Realistic or Modern Percival Gray & Associates - Paranormal Investigation - (Closed)

[Owl Knight]

- Percival Grey & Associates -
Specializing in the paranormal, the supernatural, and the occult ​

For three generations, the family Gray has specialized in taking on the cases the police, your parish priest, and the other P.I.'s won't touch.

Werewolves? Where wolves.
Ghosts? Busted.
Curses? Cured.
Vampires? Staked with a garlic garnish. *
*(Vampires staked at an additional fee...)

Housed in a two story brownstone above a neighborhood coffee shop in Old City Philadelphia, you will find that the offices of Percival Gray & Associates are richly furnished to provide the very finest in client accommodations. Lilian Spink, our cheerful receptionist will happily take your inquiry and we can assure you that we will do our best to see to your needs. No case is too unusual, no case is too small. Come hauntings or hellraisings, Percival Gray & Associates are just a phone call away.

Spoiler: Lilian Spink

Age:25
Height: 5' 6"

The strong right hand of Percival Gray & Associates, Lilian is the firm's receptionist, administrative assistant, and the beating heart that keeps the organization afloat.
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Spoiler: Percival Gray

Age: 34
Height: 5' 11"

Percival is a third generation paranormal investigator. Learning everything he could from his father and grandfather, Percival has continued the family business of probing into the most secret and strange corners of the world hunting down unnatural creatures.
View attachment 519874

Spoiler: The Offices of Percival Gray & Associates

As you enter the small brownstone you climb a narrow flight of stairs until you arrive at the old oak door with a frosted glass window bearing the mark of Percival Gray & Associates. As you enter you will find yourself in a small seating area, plainly decorated with leather chairs and a stack of out of date magazines. Lilian will usher you into the main office where you will meet with Percival to discuss your case.
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[Owl Knight]

- Percival Gray -
The Haunting of Seaview Asylum
​

Percival Gray had a headache, the insidious kind that spread like a dull cloud across his forehead until it settled behind his left eye, blurring his vision and assuring him that the rest of his day would be just a bit more unpleasant. He leaned back in his office chair, fingers pressed deep into the side of his skull, hoping the pressure might alleviate things long enough for him to make an attempt at doing his job...assuming there was a case.

"Hey Lil," he called raggedly, "I'll give you a raise if that coffee I smell is fresh."

"I know better than to take your word for that," came the response, shouted through the frosted glass office door. Within moments, the door popped open and Lilian Spink, Percival's receptionist, strode through. In one hand she carried a thermal paper cup steaming with fresh brewed coffee, in the other a small U.S Postal package. She set the coffee down on Percival's desk blotter and laid the package beside it. Percival sipped the coffee gratefully.

"Oh, wow, this is really good," he said with some surprise. "Did we get a new coffee maker?"

"No," Lilian replied, "I just cleaned the one we have."

"Maybe I should give you a raise," Percival muttered, feeling the caffeine going to work on the dull storm of pain behind his eye.

"That will be the day," Lilian rebutted, turning back towards the door. "That package was delivered this morning," she called over her shoulder. "It could be a client."

Percival finished his coffee, feeling the edge coming off of the headache. Its throb dulled, he turned his attention to the package. It was a small U.S. Mail postal package addressed directly to the agency. The return address listed a Crissy Porter from Hopefield. Something about the name rang a bell. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling back through his emails. Buried between spam he had yet to unsubscribe from and updates from a number of paranormal list-servs he saw the name: Crissy Porter.

Good afternoon Mister Gray.

My name is Crissy Porter. I'm a reporter with the Hopefield Chronicle and an author. You may have read my debut novel; Haunted Happenings: A Tour of Local Ghosts, Urban Legends and Tall Tales.

Haunted Happenings was a surprise hit, so much so that my publisher is already pushing hard for a sequel. Currently, I'm working on a chapter focused on the supposed paranormal history of the old Seaview Asylum.

I'm not sure if you've heard of the building and the supposed phantom who stalks the corridors but I believe your insight would be extremely interesting. I have done extensive research into your families investigative history and I'm keen to pick your brain.

I look forward to hearing back from you.

