Session 01 - Marcus Black

October 30th 1934,

I thought my writing in this journal was at a conclusion upon my acquiring of a somewhat normal life, now barely a few years into it, I have been thrust back into Father Gregory’s quest under what I can only surmise as fortune.

I was called to a meeting with the Lady Winston-Rodgers, her letter explained that Father Gregory had recommended me to her as she is in need of someone with an expertise in the occult.  As Father Gregory has been unable to carry on his quest, it seems to have fallen to me.

FLOYD BENNETT FIELD

I made my way to the Hanger, the set meeting place where Ms Winston-Rodgers and I were to discuss the matter at hand, I was met however by a rather scruffy looking gentleman by the name of Carter Sloane.  He is what I can only conclude as a detective of sorts.  A man who has no doubt tried his hand after the war at many things, only to find himself in the line of work that feels familiar to a former soldier.

I have known his type before.  At the very least I have apprehensions about him.

When Ms Winston-Rodgers appeared, she explained that her Father, a Mr Walter Winston had previously travelled abroad after making his fortune..  It was as if listening to Father Gregory recount his exploits, a man travelling in search of darkness and monsters.

Mr Winston met his end earlier this year, having been plagued by madness in his last years from what he had encountered during his travels.

Mr Sloane was very blunt during the meeting, his methods proving similar to a blunt instrument attempting to hammer a nail into wood with a rock.  His nature that of a confident yet troubled individual.

I spent some time alone with Ms Winston-Rodgers, as I was sure she would not speak of many topics in the presence of Mr Sloane.  She confessed to me of seeing strange things within her father’s house for many years before his death.  Things that are known to me as tell-tale signs of beings being present, unable to be seen by the human eye.

I found this troubling.

She has agreed to donate the fee she wishes to pay me to Father Gregory’s care and to my family in my absence.

I am now to accompany Mr Sloane to Georgia, the first step on the journey to discovering the madness that has caused the destruction of this family.  As I would rather have left this matter to Father Gregory, I also see this as a chance to experience first-hand the terrors that he desperately chased, in the presence of s sceptic, this could prove to be the basis of the next chapter in the ongoing saga that is the human struggle against good and evil in the world, only time will tell.

I spent the night in the office of Mr Sloane, his furniture not dissimilar to the outward appearance of the man, something that only confirmed my first assessment of him.  What surprised me was that he was a family man, not unlike myself.  This fact alone made me wonder as to why he pursued his work so vigorously.

November 1st 1934.

I rose early to find Mr Sloane asleep in his chair, the load snorts and snores making sleep difficult to find.  I left his office to meet with a colleague in the centre of New York, Father Dane, a trusted friend who during my relocation to the area, agreed to hold some of my belongings until I found a suitable place for them that was not within my home.

I collected my old surplus bag, full of my old clothes that I once wore on my expeditions with Father Gregory, it also held several volumes of my old notebooks and journals that I had written down the exploits in far more detail than is ever to be found in this book.  My Webley was also within, still clean and oiled from when I last put it away, along with many rounds of ammunition that filled a small pouch.

I made a call to Father Gregory, advising him of the meeting that I had taken with Ms Winston- Rodgers.

His guidance on the matter rather vague due to his decline in health and status, the one valuable piece of information he was able to give me was that Conrad Kullman, the expert that had accompanied our expedition in Spain so many years ago, left our group to join that of Mr Walter Winston.  A strange coincidence, I do not believe so.

Once I had retrieved my things, I returned to the office of Mr Sloane only to find him gone, I began to copy several letters given to us by Ms Winston Rodgers as they were more desperate cries for help from an old associate of my Winston.  A Mr Douglas Henslowe, a member of my Winston’s expeditions, he currently resided in Savanah, Georgia.  After reading his letters several times, I strongly believed his knowledge on the subject was vital to discovering evidence of something dark that had plagued Mr Winston and his daughter.

Mr Sloane returned to his office early afternoon, I notified him of the information Father Gregory had passed to me and in return he informed me that one of the addresses on Mr Henslowe’s letters was for a sanatorium.  We both agreed this was to be our first port of call on our journey to Georgia.

We contacted a Mr Frank Kearns, Ms Winston-Rodgers pilot and travel liaison, he arranged travel for us to Savannah, we were on our way.

