Cassandra pulled up to the Witcher estate, driving by slowly to survey the area. Just as she had expected, there were two cop cars sitting outside of the gate, watching for anyone who tried to enter. She circled the block in fear of suspicion and parked out of sight two blocks down. Watching them contently like a hawk, she tried to muster up a plan. The only way in was through the front gate and they would surely stop her if she went through it. There had to be another way in, or at least some way to slip past the cops, she thought. For a long moment, she pondered on all the possibilities.

She had to do something. She pulled out her phone and dialed 911. Cassandra was running out of time to think of something and if she waited any longer it would be daylight. She wasn't one hundred percent sure it would work but it was all that she had. When the operator answered she reported a murder at an address nearby. Shortly after she hung up, she sat and waited, praying it would work. Moments later the two cop cars turned their lights on and sped off into the night. Her plan had worked like a charm.

Cassandra turned her phone off and removed the sim card to prevent them from tracing the call back to her and her location. She pulled up to the gate and punched the code into the pad. The giant black barred gates slowly crept open as she looked around nervously for anymore cops. The coast was clear. She drove up the long curved driveway and parked the car out of the line of sight.

"Vidian??" Cassandra yelled as she stepped through the front doors.

It was quiet, but it wasn't dark. All of the lights in the house were still on. It gave her hope that he was here. She walked around the vast beauties of their estate, searching for Vidian-- even in rooms she'd never been into before. Cassandra was surprised at how much of their home she'd yet to explore despite being there almost everyday. When she finally stumbled into the west wing, she came across an open door that immediately caught her eye. This door was impenetrable, thick like the door of a bank vault. Curiously she examined it, stepping into Wyatt's fathers study.

"Vidian?" she called again.

She looked around and was astounded by the scenery. The smell of old ripe pages came with the beauty of spine engraved books. Nothing but a forest of information. Vidian was not here. She wandered more, scanning the book shelves and rummaging through the drawers of the mahogany desk for anything-- As if she knew what she were looking for. Through her snooping she came across a planner that had all of Wyatt's fathers contacts. In it she found the number to their families lawyer, and endless pages of many others labeled by first and last name. She might not have found Vidian, but she found what she was looking for.

She closed the drawer and picked up the house phone on Wyatt's fathers desk. It was an old rotary phone. How the hell am I supposed to use this thing? Cassandra thought as she picked up the handset and held it to her ear. The tone of the dial pealed as she panned her attention down to an open book left on Wyatt's father's desk.

She hung the phone back up, captivated by the pages before her. On the right page, there was a picture of a monster, something she had never seen before. It had the qualities of a snake. It's long lower body slithered across the ground that connected to a human torso. It had two arms, human like. Sprouting from it's deer kin head were antlers, grotesque and awful. This creature was a thing of nightmares.

On the left there was handwriting in cursive that read 'Grimlock' at the top. Cassandra's heart began to pound, stomach churning into nothing. She examined the book's blank cover realizing that it was some sort of journal. The only distinction were the gold letters W. W. carved into the spine. She read what was written;

Some witches have the power to summon creatures in their own filthy image. They seem to call them Grimlocks. Though I have observed that a small percentage of them are capable of such atrocities. They pull the life force straight from the fires of hell or can even twist the purity of one's own soul, corrupting it into darkness. The evil that is produced by their hands cannot be taken lightly and anyone who has fallen to their temptation should be executed immediately. Because the filthy whore pours a part of her own tainted soul into these creatures, when she is burned, they are sent back to the hell in which they came. But if they were once pure they will offer her soul a gateway back into the land of the living; a vessel in which she may use to be reborn in the ashes of which she was burned.

These creatures are not easily put down. They are tenacious, loyal beasts that will sacrifice themselves to protect their 'mother' at all costs. The only way to ensure their death is by burning them both at the same time. I have found this task to be less difficult with the use of a binding spell or the help of an enigma. Grimlocks feed off of the power of their 'mother' and are therefore capable of everything she is. The demonic link between a Mother and her Grimlock varies. I have more than once encountered a Mother who did not have complete control over her Grimlock. But it only begs a better question. What strengthens this bond? What weakens it? The answer to these questions would surely mean the better handling of their encounters.

