The Deal (17 page)

There was no familiar plume of black smoke or
that strange electric buzzing I got in my ear before he would
appear. It seemed that I was on my own this time, and despite
wanting more information on what I should be looking for, I was
actually quite satisfied to be left alone for the time
being.

I looked down at the gold ring on my index
finger where my wedding band used to be. It looked dull and
lifeless. There was no shimmering glow or any other indication that
one of Satan’s hell spawn was getting closer. This made me feel a
little bit better too since I wanted a chance to find out what it
was I was looking for first before starting a fight with the winged
demon.

Then something occurred to me that I had
forgotten to ask the young lady at the archives, but possibly the
cabby might be able to answer.

‘
When they closed the building
down, did they remove all the patient records?’

‘
Nah, they left all that shit
where it was. Probably not many of them left now though by the time
all the scavengers have been and gone. Although there is a crazy
ass story about the records too.’

‘
Really. How crazy?’ I couldn’t
help but ask.

‘
Seriously crazy.’

‘
Try me.’

‘
Well, from what I was told
there
were
two different places where they kept the patient
records. The main record room would hold all the records for those
who were really insane and then there was a separate room somewhere
on the top floor containing all the records of those who were just
trying to keep their sorry asses out of prison. As far as I know
it’s all bullshit. No one has ever been able to find that room.’
The driver actually sounded quite pleased with himself as he threw
the remains of his cigarette out the window and into the
rain-soaked
streets.

He would never know just how much
his unbelievable stories
were
actually helping me to focus on
where I needed to look. If nothing else he had given me two solid
locations that I had to check before looking anywhere else in the
building.

How easy it was going to be to get access to
these rooms, especially the one on the top floor that no one could
seem to locate, was an entirely different matter.

Muirmill asylum was built way back
during the early days of New York. As my cab came to a full stop in
front of the building where the main gates had once been, I could
see why there
were
so many horror stories about the
place.

Under the depressing grey
sky,
it was a monolithic, gothic style structure
built
from pure sandstone. The parameter wall which spanned the
entire circumference of the
building
was impressive. It
had to be at least twelve feet tall and during its later years some
enlightened soul had decided that razor wire would also be a good
deterrent to stop the vandals and
thieves
from getting in and
the crazies from getting out.

I slid the old cab driver sixty dollars and
stepped back out into the pouring rain. I watched as the cab
disappeared back down the long wood lined pathway which would lead
him back to civilization, before turning my attention back to the
asylum.

I started walking, slowly, trying
to take in everything that I could as I passed through the large
gap where the wrought iron gates would have once hung. I noted that
those
aforementioned
gates had been left
lying on the once pristine lawns. Discarded like they were no
obstacle at all and I could instantly envision what kind of winged
creature had the strength to rip them off their hinges like they
were made of paper.

Yep. The
Grimoyle’s
are
definitely here.
I
thought
as I
turned my attention back to the rest of the building. The gravel
driveway opened out into a circular
courtyard
where I could see
a concrete and colourless fountain was the
centrepiece
.

The
lawns
, which at one time
would have been mowed on a weekly basis, where now overgrown with
weeds and other varieties of wildflowers. As I got closer to the
fountain I suddenly began to feel quite small when I glanced up at
the building which just seemed to grow larger with every step I
took towards it.

There
were
at least four
floors and all of the small windows which lined the building from
the second floor upwards had rusted steel bars
crisscrossing
them, obviously to stop the patients from
escaping.

After a few minutes of
walking,
I finally reached the fountain which reminded of the one I
had seen in hell. It was made of pure concrete and depicted a
female nurse holding a cross while her other hand was on the head
of a
distraught-looking
man who I assumed
was a patient of some kind.

The fountains basin was coated
with a green sludge and only a small puddle of dirty
rainwater
covered the bottom of it. At its far side which faced the
main entrance of the building I could see someone had decided to
leave their wheelchair to rot in the fountains basin
too.

After a minute or so of
investigating the fountain I turned my attention back to the
asylum,
it's self
. I’m
certain any other human being would have
taken
one look at the
building and gave some serious thought to even going near its main
doors which I noticed
were
slightly ajar.

In my case, I was probably the only person to
grace the derelict ruins who actually had made a deal with Satan. I
was probably the only one who had come with more than a notion to
raid it for anything valuable.

Of
course,
what I was looking for was
valuable, but probably only to me and the dark lord himself. And if
Pertilius was to be believed even the dark lord of hell did not
fully understand the power of the old relics.

A strange feeling washed over me
as I started walking towards the heavy wooden doors which would
lead me inside. It was a feeling of knowing that there was
something else here for me. Not just the obvious, which would be
the artefact, whatever it may be disguised as. No there was more
here for me personally. Somewhere inside was information that would
help me fill in the blanks about my wife’s past and
hopefully,
help me understand how she came to be under
Satan’s control.