Impressed more by the method of transportation than anything else, Mr Sloane continued to be a source of frustration in his methods, his drives seemed to be purely materialistic, excited at the amount of money promised to him and the luxury of travelling via private plane seemed to be the best thing that had happened to him in a long time.

SAVANNAH, GEORGIA

We reached our destination promptly and arranged lodgings, it was mid evening and darkness had already fallen on the once grand city of Savannah, long shadows were cast by the gas lamps that lit the street, electricity was still on its way to this once booming place.  The shadows cast across the large and open parks made me think of how easy it had seemed to slip back into the role I had tried so hard to put behind me.  It seems that I am destined to discover something, want of not.

November 2nd 1934.

We made our way to the sanatorium mid-morning, Mr Sloan and I had discussed that our best method for entry was through myself acting as an agent of Mr Henslowe’s estate and Mr Sloane taking on an alias as to appear to be the council of Mr Henslowe’s mother, whom we had found was still living at his previous residence.

Mr Sloane wanted to bring his sidearm, I expect he thought I might recoil at the idea of a firearm, it was then that I convinced him that it was better left behind, I also have not informed him of my own, as I feel he may jump to the conclusion that a priest who carries a firearm to be more a threat than a friend, this I would no doubt would be revealed later when it was absolutely necessary.

JOY GROVE PATIENTS

Upon entry we were greeted by a well-dressed nurse, instantly Sloane slipped into his role and began exchanging friendly gestures with the nurse in order to gain her trust as to aid us in acquiring any information on Mr Henslowe.

At the mention of Mr Henslowe’s name however, a Dr Keaton, the head physician at the hospital appeared to discuss the matter.  He was a pleasant man, very much eager to impress us with his facility.  He agreed to arrange an interview for us with Mr Henslowe while we were there.

I accepted his invitation to tour the facility, leaving Mr Sloane to hopefully gain access to the files pertaining to Mr Henslowe that seemed inaccessible while in the presence of Dr Keaton.

We made our way through the facility until Dr Keaton was called away by an orderly, this gave me time to investigate into the higher levels of the facility, I made my way to solitary confinement where

I expected to find Mr Henslowe, unfortunately I was incorrect and directed by an orderly to the far side of the facility.

JOY GROVE

I made my way down the corridor, I couldn’t help noticing the general run down condition of the interior and exterior of the premises, water marks present on the walls, paint peeling and floors creaking, there was something off about this place.

As I continued along the corridor, a large dark water mark caught my eye, it seemed fresh and rather pungent, I approached it with caution, half expecting the roof to begin to fall.

As I inspected the patch, a dark sensation came over me, something I had not felt in many years, as I looked, a large dark mouth began to form in place of the grime, revealing yellow teeth and cracked lips, it began speaking to me, speaking with no words.  Not expecting to see such a thing, I was taken aback violently, my mind unable to process the image, I shook myself and broke eye contact with the strange form, re-engaging it, I saw only a water mark.

THE MOUTH

Was it real, I do not know, all I do know is that it had shaken me in a way I thought I was strong enough to resist, it seems my break from my travels has only made my mind softer than I care to think about.  Looking below the mark, I noticed a strange raised area of the wall, a symbol had been crafted there, looking about me, these symbols seemed to be everywhere, something familiar, protection symbols.  In every language I had ever studied, someone had placed these here recently, someone seeking protection.

Whispers caught my ear from behind me, turning I saw a red headed patient, he made the gesture of slitting my throat, something that also took me aback after what I believe I had just seen in the wall.

It was at this that Dr Keaton returned and lead me to a room where I found Mr Sloane, we were to interview Mr Henslowe.

Douglas Henslowe, a giant of a man, he explained to us his exploits with Mr Winston, a fascinating tale, something I also could have written in my own hand to a point of the previous experience I have lived with Father Gregory.

I know Mr Sloane has written a detailed account of the interview, something I am not comfortable at this point putting into words.

A second Interview with a Mr Edgar Job was also conducted, I know this type of man.  He is the type of man I have seen many times, he is the type of man that in my former life, I had slain all over the world in the name of God, something I wanted to do here, I had to suppress these feelings, that was not me anymore, thankfully my Webley was safe back at our place of lodging.

Upon the conclusion of these interviews, Mr Sloane was visibly unnerved, something I expected, what I didn’t expect was his resolve.  Most men would have run after hearing such things, he has impressed me with his persistence, only time will tell how much more he can take.