True Targets part 3
Sleep came quickly and contained no clear dreams. At 3 am, the alarm
clock broke the silence with a painfully loud ringing. I startled and sat
up and fumbled for the clock in the darkness to switch it off. Some
cold water in the face in the bathroom, some water from the glass, then
I grabbed my jacket and bag and headed for the door.
The corridor was empty and quiet, my steps resounding as I walked
down to the entrance. I slowly opened the doors to the night outside. It
was another quiet night, no sound, not even from crickets. The
temperature was markedly lower than earlier and the night air served
wipe some of the sweat from my brow and back. I crossed the graveled
Library Place and walked to the faculty entrance. Using the key I had
borrowed from Prof. West, I locked myself into the Faculty of
Parapsychology. I shut and locked the door, then navigating by the
street light shining in through the windows, I followed the dark
corridor to the right to a set of double doors. I stopped in front of the
doors to the small faculty library, my favorite study place, to get the
key out. The lock was broken, one door rattling on the latch. After a
moment's consideration, I slowly pushed the door open, praying it had
been tended to recently and did not creak. Not a sound.
Through the tall windows overlooking the park behind the faculty
building, the streetlamps lit the library with a silvery weak light. The
quiet rows of bookshelves cast long shadows on the smooth linoleum
floor. From further inside the library, I heard scraping noises. I set the
bag and jacket gently down on the floor, opened the door as much as
was needed and slipped inside. Burglars in the library? Not too likely.
Someone had broken into the library and I had a strong feeling it was
no coincidence.
I walked silently closer to source of the noise which I recognized as
that of paper being ripped. Behind the ripping and rattling noise, a
strange, high pitched tittering could be heard. I closed in on the noise
and hunched down to avoid being seen. Blood was flowing swiftly and
freely through my ears, interfering with my hearing. There, behind the
shelves three rows down and further into the room a lone figure was
standing hunched over a bookshelf. The person was leafing through
one book, while a heap of torn and crumpled books and magazines lay
by his feet. The shelf next to him contained overturned magazine
boxes and loose sheets of paper. In between leafing through the
journals, the intruder occasionally tore pages out of them, crumpled the
sheets and threw them away, before quickly grabbing a new from the
shelves next to it. The creature seemed to pick journals and books from
the shelves at random, but I could be wrong.
The creature itself was stooped but taller than me by a head, covered
with sparse but matted dark fur, had strange looking hind feet and a
long, canine head with small naked ears sitting at the side of the head.
It looked like a combination of a large bipedal dog and a particularly
ugly pig. The creature carried with it the smell of decomposition from
the grave. There was something perversely familiar with the way it
hunched over the book it was leafing which made the sight a distinctly
disturbing one. The remnants of light colored fabric hung in tatters on
its back, a mocking hint of the attire it had worn as a human being.
As I watched frozen in disgust and horror, a suspicion turned to
maddening certainty. I strained to get a better glimpse of the creature's
face and moved closer. The creature turned its back to me to grab
another journal from the bookshelf behind it. As it turned towards me
again to utilize the light from the windows, I got a better look at the
creature's face. Not even the canine features and pathcy uneven fur
covering the head could obscure the familiarity of it. Before I had a
chance to stop myself, I heard my own voice say: "Almasy? Is that
you?"
The creature threw itself around and hunched down into a defensive
posture. I realized I had made a mistake. A low growl rose from the
ghoul. Even from a distance of more than five yards, the scent coming
from it was almost unbearable, the stench of rotting flesh and fat earth.
More surprised than I was aware of, I raised right hand in a calming
gesture.
"Easy... it's me, Leonheart... your room mate..." The creature snarled
and suddenly sprang forward. I threw my arms up in front of my chest
to protect myself. In a flurry of dark fur, white fangs and mortuary
stench, I was banged into the bookshelf behind me. Strong hands
closed around my neck. I tried to wrestle the hands away by pulling at
the rough wrists, but it was useless, the creature was much stronger
than me. I began choking under the pressure of the strong hands.