A set of four, wide circular
sandstone steps
leads
the way up to the front doors. I
took each one slowly and purposefully, not only trying to be as
silent as I
possibly
could
be
but also listening
for anything coming from inside the asylum, such as a huge winged
demon.

I could hear nothing but the sound of birds
chirping and the scuttle of tiny feet which most likely belonged to
the rats which had always called the building their
home.

However, as I stepped on to the
fourth and last sandstone pad my body suddenly went rigid for a
brief second as a wave of electric energy coursed through my body.
It was the same sensation I had suffered back in the apartment
before I left to come to Muirmill and it was the same sensation I
always got when the dark lord or his minions
were
about to
appear in my presence.

This
time,
I could feel my heart beating that
bit faster as the electric zapping sensation subsided. The doors to
the building where ajar but not open enough for me to see inside. I
tried to listen for life inside and still I could hear nothing. I
glanced around in all directions taking in the overgrown lawns and
the depressing fountain. Nothing. Not human or
otherwise.

Yet I felt certain that there was
something trying to get my attention. As sure as I felt there was
something watching me as I left my apartment over an hour ago.
Something wasn’t right and whoever it was, did not want to
show
themselves
. If only there was an
artefact that could zap the bastards who try to hide from
me.

I’ll need to ask Pertilius if such
a thing exists.
I thought, turning my back
on the world and pulling the two heavy oak doors open.

What they revealed wasn’t much
more than I already expected. Before me was a large foyer which
separated into smaller hallways which in turn branched off in
various directions on both sides of the building. Hospital
gurneys,
wheelchairs,
and various other
stainless steel medical instruments lay scattered across the
floor.

One thing I was grateful for was the fact the
daylight was able to shine inside and I could see pretty much
everywhere I went. That was only a good thing considering there was
possibly a Grimoyle stalking around looking for a hidden
artefact.

As I moved further inside I found it strange
that even after years of being left derelict, there was still a
strong and sometimes overpowering odour of bleach and disinfectant
hanging in the air. It was as if even after use someone still
wanted the building to be as sterile as it possibly could
be.

I stood there in the foyer unsure which
direction to move in first and always listening for the sounds that
would indicate something bigger than a rat was moving around the
building. To my left was a small walled off area that had once been
the reception desk.

I knew there probably wouldn’t be much of
anything of interest there but decided to go and take a look
anyway. I had to start somewhere and if I could find something that
would indicate where the records room was then it would be a good
start.

The door to the reception desk had
been left hanging open, probably from the point the building was
closed to the public. Inside was a long slab of wood bolted to the
wall which acted as a desk. On it was a smashed up
old
phone and a few sheets of an admission slip strewn over
it.

On the
floor,
more papers had
been baked
into
the fabric of the building. Dampness had made the
fragile documents pretty much melt into the floor and even
hunkering down to take a closer look yielded nothing that was
legible to my mind.

I wasn’t ready to give
up,
though. The building had been closed down just over five
years ago, which although was a long time, it still meant that at
some point the state would have forced it to upgrade and follow the
same health and safety rules as any normal hospital. That meant
that there had to be a map somewhere, or at the very least a floor
plan for visitors to navigate their way around the five floors of
human hell.

Turning my back on the reception desk I
decided to take a left down the nearest hallway. I assumed that the
remaining floors would be reserved for the patients so the doctor’s
offices had to be on the ground floor, or at least the important
ones would be.

Sure
enough,
I was a few feet down the hall
when I came to a door with a bronze plaque neatly screwed to its
deeply varnished exterior. The plaque told me I was about to enter
the office of a
Dr.
Mitchell Williams. I had no idea
who he was or had been, but it was becoming obvious I was going to
have to do a room by room search until I found something of
use.

I reached out and tried turning
the knob. I had half expected it to be locked for some strange
reason but there
were
a soft click and the door slowly
swung open to reveal what was once the good doctors
office.

As I stepped inside, I noticed that it was
quite a large room with plenty of daylight flooding in. A desk and
high back leather chair took up most of the floor space with
bookcases, once filled with medical literature no doubt, lining the
walls like wooden sentinel’s watching over the doctors every
move.

The green, hard wearing carpet, was blotted
with various stains of unknown origin and the smell of encroaching
dampness was stronger in the confined space than anywhere else I
would investigate in the building.

One thing that caught me off guard was how
neat the room still looked. The asylum had been laid bare to anyone
wandering off the streets but it had not suffered the same levels
of vandalism I saw in the elementary school.

The bookcases
were
empty save
one or two obscure medical volumes and if a computer had graced the
fake pine desk it had been stolen long ago, but other than that
nothing looked like it had been trashed out of spite or just for
the hell of it.

Just for the hell of it?
The words resonated in my mind as I realised why
the building was still in pretty good shape. The
Grimoyle.