She nodded, glad that he was going to protect her sister. "What did you do after Mr. Mendoza was subdued?"
"I spoke with Burwell, and together we traced the patient's movements. Mr. Mendoza paid a visit to the men's washroom just down the passageway from that private suite. I checked the place over; there was a psychic residue that had a trace of that dark being about it. Right next door to the washroom is a kind of storage space that Burwell told me was once a link to the old building. Whatever that evil is, it's in there, and it probably gained access to the new wing through that old passage." He shrugged. "I sensed that the old building was its lair from the first; what I felt this afternoon more or less confirmed it."
Claudia felt a tingle of fear run down her spine. "Isn't that old place off limits?"
"Yes. Burwell's not sure if he can get the authority to let me poke around in there."
She reached across and took his hand. "Marty, whether he says yes or no, don't go in there alone! You don't know what you'll find."
"Of course I won't, love," he said and patted her hand. "I've got to get hold of some records relating to the building and its history before I do anything else. Doctor Burwell's looking into it for me."
She nodded, and thought over what he'd said. "Do you think I'd better give Caroline a call, see how she is? She didn't seem at all well from the way you described her."
"By all means, go ahead, dear."
"Thanks!" She reached for her cell phone and punched the speed dial.
* * * *
Caroline jumped with surprise as her cell phone chirped and hurriedly jerked her hand away from her pussy. Craning forward, she saw Claudia's name on the display and swore softly under her breath. Wiping her juice off her fingers with a tissue, she reached over and closed the connection with the ‘net, the image of the guy she was masturbating for disappearing in mid-protest as she picked up the phone. "Hi, Claudie, what's up?" she said.
"Hi, honey, I just called to see how you are. Marty told me what happened this afternoon."
The mention of Martin's name made her pussy twitch, and she bit her lip in chagrin. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks for asking," she said, taking off the mask and laying it aside, feeling so glad that her sister couldn't see her at that moment.
"Are you sure? You sound a little breathless."
"Oh, I was…just doing some sit-up exercises. They help me relax."
Claudia's affectionate laugh sounded. "Okay, if you say so. Listen, Marty and I have been talking over what happened today. He thinks you may be in some danger."
Her heart gave a sudden lurch. "What? Why?"
"I'll let the man himself explain."
A rustling sounded in the earpiece as the cell phone was passed across, then Martin's voice came on. "Caroline?"
She bit her lips again. "Hi, Martin," she said, feeling coy at the sound of his voice. "How're you doing?"
"I'm doing fine, love." Love! With a sigh, she realized it was just a Briticism directed at anyone of the female sex who was friend or family—then wondered why she felt so disappointed. "Listen," he went on, "I've been thinking over what happened today, and I'm convinced the lady in white is a benevolent entity."
"She warned me about what was happening."
"Exactly; and I'm sure she was trying to prevent the boy from going near the river, instead of luring him there as it seemed at the time."
"That's good, isn't it?" She glanced at the computer screen to ensure it had closed the link. Looking away from the bright screen made her bedroom seem darker, and she shivered, looked down at herself, and realized she was sitting naked whilst speaking to Martin. Slowly, not sure of the wisdom of doing so, she slid her hand down to her pussy and began to stroke herself again, imagining Martin's hand touching her there. "She means no harm?"
"No, I'm sure she doesn't. The thing is, Caroline, it may be necessary to protect you from the other entity, the one that possessed Mr. Mendoza."
Her breasts began to throb. "How so?" she asked, distracted by the sensation. "Whatever it is, it's at the hospital—isn't it?"
The pause before he spoke again sent a fresh shiver up her spine. "Not necessarily. Spirits are capable of traveling anywhere they've a mind to. That dark entity may be tied to the hospital; I hope it is, but just in case, I want to place some wards on you."
Her mound felt hard beneath her palm, and when she realized she could be spending time with him alone, her pussy released a trickle of moisture. "I'd like that!"
