’t know anything about the Nightlands. Remarkably, I think most outsiders are strangely ignorant about certain aspects of their nature, but there are exceptions, and I can’t squander any opportunity. Given what you did to those families, you don’t deserve any sympathy, but I still don’t relish this kind of brutality.

But sleep now. I’ll pull samples and then you’ll float away. I hope wherever you wake, it’s better than here.

Sleep.

---

I look up as Patrick comes out of “the Cage”, the name he’s given to the dungeon in our new base of operations. He doesn’t let me go in there when he has one of them, and I know its because he doesn’t want me to see what he’s doing to them. Thinks that I couldn’t stomach it. And while I think he’s wrong, I’m grateful to not have to test my own limits.

Besides, I’ve been at work myself, and after months, I may have actually found something. I wanted to interrupt him in the Cage, but didn’t quite dare. So instead, I’ve sat here fidgeting and rereading the unencrypted file Jonas just sent me from the data pull at Tattersall Alpha.

It had gotten flagged not only because of what it contains, but because it corroborates a rumor I’ve tracked down in the last few weeks. Of a place of occult power that exists. A place that both occultists and House members have tried to find without success—at least those that returned at all. Stories of a place of magic and wishes and death and openings to other worlds.

Patrick looks so tired as he gives me a slight shake of his head. “I’m done in there, Janie. It didn’t know anything. Let me wash up and we’ll get some…” He pauses, raising his eyebrows. “What is it?”

Swallowing, I stand up, trying to keep my voice from trembling, not wanting to give him too much hope until we knew more. “I…I think I found something.”

He takes a step forward, his eyes widening. “What? Tell me.”

I shrug. “It may be nothing, but there’s a place. I’m not sure exactly where, but comparing what I’ve heard from my people to the files we’ve cracked from the House, I think I can narrow it down enough to look for it. But this place…it may be a way into the Nightlands.”

Patrick’s hand trembled as he brought it up to rub his mouth with a nod. “I…I see. What kind of place is it?”

“It’s a cave. Called Mystery.” 

---

Credits

 

The Outsiders: The Price You Pay (Part One)

  

The smells of burnt gunpowder and blood filled the car as Patrick climbed into the backseat. The driver, Lewis, knew better than to ask questions, but I still saw him flinch in the rearview mirror, his eyes instinctively glancing back to find the source of the death smell that had drawn so near. Patrick met his gaze momentarily, giving him a brief nod before looking at me. I turned my attention to Jason’s grandfather, but not before seeing Lewis visibly pale as he lowered his eyes and started the car.

“Was there anything?” I could see by his expression, as well as Jason’s absence, that it hadn’t gone well, but there are degrees of success and failure. The first two sites hadn’t directly helped find Jason except through the process of elimination, but there were petabytes of data that had been recovered as well. Something so voluminous and well-encrypted, while not necessarily useful in the short-term, might be invaluable later on. Particularly if we were going ever going to find Jason.

His expression was dark as he shook his head slightly and rubbed his mouth. “Not Jason, no. But he was here.” He looked older in that moment than I’d ever seen him, a thin sigh escaping him as he looked down at his feet. “They…they were torturing him I think. He could survive it, I’m sure, but just the thought…” Shaking his head more vehemently, the hand at his lip drew down into a tight fist. “The ones that were left aren’t left any more.”

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. I’d gone with Patrick into the first two buildings, telling myself he may need my help and wanting to be there if we found Jason. Telling myself that I had seen my share of death and horror—enough to grow immune to any real shock or fear at facing it again.

I was wrong.

It wasn’t just the dead bodies—most were little more than drying puddles after the poison had done its work. The few that had died of bullets or improvised office supplies didn’t melt away, but they were just bodies, after all. Bodies of strangers that were bad. More obstacles than people, I told myself. Obstacles that deserved what they got.

But as we passed through clusters of cubicles and rows of executive offices, I kept seeing traces of who these people had been. Photos of their families. Knickknacks and diplomas. Lunch bags and cute screensavers. It made it easier if I could just say they were all part of some faceless evil—a corporation serving as a legitimate front to The House of the Claw, a cult that had hurt so many and taken my friend from us.

But were they all purely evil? I wasn’t so sure. For every cult member or willing lackey, weren’t there bound to be at least one or two that were just working at a company for the salary and benefits? That weren’t worried about spreading pain and death as a means of ascension, that didn’t worship at the feet of the monsters that were entering our world? No, they were concerned about their children doing well in school or their wife finding that lump last month. They were living normal lives full of joy and sorrow, many unaware that they were part of a machine that had far darker goals beyond raising profits and increasing market share.

I’d mentioned this to Patrick as we were preparing to come here—to the place Tattersall calls Alpha. He’d nodded, his eyes weary but still penetrating as he met mine. I expected him to get angry or give me an articulate justification that would allay my fears and guilt, but he did neither. Instead, he reached over to pat my hand in what might have seemed grandfatherly if I hadn’t seen all I had in the last few hours.

“You’re right, Janie. Of course you’re right.” His voice was even and controlled as he spoke—not the cold tone he’d had while questioning the survivors in the first two buildings, but still remote and impenetrable. It was the voice I’d imagine he’d use if he was in the middle of a surgery or telling a patient some harsh but necessary truth. A voice that didn’t try to argue or convince, because the path had already been set. I wondered, not for the first time, if he could somehow read my mind, and suppressed a small shiver as he gave me a thin, joyless smile.

“What we’re doing…I have no delusions that this is some righteous cause. Yes, we’re hurting the House and Tattersall, perhaps gravely, and by extension we may be hurting that thing that took Jason, wherever it may be. But we are, as you pointed out, no doubt hurting people that are at least marginally innocent in the process. In other circumstances, I might wrestle with the morality of what we’re doing—in truth, I have in the past. I’ve known about the Tattersall connection and these corporate sites for some time, and one of the reasons I’ve never moved against them is because of the very concern you’re raising. Another reason was that such an open act of aggression and destruction will have consequences for me…for us…as well. This isn’t a killing blow, and they will have much greater motivation to hunt us down now than they did when we served as just an annoyance or even a boogeyman.”

His expression hardened as he went on. “But they came into my home. And they took my grandson. They tried to kill both of us. So the price I have to pay? It doesn’t seem very steep any more, and though I do feel a great deal of guilt that you’re wrapped up in it now, if I’m honest, your resources and people have made it possible for me to put the plan into action faster and more effectively than I could have done on my own. I care for you, Janie, and will do what I can to keep you safe, but I respect you too much to lie and say I wish you weren’t here. Instead, I’ll just thank you again and abide by whatever level of involvement you wish to have.” He glanced back at me, his face kinder but no softer as he gave me a small shrug of apology.

Swallowing, I nodded. “I know. I knew what I was agreeing to when I sought you out. And I’m with you as long as it takes to find Jason. It’s just…We’re not the only ones paying the price for what we’re doing.” We were standing at the entrance to what Jason had always called the Batcave, likely for the last time. The last van carrying Dr. Barron’s equipment and accumulated data to remote storage had left five minutes earlier.

Patrick nodded. “Are you familiar with Ospreys, Janie?”

Frowning, I gave an uncertain nod. “I know they’re birds, right?” It was my turn to shrug. “Sorry, not much of a bird person.”