Kind regards,

Crissy Porter

PS: If it sweetens the deal, I'll throw in a free copy of my book

Percival opened the package. A copy of Haunted Happenings slid out into his hands. On the back cover Crissy Porter's keen, intuitive face beamed up at him. Thumbing open the front cover he found her signature.

Opening his phone again he fired off a response email:

------------------------
Dear Ms. Porter,

We will be happy to take your case, if you are able to come to Philadelphia and visit our offices at your earliest convenience.
Let me know when we can schedule an appointment.

Percival Gray
Percival Gray & Associates
------------------------

"Hey Lil," He called, opening the book to the first chapter. "Get a new client form ready. I think we have a case."

 

[Shannon Trevor]

It was two days after she had received the e-mail from Percival Gray that Crissy found herself across the street from his office, nursing a coffee in the front seat of her car. The early morning traffic into Philadelphia was lighter than she had expected and the journey from Hopefield was short enough that Crissy found herself running earlier than she had intended. Mercifully, Gray had his office over a coffee shop and she savoured the welcoming taste of the first sip of her morning black.

Gray could certainly pick an ideal location, she mused to herself, as she took a another drink from the steaming Styrofoam cup. The office was housed in a beautiful two story brownstone in Old City Philadelphia with a local neighbourhood coffee shop, not a soulless corporate logo, right at hand. Location, architecture and caffeine. If you could judge a person solely by where they worked, then Crissy was impressed.

She had dressed casually for the appointment. Although it was a business meeting of sorts, the correspondence between her and Gray had been informal enough. She wanted to talk to the man, first and foremost, and her chosen attire of a white, woollen sweater and form-fitting dark jeans allowed for a more conversational back and forth than a formal business suit would have. She checked the time on the large two tone Rolex clasped tightly to her left wrist and saw it was a tad over five minutes before the scheduled appointment.

Draining the last of her coffee as she crossed the road, Crissy took the flight of stairs up to Gray's office with a bounce in her step. She was in good form. This was the part of writing that she loved, be it newspaper article, blog or novel chapter. The grunt work of doing your research, making contacts and putting your plan into action. Once you had done that, the rest would follow. She knocked twice on the frosted glass that bore the name Percival Gray & Associates across it. She waited a beat before opening the door. She smiled at the young receptionist who looked up at her as she crossed the threshold. "Hi there," Crissy Porter," Crissy said, extending a hand. "I believe Mr Gray is expecting me."

 

[Owl Knight]

"Have a seat," Lilian replied, warm but professionally detached. "I'll tell Mr. Gray you've arrived."

Standing and straightening her smart pencil skirt, Lilian strode through the office door, her sensible heels clicking on the hardwood. Percival lounged in the old leather settee against the north wall of the office, a fountain pen twirled between his fingers as he thumbed through Crissy's book, pausing occasionally to scribble a note in the margin.

"Miss Porter is here," Lilian announced. "I assume you plan to change positions before I let her in."

Percival snapped the book shut and rolled off of the settee, tucking the book under his arm and running his newly freed hand through a coif of unruly dark brown hair.

"See her in," he replied, straightening his tie and crossing to stand behind his desk. His heather grey suit jacket hung over the desk chair and he hastened to pull it on as Lilian turned slowly to the door.

"Miss Porter," she said, stepping back into the waiting area, "Mr. Grey will see you, please follow me." Lilian retrieved her slim notebook computer from her desk and, tucking it deftly in the crook of her arm, ushered Crissy into the room.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

Percival Gray was just shrugging himself into a smart suit jacket as his assistant ushered Crissy into his office. "Mr Gray," Crissy said, extending a hand to shake. "Good to meet you and thank you for arranging an appointment for me so quickly." At Gray's invitation, she sat on the leather seat directly across the desk from where he stood.

She allowed a moment to take in his office as Gray seated himself. Like the building itself and its waiting area, Crissy was impressed with what she saw. The chair for guests was comfortable, the desk was a fine mahogany and the floors solid hardwood. On the other side of the office, a inviting leather settee was pressed against the wall. If nothing else, paranormal Investigation seemed to pay well.

