Grace stood at the building doors her contact told her to meet which was bustling with life. People were coming out and going in like clockwork. It was too lively for where she would have preferred the meeting to happen, but her position didn't grant her the right to be picky.
She went through the spiral entrance, glancing around the interior. There was a large cafeteria that was a straight shot away from the entrance with openings in the floor above it so that people above could look down from all five floors and vice versa.
It was a pretty large building but that was to be expected when the type of work that happened inside of it was all government-related.
She made her way to a nearby elevator, clicking the button which glowed a subtle orange, the number above the door starting to go down as the hum of the lift came closer.
The doors opened up with someone stepping out as she went in, shifting to the side to let them pass. She hit the button for the highest floor, the doors shutting slowly before starting to ascend.
Every second that she spent was to her displeasure. She only came here once and that was because she had nowhere else to turn to for help. Just like now.
There was an unsettling ding with every floor that she passed, only serving to make her unease worse. She never understood why she felt this way. It never made sense to her; the man she was meeting wasn't scary or greatly intimidating, nor were the people he worked with. It was simply the idea of having to get help from them that drove a pit in her stomach.
The motion came to a halt, the doors opening in their sloth-like form to let her out. She turned to the right as she exited, walking down the hall; each step travelling off the white walls and floor, bouncing over each other like a growing crescendo.
In time, she was standing outside of the office she was expected in. There was no name on the door, unlike the others that were in the same vicinity. She raised a closed fist, about to knock before she heard a distinct voice from inside call out. "Come in."
She paused, glancing to the sides to see if there was a camera she was unaware of. She turned the handle and pushed the door forward.
The man she was meeting was sitting at his desk with a coffee beside his computer, two bodyguards to his sides who wore black suits with kevlar under them, earpieces and guns strapped to their waists. Everything about them contrasted with his more casual attire of a white shirt and black pants.
"I was surprised when you called." He said, not wasting time in greeting her like a friend. Grace shut the door behind her, stepping to his desk and sitting in the chair opposite of him. "It's been two years after all."
He stated, his elbows propped on the desk, chin resting on his interlocked hands. "Need help starting another agency? I mean I can lend the money of course. But you still owe me back for the first time." She raised a hand dismissively before he started to drone on. "No." It was hard admitting to him of all people why she was here. "One of my people was taken."
He seemed surprised, then humoured. A wide amused grin on his face, nudging his glasses further up his nose with his middle finger. "My my. That is troublesome, isn't it?" He leaned back, relaxing in his chair. "Which one?"
Grace's hand clenched the armrest of the chair tight, near enough that she could snap the damn thing off or at least a part of the wood. "Edward." She said reluctantly, knowing she had to cooperate if she wanted anything out of him.
"Edward...Ed-ward." He looked like he was trying to remember who it was attached to the name. He leaned forward in his seat, typing on his keyboard with his eyes focused on the screen. "Ah right, Edward. Well, it says here he's 'freakishly durable.' So why be concerned?"
She was already starting to get annoyed and not just the twitch of an eye annoyed. It was the type of annoyance where she wanted to yell in his face and maybe punch him in the nose. Instead, she took a deep breath and calmed her thoughts. "The cult that took him is also after a book linked to a god. We think that the cult wants them both for a ritual to try and weaken the link between the realms."
The man rubbed his chin, turning his chair as he leaned back again, causing a slight tilt. "That would be bad." As irritating as he was, he was among some of the only people attached to the government who believed in the threat of the old realm and the things that came out of it. Something that made him reliable.
"Do you need me to track him?" He asked with a raised brow. "No, the book. It's named Purgatory and is en route to be sold at an auction held by a new organization." She said, noting the fact he seemed to have an idea of what she was referring to. "If you mean the one who was attacked on the port, we know of them. Black Mark has been in the business for many years now."
He propped his arm on his chair, leaning into it. "They exist in the shadows. Making a profit off whatever they can. Blackmail, murder, human trafficking, stealing. If money can be made, there is no line they won't cross."
"Lately we've been seeing an uptake in their activity. Probably because of the change in leadership that occurred over the last month."
"What do you mean?" If he could tell her anything that could help them, then she had to get it out of him.
"The former leader, an older man who was held by some sort of code up and vanished. His son took over the business and that's when things started to shift to what we know now. Some say he killed him. Others say he was banished. But even we don't know for certain."
He propped his legs onto the desk. "You'll have to repay this you know." She knew there was no way he was doing this for free, hell it took her a whole year to pay him back for starting the agency. "I know and I'll have you the mon-" She was cut off by a raised hand. "Not money."
His eyes narrowed with a more serious attitude washing over him, the air became tense, heavy. "I want the book."
She was confused, wondering why that would be his request. Typically when an item has a mystical property to it, it's handed over with no fuss. "I can tell by that look on your face, you must be wondering why I would want something you're already going to hand it over."