He smiled at that. “They’re very interesting birds. Raptors, like an eagle or hawk, though they are different in several respects. Most of their prey is fish, but they aren’t water birds like a duck or a crane.” He held out a finger, slowly twirling it as he lowered his arm. “No, instead, once they find what they’re after, they hover in a downward spiral, drifting closer and closer to the water until they can reach the fish.” Patrick’s hand closed into a fist. “But it’s always at great risk. While they can swim to a degree, they can’t survive in water too long. If they get too wet, they may get waterlogged and drown. And their talons are similar to fish hooks—great for getting a grip, but sometimes hard to get free again. If they go after something that is too heavy or large and aren’t able to get free, they get pulled down with it and die.”

Rubbing his face, he went on. “The osprey takes these risks because it is the only way to survive. The only way to provide for those it cares about and protect them from a world that will happily kill them otherwise. Again and again, it will fall. It will hunt in an alien world that can easily kill it. And it will try its best to come back up again.” Patrick gestured at the warehouse around them. “You know, I named this shell company Jager as a bit of a joke. From the German word for hunter. I’ve always viewed myself as a doctor and scientist first, though I always knew hunting and killing were at the core of what I…what we…do.”

“But now isn’t the time for curiosity and theorizing. Or moralizing and self-doubt. We are falling. Spiraling downward with well-laid plans and good intentions, but falling nonetheless. And we may die in the process. Or if not die, at least not come back successful or whole.” His jaw flexed slightly. “But our only chance of success is to fully commit. To dive as deep as we have to and not let go until it is done. There is no time for equivocation and no room for weakness dressed as mercy. Because I have no way of saving those that might deserve it, and this is our only path to protect ourselves and get Jason back.” Patrick’s eyes shined for a moment, and he let out a deep breath as he met my gaze again. “The dangers we face, and how what we’re doing may change us, that’s the price we have to pay. The price we earn. The death and horror we’re bringing with us—well, that price has been earned as well.” I felt my chest flutter as his eyes bored into mine. “And they’ll pay it. Until we get Jason back. Until they stop hurting and killing in the name of their insane beliefs. Until the people and things that have stalked my family and yours and so many others for so long are gone. Whatever that takes.”

Swallowing, I nodded. “I understand. And I’m still with you. I just…I’ll sit out going in Alpha if that’s okay. It’s just all…it’s been a lot.”

Patrick reached out and gave my arm a light squeeze, his expression warmer. “I know. And I’m sorry. Just a couple of backup guns should be enough, though if you’ll wait in the car just in case something comes up.” He frowned slightly. “Even with all you’ve told us and all I’ve learned over the years, there are still parts of this world you know more about than I do.” He glanced out toward where Lewis waited in the car. “Plus, these are your people. I don’t know them, or them me. And they’ll be far less likely to beg-off or turn if you’re nearby.” He gave my arm another squeeze. “If that’s okay.”

I nodded again. “I’m here until it’s done.”

---

Lewis was taking us down a backroad to where we would meet another car. There Patrick could change clothes and we could use the new vehicle to go somewhere the Claw couldn’t track us. He’d sat silent for a time as twilight began to fade, and while I still had many questions about what he might have found, I left him alone for the time being. He needed to digest his guilt and grief, and so did I. There was something almost hypnotic about being in the black and swaying darkness of the car as we trundled down a forgotten country road. In more ways than one, I didn’t know where the path before us led.

“There was a message.”

I jumped at Patrick’s sudden declaration from the shadows beside me. “Oh? From…Jason or the Gravekeeper?” I hated to even mention the thing, but we both knew it was likely the worst of many dangers Jason must be facing.

There was a pause, and Patrick’s voice was tight with controlled emotion as he went on. “Jason, I think. Based on what I found, and didn’t find, I think one of two things has happened. Either the Gravekeeper has taken Jason somewhere else, or they left separately. If Jason was killed here, we likely would have found some evidence of that, though I can’t foreclose the possibility entirely. If Jason had escaped through conventional means, he would have most likely had to kill his way through most of that building, and I saw no signs of that either.”

“So that leaves less conventional means of travel. Like the girl who brought those men to our front door.” His voice was steadier now, focused on traveling down the corridors of the problem rather than the fears and feelings that always trailed just a step behind him. “I found what I think are the girl’s remains in a holding cell in the basement. And in the same room, the message that I feel certain is from Jason.”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What? What was it?”

“Just a single word, written in blood.” He sounded so desolate as he spoke in the dark, and I wasn’t sure he was even really registering my questions, but I pressed on further.

“What, Patrick? Where did he go? What did the message say?”

“It said Nightlands. I think Jason is in the Nightlands. And we have to get him back before it’s too late.” 

---

Credits

 

The House of the Claw: Reaper

  

That’s not my Jimmy.

The man that went with Emily to get revenge, to bring back the Reaper so we could interrogate him, punish him…that man is gone now. The one that came back…I don’t know what to call him. Jimmy claims he became an Ascendant during the trip, and that certainly might be true. He is stronger now, and he has powers of some kind—when he came back, he started giving orders, and everyone close to him has obeyed without question.

They cleared the basement level except for guards and stuck Emily in one room and the young man Jimmy brought back in the other. Any ideas of a chain of command in the House or the massive Tattersall office building we’re in have been abandoned where he’s concerned. He commands, and they obey.

I have only talked to him twice since they came back. When he first arrived, he recognized me, but was indifferent and strange. He was handling Emily and the man roughly, and he gave me little more than a passing greeting before carrying them down to the basement. I waited a few minutes and then followed him down.

When Jimmy came out of the room holding the man, he was already dripping with his blood. He seemed untroubled by the gore, but he was clearly irritated by the interruption. Still, he did talk to me then. Told me this man was at least one of the people responsible for killing our little girl. That he was going to find out everything he knew. That he had been rewarded with Ascendency during the mission, and he saw everything very clearly now.

I asked him why Emily was being kept down there. He said it was necessary for now. She was in danger too, and he had to keep her close. That with his newfound power, being with him was the safest place for her. I wanted to ask more questions, but he had already gone back into the room. When I asked the guards in the hall to see her, they refused. When I asked Polly to make them, she gave me a frightened look. She said they wouldn’t listen to her either. No one around Jimmy would listen to anyone but him.

The plan, according to her, was to just wait and see. If he truly was Ascendant, he was likely working for the good of the House’s goals. If it became clear he wasn’t, we could talk about what the next step should be then. A day passed without any word from the basement. Without Jimmy or Emily coming up, or any sign of what was going on down there.

I went back to Polly then. She still asked for me to be patient, but when she saw that wasn’t going to cut it, she said the best she could offer for the moment was a security room that gave me live video feeds into both basement rooms. In one, Emily was curled up on a sleeping bag on the concrete floor. She wasn’t asleep, and it was clear from the way she jumped occasionally that she could hear some of what was happening in the other room. And in the other room, Jimmy was tearing the young man apart.

I thought I was going to be sick as I watched him torturing the man Polly said had been identified as Jason Halsey. Even at his lowest, his angriest, Jimmy wouldn’t have been capable of doing something like that. He had too tender of a heart. There had been times over the years where I worried I’d lose him, that the harsher realities of what the House does, what it has to do, would become too much for him. To see the man I love…or something that looked like him, at least…doing what he did…

It didn’t feel like the actions of something higher than us. Something that was causing pain or death for the greater good. It seemed more like some alien thing that was enjoying itself, and I didn’t think it was revenge for Madeline either. I watched for hours, horrified but unable to stop, and I only became more certain that whatever interested that thing, it had nothing to do with what I wanted or the House wanted or what my sweet Jimmy would have wanted.