Almasy lifted me up, held me at arm's length and shook me like a rag
doll. Pain and nausea shot through my throat and jaw and blue and
yellow vortices began forming in front of my eyes.
"Almasy," I gasped. "Don't... you remember me? You're... second in
class... behind... me." The creature mouthed a loud snarl. Stinking
spittle rained over my face. A reaction. "Oh... by the way...," I
continued. "C-C-Caraway... asks... for you. She was... wondering
where... you were." I tried piping in air to my fading consciousness
but the restricting hands were too strong, holding my neck in a vice.
But then the shaking stopped and the hold loosened. I sucked in air as
hard as I could. Something felt as if it had been knocked loose inside
my throat. I would have to repair that afterwards. Another growl and
shake, then I fell to the floor in a heap.
I desperately tried to massage some life into my throat and getting
some more air, gasping and coughing. I received a good kick to the
belly, which knocked the air out of me. There were some swift
movements past my face, then steps across the floor. Coughing and
pushing the pain of my burning throat aside, I scrambled to get to my
feet. Bumping into bookshelves and battling hard with the tilting room,
I went after Almasy.
Stumbling out into the dark hallway, I could see a swift shadow flitter
across the silver light on the floor.
"Almasy!" I yelled and had to stop to cough. My throat felt like it was
filled with glass shards and my belly was burning. "Almasy! Come
back! Professor West... can help you!" Silence. Then the sound of
rushing air next to me. Hot, stinking breath. Glowing red eyes and a
growling sound next to my face.
"Leonheart. Stop following me," The words were barely
intelligible behind the growls and panting stinking breath. I was
nevertheless compelled to listen closely to the speaker. "Or I will rip
the limbs from your body and eat them one by one. This is none of
your business. Stay out!" I was about to reply when Almasy lashed out
with one clawed hand. The strike hit me in the forehead. It felt like my
skull split in two and the room instantly began wildly turning this way
and that. I felt the floor falling upwards to meet me, then everything
faded out of view.
I awoke in a puddle of my own blood. Head wounds, even superficial
bleed profusely. The hallway was dark and silent, but I sunrise
couldn't be far away. Feeling nauseous and with a burning throbbing
head, I managed to get up on my knees. Blood dripped down from my
forehead onto the floor. "Damn," I whispered. My lips felt swollen and
I was thirsty and sick as the same time. I had to get back to the dorms.
I would rest and then report to Professor West later in the day. There
would of course be a big commotion when the nightwatchman or
janitor discovered that the library had been broken into.
Wanting to get away before the nightwatchman appeared, I struggled
to feet which felt like they had joints of jelly. I looked around. My
jacket and bag was still where I had left them, by the library doors. I
weighed the pain and discomfort of walking back the few meters to
retrieve them, which would allow a day of undisturbed rest, against the
very real possibility I would not make it out of the building with the
added distance and be caught here and have a commotion on my hands
with no chance for rest first. The thought of a day's rest before the
raucus started won and I shambled over to the library doors. Out of
breath already, I hung onto the door for a little while, pressing
Tilmitt's handkerchief against my forehead to stop the bleeding. Then I
slowly and painfully picked the bag and jacket up and started at what
seemed like thirty kilometers instead if thirty yards out of the building,
across Library Place and back into the dorms.
My expectation of a day's uninterrupted rest was brought to shame at a
quarter to twelve when a loud banging was heard on my door. I
decided to try and ignore the banging, but then I heard a key turn in the
lock. I looked up to see who was locking themselves in. Raijin
Peterson, one of Almasy's closest friends and earning his college
degree while working as nightwatchman at the faculty entered the
room. He was followed by a tall policeman, Kinneas, Dincht and Fujin,
Peterson's girlfriend. I looked at them, still feeling too poorly to get up
and most of all wishing they would disappear into thin air so I could
return to sleep and continue healing myself. Peterson swaggered over
to me.
"Here he is officer. Now arrest him."
