"Oh my god, Zell!" Casey groaned, setting his usual coffee and pie on the table. "I don't know why you like the forest so much!"

He looked up at her, a little surprised by the random outburst. "There's a lot of interesting things out there. Why wouldn't I?"

"It's so gross!" She whined. "You're always talking about it so I went for a jog on one of the trails this morning. I got chewed on by bugs, stared at by creepy people and birds and then there was that smell."

"Fresh air?" He grinned. "Most people find it pleasant."

"No! My cousin is a mechanic and once he spilled a bunch of oil on an engine he was working on. It smelled like that. Seriously, I'm going to stick to the gym where it's nice and safe."

"Burnt oil?" He frowned, remembering hearing something about that. "Why were people staring at you?"

She smirked. "You really have to ask? You'd stare too if you saw me jogging. It was mostly this one guy, though. He seriously freaked me out."

"If you want protection next time all you have to do is ask. I'll watch your back." He winked.

"I'm sure you will." She gave him a copy smile and headed for the next customer. Zell had trouble not watching as the cheerleader sauntered away.

Finally he pulled up his laptop and searched for the burnt oil she mentioned. Uneasy with the results, he checked a few related signs and his concern deepened. There had been a surge in the owl population over the last few months. There had also been a noticeable rise in violent crimes against women.

He finished his pie as fast as he could, not letting a crumb go to waste. Once he'd finished he left enough to cover the tab as well as a good tip and hurried out. If his guess was right, the door to the Black Lodge was open... and one of the spirits had his sights on Casey.

Zell watched the sky as the Dodge Challenger roared down the road to his house. Owls weren't to be trusted and now that he was looking he realized there was always at least one perched within sight. They had been watching Casey, the sort of girl often targeted by one of the Black Lodge spirits. Young and pretty.

It bothered him that he didn't know much about it. He knew it wasn't a safe place and he'd heard some rumors of occasional appearances by the spirits here and there. His mentor had admitted to knowing about the Black Lodge and its counterpart the White Lodge but refused to give him more information than was strictly necessary. He had the foresight to make sure any friend or ally who might have similar knowledge knew to keep quiet about it around his over-enthusiastic apprentice. Zell had to admit that was probably wise at the time. He was a dumb kid and the opportunity to explore a strange world on another dimensional plane would have been irresistable.

Now it was a problem. He needed to know more about the spirits, needed to know how to close the portal and save Casey. He wasn't even sure how much time he had to work with. As he hopped out of the car it occurred to him he might be overreacting. Owls show up when there is need and the weather being what it had been lately, the rodents were plentiful. Maybe someone crashed their dirt bike in the woods that morning to account for the smell, scorched oil might have been on some of the plants. She had a good point about attracting attention, too. The girl took good care of herself and knew how to best display it.

He was either jumping to conclusions or Casey's life was in danger. Needing an answer he headed for his collection. Something he'd picked up the month before had proven invaluable and he had every intention of making use of it now.

Zell went to the appropriate shelf and picked up the Magic 8 Ball. It had been shuffled off from one disgruntled or scared owner to another for a long time. It only gave four answers. In spite of the standard icosahedron floating in the liquid inside there was no variation from the four. Yes, No, Maybe, and Unknown. That accounted for the disgruntled owners who wanted the more amusing variety. The scared folks are the ones who learned that it is never wrong. About anything.

"Am I overreacting?" He asked, turning the ball to expose the answer.

No.

"Is Casey in danger?"

Yes.

"Shit…" He sighed and spun the ball again. "Will I stop them in time?"

Unknown.

That did nothing to set him at ease and he found himself regretting even asking. He'd rather have had the false certainty he would have proceeded with.

Two hours of arguing with his mentor over the phone had finally gotten him a few answers and more warnings than he cared to count. The smell was most often found near the entrance to the Black Lodge and the door was usually only open for a short time. 'Short' being subjective. Anywhere from weeks to months and it was different depending on where you were. There were no numbers available for Portland's window since it was rare this one became active.

The most active of the spirits that dwelled within was a cruel man named Bob. He was known to stalk, rape and kill young women though the exact reason was unknown. A few had gone into the Black Lodge to learn more but none had returned. A fact that was mentioned multiple times by Alzabar. It was a one way trip and he needed to do what he could to avoid it. The entrance was likely to be located near a circular formation. A ring of rocks or trees was most common, usually with a depression in the middle. There was usually a puddle containing the liquid that smelled like oil.

He was also warned about the owls, the Black Lodge spies. What they knew, the spirits knew. After swearing over and over again he wasn't going to go into the Lodge, he finally hung up and sighed. Find the circle in the forest, stop Bob, figure out how to close the Black Lodge. Easy, right?

A glance at the clock told him he needed to get some rest. There wasn't much he could do this late. Hunting a normal creature in the dark was fine but this was something else, the rules were different. There was only one spirit associated with the Black Lodge that Alzabar had admitted was probably good, likely a White Lodge watchdog of sorts. The Giant. A few reports had been found of him attempting to help but it seemed like his hands were tied and he could do little more than offer vague warnings and hints.

Irritable and worried, it took him hours to quiet his mind enough for sleep.