I’d avoided turning on the sound for all that time, afraid that if I heard on top of seeing, I would lose whatever self-control I had left. But I had to know. I had to know what they were talking about, what this thing was after. So I found the place to turn on the audio and felt my blood run cold.

“…gonna to tell me how you did it. Even if I have to rip you apart over and over again.” The voice coming from Jimmy was deep and gravelly—the sound of some terrible stranger. What was he talking about?

Jason looked up at him out of his remaining eye. “You better work fast. Your clock is running out.”

Jimmy lunged forward, digging out the man’s other eye. The man jerked, but didn’t scream. In fact…but that was impossible. The eye that was already missing looked like it had grown back, and several of his other wounds had faded away already as well. What was he? What if he was an Ascendant too? What if Jimmy was making a mistake, or the thing inside him wasn’t good after all?

Jason’s head rocked back as Jimmy struck him hard across the face. Spitting out some blood, the younger man looked back up at him placidly. “The problem you have is that you can’t kill me. I mean, I literally don’t know if you’re capable of killing me, but aside from that, if you kill me, you can’t get any of the answers you clearly want. Now I’m telling you, I don’t know what those answers are. So either I’m lying, in which case, you should just keep attacking me, because that’s going so well for you, or I’m telling the truth, in which case, maybe you should tell me more about what the fuck you’re talking about. Maybe it’ll jog something loose. Because I admit, I do feel like I know you. The Gravekeeper you, not this dude you’re in. But I don’t know how. So why don’t you try talking to me instead of just wasting your very limited time?”

Gravekeeper? What was that? And why did the guy keep talking about him having only a short amount of time? I looked back at the other screen. Emily was standing up with her ear against the wall, listening to what they were saying. She didn’t need to hear any of that. I didn’t care what that thing in Jimmy wanted, I needed to get her out of there.

---

Narrative Summary of streamed security footage uploaded to cloud from Tattersall Security Cameras 68359 and 68360

“Maybe you’re stalling, boy. But you have proven very…resilient to my methods so far, so I’ll try your suggestion.”

HRL19 aka “Jimmy” aka “the Gravekeeper” sat down a couple of feet away from where Jason Halsey (“Jason”) was chained to an old copier that had been left in the room for that very purpose. The past footage had demonstrated that the Gravekeeper had a degree of physical strength, knowledge of anatomy and torture techniques, and sadism that had ostensibly been absent before the recent mission to recover or neutralize the House antagonist informally designated as “the Reaper.” The next three hours, beginning with this conversation, demonstrated just how deep the recent changes apparently ran. The working theory is that this is due to an heretofore unknown form of Ascendancy, whereby the identity of the person is wholly supplanted. Going forward in this narrative, references to the Jimmy/Gravekeeper entity will be modeled to reflect this theory.

“You want to know how I know you. I know you because you are, along with your French friend, the one that trapped me…” the Gravekeeper tapped the side of Jimmy’s head, “in this fucking ‘rock’, as your grandfather calls it.” Its voice grew deeper with anger. “Trapped me in it and banished me here, to this lesser plane of being.”

Jason appeared genuine surprised at this. “How did I do that exactly? I don’t remember anything like that. Plus I have no idea how to do anything like that. Nothing you’re saying makes any sense.”

The Gravekeeper rocked in his chair, clearly on the verge of more violence. “I figure it is either because you are lying, you have amnesia, or…”

“It hasn’t happened for me yet.”

The Gravekeeper nodded. “Or that. It seems far-fetched, but it’s possible. Since we came to this building, since they learned who you really are, I’ve had these people pull all kinds of information up on you. Birth certificate, where you went to school, places you’ve lived, people you’ve known. In all of that, there are no gaps or irregularities they can find. To listen to them, you are no different than the rest of these…cattle.”

Leaning forward, he grabbed Jason’s chin. “Except…you are, aren’t you? And not just because of how strong and tough you are. Or the hunting that you and your grandfather waste your time on. No…” He turned Jason’s head one way and then the other. “I can almost see what you really are, or what you will be.” Releasing the man, he sat back with a sigh. “But you’re not the one that trapped me, at least not yet.”

Jason nodded. “That’s what I’ve been telling you. So where were you banished from?”

The Gravekeeper shook his head. “I don’t think so, boy. I know you think you’re being pert, getting me to give you information and all, but I’m only going to tell you things if they benefit me. If your role in trapping and banishing me hasn’t occurred for you yet, then maybe it could be prevented from happening, at least in some timelines, by me killing you. Or maybe not, cause some things is fixed while others not so much.” Standing up, he clenched his fists for a moment. “Then again, if I’m about to escape this place, go back and finish my work, maybe everything worked out just like it should.” He chuckled. “What do you think, boy? Should I leave you alive?”

Jason shrugged. “Hard to say. Honestly, I think your best move is to decide and then get out of here. Because you’re starting to look like shit.”

This affected the Gravekeeper to an unexpected degree. He moved toward the door even as sounds of commotion outside the room could be heard. There were no cameras in the hallway, but when the door is opened, a voice identified as belonging to HL1 aka “Haley” could be heard, as well as other voices, presumably belonging to guards.

At first she was demanding to see “Emily”, the young Ascendant being held in the adjacent room. Then she began asking the Gravekeeper if he was all right. That he looked sick. There were sounds of a brief struggle and then the Gravekeeper ordered the guards to kill anyone else that tried to come down into the basement. Based upon ancillary reports, it has been concluded that the Gravekeeper snapped Haley’s neck and threw her some distance down the hall.

The Gravekeeper then enters the room where Emily is being kept. The girl is clearly terrified of him now, but she has been trained to serve, and does not resist when he tells her to come forward. He kneels before her and tells her to touch his forehead. To try and sense the thing inside his head. Can she feel it buried deep in his brain?

She says she can.

Can she picture where that thing came from?

She nods. A strange place, she says.

He chuckles at her. It is that, he agrees. But can you open a gate there?

She trembles. She says she’s not sure. She feels so bad today. So weak.

His hands flex. He tells her she must try.

Tearfully, her legs unsteady, she agrees.

And then everything flares white.

When the light dims, only the little girl is left in the room. Becoming the gateway has taken its toll, accelerating whatever illness she was already showing signs of. She collapses to the floor as loud noises are heard from nearby. A return to the room holding Jason shows the source.

He has broken free from his bonds and is swiftly battering down the door. It is uncertain due to the lack of video coverage, but it appears that he kills the four guards outside in the hallway before entering Emily’s room.

He approaches the little girl and kneels down as he takes her hand. She is trying to talk, but whatever she is saying is inaudible. He squeezes her hand and leans close, whispering to her. They speak back and forth for a short time, but all too low to be intelligible to the camera. We will attempt audio enhancement during the full forensic analysis.

Then the girl nods and Jason gives her hand a final squeeze. He says “Give me one second.” With that, he quickly stands and wipes some of the blood from his chest onto his hand, which he then uses to write a single word on the wall. Turning back to the girl, he smiles at her. “I’m ready, Emily.”

There is another flash of light.

When it subsides, Jason is gone and the girl appears to be dead. Emily’s body lay still for nearly an hour before it begins shifting. Melting down into a runny puddle of sludge that pools around the clothing her inexplicable decomposition has left behind. The only other sign of what has occurred in the room is the bloody word Jason has left on the wall.

NIGHTLANDS

---

Narrative Summary of events transpiring at TG Tower 1 and 2, as well as TG Office Alpha. Reporting completed by Tattersall Security Final Level Redundancy for archival and investigative purposes. No supplementals expected to this file.