"Jesus mother of God, did you run into a truck or something?" Dincht
asked. I shook my head, but stopped. My head felt like it was filled
with rotten blood, throbbing and aching and shaking it made it feel
worse. I would need a lot more sleep to get rid of the concussion
Almasy had given me.
"Mr. Squall Leonheart?" The officer asked. I nodded once. "There has
been a break in and vandalism of the library of Faculty of
Parapsychology. The police is carrying out an investigation. You were
one of the students having access to the library off hours. We need you
to follow us to the Dean's office so we can get some understanding of
what happened." I swallowed.
"I had a key, why would I need to break into the library when I could
just have locked myself in?" I asked, more to get information than
anything else.
"I must insist you come with me, Mr. Leonheart so we can talk," the
police officer said. "There was blood on the floor and signs of a
struggle outside the library and you look like you just came home from
a fight." I made a sigh of resignation.The upset face of Raijin peered at
me over the policeman's shoulder.
"You know something about this don't you?" he growled. "I can smell
it on you. You Parapsych students are all alike, creepy and sick ghouls
who have nothing else to do but sneak around libraries at night. And
you're the worst of the them. I've seen you lots of times there, don't
try and pretend it isn't true."
"Yeah, you're creepy," Peterson's girlfriend piped up. I massaged my
face with my hands.
"I assume just because you think someone is creepy that is enough to
make you think they are criminals too," I commented sourly. Raijin
reached out and slapped my shoulder. The vibrations of the slap sent
waves of pain and nausea through my head and body and I lay back in
the pillows.
"Officer, can't you see he's injured?" Kinneas asked.
"I just need some sleep," I protested.
"You're right son, " the policeman said. "We'd better get him to the
doctor's."
Dr. Crowton, head of the campus medical center, shone a strong light
into my eyes with the metal disc he had on a band around his head.
Then he held out his hand and waved it front of me.
"Looks like your eyes are focusing," he said, sounding pleased. I lay
down on the examination bench again, not liking to sit up for long
because of dizziness and nausea.
"You will have a scar, but you'll be all right again," Dr. Crowton
informed me. "You're having a concussion, but it'll pass in a few days.
In the mean time I strongly recommend you take it easy and have
someone watch over you while you sleep the next twenty four hours.
Do you have a room mate whom could stay with you? I know it's
finals and everything but..." I shook my head.
"My room mate's already gone home for the summer," I lied.
"Then what about someone else, girlfriend or friends?"
"Try Dincht and Kinneas at room 367, Faculty of Psychology and
Parapsychology graduate dorms. They live across the hallway from
me."
"Good," Dr. Crowton said. "I'll go and call matron and have them
come down to fetch you right away. You should take it easy for a
while. I will of course see to that you're excempt from any exam you
should have had in the three next days."
"I'll be all right tomorrow. I just need to sleep today," I told him.
"Dincht and Kinneas won't be in until later tonight. They're both
having exams now and preparing for another tomorrow."
"I see," the doctor said. "I will notify matron all the same and she will
inform your friends when they return from the libraries. In the mean
time, you can stay here and rest. You really shouldn't sleep
unsupervised when having a concussion. It was very unwise of you to
go back to the dorms alone after having been in a fight." I shrugged.
"I'll be all right," I told him.
"Now, now, that's my line." I looked up at the doctor, who was less
than five years my senior. He grinned down at me. I smiled against my
will.
"Ok, here's a blanket for you and I will come back in an hour to check
on you," the doctor said, handing me a grey wool blanket which would
more than keep me warm in the summer heat. "There'll be hourly
check ups, so you'll have to get accustomed to that." I nodded and took
the blanket. I longed to go to sleep and continue healing up. I just
hoped I would have none of the dreams I had had the previous day. I
had an exam tomorrow to think about as well. Almasy and the library
problem would have to wait.
Dincht and Kinneas appeared at 7 pm and followed me back to the
dorms. When I started for the door to my room, Dincht put a hand on
my arm.
"You're coming with us. You sleep in my bed and I'll take
your mattress on the floor." I was about to protest when Kinneas
interjected.
