Sacred Heart Hospital (Maine)

The mansion job had taken a hell of a lot more effort than I had originally planned on. I'd need to make a point of giving the old man a proper thanks for dropping such a gem into my lap. Then there was the matter of Ogreman. Not to brag, but I've got a pretty good handle on identifying the supernatural when I see it but this guy...he was just off. Oh boy, so much to do and so little time. My worries aside, Ogreman would need to wait until I was in tip top shape again. Some handy pain killers and a while in the ER left my right forearm in a cast, my cracked ribs properly set on the fast track to healing, and plenty of paperwork that I had absolutely no intention of filling out before I hit the road.

Of course before I could do that, I had to pay one last visit to the girl that had decided to play Ghosthunter at the mansion. She was stable when I got her out of the house but that old man had taken an awful amount of blood. When I tracked down her room number and opened the white painted door, I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to find waiting for me. All I could do was hope I'd gotten her the help she needed in time.

It was a long night to be sure. An IV sent the contents of a bag of A+ blood into the woman's veins, the cuts along her arm stitched closed. The color (what little she had) had returned to her face, though she was still out cold. Whether or not this was a hex to keep her complacent during the old man's ritual, she probably wouldn't be up for a while.

"Lucky you got her here so quick," came a voice from outside the room. It was a doctor, nameplate saying "Copperbottom". "Mind telling me what happened up there?" Before he could say or do more, another man walked up, this one wearing a blue uniform with wide brimmed hat.

He tipped said hat to the doctor, then turned to the man in the coat. "I'd like to know that, too, doc. My name's Sherrif Ackerman." He extended a hand to shake with the out-of-towner. "So, you mind telling us what went on up in that old house, son?" It was rather uncommon for someone to come into the hospital bearing a bunch of stab wounds all across their arm, so the police were notified immediately. It wouldn't be much longer before her parents arrived, as well.

The news that the girl was in relatively good condition lifted a sizable burden from the alchemist's shoulders. That being said, seeing her on the hospital bed still left a little pang of regret in his heart. He'd been too careless back there. He hadn't been firm enough about her not entering that mansion. Then again, short of knocking her out he doubted anything he did could have stopped her. At the very least she was alive and on the path to recovery. The only obstacle left was talking his way out of yet another interview with yet another small town sheriff.

Awkwardly extending his non-dominant hand to shake the Sheriff's, Henry proceeded to take off his glasses and clean them on the lapel of his jacket before answering the questions in a calming tone of voice. "I'm a writer actually. Working on a kind of encyclopedia of 'haunted houses' across New England," he said, making sure to add in some air quotes with his good hand to try and reinforce he wasn't a crazy person. "I heard the local rumors about the place so I decided to stop by on my road trip. I found some crazy old hobo inside. He had the poor girl laid out on a bed hacking at her arm." The alchemist paused enough to throw in a disturbed shudder and shake of his head that wasn't completely faked. "I grabbed her and ran but we knocked over some candles and the whole place went up. I...I don't think the old man made it out."

The story wasn't too bad on the surface, but it was still a bit suspicious. People, including the police department, had checked the house before, and there'd been no reports of anyone there since then. It could always be a recent resident come squatting somewhere inside that big-ass mansion, but it was still awfully suspicious that this guy came up to investigate things at the very same time a some homeless person tried to murder a town native.

"Hobo, you say?" He produced a pen and notepad and began to write things down. "And what'd you say your name was, son?" Before anything else could transpire, the girl woke up, sitting straight up in the bed and screaming as loud as possible. The shock was so bad it caused the sheriff to drop what he was holding and jump back, the doctor nearly falling over on the other side of the room.

She looked around the room frantically, falling back down and rubbing her temples as she began to feel lightheaded. The doctor darted over to her, trying to keep her from sitting back up, but she simply pushed him away and began walking, picking up the IV stand and pulling it along with her. "I was right! It was haunted!" Instead of fear, all she felt was joy knowing that everything she'd believed in for years now had all turned out to be true. Maybe not literally everything, but the concept of the supernatural was true.

She patted her pockets. "Where's my camera? What'd I record?" She looked at everyone in the room, pointing at the old man. "You got it, right? Where is it?" The doctor kept trying to get her back in bed, but she still refused. The activity, though, was beginning to wear on her, so she was forced to relent and sit back down.

