Chapter Eight

The circle of light hovered over the door's lock. Then, the light moved to a brilliant key, held in gentle fingers. The metal shone brightly in the darkness of the landing. A minute before, it (as well as one bloody ghoul's corpse) had been lying in a pile of its brethren at the bottom of the lobby stairs; a scrawled note pinned underneath.

found keys, take 1. b on guard for puzzles in manson and n e thing weird esp masks. leave masks here plz - Enrico

Both the lock and key were embossed with the basic shape of a sword. Just to test, Richard tried to turn the lock - it was locked. He tried to plug the key, and it fit. Turning it, the door opened easily.

Richard was just about to pass through the doorway when the room went white and a boom was heard. He swivelled, hair standing on end, staring intently out the window. Water flowed down the glass, and nothing more.

It was lightning, Richard told himself, catching his breath. Only lightning. He had to get out of this lobby; the second floor was even creepier than the first. The corpse downstairs didn't exactly put him at ease either. Shaking himself off, he passed through the doorway and closed it behind him.

His first impression of the hallway was that of its being red, almost as if the walls had been slathered with blood. It was only red paint, though, and matching wine red carpet. He noticed there was light; he looked upwards, noting a light bulb that appeared to be about ten watts. Maybe twelve... Still, it was enough to see by, and Richard turned off his shotgun's torch. He moved forward, sniffing the air as he did so. It was musty, stuffy, but something else...death? Rot? Maybe, but he couldn't tell. He moved forward, footfalls soft.

Heel, toe, heel, toe... Richard's steps barely even rustled the carpet. He passed between a dresser and a chair, both dribbled with more red, and heard something crush beneath his feet. He stepped back, and looked down. Pieces of some sort of china doll were on the ground, the body in one piece but the head crushed. He knelt, curious, and picked at the headless doll. He looked underneath the dresser, felt, and pulled out another doll. This one had a head, but its skin had somehow been turned a deep red, as if some of the wall's colour had dripped onto it.

Richard frowned. One without a head, and otherwise normal. One with the head still on, but turned crimson.

Be on guard for anything weird. Was this some sort of a message? Richard's lips moved, silently, his brain working. Very odd, very odd - maybe the head had something to do with it, or maybe the smashed head was a genuine accident and the message was elsewhere, maybe he was looking for clues where there were none...

"Uuuunnnnghhhh...." Richard's head snapped up, frowning. He quickly but quietly got to his feet, shotgun in his arms. Creeping along the wall, he reached the corner and peeked slowly around. The hall turned, and turned again; at the end stood a dimly lit figure. He was still, not heading for Richard, but definitely a ghoul. He moaned again. Richard slid around the corner like a snake, hugging the wall. Would it be possible to slip past unnoticed...? Richard didn't know how much ammo he had left, but probably not enough to kill everything in the mansion. Ghouls tend to go in packs...

Richard was at this point thoroughly convinced he was dealing with honest-to-god ghouls, necromancers and all. After all, he had objective evidence, didn't he? Richard liked to consider himself adaptable; he had never believed in the supernatural, but if it came up and bit him on the face he could change his views. He was moving down the middle of the hallway now, staring at a ghouls' back - it was rotting, it was dead, it was walking. It was a ghoul. Which meant, of course, some sort of black magic, and what if there were other demonic entities? What sort of ghoul was he looking at here? And -

A thin, wooden table was set against the wall. Richard's right hip brushed against it, catching a corner of a rectangular object. The object was pushed until it was half off the table, teetering for a second, before it slipped off and landed heavily on the toe of Richard's right boot.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Richard whirled, cursing more in surprise than pain, as his shotgun came to bear on the object. He was sure he had been bitten by some sort of imp or other small creature. When he saw he was pointing his gun at a wooden mount he felt somewhat sheepish; however, this feeling passed when he heard a loud groan to his left and a shadow fall across the injured foot.

Richard shot a look. The ghoul was shambling towards him, arms reaching expectantly. There was also a door, about halfway between the two men, and Richard was leaping for the knob before he even had time to think. He landed on the polished brass ball, slamming into the door, and bounced off. In the second before he landed on the floor, and the back of his head hit the opposite wall, he saw a shield stencilled on the metal above the lock. Then stars flooded the world.

Richard shook his head quickly, clearing his vision slightly, and looked up. The ghoul was reaching downward, gnarled fingers clutching, white eyes staring hungrily. As Richard stared, a droplet of saliva rolled out past its peeling lips and landed on his cheek.