Seven days after the abduction of Jason Halsey, five days after both he and the entity known as the Gravekeeper disappeared, an outside message began playing over all internal intercoms within the three largest publicly-held buildings of Tattersall Global. This message began playing at 11:02 a.m. EST in TG Tower 1. One hour later, it began playing in TG Tower 2. One hour after that, it began playing at TG Office Alpha. During this time, all landline phones and wired internet at these locations were also disabled, and some kind of sophisticated cellular jammers made cellular communications impossible within approximately one hundred yards of each building. This is troubling for several reasons on its own.

First, the knowledge of our offices and its systems needed to commandeer the intercoms and disable outside and inner office communication would be profound. Second, the coordination of these attacks, coupled with the sheer technical knowledge and manpower reasonably needed to accomplish it, makes the effectiveness of the assault all the more concerning. Third, the prevailing theory is currently that this was all done as a reaction to Jason Halsey being taken less than a week earlier. That means that this plan was finalized and put into action at three locations across the continental U.S. in an extremely short amount of time.

Finally, that all of this—including the unidentified, heavily-modulated voice of the speaker in the message itself—was all a mere preamble to what was to come…it is not hyperbolic to state the obvious. The implications are terrifying.

The message, in its entirety, was as follows:

Good morning. You have someone that does not belong to you. You know who I mean. If you give him back immediately, most of you will be unharmed. If you don’t…

By now, you have already noticed that you don’t feel very good today. That is because you have been poisoned. Not today, you understand. No, you were poisoned two days ago. You may even have some information about the poison from one of your cohorts. What I told him was true, but not wholly accurate for the strain of poison you have in two regards. First, your strain takes slightly longer to show symptoms, which is good news for you. Second, your strain can be cured up to thirty minutes before death.

Please don’t mistake this for mercy. It’s not. But it would be fairly useless for me to poison you to coerce you into releasing your prisoner if I didn’t have a viable antidote, and it would be hard to convince you that I’m not lying if you weren’t already feeling the symptoms. Fortunately, I have a great deal of experience with creating variations of the little gift that is nesting in all of your lungs. Whether that is to your benefit or your detriment…well, that is entirely up to you.

You will notice that your internet and phones are all down. But if you check, you will see that all corporate email accounts received a final email before everything went down. If you respond to that email by walking your prisoner out of one of your main buildings or bringing him to the parking lot of one of those buildings within the next hour, I will restore your communications and provide the location of enough doses of the antidote to cure at least the majority of those afflicted. Time is of the essence, as from the end of this message, you only have two hours before you will be dead—if you were at work two days ago. If you’ve been out this week and this is your first day back, then congratulations. You have two days to get your affairs in order.

Or you can give him back.

Chaos ensued. While there were no protocols for this, there were certain containment procedures in place to ensure no one left the building without permission. Security sealed the doors and began searching for ways of communicating. It took twenty minutes before it was discovered by one of the security staff that cell phone coverage resumed roughly three hundred feet away from Tower 1. It was another ten before the administration was notified at the other two sites. The decision was made to lock down those locations temporarily until the matter was resolved.

Then Tower 2 received the message. Then Office Alpha. During this time, it had already been determined that there was no viable response to give. Jason Haley was clearly the person being demanded, and he had disappeared five days earlier from the basement level of Office Alpha. There were ongoing discussions about finding someone who resembled him enough to buy time and potentially lure the poisoner out into the open, but then the call came in.

Within the last ten minutes, nearly everyone inside of Tower 1 had died. Two hundred and seventy-three people had literally fallen apart into a thick liquid while another twenty-nine people looked on in horror. Presumably these people had been absent two days earlier, so they were exposed to the poison later on than their co-workers. The only reason anyone even knew about it yet was because the closed circuit relays had been turned back on so we could access the camera feeds.

Because he wanted us to see.

An hour later, Tower 2 died. Three hundred and seven gone, forty-nine soon to follow. As with Tower 1, he gave us back our eyes so we could see the carnage that had been wrought. The remaining people were fighting security, trying to get out. Ultimately, security executed those that were resisting confinement.

Evacuation was made of top leadership from Office Alpha. It made little difference. They died in helicopters and SUVs instead of their offices. Five hundred and twenty, with sixty-one soon to follow.

Ten minutes later, all cameras were lost again. In the ensuing panic, it took six more hours before recon teams were dispatched to any of the sites. There were no survivors at any of the locations. Those who had not liquefied had been shot, including the handful of remaining security forces. There were also signs of one or more individuals searching each of the buildings thoroughly. Looking for Halsey almost certainly, but also taking the time to download files, steal sensitive material, and perhaps more. The full extent of their actions is unknown at this time.

What is known is that Tattersall Global has lost eighteen percent of its workforce in one day. The House has lost its top leadership, a number of corporate members, and encrypted files pertaining to individual cells that are among the data believed to have been stolen. The three buildings have been sealed, with a controlled reporting model being utilized to account for the death toll.

This will be one of our greatest challenges in the coming weeks and months. Most of the staff had already had their personal lives pruned to the extent that they could be easily removed if the need arose. But there are over a hundred low-level staff whose deaths have to be explained and accounted for eventually. The prevailing plan is to account for thirteen percent in random manufactured “accident” narratives at various times and locations that cannot be readily contested by any family members or loved ones. These must be dispersed sufficiently that no pattern can be easily or credibly drawn. Another twenty-six percent have been identified as good candidates for a “transfer” narrative, whereby there is documentation that they were transferred to an international office, moved there, and later met some unfortunate fate in the months that follow.

The remaining sixty-one percent of this group will “die” in a chartered plane crash headed to a tropical resort for a work retreat. A fund is already being established to provide death benefits to their families and exploit the maximum PR benefit from the fund. These will be the only deaths that will be made public, and even then, they will be pulled after two days in the news cycle.

These practical measures are necessary, as they protect our interests while projecting an image of continued strength and resilience. This is, unfortunately, a stark contrast to the reality. We have lost innumerable resources and assets. We are now in a weakened position against our known competitors, such as the Kin. And we are still being hunted by this man or group known as the Reaper, with most of our primary means of learning more or retaliating being seriously degraded or entirely lost to us.

For now, all plans and projects are on hold. All but essential communication with House cells is restricted. There is only one edict, one mandate.

Survive. 

---

Credits

 

The Outsiders: The Killer Inside

  

There was a tinny crackle of static and then Jason’s voice. The electromagnetic shielding around the vault’s speakerbox only enhanced the sense that my grandson’s voice was coming up from a very deep well or some shadowed corner of a distant moon. Given the circumstances, I don’t know those wouldn’t be preferable options.

“Are you all right, Jason? Be honest.” I tried to keep the worry out of my voice, but knew I only partially succeeded. Jason’s first words when he activated the speaker outside the vault had been “The Gravekeeper is out. I’m going with him.” Given that, I considered anything short of stark terror and mindless panic a feat of restraint.

“Yeah, I’m okay. It will be okay. He thinks I know things that I don’t, so he’s going to take me so he can question me more.”

I felt anger shoving aside my worry. “Torture you, you mean. Try to get inside your head and take you over, perhaps.”

A longer pause and then another crackle. I imagined that Jason’s voice sounded bleaker this time. “He says yeah, so at least he’s being honest. But try not to worry. I’m tough, remember? And whatever he thinks he knows about me, I don’t think he knows much about you at all.”