His cover story seemed to be going over rather well. It might have been a bit of a coincidence that Henry has stumbled upon a "hobo" at such a perfect time but stranger things had certainly happened. Plus, it was highly unlikely the mustached man would go through the trouble of cutting up the girl only to break his own bones and bring her for medical attention before finishing the job. Travers was prepared to give them a fake name when the girl snapped back to the waking world. She was full of energy again and going off about her camera of all things. Henry simply shook his head when she finally addressed him in particular.

"I'm sorry miss but I didn't see a camera in there after that old man grabbed you. I think you should listen to the doctors and focus on getting some rest."

She looked insulted, huffing at the old man's condescension. "Don't talk to me like I'm stupid. It was the dolls." The doctor and sheriff were both confused by this statement.

"So the hobo had some dolls now?" the officer said dryly, not sure which of these two was making the least amount of sense. He decided on the girl, though, considering the massive blood loss and unconsciousness. "Got to agree with you, son. Poor little thing's probably all shook up. Doesn't even know what she's saying anymore." He retrieved the items from the ground and wrote the words, "Girl is delusional," on the pad, just to make sure he included it in the report later.

At that moment, two more people shoved their way into the room. Obviously, they were the parents. "What happened to my baby?" wailed the father, clutching Carmen's head against his chest.

"I always knew this would happen," said the mother, hands on hips. "You know you can't be out doing things like that. When you get out of this hospital, you're moving back home with us. Clearly, you can't make it out there on your own if you feel the need to run through abandoned houses every night." Overbearing as it seemed to a recent college graduate, this was just how they were. Her blood disorder meant (to them, at least) constant care and caution around anything even the slightest bit dangerous. A near death experience just seemed to prove their fears.

She pushed her father away, standing back up with a bit of wobble. "Tell them the truth," she demanded, pointing at the man in the coat and ignoring her mother for the time being. "You're some ghost hunter, too, and it was the dolls that took me." Her breathing increased as she became more and more angry. It was a common occurrence for people to laugh at her when she said she believed in monsters and such, but now she had proof. And a witness, too. But for some reason, he just wanted to play dumb and make her look like an idiot. For the first time she was right, but no one believed her.

"I think I've got about all I need here," the sheriff finally said. He turned back to Henry. "Just going to need a few questions from you, son. Let's go to the hall for this." He'd never had a high opinion of the family in the room. Always sticking by themselves and mentioning some fancy disorder whenever they could, like they wanted sympathy just for living. He figured it was why the girl was acting so crazy - a problem with her brain, of course. For all he knew, the dumb kid could have done all that to herself, and the man was just covering for her to spare her honor, or some "noble" bullshit like that. The sooner he had this case wrapped up, the better. He'd send a car out to the house after he interviewed the guy.

In response to the more dramatic turn of events, the alchemist simply held up his hands in a placating manner. "Miss, an old man had you at knife point by the time I found you. I didn't see any dolls take you." In Travers' defense, that statement was not a lie. In fact, he hadn't been there to see the old blood mage's dolls take the girl to the attic. Granted, he hadn't directly confirmed or denied the existence of those dolls but that was neither here nor there and at this point he doubted the sheriff cared enough to press on it. The officer seemed visibly tired with the entire affair which things all the more easy for Henry. While the mustached man didn't feel particularly great about playing off the girl's comments as delirious ramblings, the important thing was that she was safe and in the care of her parents once more.

Nodding to the sheriff, Henry followed the man into the hall and made it a point to close the door to the girl's room behind him. "What else can I help you with, sheriff?"

(OOC) Got the go ahead to skip, since not much else happens right here.

They'd released her after a little while. All she was told to do was "take it easy" for a while and not reopen the stitches. Meanwhile, she was locked in her room like some child. She'd been completely silent the entire ride home, seething with quiet rage at how she'd been screwed by that asshole. Despite this, she had to find him again. This was the first time in her life she'd gotten a connection to anything beyond the ordinary. Asshole or not, he seemed to do this sort of thing on a daily basis, so he was her only lead. He also owed her a new camera.

She'd packed everything of interest in her room into an old, black backpack. Easily opening the window, she stepped out of the house (being on the first floor) and made a run for town. She couldn't stay here any longer. The call to adventure was just too strong, and the WiFi signal was perpetually too weak in most places. That asshole probably wasn't at the hospital anymore. Even if the sheriff felt especially talkative tonight, it was still a time since they left the room to do cop stuff. Even so, there was a chance he was still in town. He had a broken arm, and he'd just cleared a house full of evil dolls. Probably hungry and tired. A hotel would be the best options, or a restaurant. Denny's, maybe?