Gray himself was a handsome man, perhaps a year or so younger than Crissy, if she had to guess. Tall and lean, his smart suit was countered with a somewhat unkempt hair style that seemed to be in fashion these days. She smiled as she noticed the copy of her book she had posted laying on his desk. Judging by the location of the bookmark, Gray had made good progress. "Always interested to hear a professional opinion," Crissy said with a nod to the book.

 

[Owl Knight]

Percival took in the young woman as she seated herself before the desk. She had the practiced confidence of a career reporter. She strode into his office as though she had every right to be there and seated herself with a professional ease. A woman like this should have no difficulty securing the position she desired with any publication. He found himself pondering what would draw Crissy Porter to opine on issues of haunting and spooks, a subject those outside of his particular field found tawdry and sensational.

He leaned forward, picked up the book and thumbed through it thoughtfully, examining some of the substantial annotations he had made.

"It's good," he said at last, laying the book down and sliding it towards his prospective client. "Your research is thorough, you've examined a number of more obscure instances, avoided sensationalism...for the most part..." He laid a slender finger to his lips and arched an eyebrow. "It's a fair showing, for a novice attempt," He chose his words cautiously. "I took the liberty of making some...erm....corrections."

He flipped the book open to chapter three. The pages were scrawled with lines, notes, brackets, and annotations. "The Chesterfield incident you outline here...you describe an instant of poltergeist activity, however, Arthur Middleton, the ghost hunter who examined this case, has actually confided that the Chesterfield family was being tormented by what we call a spectral presence." He smiled and shut the book. "It's not a distinction someone outside of our field would encounter, I suppose. The book is good, quite good."

 

[Shannon Trevor]

Crissy arched her eyebrows as Gray slid the book back across the desk to her, not quite able to hide her surprise. The book had been a friendly gesture. A small gift to a prospective partner, of sorts. Something to let him know she wasn't completely clueless in the field. At best, Crissy had expected Gray to give the book a cursory glance, maybe use it for some light reading. She certainly hadn't expect him to take such a keen interest that the abundance of scrawled notes and underlined passages looking back up at her suggested he had. "I appreciate the feedback," she said with a friendly chuckle. "Urban legends and ghost sightings have always interested me. Growing up in Hopefield, well, we have more ghouls and monsters than most towns, if you believe the stories."

Crissy flipped the book over in her hand. It had started as a series of articles in the paper, a detailed look at some of the town's best known mysteries. They had proven so popular that a book was the next logical step. It had been intended solely for local release, something the Hopefield Historical Society and a few shops would stock and sell to residents and passing tourists. When the internet orders started rolling in, Crissy began to realise she had a hit on her hands. Two years and a substantial profit later, her publisher was pushing hard for a sequel. Crissy was keen and it would have been easy to churn out a half-assed attempt. The brand alone would sell enough copies to keep the publisher more than happy. To their chagrin however, Crissy insisted in doing the work properly. If nothing else, she would be able to say she had given the next book her best. It was the main reason she had wrote to Percival Gray in the first place. She knew her first book was good but the next one would be better.

"I admit I didn't ask, Mister Gray but I would have assumed someone in your field, would have been familiar with the Seaview Asylum. Or at least heard of the name. If you haven't, I'd be more than happy to bring you up to speed."

 

[Owl Knight]

Percival leaned back in his chair, his finger still pressed thoughtfully to his lips. He had expected a certain amount of push back at his criticism of her book, but Crissy Porter seemed entirely unflappable. She was not the first author to slide a book on the paranormal under his nose, but she was certainly the first not to call him a fraud on the receiving end of his too blunt criticism.

He stood and paced to the corner of the room behind his desk where an extensive oak filing cabinet stood, crammed with files on cases going back to the days when his grandfather had run the agency out of his estate in New York.

"Hopefield," he mused, "that's on the south Jersey coast, isn't it?" He slid open a drawer and rifled through some of the aging manila folders, his brow furrowed. "I'll admit, I've only heard rumblings and rumors. A business rival of mine addressed a few cases there, if I recall..." He closed the drawer and slide open another, continuing his search. "Tell me about this Asylum."