Jason was smart, very smart in fact, and he knew what he was saying was both valuable information for me and a way of testing the Gravekeeper. Seeing how it would react. We didn’t have long to wait.

A crackle followed by a voice that sounded like that of the man leading the House invasion party. “Why don’t you come on out and I’ll get to know you better?” His tone was light, but I could still feel the anger and violence bristling from every word.

“No, I don’t think so. Why don’t you leave Jason here and take your freedom while you have it? It’s such a lucky break getting freed like that. It seems a shame to waste it.”

If I was right as to who it had taken, that was bad. If that man had enough pull in the House of the Claw to lead a party to capture us, the Gravekeeper would have more leverage and access to resources wherever he went with Jason. It would make them harder to find and harder to get Jason back.

“Oh, I think I’ll be just fine. And me and your grandson go way back. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t use this chance to catch up. But don’t worry. If I don’t get what I want from him, I’ll be coming back for you.”

What was it talking about? How did it know Jason? I’ve known since we first buried Mark Sullivan that the whole episode troubled Jason just like it did me. Both because of what happened to that poor man and because of the thing that lay nesting in him, waiting, wanting to be set free into the world again. My grandson was right to be scared of it. But I’ve also had a growing sense that Jason’s disquiet went beyond that. His unique intuition regarding the creature that he once described as a sort of strange memory. I’ve waited to push the issue, trying to give him time to either work through it or come to me on his own terms. Now I’ve waited too late. Now he’s being taken by something I don’t understand, much less know how to beat.

But no, that’s not entirely true. I don’t know everything, but I do know some things. I know it isn’t all-powerful or all-knowing. It can be trapped and tricked. It is able to control some people, but apparently not those like myself and Jason that have been touched by a seed, and with some limits based on distance, perception, quantity, or some combination of unknown factors. We know that it seems to jump from person to person, and there seems to be some quality that makes some people more suitable as a long-term host. This is due, at least in part, to the fact that it burns through other bodies it takes quickly, causing an unnatural rotting over time.

This was most likely an unintentional and undesirable side-effect of it being in a sub-optimal body, though the same decay likely happened at a slower rate when in one of its “special hosts”. That would also likely be undesirable, as having to move from body to body elevated its risk of exposure while also consuming significant time and energy as it periodically had to search for a new host. All this was based off of educated guesses and assumptions that its behavior was at least somewhat governed by something akin to human logic, but it did track with the information we had on what it had done in the past. And if that was all correct, then I did know one very important thing about the Gravekeeper.

It was a parasite.

In some ways it matched the behaviors of a helminth, though obviously it had a lot of characteristics that were closer to some form of possession than a tapeworm. Still, much like the monsters we normally dealt with, it relied on taking over a human host. The fact that it was unique and more formidable didn’t change the fact that it seemed to need a human body to survive, or at least to keep from falling into dormancy again. Which gave us a small advantage.

“You sure are quiet in there. No witty comeback or stern threat? Not even any begging for your grandson’s life? You see, Jason? In the end, your grandfather is just a scared old man hiding in a hole. No one is coming to save you. You’re all mine.”

Gritting my teeth, I triggered the speaker. “Not for long, he isn’t. That body of yours? It’ll be dead in 48 hours.”

A pause, and then: “What are you talking about? A bold threat hiding behind a steel door. Come on out and kill me then.”

“Oh, I’ve already killed you.”

Crackle. “I’ll play along. What do you mean?”

This time I didn’t try to hide the grim satisfaction in my voice. “Ten years ago I encountered a creature, what we call outsiders, that had a monstrous form that produced a very potent and unique kind of poison. It was one of the things that made me finally accept that there are some things that science cannot fully explain, or at least are far beyond my ability to understand.”

“The poison was tasteless and odorless. It could be distilled down into a liquid or a gas. And it included components that don’t exist in nature. Things that can be quantified, but not replicated. At least not by most means.”

“I saw the potential utility in this toxin and continued to work on it after the creature that had made it was long gone. I ultimately came to realize that combining the substance back with itself in a particular way not only didn’t consume the substance, it produced more of it. I have no scientific explanation for how this process works, but after years of working with it, I know that it does, and quite reliably. It’s how I’ve kept the air you’re currently breathing flooded with the stuff for the last several months.”

This time the silence was long enough I began to worry he had just left with Jason after assuming it was all a cheap ploy. But then came the crackle returned, followed by the man’s voice. This time deeper and flatter, the voice was somehow more terrible in its weight without the slight façade of human inflection.

“Explain.”

“A few months ago we had a visitor who turned out to not be our friend. I wanted to prevent similar unpleasantness in the future, or at least insure that any enemy of ours didn’t last long past the visit without my mercy. I had already installed the necessary equipment years ago. It was a simple matter to turn it into a self-sufficient cycling system for mixing the poison in with our air down here.” I could feel Janie’s eyes boring into me, but I ignored her. I knew she was worried I was telling the truth, that I was insane and had poisoned her, but she would need to bear with me for a bit longer.

“You’re lying.”

“Oh, I can assure you I’m not. But I’m also not a fool or suicidal. The poison can also be manipulated very easily to produce a cure that immunizes the person from any effects and cures past exposure if received while still asymptomatic. The monster it came from actually had a gland that produced the cure naturally, but it gave me enough guidance that I was able to sort things out from there. The three of us? All innoculated, though I must apologize to my two friends for not telling them this antidote was in one of the pokes and prods I’ve given them in the past. My hope was it would always be an unnecessary failsafe and I didn’t want to cause them needless worry.”

“But you? You and any of your cohorts you’ve left alive out there? Well, that’s an entirely different matter.”

When it spoke this time, I could almost hear fear in its voice. “I may not be able to control your grandson, but I can tell by his reactions that he believes what you’ve said. So I will too, for the moment. What does this magic poison do?”

I cleared my throat. “I never said it was magic, just inexplicable. But as for what it does…For thirty-six hours you have no symptoms at all. Between thirty-six and thirty-eight hours you have extreme fatigue, chills, sweating, dizziness, physical weakness, pallor, abdominal cramping and joint pain. Almost like a sudden and terrible flu. And at thirty-nine hours and twelve minutes, almost down to the second from first exposure, you suffer what can best be described as simultaneous catastrophic cell death across all systems of the body.” I found myself smiling slightly. “I know you’re good at keeping your hosts alive, but I doubt you’re going to have much luck with that.”

I did turn now to look at Janie. She looked horrified. The only question was if it was merely because of what I had said, or because of the implication that it raised. But it was Jason that asked the question I was dreading.

Crackle. “So how do you know all this? Who did you experiment on to find out it takes thirty-nine hours and whatever for someone to die from this shit?”

I sighed. “I wasn’t honest with you about the number of times I’ve encountered the House of the Claw. Over the years I have procured a known member here and there, hoping to get information and to have a more ethical testbed for certain theories. Rest assured, it was rare that I did it, and I always made sure they were, in fact, a dangerous member of the House and not just some misguided soul on the fringes of the cult.”

Jason again, his tone angrier than before. “So that makes it okay? You just snatch people up and experiment on them? What about this little girl out here? Is she going to die too?”

“Yes she is, unless that thing out there accepts my offer. I’ll provide the antidote for him and the girl if he leaves here now and leaves everyone, including the girl and you, behind and unharmed. Or he can refuse, and in less than two days he’ll be down to a rock sitting in a pile of liquified remains.”