"Okay, I'm glad you agree." His tone indicated he was puzzled, and she knew he'd picked up on her enthusiasm.
Swallowing, she drew her hand away from her sex and got her voice under control with an effort. "Okay, shall we meet up tomorrow after I finish my shift? Would you like to come here?"
Again the hesitation, and this time when he spoke he sounded embarrassed. "Perhaps it'd be better if you come here? I wouldn't want to disturb your parents; they seem dubious about my talents as it is."
"Oh, okay." Her fingers returned to her pussy. "Ah, will Claudie be there?" She heard him ask, and her heart gave a hard thump as she heard Claudia's negative reply. "Okay, I'll see you there around five."
"I look forward to it."
"Me too."
"Here's Claudia."
"Hi, sis. Like I told Marty, I'll be out of town with a client until around eight tomorrow night. Come over and see what Marty has to say, and I'll see you myself when I get back, okay?"
"Okay."
"Bye, hon."
"Bye."
She closed the connection and sat in the darkened room, feeling distinctly odd. Holding up her hand she gazed at the slick juice smearing her fingers, before fastidiously wiping them on another tissue. Thoughts of Martin kept trying to cloud her mind, but she repulsed them. "What the heck was I thinking of?" she asked the empty air.
The shadows seemed to deepen. She shivered again and put on her robe.
* * * *
Jay typed the last few corrections into his piece before tapping the send key to dispatch the article to the editor. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. Attached to the article were clear digital photos of Martin Grey entering the Daniels LaRoche Center, and a security guard in one of the wings using a tazer on a guy who was clearly not a member of the staff. The editor would bite, he was sure, and tomorrow's edition would carry the story. "Let's see how you react to that, Mr. Grey."
"Still talking to yourself, Jay?"
"Yeah, Louie. Myself and posterity."
* * * *
Caroline clipped her staff badge on her lapel and ensured her panic alarm pendant was free of her clothing and ready to hand if needed. The previous day's episode was fresh in everyone's mind, and procedures had been tightened up for the duration.
Marjorie handed her a clipboard with her roster and touched her arm as she made to leave. "Doctor Burwell wants to see you, dear. He's up in the private suite."
"Any idea what he wants to see me about?" she asked, glancing at the roster.
"No, but I guess it would have something to do with yesterday. Best run and see what the man says."
Caroline headed down the passageway to the private suites and found Burwell leaning against the wall near the temporary store where the old passageway had been. "Doctor? You wished to see me?"
His face looked drawn as he turned and looked at her, but he smiled with genuine warmth. Rubbing his jaw, he nodded. "Yeah, Caroline, I did. I guess Marjorie showed you the newspaper when you came in?"
"Yeah, and I think it's awful!"
He gave her a fond look. "That's one way of putting it. The board contacted me early this morning; early this morning, before I even got out of bed. They want a report into yesterday's incident."
"You did everything you could, Doctor. I'll swear to that."
He reached out and rubbed her arm, the first such friendly gesture she could ever recall him making. "Bless you for that, Caroline. I appreciate it. Nothing good ever comes of these episodes, though. You'll b
e clear; the effect that antitoxin medication had on you will ensure that." He grimaced and let his hand fall. "I'll probably get the blame for allowing you back to work too soon, but they can hardly complain when they know we're so short of staff."
"It's so unfair!"
"Yeah." He rubbed his jaw again and she could see he hadn't shaved that morning. "That'll keep for another day. What I'm trying to get to the bottom of here is what exactly caused Mr. Mendoza to flip."
"Marty—ah, Mr. Grey told me Mendoza was possessed," she said, afraid of speaking the word aloud.
He took a sharp breath then exhaled slowly. "Hmm, yeah, that's what he told me afterwards. Something very odd happened to the guy. It was so odd, maybe it was possession; I don't know. Our friends at the secure unit will be in touch later today with a preliminary diagnosis of his condition, but I intend to find out what I can here." He held up a finger. "I'm tracing his movements yesterday. So far I've covered the reception block, my office and the washroom down the hall from here; I've spoken to the few people who were here then. So far, nothing."
