They say you can get a lot of info by searching through someone’s dirty laundry. Usually though what one person has to hide from others is of very little harm. Perhaps liking a show others wouldn’t guess, secretly following some cheesy drama on the TV. Minor stuff like that. Then you get those who have done some crime in the past and trying to atone, from a small robbery to more violent crimes, but if they trying to attone then who am I to judge? And then… you get the horrors from the house owned by one Dr. Jonathan Anderson.

After the location was found out by Paleon I wasted no time coming here, and it was past sunset. The light of the moon shining through a seemingly idyllic neighborhood, the scent of some backyard barbecue floating in the air and the dim static of people chattering and TV playing. The Dr.’s house however was the light blue colored one at the end of the street. Isolated almost, able to get in and out quickly, but not too far away one can’t be invited to any major block party. A good house for someone with a working Demicatcher.

Walking up I stop just in front of the property proper, lightly curious. If I was a possible Consortium member supposedly away for holiday what would I do? I took out one of my blank cards holding it up. Quickly crossing my index and middle finger on my other hand i chanted under my breath: “Xel’na rua’na.” The card glowed and a faint shimmer appeared just in front of the house. When the card had finished siphoning off any magical trace the shimmering stop, only confirming my suspicions. I held up the card to examine what it has recorded, a swirling wind and a very stylized question mark.

A protective charm design to cause amnesia when one steps over the threshold. No doubt to cause stragglers a moment to forget what they came in and turn the other way, or preventing someone from asking questions. Normally this would be enough to deter most people from approaching… but this can be of use to me. Just need to time it right with a couple spells of my own.

Placing the card back into my coat pocket I took a breath to clear my mind. Empty thoughts, feeling of being blown about by the wind, the sound of a gale roaring through the treetops. I could feel the wind itself was blowing around me kicking up dust and small yard clippings away before focusing that wind around my lower half. Wind being compressed, its endless energy being bottle into a small space. I raised both my hands crossing the index and middle finger on each one. Taking a deep breath I reared back my hands before thrusting them forward.

“Kera Xua” I chanted as a blast of concentrated wind energy flew from my hands into a wind tunnel. Upon contact with Anderson’s protective charm the two energies clashed before the veil was split in half and billowed away like leaves caught in a gale. A small opening just big enough for me in the tunnel of wind. I leaned forward releasing the wind energy that was bottle up around my legs. The sound of a howling gale crashed against my ears as I rocketed forward, barely having enough time to make sure my hat didn’t fall of as the world blurred around me. I barely stopped myself from crashing full on into Anderson’s house skittering to a halt.

I caught my breath before glancing backwards, the wind tunnel I created dissipating as the parts of Anderson’s protective charm reformed and merged into one whole one. Perfect I can now do my business, and anyone following me other than Anderson would get hit by that charm, and that’s if Anderson is around. I grabbed the doorknob and gave a slow turn, checking to see it was locked. Not surprisingly it was. But that's where’s the other trick came in. I took from my back pocket every good Blackcoat’s third best friend, a lockpicking kit. Not every problem can be solved with magic after all, and it took little time to figure out the exact tumblers needed to turn and open the door.

With a soft touch i open the door, just enough for me squeeze in and close without leaving too much of a trace. The house was relatively dark, as if no one was home. Course that did nothing to ease the sense of foreboding I was having. Setting the lockpicks back into my pocket I strained my ears trying to hear anything. Footsteps, soft rumblings, a shower being ran, nothing. For the moment it seems I was possibly alone.

I went ahead softly as I could rubbing the walls seeing if there was a hollowed space, though nothing yet. Coming across a door I open it just barely enough to get a quick glance and see… a bathtub. Nothing good of that as I step forward more when I got a sudden case of the shivers. Either a rabbit just ran across my future gravestone… or foul magic is very close. And considering everything I know, it was most likely the second option. That shivering was radiating from a door on the far end of the hall, where a study would be most likely. A study… or something worse.

As I got closer I could faintly notice small pools of some liquid just underneath the door crack. Knelt pressing a couple fingers into it before bringing it back up to my eye for examination. It was dark, nearly black almost, with a thick near clotting like property and the faint undertones of a very bitter smoky scent. I know that scent well… the scent of demon’s blood. I open the door and flip the switch.

The room itself was something that would chill the blood of nearly any species. Wall to wall were large canvases of parchment with the symbols of three intertwining circles written in what looked to be dried blood. Books piled high from the floor with scribbles of some madman’s writings and a wastepaper basket with a couple wads in there. On desks nearby were vials of demon blood and strange tools with purposes i don’t even want to know. The worse was the centerpiece, a modernized rack with cuffs on both ends with demon blood staining the metal work, and something more ominous on the middle. A iron collar with three circles… a collar form of the Demicatcher. A demon with that on their neck… well it doesn’t bode well. All the scenes of a torture… but no body.

The site of the room itself makes me sick to my stomach as I searched around. Whomever this Anderson is, it’s no doubt about it now. He’s either a member of the Consortium, or dangerously deranged. Or both. Neither options are good though as I shuffled through the papers trying to find something of use. Nothing but repeated scribbles and anatomy of various demons when a thought came to mind. If I was writing something dangerous would i leave it in the open. Or leave it for any to find accidently… no i would’ve hidden it. I took a couple steps back to reexamine the room.

Upon examining everything from this perspective I now notice something rather… odd of it all. Despite its inherent wrongness, there are thousands of scribbles strewn about the room, but the wastepaper basket is barely used. Only two wads were in there, and with all the other scribblings. I went over grabbing the two wads from the wastepaper basket unfolding both, and I felt myself growing colder. The first wad was small holding a picture of a butcher demon, no doubt Kaelas the Carver. Just beside it was a picture of a smaller boy with brown hair and hazel eyes, Thomas Moore possibly. The other one was a letter…

“To Dr. Anderson,

Your credentials has been reviewed by the board and you have been found worthy of joining our esteemed ranks. Packed with this letter are pictures of two specialize patients that are in need of our particular talents, and you have been selected to join them in the great ascendance. Tonight at 10 sharp you will be needed to be at the old Church of Healing Hands out of town with your two patients. We will be there in spirit with our prayers with you. Please do not be late as this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. With cordial respect to your profession and to our shared views of enlightenment, sincerely

The third of the association of enlightened businesses.”

Clever use of wording, I’ll give them that. Though now there was no doubt in my mind, Anderson was with the Consortium, and now I know where he is. The Church of Healing Hands was about an hour out of town in a lot no one goes to. Ten o’clock sharp… I looked at my watch and checked the time, six minutes till seven. No time to waste, I got up and walked out the door preparing to break the veil again. One way or another, I’ve got to be there to stop this.