 

[Shannon Trevor]

"Well," Crissy said with a clap of her hands. "Where to begin." She produced a tablet and with a flick of a finger, brought up an image overlooking the grounds of Seaview Asylum. At the very top of the shot, the black-faced cliffs which gave the place its name, stood firm against the crashing white squall far below. "As you can see, the buildings are classical Victorian. Seaview welcomed it's first patient in 1869. The asylum was divided between a women’s side and a men’s side with a violent end and a non-violent end," Crissy explained, pointing each out in turn.

"It goes without saying that the understanding of mental health back then wasn't the same as today. Seaview had entire wings devoted to different treatments. Electro-shock therapy, ice baths, and even an operating theatre for lobotomy procedures." Crissy scrunched her nose in distaste. "Here," she pointed to an area behind the main buildings, overgrown by thorny bushes, "Is the cemetery. The markers are still there but mostly covered by weeds. Numbers only, no names."

She waited a beat to see if Gray offered any comment but he seemed content to listen for now. "Unfortunately, Seaview did not move with the times. A local news station ran a expose on the asylum back in 1973 and gradually the patients were moved. As far as I can tell, the last patient left in 95 and Seaview closed before the end of the year. Looking at the picture, you're probably thinking the same as me. Prime location, ready to be snapped up by some developer to plop a hotel or some overpriced apartments on. They tried in 1999 but the job was a disaster. The crew suffered three serious accidents in the first two weeks. Two surveyors hired by the management company lasted fifteen minutes inside the main administration building before running for their car and vowing to never return."

Crissy flicked at the tablet and began to scroll through various images of the inside of Seaview. Peeling plaster walls, chipped floor tiles, empty hospital carts and discarded charts dominated most of them. "Every few years the grounds are brought over by someone new but the results are the same. The current management company tell me they've lost five security guards in the last year alone. They're reasonably certain the ones still employed don't even go inside the buildings."

"In terms of a supposed haunting, it's one of the most active I've heard of. We have levitating objects, orbs, reported spectral sightings, numerous stories of someone shouting, damage to parked vehicles." Crissy ticked off each activity with her fingers. "And," she said, her eyes lighting up, "I have full access."

 

[Owl Knight]

Percival snapped up a folder and returned to the desk, plopping it open on a table. The folder was labelled Hopefield, NJ, and it was filled to the brim with newspaper clippings, articles that had been zeroxed one too many times and a few handwritten note pages.

"I thought this sounded familiar," he said."My father ran this agency before me. He kept immaculate notes on any towns that had a high instance of supernormal activity." He drew out a piece of newspaper dated 1984. Hopefield home to a real haunted asylum? Blared the headline. "It looks like you have a decent case to make here. These clippings go back to the early 70s." He slid the folder across the desk for his guest to peruse.

"Miss Porter...it is 'Miss' yes?" He leaned back, watching her carefully. "My usual client is the kind of person who has had direct contact with something...unexplained...they are very real experiences that have very real impacts on people's lives, whether or not you personally believe in the reality of those experiences. Before we continue with this work, I want to make it clear that we are very likely to come into contact with entities that exist outside of accepted science." He continued to watch her face carefully. "What do you hope to gain from this experience?"

 

[Shannon Trevor]

Crissy listened as she took a quick look through the file. She had been old enough to remember Seaview in its decline. By the time she was in her teens the place was about to close and stories soon began to be told about the old abandoned asylum out by the cliffs. She had put the stories down to childish tales kids told when trying to spook each other. The news that there had been supposed hauntings since the eighties was surprising.

"It's Miss," she answered, looking up from the file to Gray, who was watching her intently. "I was a Mrs for a while but that's long in the past. Although, if we're going to be working together, I'd prefer if you called me Crissy." She set the file down carefully as she weighed up Gray's next question. "What I hope to gain from this, Mr Gray is enough material to finish my book. I am a sceptic of the paranormal, I always have been."