"Listen to him, Leonheart. It'll be easier for all of us. Besides, we
don't want to get up and into the corridor every hour to check on you.
It's easier if you're in our room and we can terrorize you there."
Lacking the power to resist I nodded.
"Ok, just let me go and have a shower and I'll go to bed in your room
right away."
"Certainly, but don't faint in there or we'll have to come and fish you
out in your birthday suit," Kinneas grinned. I grimaced at him.
In the bathroom I peeled off a sweaty and bloody shirt and dirty pants,
relieved to get them off. I ran the water cool and entered the shower.
The water felt relieving and relaxing, loosening the tension and
carrying away the excess heat in my body. I tried to massage my sore
muscles and hurting head but the water burned whenever it came in
direct contact with the wound on my forehead. I turned off the faucet
and began drying with the towel. The afternoon's sleep had already
served to make me feel much better than I had in the morning and I
decided to have a quick shave before going to bed.
While shaving I had a chance to take a good look at the wound
Almasy had given me. The slash of his claws had drawn a long wound
forming a thin line going from the left side of my forehead, crossing
the bridge of my nose and reaching down to the right eye. In addition,
the concussion had caused black patches to form beneath my eyes
because of internal bleeding. My throat had blue bruises on the front
and was still sore. I cursed. It would take me longer to heal than I had
thought.
After having rinsed the shaving cream off my face, I went into the
room, pulled out my drawer and found a pair of clean pyjamas pants. I
changed into them and crossed the hallway to Kinneas and Dincht's
room. Dincht had brought my mattress into their room and put it on the
floor between the two beds. He was sitting on one bed cutting cheese
on a platter on the bedstand. He motioned to the opposite bed with one
arm and bowed.
"The bed is ready for you, master. All you need is climb in and we'll
tuck you in and kiss you good night." He grinned at me.
"And wake you again in one hour to make certain you haven't died,"
Kinneas added. "Doctor's orders."
"Hnh, I'll take both of you one arm on the back here and now," I
challenged smiling. Dincht made an o with his mouth in mock surprise,
laughed and and turned to his room mate.
"Someone needs to put his cheese where his mouth is. I say it's time
for you to go straight to bed mister!" He got up and lunged for me. I
dodged, jumped up into the bed and pushed him back with one leg on
his chest. The slow kick served to unbalance me on the soft mattress
and Kinneas used the opportunity to take hold of me from the floor.
"Quick, grab his legs and we'll get him in there!" he laughed,
struggling to hold onto me. Zell grabbed my legs and together they put
me down on the opposite bed. While fighting against their hold, I
banged my jaw on Kinneas's shoulder, sending me into waves of
nausea. I stopped struggling and lay down, put one arm over my eyes
and growled.
"Damn." Kinneas and Dincht stopped jostling and let go of me.
"Awfully sorry about that," Kinneas said.
"Accident," I told him. "Never mind." They both sat down on the other
bed while I did my best to suppress the nausea.
"How are you feeling?" Dincht asked.
"Like hell," I said. "Stupid Almasy never knows when to quit."
Silence. Damn. Why didn't I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?
"Almasy?" Dincht asked. "So it was he you had a run in with?" I
looked at him and nodded. Kinneas knotted his brows.
"What on earth for? Where is he by the way? Rinoa asked for him
today and I said we still hadn't seen him. I'm getting worried. He's
been gone for five days. That's some bloody binge. I think we need to
report the guy missing, unless matron has gotten word where he is."
"Maybe he couldn't face the exams and went back to his parents?"
Dincht suggested. "That has happened before."
"I don't know," I said. "I have to talk with Prof. West before I can talk
with anyone else. You can regard Almasy as missing I think. I can't
say anything more, I'm sorry."
"You didn't... do anything to him, did you?" Dincht ventured.
"Do anything?" I asked looking up at him. "Like what?"
"Like hurt him real bad." Dincht looked down. "Everyone knew you
and he weren't exactly friends and that you've both got a solid temper
when the mood hits you." I let out a little laugh and shook my head. So
this was what my class mates thought of me, a pugilist and
troublemaker. It hurt a bit.