Gravekeeper now, his voice still strained, but more full of his old cheerful malice. “You’re a hard man, gramps. If you’re telling the truth. Either way, thanks but no thanks. Thirty-eight hours is a tight window, but I think I can make it work.”

I triggered the intercom again, my hand trembling with both fear and rage. “This is not a bluff, you son-of-a-bitch. You’re going to die without my help.”

The thing uttered a harsh laugh that made the intercom pop with complaint. “Doubtful. But what you should be more worried about is what I’m going to do to your boy in the time I have left.” There was a pause and then “Girl, take us back.”

I called out again over the intercom, but it was no use. I knew they were gone. I went to the wall next to the door and opened a small panel that let me unlock the vault from the inside. Unlike the method of locking it from inside, this needed to be well-hidden, but I made a point of showing it to Janie as I performed the combination to release the door. It was an attempt at regaining some of her trust, but it was hard to tell if it was able to penetrate the shroud of fear and worry that was wound tightly around the girl.

I felt a wave of sadness for her. She had already lost so much, and because of me she was losing more. Her and Jason had seemed to be on the way to becoming good friends in the few weeks she had been with us, and I treasured that for both of them. She was a good person, and as I pushed open the door to reveal they were already gone, I heard her let out a short moan of despair for Jason and perhaps the little girl as well. We hadn’t told her much about the Gravekeeper, but she knew enough to know how much danger they were really in.

But when I turned back to look at her, she met my eyes with a fierce determination that impressed me. I couldn’t forget that all she had been through, all she had done, had made her into a very formidable woman before she ever crossed my path this second time. It gave me hope that I could still rely on her for what came next.

“Patrick, what are we going to do?”

I rubbed my mouth thoughtfully. I could try to soften it here. Ease her into the harsh realities of what I was about to undertake. But if I did that, not only was it dishonest, but it also increased the risk she might buckle at an inopportune time as she came to appreciate the magnitude of our actions. No, it was better to just be truthful from the start and see if she had the stomach for it.

“We’re going to get Jason back and we’re going to stop the thing that has him. Stop it for good.”

She nodded, but was frowning. “But how can we stop it? It can hop between people, right? What’s to stop it from just jumping to someone that isn’t poisoned or keep hopping until we can’t find it again?”

I wanted to look away, but I didn’t. I needed to see how she took it. If she could really be of use. “It won’t be able to jump to another body if there aren’t any around. I’m assuming it will surround itself with minions—cult members, guards, what have you—while it interrogates Jason. But whether its ten or ten thousand, it doesn’t matter.”

Janie already knew the answer, but she asked anyway. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

The next words should have been the hardest, but I found they were the easiest. This would have shamed some distant past version of myself, but that realization didn’t trouble me. Young Patrick had been a good but foolish man who had failed to understand the hard truths of the world. It had cost him the love of his life, and the bitterness of that loss had cost him his family for so many years since. But in recent months I had come to understand a great deal.

The value of love and family and hope. The necessity of risking loss to gain joy and fulfillment. And the true importance of the work that we do. We were going to get Jason back, yes, but we were also going to kill the monster that took him. It and anyone who tried to stand in our way.

“Because we’re going to kill them. We’re going to kill them all.” 

---

Credits

 

The House of the Claw: Apotheosis

  

Crossing over the gateway that Emily had created with her Ascendant form was always stomach-turning, and it didn’t matter that I had travelled with her during several practice runs in preparation for this day. Walking through some kind of magic gateway from one place to another just wasn’t something your body got used to, I guess.

Still, I didn’t know how much of my current state I could contribute to the method of transport. I was bursting with a combination of fear, anger and excitement at finally confronting the Reaper. Aside from myself and Emily, Polly had given me eight of the best trained House members she had—nine people and Emily herself were the most we’d found the girl able to get through before she had to revert to her human, terrestrial soul form. But the members were all former or current military and were loaded down with top of the line weaponry and gear. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but between the team I had and the element of surprise, I felt sure we could face down whatever the Reaper threw at us.

And then we found three people—an old man and a young couple—sitting down chatting in what looked like a fancy basement rumpus room.

Is this what we had been afraid of? Surely not.

I had a second of indecision at seeing them, wondering if the shard of plastic hadn’t really been from the man who had killed an Ascendant in Atlanta years ago or if Emily had somehow made a mistake despite her seemingly unerring accuracy when she had become a gateway in the past. Then the old man looked at me as the younger guy stood up and started coming forward.

It was like a switch had been flipped in both of them—faces that had been open and relaxed a moment before were now hard and filled with purpose. The young man’s eyes were filled with barely restrained violence, but the older man’s gaze was somehow worse. He was just watching us with interest and maybe mild surprise, as though he had just found a new bug he wanted to study.

No, we were in the right spot. These were the fuckers behind all of this, or at least some of them. As we had planned, four of the men broke off to secure the location while the other four remained with me. Their guns were already trained on the trio as I stepped forward, an exhausted Emily in my arms as I addressed them.

“Hi there. I’m Jimmy, and we’re here to collect you in the name of the House of the Claw. You can come peacefully or you can resist.” I looked between the two men and then at the woman between them. “Please resist. I’ve got my orders, but I’d love to burn you all to death the way you did my little girl. I really fucking would.”

The woman looked a bit shocked at this, but neither of the men did. They were the ones that did it, or at least knew about it. Either way, they were all either coming back with us or dying here. And I had been honest about which I preferred.

“No need for any of that.” The old man was standing slowly now and seemingly with great effort. “I’m too weak to put up a fight, and they both have enough sense to know that any firefight in here would result in too many casualties.” He exchanged a look with the young man, who nodded and seemed to relax a bit.

“Yeah, sure. We’ll go with you. Just leave the girl, okay? She’s not a part of any of this. She’s only here because we made her come. She doesn’t have anything to do with your beef with us.”

I laughed. “Sorry, this isn’t a negotiation. Anyone who’s here is going with us. But just so my team doesn’t unnecesarily kill anyone trying to subdue them, do you want to tell me of anyone else that’s here?”

Another look between the old man and the boy. They looked similar, possibly grandfather and grandson? Not that it mattered. They’d both be dead soon enough. Still, their exchanges were troubling. They weren’t panicked, and it was clear they had some plan they were attempting.

The old man cleared his throat. “No one else is here, but there are booby traps around. Your men may not come back in one piece.” He pointed to the younger man. “Jason, why don’t you show them where the traps are. It won’t get them all, and it will only make the survivors go harder on us if their friends are dead.”

Jason frowned slightly at the older man. “Are you sure?”

The old man nodded. “Don’t worry. Just go with them and show them. We’ll be okay here. You can take that to the bank.”

I felt like I was losing control of the situation, but I didn’t see a strong reason to not take the help. If they were telling the truth, it would be good to know. If it was part of some trick, it would give me all the excuse I needed to kill them on the spot rather than risk taking them back for interrogation. Polly and Haley might be mad, but they could get over it.

I pointed to two of the members. I think their names were Rick and Selina. “You two. Stay with them. If they try anything, shoot them.” Pointing at Jason, I gestured for him to go to the other two men. “You go with them. If you try anything, they are going to shoot you in the head and then come back and kill these two. Understand?” I saw the man’s jaw flexing angrily, but he nodded, his eyes locked on mine. “I understand.”