She paused and drummed her fingers on the table. "Lately, that scepticism has faded, if only a little. When I wrote my first book, the idea was to tell the story behind the stories. At first certain things were easy to ignore or to laugh off. A door slamming in an empty building, a sudden chill in the air. In the old Bellfield Brewery something left scratch marks on my neck even though I was alone at the time." Crissy picked up her book and flicked through to the chapter that Gray had previously mentioned. "I know it's not in the book, but at Chesterfield Manor I was standing in the study when I was knocked unconscious by a book that somehow fell off its shelf." She smiled again. "Poor Mister Chesterfield was certain I would sue." Crissy set the book back down with a sigh. "The rational part of my brain tells me this should be coincidence or bad luck. The reporter inside me wants the truth. I want someone to show me that."

 

[Owl Knight]

Percival chewed his lip. "As a rule of thumb, this is usually the kind of case I would turn down...." his eyes roved from Crissy to Lilian who sat nearby, jotting down notes on her notebook. She shrugged. Unhelpful. "But if you are really serious about wanting to gt to the truth, the true truth, I think we an make this work." He stood and moved around the desk, seating himself on a corner closer to Crissy. "But you must understand Miss...um...Crissy. Whether you are convinced or not, if we go into this building we are going to be intruding on a sphere of existence that living humans don't often penetrate. Are you sure you're willing to accept the risk?"

 

[Shannon Trevor]

It would have been easy to turn Gray down, apologise for wasting his time and move on. Her next book could still be churned out. Gray alone had enough in the file on his desk about Seaview to easily fill a chapter. Crissy knew she wouldn't though. Chesterfield, Bellfield and every other manor house, old hospital, lonely road and church she had visited so far had began to paint a picture in her mind. There was something else at work in some of those places other than luck, coincidence or prank. It was true her next book had brought her here, but beyond her own professional standards, she needed to know.

Crissy's smile remained but her gaze was determined as she looked Percival straight in the eye. "Yes Mister Gray, I am."

 

[Owl Knight]

Two days later, Percival found himself on the road out of the city, his thoughts preoccupied with the research had spent the last two afternoons performing. Seaview Asylum, and the town of Hopefield in general, boasted a significant supernatural pedigree. Since the mid sixties, numerous hauntings and unexplained phenomena had been documented by both experts and novices in the field. Peculiarly, he had noted as he perused the documents on the town's storied history, the town continued to thrive despite the wealth of strange and unexplained phenomena. It was little wonder Crissy's book was selling as well as it was.

The one area of town that seemed not to have thrived, was Seaview Asylum.

The Asylum itself was located to the north of the town proper, situated on a coastal peninsula accessible only by a narrow access road off of the main drag. Percival could see it from some distance away, an imposing victorian building towering against the grey January sky accompanied by scrubby coastal pines. He lost sight of it for awhile as the road wound him through a spare pine wood, but as he reached the end it came back into his full view, rising like a titanic cathedral before him, and walled off by a high chainlink fence. Scrubby plants and grasses had grown up along the cracked driveway and entangled themselves in the fence. The sign above the entryway to the parking lot had been weathered and worn, but under the rust and the pain, battered and peeled by the sea salt winds, he could still make out the words Seaview Asylum scrawled in large, old fashioned lettering. He immediately felt the chilling sensation of something deeply amiss creeping up his neck.

He parked in the middle of the large empty lot in front of the main asylum building and got out of his car, gazing up with some trepidation at the imposing front facade. Siding was falling off of the walls, shingles had come loose and no doubt flown away in a harsh autumn storm. The salt air had faded the once vibrant paint into a sickly pale greyish salmon color. A cold wind rose off of the ocean and Percival pulled up the collar of his pea coat against the chill. He reached into his pocket, drew out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and set one to his lips. He lit it and leaned back against his car, indulging his habit and waiting for Crissy to arrive.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

The grey sky was the perfect backdrop to match the mood of Seaview Asylum. As Crissy drove up the narrow road she found it hard to imagine the decaying buildings framed by anything other than dark clouds and the sound of the wind sweeping off the cliffs. The branches of the bare, black trees that threatened to overrun the road seemed to reach out to grab at her as they groaned against the gusts.

