At the end of the corridor I discovered a door. I stretched my hand toward it but hesitated. Something was telling me that after entering it I won’t be the same person anymore. But I had to go there. Cause I had to know what happened to Greg and how do I save him.

It took me some time to process what exactly I was looking at. By the general assumption it was a large square room lit by candles and torches placed all over the place, walls draped in black, floor covered in ominous signatures. But what was ON the floor revealed itself as an incomprehensive mass, comprised of human beings. Throbbing bodies, intertwined and morphing engulfed in constant motion were inducing a comparison with Lovecraftian shoggoth trying to incarnate in human flesh.

This orgy was messed up. Some of the participants were either unconscious or simply apathetic to the point where only the pinkish tint of their skin indicated they’re still alive.

Unknowingly from where the fat tall guy from the corridor appeared. Probably I just haven’t noticed him before. He giggled looking at the morphing pile of bodies in front of him, and, with ease, indicating an experienced participant, he slithered right into it.

Within a fusion of mumbling, moaning and gasping filling the room I separated a sound of a different origin. It was coming from above. I raised my gaze and nearly gagged at an instance: surrounded by a hive of flies, a severed head of a goat floated under the ceiling suspended by the rope tied to its horns.

A stream of blood was dripping from it irrigating the sodomic mess underneath.

I reached for the flask, took a few gulps and shove it back into the inner pocket of my jacket.

I exhaled.

Suddenly, a familiar golden glare flickered from the opposite side of the room. If it wasn’t for it I, probably, wouldn’t be able to recognize a barely distinguishable in the dark silhouette of a person. Apparently he notices me too, since a few moments later a sliver of light appeared in the wall a couple of meters from him, indicating the opened door. Unmistakably Dion’s face manifested for a brief moment caught in outpouring light.

I rushed across the room and followed him through the door. I knew he was running away from me since I could hear his rapid steps ahead.

On the go I reached into my pockets and slid the brass knuckles on my fists.

After turning another corner in a narrow corridor I finally caught a glimpse of Dion’s back. He pushed the door facing him open, but tripped over the threshold and plummeted face-forward onto the wet asphalt of the street outside. I rushed over him, pulled up and jammed against the wall.

- What Have you done to Greg?

For a moment he looked terrified upon facing the rage I exerted upon him but it took him almost no time to regain his characteristic insolent composure.

- For the fuck sake, talk! - I shook him hard.

~~~

- Eventually he spoke. There was no need of pummeling his face with brass, although I smacked him with a heavy slap after he called me a Pretty Boy for the second time.

Greg paid him to perform the ritual. That’s what Dion does - performs the rites for money, and Greg hired him to summon the spirit of Lucil Dowton, but something went wrong, something else transpired, something unexpected. Dion stopped the summoning and somehow managed to drag us back to the road, where he called the cab for us and vanished.

But it was too late. Greg had already been affected.

Maybe Dion is a scoundrel, but he doesn’t look like a liar to me, so apparently he’s telling the truth when says that he hasn't crossed ways with Greg ever since. Although he saw him a couple of times sticking around a group of people of a particular sort.

He gave me a lead - a man I need to find.

”God fucking dammit! - Gabe took a large gulp from his flask as a tear rolled down his cheek - Can’t believe, Greg got himself into this shit!..”

Gabe whipped.

- … Who the fuck are you, man? Why the fuck are you telling me all this shit?

Gabriel leaned forward and got up from the ground.

- Ye...ughm… sorry. - he reached into the pocket and tossed a $20 bill to a homeless man sitting before him. He wiped tears with a sleeve of his jacket, slurped from the flask and waddled home.