"No, I didn't hurt him, he hurt me," I protested. "He nearly killed me
dammit." I shook my head again. "Stone cold mad he is."
"So what happened exactly ?" Kinneas asked.
"He tried to strangle me and then, when I went after him, he slashed
me in the head."
"But why did he try to strangle you in the first place?" I looked at
Kinneas.
"Forget Almasy," I said. "He's not the person you knew for now.
Forget him, ok? I can't say anything more. I have to see Professor
West first. He's the only person who can clear up this mess, so please
don't ask me about anything more. I'm not even sure what happened
myself." Kinneas and Dincht didn't reply. Hoping they understood I
bade them good night, pulled the blanket over me and tried to go sleep,
refusing to continue the conversation with Kinneas and Dincht or
wrestle with the thousand and one questions I had in my mind. My
head was still throbbing and hurting, I needed rest from the current
situation. Before sleep reached me I heard my room mates talk in quiet
voices while they clanked the cheese knife on the china platter by the
window.
I woke by the sound of my room mates dressing and preparing to leave
for the day. I sat up in bed and threw the blanket aside.
"Where are you going?" Kinneas asked, climbing over the mattress on
the floor to grab a sock on the other bed.
"I'm getting up," I said. "I haven't worked so hard for that exam to
skip it today."
"You were in a fight yesterday, remember?" Dincht commented. "And
was injured."
"I feel much better now. Very well in fact." I stood and stretched. My
belly muscles weren't hurting any more and the dizziness was gone.
"You look much better," Kinneas commented.
"Yes, he's lost the panda face," Dincht laughed, referring to my
bruised eyes. I picked up a piece of cheese from the platter on the
bedstand and threw it at him.
"Careful!" Dincht laughed. "That's the only food we have left. It's
your breakfast. Help yourself if you're hungry." I looked down on the
platter. Not having eaten in more than thirty hours, the thought of
breakfast seemed tempting. I sat down on the bed and ate a few pieces
of the cheese left. The cheese had a pretty characteristic smell but
tasted far better than its scent suggested.
"Rather good cheese," I commented. "It stinks!"
"Takes one to know one," Kinneas grinned. "Here, we saved this for
you as well." He threw something soft at me which bounced off my
chest and landed on the bed next to me. A piece of white bread. I
hadn't had that for breakfast in three months since my allowance ran
out. I tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it in my mouth. Even a day
old, the bread tasted wonderful. I chewed and felt grateful for the
thoughtfulness of my co-students.
After the improvised meal, I changed into clean clothes, grabbed a few
pens in my room and headed off to the exam hall together with Irvine
and Zell. In the small lecture hall mainly used for graduate study
lectures at the faculty, Professor Mapster was waiting for everyone to
arrive. The tension in the air was palpable. The course in hyper
Eucledian geometry was the last and the most difficult of the
obligatory courses of the parapsychology graduate program, hyper
Eucledian geometry forming the basis for understanding the
movements and behaviors of certain paranormal objects in space and
time, Everyone had to pass to hope to receive their diploma and the
exam was usually far from easy. Adding to it the course being heavy
on theoretical mathematics made the course the least popular of all the
graduate courses at the faculty.
Zell and Irvine walked a few aisles up in the long room and sat down
on the wooden chairs. I followed suit and placed myself a few seats
away from them, at the end of the row. I folded the writing pad out and
waited. As the clock approached 8.15, the room began filling up with
students who distributed themselves evenly on the room's three tiers.
Then Professor Mapster began passing around sheets of ruled paper
and grey surplus paper to the students.
"Finally, what you have all been looking forward to with great
expectation... and great fear this term," Professor Mapster said,
holding up a stack of typed paper. He grinned while he handed the
exam questions out. "You have exactly four hours to complete the
exam. You're allowed to take a break in that period, but I'll keep an
eye on you. Don't worry, it's not as bad as you imagine. You have all
been studying hard and should be able to make it. If you have any
questions to the exam, don't hesitate to ask and I shall see if I'm
allowed or merciful enough to answer them. Good luck everyone!" A
few students muttered their thanks, some with and some without a
sarcastic tone.