As she entered the main parking lot, Crissy was surprised at the brief flash of relief when she saw Percival was already waiting. Parking her car next to his, Crissy grabbed her shoulder bag from the passenger seat and got out. The building that lay before her was foreboding and the atmosphere was improved little by the harsh coastal wind whistling through the cracks and holes in the structure. Crissy had been assured the building was safe, at least from a physical standpoint. Standing before it, she wasn't so sure.

"Looks like I'm late," she said with a thin smile, tapping the face of her Rolex as she approached Gray. Crissy had dressed practically, a red hoodie, a jeans and a pair of comfortable and sensible flat sole shoes. "Have you been waiting long?"

As Gray answered, Crissy hugged herself as a sudden chill went through her. Scolding herself for the childish trepidation, she uncrossed her arms, reached into the pocket of her jeans and produced a set of keys. Picking out the one she was looking for, she held it out to Gray. "You can do the honours."

Crissy's gaze was drawn upwards as they crossed the lot together. There, on the very top floor sat a single window, with a dim light peeking out into the darkening sky. The rest of the building sat still and cold but up there a light was somehow burning. Crissy supressed a shudder and waited for Gray to open the door.

 

[Owl Knight]

Percival dropped his cigarette and stamped out the ashes with a grim kind of finality.

"Long enough to want to get out of this cold," he replied. He retrieved a battered looking leather messenger bag from the back seat and locked the car. Something inside rattled and jangled together as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

He took the keyring from Chrissy, they keys were heavy, but otherwise nondescript. As they approached the front doors he felt a chill deeper than the cold of the January wind. A Thrilling shiver played along his spine as he slid the key into the lock and turned it with a satisfying click.

The door swung open slowly and the ghost hunters stepped through into the darkness.

As Chrissy and Percival stepped into the front foyer of the asylum the smell of must and decay was overwhelming. No doubt the walls were filled with mold from the wet winds and any number of animals had likely found their ways into the wall.

Percival drew a small stainless steel flashlight out of the pocket of his jacket, shining it out into the darkness. The stillness of the air magnified every sound. Their footsteps, even their breaths were cacophanous in the quiet foyer.

*SLAM*

Percival and Chrissy whirled back towards the entryway, their hearts pounding as the heavy door slammed shut of its own accord.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

Crissy put a hand to her nose as the must of the dying building greeted them. It had been well over twenty years since anyone had cared to look after the place but she was still surprised at the extent of decay. The walls had once been painted the hideous shade of green that you could find in hospitals, but much of the paint had fallen away in large chunks to reveal the grey walls underneath. The patterned tiles were chipped, holed and in places, missing entirely. Behind what Crissy assumed was once the reception desk, several stacks of cardboard boxes sagged with mould and damp. It was as if Seaview was being eaten from the inside, but the asylum stubbornly refused to die.

In contrast to the wind outside, the inside of Seaview lay utterly still. As she took a cautious step forward deeper into the gloom, Crissy was reminded of how her younger sister would jump out and scare her when they were children. It was Alex's favourite game and even when Crissy knew what was coming, the jolt when Alex revealed herself didn't lessen.

Crissy swore as she lost her footing on the uneven floor and just about managed to keep herself upright. They made it only a few steps further before the heavy metal door slammed shut. Crissy jumped but was glad she managed not to scream or attempt to reach out to grab hold of Gray. For his part, the Paranormal Investigator seemed just as surprised as she was. "I didn't think the wind would have been strong enough to slam the door like that," Crissy said quietly.

 

[Owl Knight]

Percival approached the door, watching his footing on the uneven linoleum floor. His flashlight roved around the edges of the door looking for any sign of something unusual.

"I wouldn't touch anything," he cautioned. "Not with a bare hand at least. Poltergeists can sometimes leave a charge, kind of like static, when they build up enough of a presence to move a physical object. I've seen grown men knocked cold." He stood close to the door, peering intently at the edges, the hinges, the handles. "In case you were wondering," he said slowly, his words coming haltingly as he perused the door, "and in case you want to start taking notes now, I'm looking for spectral remains. When a spirit or specter interacts with a physical object you can sometimes find evidence, like a discoloration or burn mark. I found a handprint on a window in Missouri once, burned into the glass."

