Moving to the head of the line, I asked the librarian, “I’m looking for Charles Crichton. His office is supposed to be in the library, so can you point me in his direction?”
“Oh, Charles? He’s on the second floor, in back of the travel section. You just take the stairs or elevator, and follow the green arrows on the wall toward the back. His name is on his office door, near the restrooms and water fountains.” She picked up her phone. “May I tell him who’s on the way up?”
“January Jaxson. I have a three o’clock appointment.” I thanked her and took the elevator, deciding my hip was sore enough from slamming into the wall that I really didn’t want to add to it by climbing a flight of stairs.
Sure enough, the green arrows led to Crichton’s office. I stopped to use the restroom and wash my hands and face and make sure I looked presentable. Then, draping my coat over my arm, I tapped on his door and entered when I heard the faint “Come in.”
“Hi, I’m January Jaxson. I have an appointment with you? I know I’m a few minutes early, but…”
“Come on in, that’s fine.” Charles Crichton stood. He was a tall man, at least six-four, and probably in his seventies, but he looked like he was in good shape, and he had a gracious demeanor about him that seemed completely genuine. His hair was short and smoothed back in what I thought of the “older businessman’s wave,” and he was wearing a pair of brown trousers and a pale green sweater vest over a tan shirt.
“How do you do?” I shook his hand and then sat down when he motioned to the chair nearest his desk. “Thank you for taking time to talk to me today.”
“I understand you’re doing some research on the old asylum?” He sorted through some folders on his desk and pulled out one, setting it on top of the stack.
“Yes, actually. First, should I assume you know about the rumor regarding Psy Schooner’s ghost? And the mysterious deaths that have occurred on the asylum’s grounds over the years?” I pulled out a digital recorder. “Do you mind if I record our interview so I don’t make any mistakes later on?”
He stared at the recorder for a second, then nodded. “Go ahead.”
I flipped it on and spoke into the mic, “Interview with Charles Crichton, December 9, three p.m.” Then, setting it on the desk between us, I asked, “So, you are familiar with the history of the Stellarview Institution for the Criminally Insane?”
“I am,” he said. “I actually researched it for an article I wrote some years back for a magazine investigating outdated modes of therapy. I did a great deal of research into the background of the asylum—because that’s what it was. It wasn’t meant for rehabilitation, it was a place to conveniently house people whom nobody wanted to deal with.”
“I take it you don’t have a high opinion of how they ran the place?”
He shook his head, frowning. “Not only were their techniques detrimental, but the company who opened it was in it for the money. All they wanted was that check every month from the government. They also took—and this was proven in a lawsuit—kickbacks from a number of shysters huckstering patently useless therapies. Some of those therapies were benign, but others were downright dangerous and led to the death of more than one inmate.”
I settled back in my chair. “You make it sound like it was the turn of the century, not the 1950s.”
“Oh, there were plenty of illegitimate therapies and ‘cures’ being pushed back then, and this was back when lobotomies were still frequently performed. Also, primitive electro-shock therapy hadn’t been refined, and it was often detrimental on the subjects. Now, of course, most lobotomies are banned, although I believe there are still some states that allow them under certain conditions. And electro-shock therapy has come a long way, though I can tell you, I still wouldn’t want to go through it.” He frowned, leaning forward. “But you have to understand something. Stellarview—or SICI, as it was called—wasn’t interested in inmates getting better. If you could rehabilitate someone, they might be released or transferred back to a mainstream prison. When your primary focus is to make money by taking in fees for hospitalization and food and care, you don’t release patients.”
“So they didn’t attempt to help the inmates?”
“Right. In fact, from what research I have uncovered over the years, they did their best to make things worse. There was dark magic worked in those wards, and you—I know you’re descended from one of the founding magical families of this town—know as well as I do that no one with a mental illness should perform magic or be around intense magical practice. It can disturb the balance of their mental health even more.”
“So if they worked dark magic here, it would have served to destabilize the inmates even more.”
“Yes, you understand.” He sat back, nodding. “Spells were performed that invited chaos. And the men who were there—most of the inmates except three were men—were far too open to that kind of manipulation, given their mental states. It made things worse, and given some of the men had magical backgrounds, it not only increased the psychosis, but it increased their ability to manifest. You said the place is haunted?”
I nodded. “I got slammed against the wall by an invisible something this morning.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I went there on a walk-through one time, and one time only,” Charles said. “The energy was writhing like a mass of snakes, and I could feel it waiting to strike. You don’t just have one ghost out there, January. You have several, and I’m convinced that they’ve all blended together into one entity, which has been fueled by the magic that George Leeland and his staff invoked.”
“I’m getting this vision of a hydra, a multi-headed creature like out of The Thing,” I said. “Is there one dominant personality, do you think? Or have they all been submerged into something different?”
Charles was quiet for a moment, then he motioned to the recorder. “Can we take a moment?”
I nodded, flipping the off switch. “What is it?”