Putting that psychology degree to use, Carmen. Good work. She continued into town at a jog, not wanting to be too casual for fear of missing him. She never got a look at what kind of car he drove (she assumed he had a car, considering he didn't live around here), so it was a crapshoot at best. Restaurants seemed to be the place to start. She walked along a strip of brightly lit 24 hour joints, peering through the windows to look for anyone with a cast and trenchcoat.

The sheriff hadn't been too terribly all things considered. Considering his experience, there had been much more difficult encounters with the law, attempting to explain away the supernatural as best he could. Thankfully, this one just happened to be a lazy asshole happy enough to let Henry go without much hassle. Leaving the hospital, Travers' first stop had been the closest local diner he could find, a cute little place called "Grandma's Kitchen."

The staff was friendly enough and the food was reasonably priced. A tall glass of ice water, a cup of coffee, and some chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes. Life was good. Moreso thanks to the handy ointment the alchemist had whipped up after leaving the hospital and rubbed onto his broken arm. The normal healing process would have taken much too long. Readily applying this stuff would greatly shorten his recovery time though it still paled in comparison to supernatural regeneration. Relying mostly on his left hand to awkwardly handle his utensils, Henry dug into the later part of his steak and washed it down with another sip of water.

After several tries with no luck, she finally spotted him. Look at him sitting there with his cast, jabbing at one of the best pieces of food they had at this place. It made her sick. She wasn't just going to let him be on his way just like that. She opened the door, a tiny bell wringing as she marched up to the old man. She folded her arms, waiting for him to notice her and the scowl she held as hard as possible.

Henry didn't immediately look up when the young girl from the manor appeared at his table. To be honest he hadn't expected to ever see her again but as far as surprised went in his line of work, this wasn't exactly groundbreaking stuff. Instead of reacting, he simply continued what little dinner he had left. His coffee was long gone but he still had plenty of water left, not that he really needed it considering the entree was far from dry.

From his peripheral vision, he finally noticed the backpack on her back and the gears quickly fell into sync in his mind. This was going to be a problem. "Go home, miss. Your parents are probably worried and we don't really have anything to discuss."

She tossed her bag into the other side of the booth, sitting down next to it. "Yeah, I think we do," she said, still glaring at him from across the table. "You know exactly what happened there. You also owe me a camera, since you lost mine in there. You aren't going to get rid of me." She'd decided now, and there was no changing her mind. Ever since she first discovered the supernatural, she'd dreamed of going out there to fight them, or research them, or...sleep with them? No, that's weird. But she knew she wanted her life to involve it in some capacity. This guy was the only lead she had now. Despite what had happened and how much of a lying jerkass he was, she'd have to put up with him. She wore him down enough when they were at the house, and even though that turned out to be really fucking bad, it meant he'd eventually give in after enough arguing.

He finished up his meal right about the time that she took a seat at the booth. Taking a final sip of water to cleanse his mouth, Henry dabbed his lips with his napkin and pushed away the now empty plate. "Actually, I don't. You dropped it when the old man's dolls grabbed you. You know, the dolls inside the house I warned you not to go into. Specifically, in the room farthest away from me right after I told you not to wander off."

The alchemist removed his glasses and gave them a quick cleaning with his spare napkin, having already replaced the cracked lens from the mansion. After putting them back on, Travers finally met the young girl's eye. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to get in my car and drive away and you're going back to your parents. In case you plan on doing the whole, "I'll scream bloody murder" thing, know that even if I let you come with me at first, I will take the very first opportunity to knock you out and drop you off right back here. Either way, we're done."

She wasn't impressed by his supposed ultimatum. "You could have found it if you just looked. It was almost $200." Now, though, it was just a pile of melted plastic and ash. A sad fate for a fine recording device. "You should know better than to try that. My anemia's not really a secret anymore, so if you try to bust my head open with that stupid bat, you might as well just skip the formalities and shoot me." She slammed her fist into the table, knocking over a pepper shaker in the process. "I'm not going anywhere. Even if you do leave without me, I'm not going back. It's taken me my whole life to find real proof that that stuff exists, and I am not going back to being babied and living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. I'm doing this. The only reason I need you is because I don't know where to find this stuff. Just show me to that guy who sent you to the house and you won't have to deal with me anymore." She remembered his mention of some friend who'd told him of the mansion's existence, so that was her first lead. He didn't want anything to do with her, and, frankly, she felt the same way. It came up on the fly just now, but cutting out the middleman and getting in good with whoever that guy was that seemingly directed the old man around was a much better way to start out her journey.