Try as he might, he couldn't see anything aside from the natural weathering that the rest of the asylum had endured. Slowly and gingerly he reached out his hand and let his fingers brush the aluminum of the door. A trace of faint heat faded almost at once. So quickly that he questioned if he had felt it at all. He frowned and stepped back from the door.

"Could be wind...I'm not sure. There may be a window open somewhere that made it easier for it to swing shut..." He shook his head turning to Crissy with a keen gleam in his eye. "Or it was a warning tremor."

 

[Shannon Trevor]

"A shot across the bow almost?" Crissy offered, joining Gray back at the door. Watching him work in his calm, almost detatched demeanour put her at ease once again. She also couldn't help notice the clear glint in his eye, even in the murk of the building; Percival Gray was in his element.

Crissy wanted to ask more questions but did not want to disturb him as he investigated the area around the door more thoroughly. She caught herself from leaning against the wall as she waited for him to finish. She imagined his warning about the charge only applied to objects which could be physically moved but she wasn't going to take the chance.

As Gray finished his check, Crissy, from the corner of her eye, saw a shadow move from the end of the long corridor that ran behind the lobby. She turned quickly but could see nothing out of place as she scanned the gloom beyond the reception desk. Looks like my mind is already playing tricks with me, she thought to herself.

"Ready to push on?" Crissy asked, turning back to Gray. "Anything in particular I should be looking for? Better yet, anything I should be warned about?" The gleam in her eye now matched Gray's. After the initial scare and the trepidation of actually facing Seaview had passed, she could focus on the story at hand.

 

[Owl Knight]

A shot across the bow. She wasn't all that far off. As Percival stepped away from the door he had difficulty shaking the feeling that this reporter had unknowingly stumbled into something strange and genuine.

"It's hard to say," Percival replied, adjusting the shoulder strap of his satchel bag and swinging his flashlight back into the lobby area to rove around the unoccupied desks and half empty boxes. "Different kinds of ghosts cause different kinds of phenomena. In a place like this, we could be dealing with one vengeful spirit; that's a ghost trapped by resentment that will try to draw people into a similar death, but that particular variety isn't likely to try to warn us off with a few parlor tricks. They sustain themselves by feeding off of the torment of their victims." Percival started to move down the hallway, sweeping his light back and forth. "It could be a poltergeist, but they tend to occupy beloved places like a family home." Their path brought them to the gated door way which led into the main asylum common room. Through the bars, they could make out the shadow of bare tables and chairs, some upright some toppled in the gloom.

"It wouldn't surprise me at all if we are dealing with a genuine spirit mass, a host of spirits trapped within the walls on a place that caused great and terrible spiritual harm. Their combined spiritual energy would have seeped into the building itself."

Percival turned to Crissy, his eyes grim. "It's dangerous. We can't afford to get separated in here. Do you happen to have a map or blueprint of this place?"

 

[Shannon Trevor]

"And here I thought you were going to go all Scooby Doo on me and suggest we split up," Crissy replied with a smirk. "I'm certainly in favour of staying together but I've read that spirits and ghosts are more likely to reveal themselves to a single person. Any truth in that?" She asked as she shrugged off her shoulder bag. "Not that I'm sure I want anything to reveal itself to me," she added quickly.

As Gray answered, Crissy opened the bag and produced a rolled up blue-print and a large tablet. "Paper or digital?" She asked before answering her own question by tucking the blue-print away back in her bag and turning on the tablet. In seconds, she had the floor plan of Seaview on the screen. "As you already know, the building was divided by wings, with women held on this side," she looked up from the screen to point to the metal door and grille to the left of the common room, "And men on the other." "Both wings were further divided with a violent end and a non-violent end," Crissy explained, noting each in turn on the tablet screen.

She moved herself next to Percival, to give him a better view of the screen. "Where to first, Mister Gray?"