"Martin said he came down here and sensed something."
Burwell pursed his lips. "So he told me last night. I'm keeping an open mind about that kind of thing for the moment. The main washroom up the passageway hasn't been fixed up since that pipe burst last week, so Mendoza had to come down here for a pee. I'm going to check the washroom again, and then we'll go to the private suite where it all happened." He gave her a half-smile. "I'm going to give you permission to accompany me to the men's room. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, and you may see something I miss. Okay?"
She gave a brief laugh. "It'll be a first time for me, but I'm game."
"Okay, then. Let's go."
The washroom had a décor of a pale shade of institutional green over a darker shade. As she followed the doctor inside, the smell of disinfectant, urinal cakes and ammonia hit her nose and she stifled a sneeze. They passed a row of basins, and then around a dog-leg into the widest part of the room. An array of urinals gleamed in the overhead lights, and the doors of the cubicles opposite were all open. A skylight allowed a pale wash of blue into the sterile room, and as she glanced up she could see it was partially covered with snow.
"I looked at the plans for this wing," he said, stalking up and down the row of cubicles and peering into each one. "The old passageway is next to this," he said. "Mr. Grey is half convinced something came through it from the old building."
"Do you think that?" she asked, looking under the basins.
He gave a short bark of laughter, the sound echoing eerily off the tiles. "God, no!" He shrugged and entered the nearest cubicle. "Okay, maybe I did think it briefly, but it's not likely. Forget I ever said anything."
She moved cautiously to see what he was doing, and saw him lift the lid of the cistern. "Let's check inside these; maybe I watch too many cop shows where people hide drugs and weapons in these things, but it's better to make sure Mendoza didn't shoot up with something someone had hidden in here."
She went into the adjacent cubicle and took the lid off the cistern with some effort. "Wouldn't he have disposed of a hypodermic?"
"Not easily." She heard him replace the lid, and he passed the door on his way to the next cubicle. "The janitor cleaned up here first thing this morning and I left a note asking him to check in the trash bag. He would've reported it if anyone had dumped a hypo."
"Would he have noticed it? A hypo's pretty small."
"This place is hardly used. All the washrooms have hot air blowers, so there's no towel waste. I'd guess there's normally nothing more than the odd soda can and gum wrappers."
"What about that scalpel? Where would he have gotten one of those from?"
"Not from this wing, that's for sure. We don't keep them around, and the metal detector would pick up anyone trying to smuggle one in. They had a stock in the old building from years ago and it looked old enough to be one of those, but there's no way he could've gotten hold of one." The sound of a lid being moved came again, followed by his sigh. "Nothing here. I guess we've drawn a blank."
"What are you going to do now?" she asked, emerging at the same time as him.
He pursed his lips. "Think again about everything that happened. If that doesn't work, I'll try not to think of it, and see what my subconscious throws up." He touched her arm. "Thanks for helping me, Caroline. I appreciate it."
His smile was warm and genuine, and she thought, not for the first time, what a good-looking guy he was. "My pleasure," she said, feeling shy. She looked away. They went out into the passage again, and she headed for the adjacent women's washroom. "I'll be along in a moment; I need a comfort break."
"Go ahead. I'd better get back to the office." He gave a snort of laughter. "Someone may actually want me to do some normal doctoring again!"
She smiled and entered the washroom.
* * * *
Winifred drifted below the glass roof of the pavilion, looking out across the snowy grounds surrounding the hospital and thinking over her options. She had to make contact with the young nurse again, this time using more power to get her warning across. It would be risky; the evil one knew what she had done and would be watching for her. Above all else, she hoped the move would bring her into contact with the shining spirit of the man she'd sensed last night before having to withdraw to safety as he tackled the possessed human. Here in the pavilion, she was safe. The memory of her lover was much clearer here, and the darkness had detested the place even when he was alive. But lurking in safety never won wars, and this was a war she had to win.
