2019-07-17 - Passing The Torch

Eleanor left Alexander a message, asking to meet with him at Addington Park. The redhead sits on a bench near the carousel with her laptop bag in her lap. She's wearing black shorts and a flowy white peasant blouse, her hair up in a ponytail, and her glasses perched on her nose. There are sandals on her feet revealing painted toenails. She watches the amusement ride as the children hoot and holler on it, a pensive look in her eyes.

Alexander arrives, promptly enough, taking into consideration that he walked the whole way. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, and his faded t-shirt and jeans are just a bit damp as he trudges towards the bench in his usual wary slouch, looking at the playing children and strolling families as if they might be dangerous rather than adorable. "Miss Lake," he says, when he reaches conversational distance, and slides onto the end of the bench she's sitting on. His flat gaze studies her. "Are you well?"

Eleanor looks up at Alexander's approach. "Mister Clayton, thank you for meeting me. There are reasons I didn't want to do this in my shop. Mostly because there are people around who very, very sincerely do NOT want us looking into the person you inquired about. To the point of their lawyer calling me to cease and desist trying to access their employment records." She gestures to the bench for him to sit.

Alexander's eyes widen, slightly. "Oh?" He looks both worried and intrigued. The latter wins, he leans in a little more, and murmurs. "Fascinating. It's the first I've heard of human pushback on my research. Are you all right? I hope there were no undue threats?"

The laptop case is opened, and Eleanor digs into it to pull out a manila folder with some printouts in it. "No outright threats, but implied. All the data, what little there was, is here. Most of the mills closed in the 60s and 70s, so their records weren't accessible. That was a dead end. Addington Mill, however, is still in operation. They refused access to their records, however, and their lawyer insisted his clients are in compliance with all state, local, and federal laws. Then he hung up on me. So I'm guessing that's the mill your William worked at." She hands it over.

Alexander makes a thoughtful noise. He takes the folder, flips through it, idly. "You tripped over something other than our William," he says, apologetically. "Maybe just small town politics. Maybe not. But as it turns out, William is William Gohl." He doesn't bother to explain the name, trusting someone as well versed in the local lore as Eleanor to recognize the full name: Billy the Ghoul, an early 1900s murderer with a rumored 140 dead bodies to his name in the Gray Harbor area, although he was only ever convicted for two. A Gray Harbor celebrity, if you're of a morbid and esoteric sort of bent. "But interesting that you'd get such a strong reaction. What are they hiding, I wonder."

"Billy the Ghoul? Shit really?" Eleanor asks with an arched brow. "What does he have to do with all this?" She holds up a finger however, and reaches back into the laptop bag. From it, she pulls a ziplock bag containing a sandwich bag wrapped around a small stick covered in blood. "Something attacked a kid and his dog on the beach the other day. Friend of mine was there. Said it was seven to eight feet tall, tough, fast, with dark fur and hard to see like it had some sort of camouflage. He's pretty sure it's blood is on that stick. I don't have any lab contacts to test it, so I thought you might."

Alexander ponders that question for a bit, ducking his head to study his muddy shoes like they are the most interesting things in all the world. "Speculation based on available facts. Some people like us, ones who stand out, ally themselves with the Shadows. They hurt and harm and kill to feed the darkness, rather than being fed on themselves. When alive, William Gohl was one of these. At the end of his life, he was captured or admitted to an asylum that you may have heard of in hushed whispers as 'upstate'. There, people who are also allied with the Dark did...things to him. Were 'working' on him in some fashion, but he died before that work was finished." A pause. "Now something that kills with frightening efficiency and has a hate for the Addington family is hunting him, and evidence from the lost places suggests that while William is skeletal, he may in some sense still be alive. And yearns for reunion with the Dark. Which may be represented by this...hunter." That's all recited tonelessly. "That is the best I can put together now."

He looks up, then and examines the stick. "It's not Bigfoot." He's quick and firm about THAT; in all the weird shit Alexander believes in, the one constant has been that it is NEVER BIGFOOT. He reaches out for the bag. "My lab contact is currently in the ICU with he throat slit. But I will see what I can do. Did anyone die in the attack?"

Eleanor listens attentively to the information about Billy and his possible current extracurriculars in Gray Harbor. "Dammit, that's not good news. He was a terror when he was mortal, he must be even moreso as something from over there." She frowns and closes up her laptop case, clutching it with both hands in her lap. "The boy was injured, the dog was killed. My friend said one of the bystanders hit it with a rock or something, and that's where the blood came from. He thinks. It might be the kid's or the dog's but I have no way of checking. So I pass the torch on to you."

"Indeed. The bones have a desire. They wish to be buried. I'm not sure what that would do." Alexander frowns at the lovely, rolling green of the Park. "I have a suspicion that the burial, in a ritual sense, might provide the ability to rebuild himself as something. A reverse womb, if you'll forgive the pretentious poetic imagery. But I also fear that this hunter will continue to butcher people until it finds 'Billy'." He transfers the frown to the bag, and shakes it a little, turning it over in his hands and squinting at the blood. "I'll try to get a read on it, and then see if anyone might have something more scientific that could be helpful." A sidelong look. "I'll let you know if I find anything out."

"Thanks , Clayton. I appreciate it. And keep me up to date on the Ghoul/Hunter situation. I'll pass around some warnings to a few folks," Eleanor promises before she rises and shoulders her bag. "Anything else I need to know before I head home?"

Alexander thinks about it. He doesn't rise when she does, but he follows her movements with his eyes, his hands dangling idly over his knees. "Nothing in specific. Although, if anywhere in your treasure trove of collected material you might have information on if anyone, ever, who has disappeared into the lost places has ever been recovered from there? That would be deeply useful, Miss Lake." The faintest of smiles. "And I'll examine the information you gave me on the mill. It's always...interesting to know what the Addington family doesn't want known. I'll let you know if anything intriguing comes up."

"What qualifies as lost? How long did they have to be gone for?" Eleanor asks, because she was lost there once for several long hours that were mere minutes back here. "And did they have to come back on their own, or be found and brought back?"

"Let's say years. And found and brought back. I think, at this point, we can assume that if they could make their way back to the real, they would have. There is a theory - wholly unsupported by definitive evidence but compelling on a circumstantial level - that this asylum exists in a lost place. If it does, and it is persistent, then other persistent places might exist, as well." Alexander gestures briefly. "That may mean that some of the people who have mysteriously vanished over the years are still alive. And in a place where maybe they could be reached." He stares at her. "So. If you come across any narratives such as that, any which suggest how it might be done..."

An involuntary shudder comes over Eleanor at the comment about persistent places. She is sure that forest she was lost in at age 12 is still there, with the terrible thing still haunting it, waiting to capture a Glimmer child to keep forever healing its land. "I'll do some digging and check back with you in a couple weeks."

"Of course. Thank you." Alexander lifts the file folder. "I owe you a favor for this. It was not my intention to see you harassed by lawyers. Let me know when you wish to call it in, Miss Lake. And be sure not to die."

"I'll do that, and same to you," the not dying part, at least. Eleanor gives him a final nod before she heads off through the park to make her way home.