 

[Owl Knight]

"It's not strictly true." Percival mused, his eyes roving over the map on Crissy's tablet. "In some circumstances different people might experience a manifestation in a different way. The overlap between the spiritual dimension and our own has a tricky relationship with perception." Percival smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I'm being a professor. Lilian is always scolding me for overwhelming clients with the 'ghostly encyclopedia'." He tapped a corridor on the map. "If we follow that hallway to the left it should take us up through the women's wing, we may have some luck there. Wronged women make for some potent hauntings..." he paused and smiled bashfully, "No offence, but it's a well observed phenomenon, particularly if we are dealing with a soul mass."

He set down his bag and knelt, going through the contents. Inside the well worn satchel he had packed an additional flashlight which he handed to Crissy, there was a coil of climbing rope, a small first aid kit, a stainless steel canister labeled "sage", another labeled "rock salt", a film camera and two rolls of film, a plain cardboard box of chalk sticks, a lighter, and a sealed bottle of kerosene. He fumbled through these items until he reached the very bottom and found what he was looking for, a folding set of lock picks.

"Tricks of the trade," he said, unfolding the picks. "I picked these of from a PI I used to moonlight with." Leaving his bag on the floor, he set about working the locked doorway into the asylum common room.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

Crissy gave a wry smile as Gray explained the predilection for female ghosts to make the most potent of hauntings. "None taken," she replied, crossing her arms as she adopted a mock stern pose. "To be fair, if come back as a ghost I can think of a few people I'd potently haunt," she conceded while Gray searched his bag before coming out with a set of lock picks. "Lock picks, rope, camera," Crissy observed. "If the Cops ever pull you over, you might have some explaining to do."

As Gray worked at the door, Crissy shone the flashlight he had just given her on the lock. It wasn't much but she wanted to be helpful in any way she could rather than being dragged around the asylum as dead weight. She stuck close to Gray's shoulder. The further they had gone into Seaview, the more encompassing the dark seemed to get. Crissy found herself checking over her shoulder several times. "What's the story with you and Lillian then?" she asked, to break the silence more than anything. "I mean is it strictly professional or are you together?" As if in answer, the lock Gray was working on clicked. "Feel free to tell me to mind my own business."

 

[Owl Knight]

The lock clicked and the door swung open. He smiled with satisfaction, maneuvering the lockpick out of the lock, folding it and tucking it safely in the breast pocket of his peacoat. He gently pushed the door inwards, poking his head through into the gloom beyond.

"That," he laughed wryly, "is a complicated story. There was a moment...anyway. Lilian runs in her own circles. I don't know that I'm her type." He laughed. It was a rare moment of levity, but it felt nice, even as he and Crissy stepped through into the grim common room. The floor was littered with the crumbled remains of ceiling tiles where some pests had broken through and made nests in the ceiling. All around the room, low card tables stood gathering dust. Some of the chairs had been knocked over and left to lie, alone and unrighted.

"This is miserable," Percival muttered, his flashlight straying over the refuse and animal droppings. "I can't believe they kept people in a place like this." Even when the asylum had been in good repair, it would have been a grim and heartless place, the common room lit with pale florescent lamps.

"Let's keep moving." He let the flashlight stray over the room towards the left hand corridor.

"How did you stumble into this, anyway?" He asked. "I've had people approach me to consult on books before but they were...not like you." Cooky was the word he tactfully didn't use.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

"I'm not sure if that's a complimemt or an insult," Crissy laughed softly, following Percival. Her nose scrunched up in what was becoming a practised reaction as her flashlight drifted over a particularly expansive collection of animal droppings.

She did her best to ignore the smell and instead focus on Percival's question. "Long story short, I came back to write for the Chronicle about seven years ago. I had been working for a large daily before that but didn't enjoy big city living and wanted to raise my son in a place I knew we'd be both happy."

Crissy paused as her light came to rest on a wheelchair facing the nearest window. "The Chronicle pays well enough for what it is, but I make a lot of money from freelance work. You're aware of Hopefield's history and I pitched my idea of a series of articles about it to anyone who would listen but no one picked it up." She gave a shrug. "It happens. Most felt it was too local to garner interest. A few others thought writing about ghosts was childish. In the end, the Chronicle ran the series. The release of the third piece was so popular it crashed the website. From there, the book followed and before I know it, I'm in your office, pitching my proposition. Stumbling, as you might say."