A surge of power from below warned her that the evil one was stirring. He had an air of expectancy, and she dreaded what he was scheming. Gathering her defenses, she allowed herself to float lower and lower, dropping through the parquet floor to emerge into the space beneath the roof of the central hall. The great statues of Hercules and Samson stood in their niches on either side of the pavilion, personifying strength and resolve, and she regarded them as old friends.
To human eyes, nothing more than dust and cobwebs would have been visible in the gloom. To her spirit, the floor far beneath seethed and roiled as the darkness harvested power from his shackled minions, ready to shape it to his purpose. She focused and watched the power growing, ready to react if he showed signs of aiming it at her. To her surprise, he didn't gather much power. What he had seemed sufficient to the task at hand.
As she watched, he shaped the power into a serpentine tendril of darkness that coiled on the floor. A command was given, and the dark serpent undulated over the floor toward the corner of the old building where it met the new wing. Winifred sought out her memories of that quarter, wondering what the target was. They were hazy, ill-defined; she'd never been confined there for long during her life. There was a ground floor day room for the staff, which had become a storeroom when the new wing was built. A passageway had connected the two but was now blocked. Attached to the day room was a small kitchen, suitable for preparing light snacks and drinks. The other side had been a staff washroom.
The tendril reached that very room, and she frowned. Why is it going there? she asked herself. Then it began to slide down into the earth, following a pipe to—
Oh, no!
* * * *
The dark serpent homed in on the signal coming over the psychic wavelength from the human above. Back in the old building, its master and controller laughed as he saw just what she was doing. What a lovely way into her mind! It was so apt!
* * * *
For a second the air underneath her felt freezing, and Caroline wondered if some distant vent had been opened. Even as she discarded the idea as being silly, her pussy tingled as if an electric current were passing through it. Jerking with the shock, she half-rose from the seat and looking down between her legs, saw a brief flicker of something dark between her and the water; then a comfortable fog filled her mind and she ceased to worry.
She felt odd for the rest of the day, and notice
d on a distant level that no one commented on her distraction; after all she'd been through, she guessed they were making allowances.
Chapter Twelve
Martin closed the Internet link and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. A glance at the time display showed he'd worked for nearly three hours straight, and was no nearer to finding anything worthwhile about the Daniels LaRoche Center. Taking the sheets of printouts with him to the kitchen, he fixed coffee and leaned against the counter to peruse his notes. His cell phone chirped, and he glanced at the screen and accepted the call. "Hi, darling!"
Claudia's voice sounded clear over the link. "Hello, yourself, sweetie! How's it going, Marty?"
"Progress is being made, but it's like pulling teeth."
She gave a sympathetic chuckle. "Bad, huh?"
"Um, not bad; just frustrating. How're you getting on?"
"Getting on what, Marty?" she asked after a puzzled silence.
"Ah, sorry, I let slip a Briticism there. What I mean is how're you doing?"
"Oh, got you. I'm doing just fine. I called to see how you are, and to say it looks like that meeting will be shorter than I expected tonight."
He felt a surge of pleasure as she spoke. "You'll be home sooner?"
"Yep."
"Excellent! Whereabouts are you now?"
"I'm at Emerson's going through some papers before I head out again. What do you have on that old asylum? Maybe I can help?"
"Let's see." He picked up his notes again. "I did find the original building was one of the earliest mental health institutions in the state of Indiana. In those days, it stood in a broad area of countryside on the outskirts of Indy, but it gradually became enfolded by conurbation."
"It's happening all the time, Marty." She laughed. "If it wasn't, my job would be a lot less busy."
"Yes, I suppose so. Claudia, I remembered in our last case you gave me the link to a website full of old maps. I checked there to see if they had this state in their archives and got three survey maps made over the spread of several decades. There's no record of any structure on the site previous to the hospital's foundation."
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