It had become apparent of how little we knew about the actual size of the house as we sat down in the living area and began mapping out the rooms in which we'd already explored, each room that we put to page contained at least one other door - locked or unlocked was just as much a mystery as what kind of room hid behind each door. From the foyer, to the second floor, to the hall and the library seemed to only be the tip of the iceberg as far as exploring the house would go.
The night outside continued on for what seemed like an eternity. Waiting for daylight to continue our search for Victors crew would have seemed like a safer idea however the truth of the matter was that there was either a murderer lurking within the house or a murderer amongst us - it was better to find either him or the crew before any of us fall victim in the same manner as Jacob O'Neil.

I'd retrieved the satchel from drawer when I'd gone upstairs to fetch the scrap paper and pens from my room - the contents of the books were just as much an enigma to me as anything else within the walls of this house, but I figured that If Victor believed there was reason for him being here then perhaps he had knowledge of the house, the books, or even my father.
I slumped the satchel on the small dusty coffee table that had become our makeshift workstation as we sat around it on the hardwood floor amongst the debris.

"What is this?" Victor asked, knowing that the contents would be more of interest to him than the satchel itself.

"I was hoping you could tell me, or at least help shed some light on these", I said as I unbuckled the fasteners and emptied the satchel of its contents. As I did so a small container fell from one of the satchels side pockets and rolled across the floor, rattling like a maraca before coming to a rest in front of Victor. he scooped it up in his hands identifying the iodine brown coloured capsule with a white lid.

"Prescription meds?"

He asked, assuming that they belonged to me. He turned the capsule around to read its label.

"Chlorpromazine.....better known as Thorazine"

Victor looked me up and down, with a look that was just as much suspicious as it was fearful and increasingly untrustworthy toward me.

"They're not mine, I can promise you that, none of it is" I pleaded with Victor, in hopes that I would ease his suspicion of me.

Victor sighed, and held up the envelope from the pile.

"And I suppose this letter isn't addressed to you either?"

He tossed the pill capsule toward me before I could utter my defence in return.

"You better hope for the three of us that you remember to take them Sunshine" He warned.

I read the label myself, It definitely was Thorazine, the type of stuff that they give to those that suffer from certain forms of more serious mental illnesses. The label read that it had been prescribed by a Dr Charles Hope however the name in which the pills had been prescribed for had faded, I could make out a Mr W, and then a lower case d and then it finished off with either a Y or a V. I threw the capsule back to Victor.

"Check the label a little closer. My name is Sam James, these are prescribed to Mr W...."

Victor stared at the label eating his own words. He was the "too proud to admit he was wrong" type so I didn't push for an apology but at least he knew that I wasn't the crazy that the picture in his head was painting.
Victor Cleared his throat, "I can do with your help - so I'm gonna have to take your word for it, I can't verify that you are who you say you are any more than you can, so at this stage all I have is my gut feeling, and my gut tells me that I can trust you. But I swear to the heavens above that if you step out of line I will not hesitate to paint these walls with your brain matter" he petted the shotgun at his side as a reminder to me

Victor sifted through the books that I'd emptied out on to the coffee table. He took an interest in the inked leather book, studying its cover with what looked like a certain degree of understanding.

"Interesting" he said as he placed it back on the table and picked up the textbook and flicked through it.

"Interesting how?" I asked, forcing his attention away from the textbook.

"Interesting, that it appears to be an original"

"An original what?"

"Grimoire"

"A Grim-what?"

"Grimoire....book of the dead.....perhaps even a Key of Solomon"

"You mean like a Necronomicon?"

"Precisely"

"But the Necronomicon is fiction.....H.P Lovecraft, books that summon the dead and invoke evil spirits and demons don't exist"

"And you know this for a fact?

"Fact? its common sense! these things just don't exist"

"You keep telling yourself that. Common sense was invented by those who wish not to believe the truth behind what lays beyond the veil"

I was lost for words and didn't care to continue the argument. I didn't want to admit I was wrong any more than I wanted to admit that he was right (not to mention that it seemed as though he was more educated and intelligent than what I gave him credit for) - I didn't want to believe in the things that I've been seeing nor did I want to admit to seeing them. But in their own way they all made sense, they all linked like small pieces of puzzle that's constantly increasing in size.

"Interesting" Victor announced yet again, while laying the textbook flat on the coffee table to an open page, displaying a newspaper article with a heading of "On the run" in large font, and a subheading that read "Ellanor Maybrick, mother of the notorious mass murdering Maybrick family still on the run from police"

"God damn, that's the bitch right there" Victor pointed to the photo in the article, "That's Ellanor Sutherland". There was a slight crack of uncontrollable fear and emotion in his voice.

He read an excerpt from the article out loud:

Two years have passed since police uncovered the grizzly scenes that went on behind the closed doors of the Maybrick Estate situated roughly 5 miles out from Georgetown. Police uncovered and excavated the remains of over 75 male and female corpses from the Maybrick property which were believed to have been used to take part in both Satanic and sexual rituals....

Victor exhaled a "fuck me!..." and continued reading

The Maybrick family were also believed to have been surviving via feeding from the flesh of their victims as human remains were also found in ample supply within the Estates walk-in freezer and also found curing in barrels of salted water in a cellar below the house.

"So at least now we know they have a freezer. Its just a matter of finding it"

"What does it say about the family? what happened to them?"

Victor skimmed the article.

"Here" he said pointing to a small paragraph

"I see your point, interesting theory for someone who argues the existence of Grimoires. So what is it that you are you suggesting?"

"I'm thinking we may be outnumbered. We need to find your friends and get the fuck out of here"


To be Continued
Next issue: Two lovers embrace