Page 3 of Into the Dark

Oscar shook his head sharply. His mind was getting fanciful, knowledge painting his perception of the place in a darker shade that it would have otherwise. He needed to keep a clear head to use his talent as a medium.

The drive widened and split into a circle around a majestic fountain long gone dry. Just to the left, the brush had been cleared back, allowing for three large white tents to be erected, accompanied by generators and other gear. Another car was parked at an angle in the circle, so he rolled to a stop and parked as well.

“Here we are,” he said, trying to keep the trepidation from his voice. What if he wasn’t ready for this? It had been less than a year since he’d admitted, even to himself, that he was a medium. This was surely too much, too soon.

His gaze followed the sweep of the drive to the steps leading up into the looming building. The wooden doors looked made of heavy oak; to either side of them were narrow windows of clear glass panes set in a diamond pattern.

Was that a movement in one of the windows? Or just a shadow caused by the trees outside?

“What the fuck!” Chris exclaimed. They pressed against the window, staring out at the drive rather than at the asylum. “What aretheydoing here?”

Chris flung open the van door and hurled themself out. The normal, easy-going person Nigel knew had vanished, replaced by tensed shoulders, an angry scowl, and stomping footsteps. All their attention was focused on a pair of figures standing beside a dark gray sedan with a decal on the side proclaiming they wereZeeking the Unknown.

“What the hell?” Nigel asked, glancing back at Tina.

Her light brown face wore a confused expression. “I have no idea.”

The van rocked slightly as Oscar slid out from behind the driver’s seat. “We’d better make sure they’re okay.”

Nigel scrambled out as well, just in time to hear Chris demand, “What areyoudoing here?”

“I should ask you the same question!” a woman shot back.

“Whoa, whoa!” Oscar, ever the peacemaker, hurried to put himself between them. The thousand-watt smile that never failed to melt Nigel’s bones turned on the two newcomers. “Um, hi, I’m Oscar Fox and my pronouns are he/him.”

“Adrienne Cooper, she/her,” said the white woman who’d answered Chris. Her honey-blonde hair was swept up into a loose ponytail, and she was dressed all in shades of either black or screaming pink. Nigel winced when he realized the pink perfectly matched the shock of color dyed into Chris’s otherwise black hair.

“Zeek Holt…uh, he/him, I guess?” said Adrienne’s companion. He offered an uncertain grin, displaying dazzling white teeth, then glanced at Adrienne. “Are you, like, fans?”

Tina twisted her hands in her flowing multi-colored skirt. “I, uh, I have seen your show. Great editing!”

Another online ghost-hunting team, then. After hooking up with Oscar, Nigel had briefly browsed through similar shows. Most were complete drivel, and all of them seemed to visit the exact same well-trodden locations telling the same tired stories.

“I do most of the editing myself, so thank you,” said Adrienne in a voice like Antarctic wind. “Now, what are you doing here, Chris?”

One of the tents opened, and Ms. Montague herself stepped out, followed by a young man Nigel recognized as the secretary who’d let him in to see her during their first meeting.

“Everyone is here at my invitation,” Montague said in her steely tones.

Patricia Montague was in her 70s, highly intelligent, and extremely wealthy—as in Old Tobacco Money rich. Though cigarettes didn’t bring in nearly as much cash these days, Nigel had no doubt she’d diversified her portfolio long ago. She wore her white hair in a pixie cut, above a baby-blue suit that had clearly been tailored to her form. Her only concession to age was a cane topped with a silver handle.

His doctoral advisor, Dr. Lawson, had warned him against dealing with Ms. Montague. But so far, she’d done nothing but throw money and supplies at them, unconcerned with the cost.

He wondered if that was about to change.

“You brought in another team?” Oscar asked, as though this investigation wasn’t in any way desperately personal for him.

“I never keep all my eggs in one basket, Mr. Fox.”

Nigel shouldn’t feel betrayed. He’d met her while applying for a grant; rich people—or their trusts—tended to scatter their largesse over more than one area. But he’d thought they were, well…special.

Annoyed with himself, he said, “We’re just surprised, that’s all.”

Adrienne cast an unfriendly eye at them. “You have a show, too?”

“OutFoxing the Paranormal,”Oscar said, beaming. “It’s sort of a play on my last name, Fox? But it’s a team effort—I just do most of the on-camera work.”

“Never heard of you, bro, but I’ll be sure to check you out,” Zeek said. He dressed all in black as a complement to Adrienne, and wore aZeeking The Unknownball cap—backward, of course.

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