With that, they headed up the stairs. Emily was awake enough to stand now, and as I sat her down, I debated where I should stay. It would likely be safer for her and myself down in the basement with the old man and the girl, but I wanted to see the rest of the place for myself and I didn’t trust anyone else with Emily. Also, she was looking increasingly alarmed as she came back to herself. It might be that exploring the place might be less distressing for her than watching a seemingly harmless pair of people being held hostage at gun point. I understood some of this was my rationalization for wanting to see the extent of “the Reaper” for myself, but that didn’t change anything. I was here to get revenge, and Emily, while a sweet little girl, wasn’t my daughter. She was a tool.

So giving her a comforting smile, I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s go look around, honey.”

---

Narrative Summary of streamed body cam footage uploaded to cloud from Tattersall Security Unit 5482. Video partially corrupted. Files from other Units were somehow wholly corrupted and unretrievable.

The camera footage from Unit 5482, Selina Abarya, shows the initial entry into the Ascendant’s gateway and encounter with the suspected hostiles. 5482 and 5988 are told by HRL19 aka “Jimmy” to stay and guard the older man and younger woman. 5482 takes up a secure guarding position with AR-15 in ready posture while 5988 does a preliminary clear of the downstairs area beyond what had already been done by the recon quad.

No other hostiles are located, but 5988 does come back stating that he can’t open a large metal door in the hallway. He asks the hostiles what is inside, at which point the older man waves his hand and says, “Nothing, nothing. Just storage” in a hurried and visibly nervous manner. Based upon subsequent events, it is believed this reaction was artificial and intended to pique the interest of the team members.

It was successful.

Presumably thinking they were in control of the situation, 5482 and 5988 use command tone and language to direct the hostile to the metal door with orders to open it. The woman states she doesn’t know how to while the man protests, saying there’s nothing there to see. That it’s empty. This is obviously an implied contradiction to his earlier statement that it was “just storage”, and it is this analyst’s belief that this was again intentional to ensure the team members continue compelling the door’s opening.

5988 again orders the door to be opened, pressing the gun against the woman’s head while using command tone on the man. The old man complies, unlocking and opening the door. From the open doorway, a large metal room containing what appears to be an operating table and various apparatus is visible. The glimpse is brief before the old man starts to wail, clutching his chest and stumbling. His words are slurred, but he seems to be saying, “My heart, my heart, oh God, not now…”

The old man staggers toward 5988, appearing to be on the verge of collapse. 5988 pivots and catches him easily, but doing so moves his gun away from the female hostile. There is suddenly a grunt followed by a gurgling sound and 5988 is sliding down the wall clutching his throat. Further study of the video and brief frames that show 5988’s wounds in 5482’s camera allow a limited reconstruction of what occurred.

It appears that the man utilized the pretense of falling to get within arm’s reach of 5988. He then stabbed him deeply in the area of the axillary artery—one of the few areas not covered by his body armor. This wound, while not immediately fatal, provided sufficient distraction to allow him to deal a far deadlier wound to the throat approximately two seconds later. The result was that 5988 was incapacitated and dying as the old man turned on 5482.

5482 had her gun raised, but was in a poor firing position due to her reaction to the old man’s sudden outcry and subsequent attack of 5988. These factors, combined with her training about firing high caliber rounds in the direction of nearby steel, appeared to be the cause of her momentary hesitation. The old man, suddenly much quicker and stronger than he had put on previously, did not suffer from any such hesitation.

He darted forward, and based on his movements and position, it appears that he struck her somewhere on her arm with whatever bladed implement he had used on her teammate. She lets out a yell of pain, and almost immediately you see her gun fall from view and hear the sound of it clattering to the floor. Then she is being pulled into the vault by the man as he tells the female hostile to get in and close the vault door behind them.

As the door begins to close, the footage cuts out, likely due to signal interference from the dense walls of the bank vault 5482 had been pulled into.

The reason for the other body cam videos being corrupted is still being investigated at this time, and thus far, location of the operation is still unknown. It appears that some frequencies in the area were being intentionally jammed by the hostiles, so our best location estimates are based only limited satellite triangulation, placing the site of this slaughter somewhere in the Eastern U.S. This report will be updated as new information becomes available.

---

“What is it?”

We were standing in one of the other buildings now—another largely empty warehouse with a subterranean secret it turned out. Jason was looking concerned for the first time, and I felt a flush of pleasure at the worry on his face. He wasn’t afraid of me or the men I had brought with me, but he was afraid of whatever was buried under the recently poured concrete floor I was now standing on.

Shaking his head slightly, Jason raised his hand. “Look, you don’t want to open that. We’ve got explosives down there. Really volatile stuff. I don’t even know how to get into it. But if you start hammering away we’re all going to go up.”

I let out a short laugh. “I think your grandpa, or whoever that old fuck is, is a better liar than you, son.” We had met up with the other four members, and I figured the six of them could have that thing open quick enough. “Bust this open.”

One of them, Marvin maybe, asked me how they were going to do it. They hadn’t brought tools for that. I told them to figure it out, and after an irritated exchange of looks, they went and retrieved hammers and crowbars from the small workshop we had seen in a corner of the other building’s surface level. Jason remained silent until they started breaking out chunks of concrete.

“You’re all going to die if you keep at this.”

I smirked at him. “So you say. Just keep in mind, if you act up, not only will we gun you down, your friends die too. All it takes is a word on my mic and they’re done.”

He looked at me for a long time, his eyes seeming to bore into me with an intensity that caused me to finally look away. Just then, he said, “You know, you haven’t heard from those buddies of yours in awhile.” I glanced back up and saw he was smiling coldly at me.

I didn’t want to take the bait, but I couldn’t resist doing a quick check to make sure everything was okay with the hostages in the basement. These people were so strange and self-assured, and it was making me jumpy. Clicking the button on my body mic, I asked how things were going with “the other two”.

There was no response.

Worried I wasn’t using the mic right, as I wasn’t used to all this weird, paramilitary bullshit, I told one of the men tearing through the floor to try calling them. He did, but still no answer. I told them to send someone to go check, but then I heard Jason behind me, closer. One of the men had kept a gun trained on him while the others worked on digging out whatever was buried underneath the floor, but Jason seemed to be ignoring him now.

“I wouldn’t bother with checking. They’re already dead. Just like you’re about to be.”

He shot back toward the man aiming at him, wrenching the gun away with enough force that I saw the man’s wrist and arm twist past the points of breaking as he let out a scream. Impossibly fast, Jason slammed a fist into the man’s chest twice, and even through the bulletproof vest I could hear the muffled crack as his chest caved in. Within five seconds he was dead on the floor and the other men were screaming.

Except they weren’t screaming because of what had happened to their friend. They had finally broken through the floor and met what was sleeping underneath. I watched in mute horror as they began writhing on the ground before growing still as life was taken from them. And I thought I could see something pushing through the rubble, but then my world exploded as my head shattered into bright shards of pain and pressure and…something…

Something was in me. Oh God, something was in my head. I could feel it. It felt cold and unclean somehow, and in the illogic of my terror, I found myself looking at Jason, the man I had wanted to hurt and kill so badly just moments before, for some kind of impossible help. But his wide-eyed expression told me he had no help to give.

I felt like I was drowning, being pushed down into the black depths of some cold, ancient lake. An inhuman, cruel place that never saw light and only bred creatures accustomed to such conditions. It was with growing horror that I realized I was being pushed farther down into the darkness of my own soul. Not the soul of a young man full of hope and ambition as he tried to find a novel approach to the doctoral thesis I never finished. Not the soul of an older man full of love for his wife and daughter, proud of his accomplishments and what the future still held. But the dark and stagnant tides of a bitter old man who had nothing left but his grudges and a willingness to trade away the last of his humanity for a chance to wrong those who had wronged him.