“I am not going to go on record because this is speculation, and I don’t want rumors to fly, but I believe that Leeland and two of his nurses belonged to a group of chaos magicians.”
“Well, that’s a sobering thought.”
“I think…there’s a powerful entity out there that absorbed the souls of the men and took over their bodies. When the asylum closed, they were trapped there somehow. Over the years, they’ve merged into one powerful being, and that creature’s tied to the land.”
I slumped back, grimacing. “That’s a nasty thought. Do you think that Psy is coming to the forefront each year?”
He shrugged. “It could well be. That was a trigger point for him. But turn your recorder back on. There’s more.”
I flipped the recorder back on.
“I’m sorry, I’m remiss in my hospitality.” Charles pointed toward a mini-fridge. “Would you like a bottle of sparkling water?”
“Thanks, I would.” I accepted the cold green bottle and opened it, swigging down a mouthful of the bubbling water. He followed suit, then sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“I delved into the background of the land. Before Leeland bought it for the asylum, it belonged to a developer who had purchased it for a housing complex. But the development never got off the ground. Every time the contractor took his men out there, something happened and someone got hurt. Once or twice? Coincidence. But five hospitalizations in five attempts? The developer decided to sell. He was a firm believer in omens and, when I asked him why he sold without breaking ground, he said that he wasn’t one to ignore the signs.”
“So the land had a history of problems before SICI was built?”
“Yes. I dug deeper into the history of the land. Even though the area was heavily forested with virgin forest, before the town was founded a family of settlers had built a house there. They had only cleared enough land for the house. In fact, the remains of that house are probably still hidden deep in the woods. The family had barely set up housekeeping when th
e father was killed by a mountain lion.”
I grimaced. “Ouch. What a painful way to go.”
“Yes. Well, the mother and her children had no choice. She had to sell and use the money to start over. The next person to own the land came out from back east. He had plans for creating a spa, but the moment he set foot on the land, he had a heart attack. His family decided to let it sit until somebody made them a fair price, and that’s when the developer bought it. The developer sold to Leeland.”
“What about before the settlers—the family who lost their father? Was the land used for anything by any of the local tribes?” I asked.
Charles flipped through his notes. “Actually, no. In Native lore, that area was considered dangerous. It was known as ‘the forest of secrets’ and they left it alone, giving it a wide berth. They believed that it was a gateway into a place of madness.”
I shivered. “Have you talked to anyone from the tribe lately? To see if they still feel that way?”
“Actually, I did, this morning. Old Jim Solomon, one of my contacts whenever I talk to the Lhaq'temish or the Lummi People, told me that they still avoid the area. In fact, they tried to warn Leeland about it. They told him that building his facility there would just exacerbate the illnesses of the inmates. The land seems to be under an ancient curse, but nobody knows where it came from, and nothing can be done to negate it. Jim told me that the tribe has tried to cleanse it, witches have tried to exorcise it, and a few Christian priests tried to bless it, but no one has managed to even make a dent in the energy there.” He paused, giving me a shrug.
“Sometimes, the land itself takes on an anger and when that happens, it’s almost impossible to appease it.” I stared at him, then turned off the recorder.
“Do you think we can manage to clear out this thing that’s taken hold there? Not the land, I get that it’s probably doomed to stay a dark place, but the hydra creature?”
“With a lot of work, you might be able to dislodge it and send it on its way, but if you take it on, be certain you understand what you’re doing and what you’re dealing with. Don’t underestimate it.”
And with that, the interview was over. I thanked Charles and he invited me back any time I might need some information on town history. I took his card and in turn wrote down my number for him, then headed out to my car. As I eased out of the parking lot and slowly made my way along the icy streets, back to the office, it occurred to me that this was one case Conjure Ink might not be able to solve. The best thing might be to just destroy the asylum and build a wall around the acreage.
Chapter Nine
“And that’s everything I’ve found out so far,” I said, pushing my notes back. I was sitting at the table with the others. It was nearly 5:30, and I had just finished telling them about everything that had happened out at the asylum and everything I’d talked to Charles about.
“I honestly doubt we can cleanse the land, but we might be able to clear that creature out of there. I think Charles is right, now that I’ve had time to mull it over. Whatever I sensed in there feels…bigger…if you know what I mean. I’ve dealt with plenty of ghosts in my life, and this felt like a conglomerate.”
Hank let out a long sigh. “I can tell you this,” he said. “If that thing has some elemental or something woven into the mix, it’s going to be hell to dislodge. So, the next step—we’ll be going in there with cameras, a FLIR—”
“A what?” I asked. He had pronounced it like the “flur” in “flurry.”
“FLIR—Forward Looking Infra-Red. It’s a device that records localized temperature variations and changes—kind of like night vision goggles. We also want to set up sound recorders, along with Evie.”
“Evie?” I asked.
“That’s my pet name for our EMF device. It records electromagnetic field radiation.” He turned to Tad. “So, time frame? I recommend we go in midday and stay till the next morning.”