Cassandra brought her attention back to the room, confused as to what she had just read. She flipped through the journals pages seeing it filled with entries just like this one. Grimlock? The name etched into her mind, now threatened her sanity. Witches? Mother? A curious pang began to fold in the pit of her gut. She turned the pages some more, stopping at one that caught her eye.

A Gemini is a rare breed. I myself have only ever encountered one so far in my hunting rendezvous, but have heard many stories and theories. Our fathers before us gave this unique breed the name Gemini for their ability to transform their physical being into any living thing they have ever come into contact with. They are the product of a pure soul succumbing to the tainted allures of a witch. On their eighteenth cycle, Gemini's are ascended. I have come to know that they are among the strongest and most fearsome creatures when provoked. Though part of them is human, the virus that infests inside could, more often than not consume the vessel completely if practiced too often. Once consumed the human is lost. They will then remain a changing beast with an unquenchable thirst for blood.

There is no known cure for this Gemini effect. Research from our family archives tell stories of many failed attempts at reverting the beast once past the point of no return. I have yet to find a case where one has learned to control the beast inside them. All who have bore the weight of the curse have collapsed to it's corruption. It is best to kill it in human form before it gets to the peak of it's power. The virus has a mind of it's own and once strong enough, it will protect it's vessel until it has completely consumed it for itself. The only effective way recorded to deal with the beast once past the point of no return is to send it to the bottom of the deepest part of the ocean where it will remain lost forever to the witches of the sea.

Shortly after reading the second entry, Cassandra realized that it didn't make things any easier. Her fascination was locked into these pages, wondering what it all meant. This journal was old. She could tell by the withered condition of the pages. The cursive handwriting was small and neat, as if written by something finer than a pen. Just how old was this journal? She scratched her head in thought, examining it once more from the beat up cover to the back.

"Shit--" she exasperated, pulling herself from her train of thought and picking the phone back up.

She began an attempt at dialing the Witcher family Layer's phone number on the old rotary phone. Going off of only movies she had seen of it, and her common sense of logic, it only took her eight tries to get it right. When the handset held to her ear finally began ringing she waited nervously for it to end.

"Come on... Please answer..."

"Who is this??" a low groggy voice spat abruptly. Cassandra nearly jumped out of her seat at the sudden lack of pleasantry. "Do you know what time it is??"

"I-I'm very sorry to be calling at this hour, but is this," she looked down at the name in the contact list noted under the family lawyer, "Cornelius Cromwell?"

"What's it to you??"

"Look, I-I need your help. Wyatt is being held at the police station as a suspect to his parents murder--"

"Wyatt?" the man lost all anger in his tone as he pondered on the name, "Wesley's boy...? Witcher...?"

"Yes, he told me to call you. He said you were the family lawyer and that you would be able to get him out of this mess--"

"Wesley, is he... dead? And Aurora too...?" he said softly, out of breath in disbelief.

"Yes--"

"Damn it," he rambled to himself, "They must have been close--"

"I-I'm sorry...?" Cassandra furrowed her eyebrows in confusion to the mans odd statement.

"Who are you? How did you get this number?"

M-my name is Cassandra Lockhart, I-I'm Wyatt's girlfriend," she fumbled over her words, "I-I got your number out of his fathers journal on his desk--"

"If you can reach him, tell your boyfriend I'll be there in a couple of hours. In the meantime, you should go home and get back to your family, get some sleep. But bring that journal with you and don't let it out of your sight--"

"Thank you so--" she tried but Cornelius had hung up.

Cassandra sat in relief, rewarded that she had done her part. The family lawyer was on his way and Wyatt would be saved. The question however still remained. Where was Vidian? She gathered her things with both books in her possession, making way for the open door. In her careless act, she knocked over a small trophy on Wesley's desk. Heavy gears began to turn and the giant vault like door slammed shut. Cassandra froze in fear as the room began to rumble and shift right beneath her feet.

What the...? She turned around timidly when the room finally stopped its heavy whirring. The fire place was gone, the old oil painting of Wyatt's great grandfather-- gone. Cassandra gawked in awe at the sight as she scrutinized what now took it's place. It was a hidden staircase that seemed to lead down into nothing but darkness. She stood in the opening, starring what felt like death in the face.