Listening to the way this young woman talked, Henry could only groan and pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Leaving her with the old man was absolutely out of the question. Not only would he probably shoot her on sight, the fact of the matter was that the old guy just wasn't what he used to be. Chances were he'd send the girl off half-cocked and ill-prepared for what was really out there. He couldn't really leave her entirely to her own devices either for fear that she'd wind up in a ditch somewhere. It may have left a bad taste in his mouth but he couldn't quite argue with the fact that he was the man best suited to the task of safely teaching her about a field she would inevitably find her way into.

"The guy who told me about the mansion would just put a bullet in you on his doorstep or worse. Look, assuming I were to even consider letting you tag along for a while, I would need a promise or two. No more of the lip from back at the mansion. If I tell you to stay close, you stay close. I tell you to stay put, you stay put. And if I tell you to run as fast as you can, you start hoofing it. Understood?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever." Despite the flippant response, she was smiling on the inside. Just as she'd predicted, he gave in. It was kind of weird how someone who probably faced down ghosts and doll monsters on a daily basis was so easily worn down, but she wasn't complaining. They'd have to get out of there pretty quickly, before her parents realized she'd snuck out.

"You done now?" she asked, referring to the non-existent food. "We need to go before shit hits the fan back at my house." She grabbed her bag and slung it back over her shoulder. Standing from the table, she headed towards the door, impatiently tapping her foot at the exit.

Groaning once more, Henry tossed down enough cash to cover his meal and the tip before hauling himself up from the booth. The job was hard enough already with a kid tagging along, especially one as stubborn and obnoxious as this. Following the young girl to the exit, Travers left the cozy little diner and made a beeline for his parked Hudson Hornet. "My name is Henry Travers by the way. What was yours again?" he asked, the annoyance in his voice painfully obvious.

Pushing open the door, she arrived at the car, opening the passenger door and tossing her bag in the back. It was one of those cool old models no one had anymore. Probably restored with magic, or something. Or it could just be in that good of condition. At this point, it didn't seem like anything would surprise her. "Carmen," she answered, buckling the seat belt and putting her feet up on the dashboard. "Where we taking this party?" she said, rather disinterred now that she had a signal on her phone in this part of town, checking her feed and writing Tweets to friends about having chosen to jump in a car to drive into the sunset with some pervy old man to go fight monsters that could kill her in less than a second. It kind of sounded bad when it was worded like that. Too late to turn back now, though. Besides, it could be worse. He could have a truck, or something.

Before entering the car, Henry went through his usual checklist of safety precautions. Step one: kneel down and pretend to tie a shoe in order to check underneath the car for any unwanted surprised. Step two: take a quick glance in the back seat on the way to the rear of the car. Step three: pop the trunk while standing clear of any potential jump scares. All clear this time around. Closing the glossy black trunk of his prized car once again, Travers returned to the driver side door and entered the vehicle. With the key in the ignition and his seat belt fastened, he made a final adjustment of his rear view mirrors before putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Shoes off the dash, please," he said, sending Carmen a quick sidelong glance before returning his eyes to the road out of town. "For now, we worry about getting out of town before any missing person reports for you show up." Silence fell on the car for just a moment before a little light bulb went off in Henry's head and he decided to make use of the time they'd have on the road with a little homework. "There's a book in the glove box marked "Compendium." Take it out and start reading." The Compendium, or at least the first volume currently in the glove box, was Henry's personal encyclopedia of the supernatural oogie boogies that went bump in the night. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, trolls, they all had a section in there somewhere with relevant abilities and weakness. It was the logical choice for Carmen's introduction. Better to learn about what they'd be facing before worrying too much about how to fight back.

She huffed again, putting her feet on the ground and kicking off her shoes. She figured they'd be on the drive for a while, so she might as well be comfortable. Being forced to put her phone away as the WiFi signal dwindled to nothing, she relented and looked inside the compartment. It was a bit old and wrinkly, but, truthfully, she liked books like that. It made them feel more "magical". It started to dawn on her that this thing probably had some real information on everything she'd ever wanted to know about. Now motivated, she cracked open the cover, starting from page one. She read in silence, becoming more and more engrossed in the details every page. There was no telling how long they'd be one the road for, but she fully intended to read every last word of this thing before they finally ended up wherever the journey took them. Guess the old man wasn't too bad, after all.

---> Somewhere far, far away.