The white sheet of paper landed on my desk. I took it, scanned the five
questions and chose the best sequence in which to begin solving the
problems. I welcomed the mental challenge of the exam, it was
something to do to keep my thoughts away from the current host of
troubles.
Time passed. One of the questions I could hardly answer at all, having
not had the chance to talk to Quistis about the finer points of Tore's
Theorem, one of the more specialized off shoots of hyper Eucledian
geometrical theory. The other problems were solveable. Four hours
later, I walked down the aisle to hand in my answer to the exam
problems. Professor Mapster nodded when I put the stack of papers on
the desk and wished me a good summer.
"Any chance Professor West is in his office right now?" I asked.
Professor Mapster looked at me over his round rimmed glasses. He
was British and was somewhat feared among the students becase of his
wit and keen sense of humor. He extended left arm and peered down at
his wristwatch.
"Yes, I think so if you've got fast legs," he replied. "Then you can
probably just catch him before he leaves for lunch." Like I had done
with everyone else the last three days, I checked the color of the
leather strap of his wristwatch. Brown. Professor Mapster looked up at
me. "Well, don't just stand there waiting for the starter's shot, run
along now." Thanking him, I hurried out of the cool and shady lecture
hall and into the brilliance of the corridor outside.
"That concludes my summary of the events the last few days," I said
and looked stiffly up at Professor West. "I would be very grateful if I
could receive some advice about how to proceed from here. I have few
ideas how to solve the current situation." I waited anxiously for his
response. Professor West chewed on one end of his pencil.
"A most unusual case, I would say," he began. I felt some small
muscles in my knees begin to give way out of relief. Professor West
believed me. I waited some more. "And you are certain of the identity
of the ghoul in the library." I nodded.
"I am certain. He responded when I called his name and I easily
recognized him."
"Hmm, most unusual. There have been some reported and confirmed
cases of wilful transformation to ghouls in Boston and Arkham the last
few years. Dr. Carter wrote a lenghty and fascinating report about it, it
should be in the library. Well, it should be there unless it was
destroyed by the intruder of course." I nodded. I knew the report
Professor West was referring to by heart.
"I told him there would be help, a cure." I looked down. "That is
correct, isn't it? There is a way to reverse the transformation?"
Professor West looked at me.
"What on earth made you believe that?" he asked. I felt some more of
my knee muscles begin to give way. My head begun to pound again.
"I seem to remember a comment about that in Dr. Carter's report," I
muttered weakly.
"So you have read it?" Prof. West asked. I nodded. "To be honest, I do
not remember the report in detail, even though the events it describes
happened quite recently and commanded a lot of attention in the realm
of parapsychological research when it was published." I felt my knees
begin to tremble.
"But d'Erlette mentions something of "bringing the dead eaters back"
in "Cultes des Goules", doesn't he? With "definite mastery of true and
potent magick"?"
"Yes, that is true," Prof. West replied. "You seem to have done a lot of
research on the subject on your own."
"I have been planning on writing my thesis on local paranormal
phenomena from the past, try and give them a modern interpretation," I
told him. "Beginning in the fall. Dr. Carter's report was a centerpiece
of interest since it was recent and highly interesting. "Cultes des
Goules" was a natural companion source since Dr. Carter cites much
of his comments from the book."
"Good choice," Prof. West commended. "You are absolutely right and
there should be lots of material to take hold of, but to be honest, I have
always regarded d'Erlette's writings to be the kind which appeared
long before the dawn of medical and paranormal science and with
reason has never properly tested. His theories on resurrection and
necromancy may very well be genial, but they are still from a time
when parapsychology was guesswork and superstition more than
anything else. I did have some ideas about it many years ago, as a
recently graduated medical student, and wished to test some of his
theories. Nothing came out of it of course, the subject of resurrection
and necromancy being highly controversial even among workers of
parapsychology. No one has ever witnessed the resurrection of a living
creature, much less a human and personally, I doubt it is at all
possible."