He lowered his legs, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "You see, when you hand those items over to the government, I never see them. They go to some offsite facility that I don't even know the location of. But when you get your hands on it, you won't bring it here. No. You're going to bring it to me."
Her eyes drifted to the guards to his sides. She would have thought they would be against what he was saying, but they didn't bat an eye; she was wrong when she assumed they were government-issued bodyguards, it was more likely they were hired by him.
"Why?" There was always something off about him, something that made her uncomfortable to be around him. Something that never sat right. She didn't know what he would use it for, what would happen to put that kind of power in his hands.
"That's...Well....Classified." He said with an amused grin on his face. She was in no place to argue with him, no place to fight against what he wanted. "Fine." She said extending a hand with his clasping around hers.
The deal was made, like a pact with the devil. She got up and walked to the door. "I'll get that book location by the end of the day." He said with a wave of his hand followed by some typing on his computer.
She closed the door behind her, a breath of air filling her lungs that was anything but refreshing.
Grace made her way back to the elevator, heading down and leaving the building. She knew the progress with Adam had gone well but she hadn't heard from Jayla or Russell yet.
* * * * *
Russell was inside a crumbling building that suffered from a fire not that long ago, in the middle of it were a bunch of cloaked figures, gathered around a pentagram with various symbols throughout the circle. Some might have just assumed it was to communicate with demons or something out of the bible. This was worse.
He was watching them from what was still standing on the second floor, looking down from the edge he was on; they were trying to summon a Shrike. A giant skeletal creature that is utterly one with the old realm. Its body looks like a skeleton draped with tattered robes but the bones are a shifting semi-transparent substance accumulated from the void itself and when looking deep into them, one could see the lights that pulsed inside to give it its white appearance.
Setting up the ritual wasn't the hard part, it was managing to have something come through. Most things on the other side came through rifts made by the gods themselves but when it comes to rituals, it's humans forcing a rift; forcing their way through. It's like someone breaking into a home. A home that's occupied by unspoken horrors of ungodly manifestation.
Russell dropped from the floor he was on, a thud ringing out that brought the attention of two of the participants, but they couldn't see him. They turned back to the ritual, chants leaving their mouths in unison.
The air started to become tense, lit candles around the red circle flickered out and then relit anew with grey flames that burned the wax down in a mere passing moment.
Russell stood at the edge of the circle, kneeling as he took a knife from his side. He stabbed it into the wood, a scrapping sound drowning in the swirls of air and intertwining voices.
He was about to sever the circle until a voice etched in his mind spoke. "Wait, child." He raised his head, eyes held on the symbols at the centre of the ritual. "Do you wish not to see of whom graced your veins? Of whom holds your hands in perpetuity?"
He felt a pulling temptation to wait until the end of the ritual, to see how it would play out. His hand started to raise, a shaky fist wrapped around the cold handle that pulled it from the wood. It felt like someone was holding him, a gentle hand around his own. "Give in child. You will regret not what you shall see."
His eyes shimmered black, trying to push back the feelings that were being flooded into his mind. Actions that were being forced.
He narrowed his focus, his mind. Trying with all his might to push the blade back down, to cut that red etched-in faded oak.
His hand started to descend steadily. It felt like he was moving in water, pushing against a raging tide.
He pushed, pushed to his heart's content, pushed till his body ached and joints cried. A hand started to reach out from the spiralling red as the symbols faded and a rift began to create from the weakness in the lines of what's known and isn't.
He felt the knife sink into the wood, moving it down like a dull knife cutting tough meat. He could hear the splintering wood, the way it gave way in the path of the metal.
He lowered his hand, grabbing the other portion of it with his other hand. He leaned back, applying all his force into moving the damn knife.
It felt like hundreds of hands were over his body, holding him tight, trying to force his arm still. Every breath was painful, burning his lungs when air entered them. A tight feeling was around his neck; his vision was dazed and his consciousness was drifting in and out. The edges of what he could see were fading, a lingering shadow to remind him that he was passing out.
His hand was slipping from around the handle. "That's it, child. Simply let go. Allow my pet through." His eyes drifted down, looking at the knife he was letting go of. His instincts were telling him to let go but he knew he couldn't; knowing if he failed, many would die.
He clutched hard on the metal, dragging it with his teeth clenching. "Why do you resist eternal salvation? Your home is dying. I could save it for you." He heard the whisper in his mind, tugging harder and harder at his will. "Get out of my head." He said through gritted teeth as he yanked back. Finally, he served the ritual.
The creature that was halfway out by now, was pulled back through the circle. Its body was deformed into a black tar that flowed through the deep crimson red. The cultists looked worried, their eyes darting around as they turned their heads to see what happened. The knife caught one's attention, the man moving over and pulling it out.
Russell was moving to his feet, hand on the side of his head. "You disappoint me, child. But I understand. As your mother of the void, I get it is in your nature to want to protect your home. But your home will fade in time. And you will embrace the help I generously offer."