Richard kicked, one foot coming up and connecting with the ghoul's hip. It was knocked back, half turning, and fell. Richard felt the breath go out of him as the weight landed on his ribs, amazingly heavy. The rotting flesh sagged against his own, leaving wet smears and a stench that made his stomach turn to water. It breathed, a rattling wheeze that made him gag and his eyes spurt tears. What was worse was that its right arm slid around and its fingers wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air supply completely.

Christ hell this is bad - Richard struggled to hold his mind in a logical state. Things were going to shit, he had to think, he had to think clearly, there were ghouls and all yes but it was still reality and he could think his way out of it and -

The ghoul's head reared back, and then snapped forward, and Richard could see it was going straight for his throat. It was going to rip out his artery, and Richard wasn't Rebecca or Kenneth but he could tell that he wouldn't be so great after that. And for the one split second when time froze, and the world stood absolutely motionless, when Richard had an eternity to think - that was when the single thought oh crap reverberated in his mind over and over until the moment ended and the teeth came down.

On a subconscious level, his instincts thought for him. Richard's hands, both of them, shot out and clutched the ghoul's windpipe in an iron grip as it was holding him. It was amazingly strong; even with both elbows locked it could nearly overpower him just by trying to tilt its head. Its teeth snapped, bit at him, inches from his neck. Richard could see dark spots around the edges of his vision and knew he needed air, immediately if not before. Then he realized his legs were free; better than that, Richard was very flexible. Specifically, he was flexible enough to snap his legs back and lock his heels under his hands, at the top of the ghoul's sternum. In one strong heave, he flung it off of him.

The ghoul's head cracked into the opposite door, motionless for just a moment, whether it stayed motionless Richard didn't know; as he scooped up his shotgun he made a dash down the hallway, turning corners until he found another door. He slammed against it, but it was locked as well. He shot a look over his shoulder and saw the ghoul shambling around the corner. He continued to run until he made the end of the hallway. He was beginning to fall into the edge of panic, just seeing the one remaining door and knowing it was his last chance. He threw himself at it and turned the knob - opening it. His momentum flung him clear through the doorway and he landed on his side, legs still sticking out into the hall. He got to his feet and made a quick check around the doorframe - ghoul not that far back. He pulled his head into the room and slammed the door.

Richard checked the room, found it clear, staggered over to a chair and collapsed into the soft leather. He raised his shotgun and brought it down on the desk, then buried his head in his hands. He was okay...just a little tired. He managed to save his ammo, but he wondered if it was worth it. He couldn't pull that trick off very many times, he was sure, but his ammo was limited... To check, he pulled the magazines out of his vest.

Oh, wow. He must have spent more outside than he thought. Two ten-round magazines, and the nine in his gun. Not a lot of rounds to blow, not given the dogs he saw outside...

Richard took a moment to survey his surroundings. A fairly well furnished room; like someone's library or somesuch. He could see some books, some tables, soft light...the table he was directly in front of had a chess board. Across the room was another desk, some cluttered papers upon it. Actually, the whole room was somewhat messy, if not spectacularly; a few books on the floor, a couple of pens rolling across the desk. But the room itself was still soothing.

Reluctantly getting to his feet, Richard inspected the opposite desk. There was an open diary, but Richard inspected all the pages to find them blank. Something glittering, under a 60 watt lamp, caught his eye. He reached over and picked up a whistle - he was pretty sure it was a dog whistle. There was also a photograph underneath, which fluttered off the table and landed upside down on the floor. Richard, curious, picked it up and read the back.

It was a moment later that he landed heavily in the chair. This was interesting.

Alias,

Hey, man, glad to see you've come back, thought you'd disappeared somewhere, anyways, Okay, remember Char Scratch that, you wouldn't. Okay, remember when that big Cerberus dog attacked you and Steve? Or should I say attacked Steve because remember how Steve may never walk again? Remember how you threw the dog off of him without a scratch and saved his life, you know?

Okay, that's Charon, you probably remember feeding him, which brings me to my next point, Spencer, aka Supernazi managed to get a collar on that mutt somehow, and that is a collar we ALL want (I won't get into the details here, ask the others). Supernazi said if we can get it off the dog we're welcome to it, brings me to my next point:

Okay, given your little adventure with Steve-o, I think you are literally the only man on EARTH that can get at that damn mutt and live. So you're asking what's in it for you I guess, well, first of all you get to stick it to Supernazi, show him up and he can't do a thing about it!

Okay, if you want something REALLY nice, the guys and gals are chipping in and finding what you may want.

Talk to me,

Da Jonesy (Brenda Jones)

Very interesting.