I stared at him. “Go in and stay? You’re kidding, right?” I had no intention on camping out in that hellhole of a place. At least not alone.
“No, I’m not joking, and we’re all going. We go as a team. We need everybody there, not only for safety’s sake, but to be certain we don’t miss anything.” Hank shook his head. “Sometimes, we also take a couple of grunt buddies, so we have some muscle with us.”
“Grunt buddy?” I had never heard the term but it was pretty self-explanatory. “I take it they’re the brawn?”
Tad spoke up. “They’re brawn, all right, but both Shawn and Dell have damned good brains on them. They’re bear shifters, and they have one advantage that we don’t. Bear shifters can’t be charmed or possessed unless it’s by a bear spirit. And that doesn’t happen very often.”
He pushed his glasses up—they kept sliding down his nose—as he looked through my notes. “So Crichton thinks this place is cursed? He errs on the conservative side, so we may well be dealing with some very heavy land magic.”
“Actually, it’s more common than you might think,” I said. “My mother used to talk about her great-grandmother, who came from Ireland. She said there are some places out in the bogs, where the land is soaked in blood and cursed. The ghosts have all sort of run together to form a cloud of malaise.”
“I suppose, anywhere a great battle took place will be tinged by all the bloodshed,” Caitlin said. “So what day do we go in? I refuse to work on Saturday—that’s the day of the Winter Carnival and I won’t miss it.”
“I vote for tomorrow night—Thursday night,” Hank said. “I have a date Friday night.”
Tad shrugged. “Thursday night it is. Bring a sleeping bag, backpack of supplies, whatever else you might need.” He turned to me. “If you don’t have a sleeping bag or camping supplies, we do have some extras. We’ll leave here tomorrow at noon and get set up before dark.”
I was seriously disconcerted. I didn’t want anything to do with staying the night out there. My alarms were shrieking full tilt. It occurred to me to ask Ari to come along. She was also a powerful witch and she had more practice than I had lately.
“Can I bring a friend? She’s… Consider her magical brawn.”
“Fine, if she can keep her mouth shut,” Tad said. “I admit, this case sounds a lot more dicey than ones we’ve investigated before, but we can do this. Okay, that’s a wrap for today. See you tomorrow. Bring your gear.” He paused, turning to me. “Conjure Ink promises to do the best work we can for our clients. We’d be lax if we just told them we thought they shouldn’t buy it without at least seeing if we can’t negate some of the negative energy out there.”
And with that, we were done for the day. As I walked to my car, I wondered again about the job. I liked it, and I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself. But the thought of staying the night in that complex set me on edge and, as I drove through the increasing gloom, I kept asking myself if this was really worth it.
I called Ari the minute I got home and she told me she’d be over in a few minutes. Then I called Killian, inviting him over. I had promised him dinner. While I was waiting for them, I made grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, opened a large can of tomato soup, and decided against salad as too much rabbit food.
By the time Ari got there, dinner was almost ready. Killian followed a few minutes after. We gathered around the table, and I broke out my mother’s china, thinking again how much I missed my parents. As I set the table, Ari poured wine all around, and Killian took out the trash for me.
We gathered around the table by the glow of the tree, and I leaned back, sighing. “It’s been one hell of a day,” I said. Killian and I filled Ari in on what had happened out at the asylum, and then I told them both what Tad had decided. “So, we’re spending tomorrow night there. I’m so not looking forward to this.”
“Do you think you really want to keep this job?” Ari said.
“I’ve been thinking that over ever since I left work. And I’ve come to the conclusion that yes, I like the job and want to keep it. I
suppose I just hoped for a gentle immersion instead of being thrown in to sink or swim. By the way, he said we could bring friends with us.” I gave her a long look. “We could use some extra magical help.”
“No,” she said.
“I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll owe you a massive favor.”
She snorted. “I said—”
“What about if I invoke the best friend clause?”
She scowled. “I have work, too. I can’t just take the day off to go ghost hunting. Especially since I took Monday off. My clients depend on me—”
“When’s your last appointment of the day?” I wheedled. “What about coming out after work and staying for the evening?”
She finally caved, laughing. “All right! You wore me down. My last appointment tomorrow is at three. It’s a foil and highlight, so it will take me about two hours total. I’ll come out around 5:30.” She shook her head, taking a big bite out of her sandwich. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to do this.”
Killian stared at me. “You’re seriously going to go out there and spend the night? Do you realize what the hell…” He stopped, then sighed. “Of course you know what you’re facing. This is your job. Well, I don’t have anything going in the afternoon. I’m looking at equipment in the morning that I might buy for the business, but I don’t have anything after that.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ve already interrupted your week enough.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “Since you asked me to the carnival, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll come out to help if you would go to the Winter Cotillion with me. I want to immerse myself in this town’s goings-on. I want to become part of the community.”
I blushed, but inside, my heart leapt just a little. I tried to remind myself that he probably didn’t know any other women in town yet, so I was the convenient choice, but I couldn’t help but let out a little squee inside.
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