"Even with representations such as hyper Euclidean geometrical
patterns as foci for time-space change?" I queried. Prof. West smiled.
"Perhaps not. Some interesting results may well come of that.
However, to get back to your original question, yes it may be possible
to reanimate a corpse for a limited amount of time by adding life
energy to the dead flesh, but to reverse the undead state of a ghoul
would require something else. How would it be possible to remove the
death energy and at the same time successfully add life energy into the
poor creature? I also suspect the decomposition of the body would
make sustained life for the ghoul impossible unless the entire body was
in some way completely remade." I looked down, suddenly feeling
dizzy.
"I understand." I fought back tears before continuing. "Thank you for
your help, Professor West. I'm very relieved you believe me. What
will happen with the library now?"
"I believe you, Leonheart, don't worry. Stranger things have happened
at Miskatonic University and we are ready to deal with any and all
paranormal situations. I shall explain the situation to Dean Kramer and
we'll see what we can do about the police investigation. I think it
should be possible to persuade the Dean to end the police investigation
since we now know who the intruder was." I felt a nerve in my face
twitch.
"Thank you, Professor West," I said. "I am indebted to you. I feel
somewhat responsible for the break in of the library... having been
there."
"There is no need to. You had no way of knowing there would be a
ghoul there. Don't worry. I of course understand your concern for your
room mate. I will notify the police that he is missing. Then we need to
think about what to do with that matter. Personally, maybe the best
option is to leave things as they are for now. There isn't much we can
do but I will check some sources on my own, just to be on the safe
side."
"But if Almasy is a ghoul, he will be at the cemetery, won't he? We
could find him there," I asked.
Professor West looked at me.
"I do not think such speculations are fruitful Mr. Leonheart. Granted,
Dr. Carter gained contact with ghouls through his associate Richard
Upton Pickman who became transformed by a ghoul himself, but
remember Dr. Carter was in a rather special situation at that time.
Seeking out ghouls is not without risk, as you have experienced
yourself. After all, they do feed on human and animal flesh." Professor
West gave me a sharp look. "Your friend is no longer human. If we are
to believe Dr. Carter, he is not alone, there are those who will take care
of him. I would strongly advice you leave him alone." That seemed to
be Professor Wests final words in the matter and I decided not to press
my luck any further. I nodded and thanked the professor for his time
and advice. Then I exited his dimly lit office and walked out into the
searing mid day sun.
The day passed. I was called to Dean Kramer's office after lunch and
he told me Professor West had informed him about the intruder and
that the police investigation had been stopped. Relieved, I gave him a
full report of what had happened. Before I was allowed to leave, Dean
Kramer gave me a stern warning against seeking out my former room
mate.
I honestly wished to follow the advice of my teachers and seniors, all
rational thought supported by my uncle's research indicated the same
thing. Ghouls were to be left alone, only studied at a distance but never
interacted with directly, unless they created trouble for humans by
interfering with their lives first. That was the general rule when it came
to dealing with all paranormal beings and doubly true for those who
lived in close proximity to humans since interfering with their
existence could bring trouble to the curious human and society
surrounding him. These were the maxims of parapsychology; study,
information and when necessary: defense, not manipulation or
interaction. Parapsychology accepted the existence of what was
previously seen as mythical creatures, but was adamant to keep a clear
line between the existence of other beings and those of humans.
I was uncertain how closely my uncle had followed these maxims. He
seemed to have been too curious about the other worlds and the
existences of other beings to not try to interact with them in order to
gain information. To one extent that had brought him to the end of his
life, but as I saw it, it was better to act than do nothing when human
lives were interfered with and threatened by the activities of other
beings. My uncle had not been above restricting the length of certain
beings' existences as well, if his life or those of other human beings
were threatened, his private notes indicated that. I felt I now had to
start down the path of my famed relative, for better or for worse. I had
come to the point where I could no longer stand and watch, it was high
time to act.