The voice faded to the recesses of his mind until the feeling that came with it was gone. His body felt lighter, the pressure on him was gone.
He was breathing heavily, stumbling back after he had gotten to his feet. That was when a pain hit him like a tsunami. He gripped his chest in agony. How long did he have his magick going for? How long did the ritual last for?
"Intruder!" He heard yelled only feet away from him, his eyes locking with the cultist that said it. They were all looking at him now, he was visible to them.
He went to reach for the gun at his side, but the cultist closest to him grabbed his wrist and punched him in the face. He was in no condition for a fight. He moved his legs in a sudden motion, kicking out their feet to get them on the ground so that he could run to the door of the building.
He slammed his shoulder into it, almost losing his footing. He could hear the sound of rushing steps right behind him.
The pain in his body was urging him to stop like a scream in his ears but he knew that if he did, he likely would have died. He had his chance now, he took his gun in his hand and turned extending it forward. He fired off a bullet that hit the one in the front in the chest and came out his back. They hit the ground with a pool of ruby spreading slowly.
The rest of the cultists came to a stop, worry painted on their faces as they started to run away. Russell fell to the floor, panting heavily. People were calling the cops around him. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet so he would have his agency ID at the ready, putting his gun on the concrete.
There was always a story that was told about how much a toll came with communing with the old realm but he had never experienced it for himself. He hoped he never would have but now he hoped that he would never feel that hellish pull ever again.
The police would arrive in a fast timeframe. They got out of their vehicles in packs of two, their guns held on him. "Put your hands above your head." He raised his hands, keeping his wallet in hand. "I'm from the Paranormal Hunter Agency." He called back.
The officers looked at one another with a questioning look. They had heard of the agency, but always thought it was just some joke at the station. One of them looked at their partner, gesturing for them to go check his ID.
The officer moved in closer, keeping his gun trained on Russell until he was close enough to snatch the leather from his hand. "He's...telling the truth." He spoke in disbelief, helping Russell up and giving it back.
"What the hell happened here?" He said looking back at the corpse, the others holstering their guns, one of them talking through their walkie-talkie. "Cultists were doing a ritual. I stopped them and they chased me. I can give you my firearms license if you need it."
"Yeah hand it over." He extended a hand, watching Russell take a folded piece of paper from his wallet. He read it over with a slow nod, giving it back. "Everything looks good then. We're going to need you to stick around until we can get the story from the witnesses and confirm your identity with the agency. Just go stand by my partner over there so she can keep an eye on you."
Russell picked up his pistol, put it back in its holster and went over to the police cruiser, standing in front of it so that it didn't look like he was going to steal it.
The officer came to his side, looking around at the others before she whispered to him. "I've always believed in that supernatural stuff." She said with a proud nod. "There's this ghost I think who's at my place. It knocks over things and makes the electricity act up. You guys ever check out that sort of thing?"
Russell looked at her with a soft smile that was kind of worn from his exhaustion. "Yeah, we do. You just have to call the agency and put in a request. Sometimes it takes a while but we eventually get to it."
"And what's the number?" She said tilting her head to the side, and giving him her phone. He put in the number, adding it to her contacts and about to hand it back. "And yours?" He paused, kind of taken aback at the request.
He typed it in, handing the device back afterward with her saying. "I'll give you a call if you aren't just some murderer." She said with her eyes held forward, sliding her phone into her pocket.
* * * * *
It wasn't until an hour or so later that he got back to the agency, his folded jacket over his arm. He was thankfully cleared of any possible charges. They called Grace and she confirmed his identity and the witnesses gave the same story he did that he was being chased.
He walked into the office, being met by Grace and Adam who were already back. "Oh, hey." He said with some subtle surprise. He walked over to the empty desks to the side of the room, pulling the chair out to sit down.
"What happened?" Adam asked with some mild concern for the state Russell seemed to be in. "Cultists tried to do a ritual. Unfortunately, I couldn't get any information." He paused, leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. "A Goddess communed with me."
Grace's eyes widened in shock, Adam nearly pushed his chair to the ground when he suddenly got up. "What, are you okay?" Grace asked with disbelief. "I mean, sorta? I was kind of out of it after, but now I'm getting better."
"The way she spoke was. Called herself my mother of the void. Kept calling me child. It didn't make much sense to me. Then again, nothing ever really does nowadays."
The way he was speaking was distant like he was lost in his thoughts, not able to focus on the here and now.
Adam sat back down, eyes meeting with Grace. Both of them were worried for him. Communing with the old realm was never a journey without consequence. Especially when connecting with something as mad as an old god.
And with the implication that it was a forced connection. There was no evidence that they could use to determine what would happen.
"Any word from Jayla?" Russell asked, eyes tiredly drifting to the two. Grace shook her head. "No. And my contact hasn't gotten back to me yet. So all we can do is wait." Russell gave a placid nod, getting to his feet. "I'm going to bed, wake me if you need me." And with that, he left the office.