And high above, seated now in the throne of my conscious mind, I could see a foul thing looking down at me. It was looking down at me and laughing a deep, raspy laugh. As I continued to drift down, I saw it look away, using my eyes to regard Jason, using my voice to speak.

“Hello, boy. Doncha think it’s time we finished what we started?” 

---

Credits

 

The Outsiders: Visions and Visitations

  

Patrick, the thing you and Jason need to realize from the start is that I don’t know a lot about the Nightlands. Not really. Part of what I know comes from what me and Martin experienced over the years of doing the heart mask rituals. Some of it comes from being connected to an extensive network of people fascinated with occult knowledge and practice. And there are tidbits of information that were gained as a side effect of us learning more about the House of the Claw and its beliefs.

It may actually be easiest to start there, as that information is the sparsest and the least reliable, both because it is second or third-hand information about a deranged cult’s belief system and because what I know about the House of the Claw, even after our efforts to learn as much as we could since we were abducted all those years ago, doesn’t amount to very much.

The House of the Claw believes that the soul is comprised of three parts. The part you have while you’re alive in this world, they call that the terrestrial soul. There is another part, in their idea of Heaven, called the key soul or the pure soul. The third part, they call that the night soul.

These people that can turn into monsters? These things that you hunt? The House practically worships them. They see them as spiritually evolved beings that have reclaimed their night soul. This is a big deal to them, because the House believes that to be complete, you have to spiritually evolve to the point that you can gain access to your night soul. Once you’ve done that, you no longer have to be reincarnated and can die a final time, going into an afterlife where you get your key soul and are made whole.

Sounds like a nice little religion, right? Except according to the House, you can only obtain your night soul through experiencing violence, death, and great pain through one or many lives. They see these monsters, these Ascendants, as heroes that are actually helping people through all the terrible things they do. And the House of the Claw see themselves as martyrs willing to sacrifice everything to further the spiritual evolution of the human race.

Obviously, a lot of this is crazy bullshit, but like so many things, there are bits of truth in there too. For example, the monsters clearly exist. And they have to come from somewhere, right? The somewhere is the Nightlands.

Martin and I are…we were…especially gifted at viewing things in the Nightlands through the heart mask ritual. Where most people only get a few images or a few seconds of peeking into that other place, we were able to both see and hear like we were there, often for minutes or up to an hour at a time. As we practiced, we were even able to sometimes control where the vision took us in the Nightlands and what we saw.

Understanding how important all of this was, we took detailed notes of everything. Tried to develop a sense of what and where that other world is. When we’re done talking, I’ve got a USB drive with a copy of all that I’m going to give you as well, and you can draw your own conclusions from what we learned.

But for now, I’ll tell you what I believe based on everything I’ve experienced and learned from sources I actually trust.

The Nightlands is not another world or dimension, at least not like you might think of it. It is actually one of seven prime Realms. I understand that, on its face, that may seem like a small or meaningless distinction, but I can assure you it is not. Another planet or dimension is going to be governed by certain rules, right? Physics, time, the sun sets in the east or whatever. Even a very chaotic dimension is governed by rules of the larger universe it is a part of, even if those rules seem inconsistent or sometimes absent.

The Realms are different. They are outside normal reality, and the only rules they follow are those defined by the Realm itself. These places could be described as both infinite and eternal, and while they frequently change, they are always…well, they are always. I don’t know if its possible for them to not exist.

I know much less about the other Realms. I know that Hell—which yes, it is a real place—is one of them. I have heard mention of two others, The Kingdom of Dust and The Void, but I know little about either of them, and what I have heard is not good.

I say all that to give you context for what I’m about to say. The Nightlands are very real and very important, even if I don’t really understand how. They are a primary part of how everything works, like light or gravity, and I can tell you from my time seeing them that they are a wonderful and terrifying place.

But it’s a mistake to look at the Nightlands as a single, unified place. A piece of land, or even an entire planet. It doesn’t work like that. It’s more like a Rubik’s cube. If you’re looking into the Nightlands, you may be on a dirt path under a green sun. If you can move yourself like I can when I’m doing a viewing there, you might travel that path for five minutes and then realize you’re suddenly in the middle of an abandoned city. You may turn a corner to head down an alley in that city and find yourself in a night-time ocean.

That’s one…one of several reasons…why, as much as I love the Nightlands from a distance, I’ve never really wanted to go there in my heart of hearts. It’s very hard to navigate, particularly because these endless slices of a billion worlds don’t stay still relative to each other. That same alley that took you to the ocean? The next time it might take you to a desert or a cave. Or it might just be an alley.

Because the size of these places change. The way time works changes. I’ve been seeing into the Nightlands for most of my life, and I still always feel like I’m looking into some elaborate clockwork that I can’t begin to truly understand. And that is just the land itself. There are also its inhabitants.

The Nightlands, in all its many forms, is far from a barren place. To the contrary, it’s teeming with life. There are all kinds of plants and animals, and some places have vast cities that are inhabited by one form of people or another. In many ways, it is like some kind of fairy tale land. The problem with that is fairy tales are full of hidden dangers and deadly monsters.

I think the House of the Claw is right. Based on our research and observation, it seems that the monsters we see here are coming from the Nightlands. I’ve actually heard accounts of people seeing the human form of an “Ascendant” sleeping in the Nightlands when the monster version of the person was over here. Maybe they swap places, I don’t know.

What I know for sure is that they aren’t the only, or even the most dangerous, things in that place. I’ve seen things…well, I’ve seen and heard a lot, I guess. Enough to know that its connected to the work you’re doing, and enough to know that after this, I’m done with it.

Martin and I…we trusted the wrong person. His name was Josh. He killed my brother, but it feels like he killed part of me too. The best part of me. And he did it all to get to the Nightlands—a place he didn’t really understand or fully appreciate.

I don’t know what has happened to him now, but I managed to find him once using the heart mask. This was shortly after I called you, Jason, and before I began making my way here. I knew it was a bad idea, but I think I wanted to find him being hunted by some creature or starving on some frozen peak. I wanted to see him suffer for what he had done.

What I saw may have been worse than anything I could have imagined for him. He was being drug by…well, I don’t know how to describe those things…but he was being drug to an enormous red building, a manor I guess you’d call it. And I knew right away where he was.

There are several very powerful beings in the Nightlands. One of them is called the Baron. I get the impression that he or she or it is relatively new—new as in centuries versus millennia, if you want to try and apply those kinds of terms to a place without normal time—but the Baron has gained control of a significant portion of the Nightlands, and it is not known for being a lenient ruler.

When I saw the man who killed Martin, he was being drug into the Baron’s home. After that, I…

---

I stopped talking as I felt a sudden change in air pressure followed by several strangers seeming to appear out of thin air in the hallway of what Jason called “the Batcave”. He was already up as the men came through the door, three of them wearing bulletproof vests and carrying automatic rifles. The fourth was an older, heavyset man carrying an exhausted-looking girl in his arms. It should have softened his appearance, but the look of barely restrained rage on his face dispelled any idea that he might have good intentions, and this was only confirmed when he spoke.

“Hi there. I’m Jimmy, and we’re here to collect you in the name of the House of the Claw. You can come peacefully or you can resist.” He looked between Jason and Dr. Barron before his eyes landed on me. “Please resist. I’ve got my orders, but I’d love to burn you all to death the way you did my little girl. I really fucking would.”

 

---

Credits