Paranormals

Spirit paced back and forth, he wore a concerned look on his face. It had been hours since the feed from Daemon’s camera cut off, any number of things could’ve happened, and they were just standing there waiting for some sort of news. Spirit stopped and started to twiddle with the crystal hanging from his neck; it sparkled as he anxiously played with it.

“You know, pacing around the room like that isn’t going to bring him back faster”, A relaxed temperate voice called. Spirit turned to face the voice: Dr. Stevens, one of the lead scientists of Paranormals and a close friend. He wore a standard issue coat over his light purple fur; dangly violet hair lazily peeked out from his beret; and a pair of circular glasses rested on his muzzle as he nonchalantly read from his book.

“Well sitting here doing nothing isn’t going to help either!” Spirit snapped back, “It’s been hours Stevens; I thought you said it was a thirty minute hike.”

Steven closed his book and set it back on the bookshelf with his magic. Calmly, he readjusted his glasses and stood from his chair.

“I’m sure he’s fine Spirit, a little late as usual, but I know that he can handle himself,” Stevens reassured, “I’m going to go see how Omen is doing. He might have found something already.”

Spirit rubbed at his scraggly black hair, tips dyed a light pink. He felt a small headache come on. Hopefully he wouldn’t snap that day, but there would be no promises kept while his friend remained in danger. He took a deep breath and sat down at the table, trying his best not to lash out at Stevens again.

Dr. Stevens stood and calmly walked out the door, he glanced back at Spirit.

“Relax Spirit, everything's going to be fine,” Stevens called back. He left and the door silently clicked shut. Spirit laid his head on the table, he let out a long and annoyed groan.

“I hate this. I really hate this!” He complained, “Today was supposed to be a day for partying and celebrating five years of not dying! Now it might be a funeral!” He glanced at the party decor lining the room, a huge banner hung from the ceiling that read ‘Happy Paranormals Anniversary!’, a table sat underneath it, a small pile of presents from Daemon’s friends rested upon it; one of them from Spirit himself.

Spirit gritted his teeth in frustration; Daemon had been a friend for years, he had known him since grade school. Daemon and him had started a ghost hunting club since both of them had special talents with dealing with the dead. Daemon could relive a soul’s last moments before they had passed away, and Spirit could placate ghosts to help them pass into the afterlife. It had been just them for awhile; going into abandoned buildings and pretending to be ghost hunters. Every once in awhile they found something truly supernatural, and every time Daemon had found a way to put a fun spin on the terrifying situation. No matter how scary it got, Daemon could find a way to laugh. Spirit always thought Daemon was the braver one of the two, he could handle so much terror and still find a way to smile in the end, while he pretended to be strong and courageous.

Spirit sometimes felt sorry for Daemon though. Having to live through all those deaths could not have been easy, especially the gruesome ones. He had done his best to prevent as many of those as possible, but he couldn’t be there for him all the time, like that moment…

Spirit stood from the table, and made his way towards the door Stevens had exited out of. He felt slightly sickened, and needed to get some fresh air. As he proceeded down the cold metallic hallway he noticed the door to the archives was ajar. Cautiously yet curiously, he glanced inside.

A young pegasus mare was hovering near the higher shelves pulling out books. She gently drifted back to a table littered with papers and notebooks. The mare set down the books and proceeded sit down and open one named “Myths and Legends of Equestria”. She adjusted her thick brimmed glasses while taking notes.

Spirit, trying to kill some time, knocked on the side of the doorway. The pegasus looked from her notes surprised; she immediately shut her book and stood from her seat slightly embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry sir! Did you need something?” she sputtered.

“No need to be sorry! I was just curious about what you were up to,” Spirit replied.

She blushed even more, “Oh, I was just following orders… Ms. Pensive asked me to find any information regarding the Slendermane…”

“Why would she ask you to do that?” Spirit asked.

“I think it has to do with Daemon being missing,” She continued, “She must really care for him. I mean, he’s only been missing for five hours…”

“The video cutting out must have stressed her out. I know it stressed me out,” recalling his freak out just a couple minutes ago. The two awkwardly stood there for a moment, the pegasus unable to meet his gaze. “So uh… I don’t think I caught your name yet.”

“My name? My name is Book Butterfly,” she said as she turned to the side, revealing a book in the shape of a butterfly with two bookmark fringes as antennae as her cutie mark. “My friends call me BB, that is to say, if I had any…”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you BB, my name’s--”

“Spirit Charity, a veteran paranormal investigator who solved the case of that fast food chain phantom that was hiding it’s victims in the freezer!” She excitedly told; she grew a huge smile on her face, “I thought it was amazing that you were able to figure out that it was the ghost of the chain owner’s son; who had died just a few years prior when he was locked in the freezer by accident!” BB gushed, “And then you heroically saved that philly who was on the brink of succumbing to hypothermia. It was so stellar! To think that the colt was only looking for a friend, I never could do something so selfless like you did! I mean, letting the ghost attach itself to your soul until it could pass on was so stellar!”

Spirit was both amazed and shocked at the same time. The mare knew her stuff. BB noticed his bewildered expression, and immediately started blushing again. She shied away and hid under the table.

“I... uh… may have read that case file a couple of times…” she squeaked. Her green coat blushed around her face, and a portion of her dark green mane fell over her eyes. She continued to hide under the table, slightly shaking from embarrassment. “And maybe a couple more with you in them…” she mumbled.

Weirded out, Spirit slowly backed out of the room.

“Well, it was nice meeting you BB. I’ll just leave you to your work now, and go check up on Dr. Stevens!” he awkwardly said, “So bye…”

“Wait!” BB called.

Spirit turned around, BB had crawled out from under the table and was gathering papers. She spun around and timidly held out the papers to Spirit.

“If you’re going to see Dr. Stevens, then could you take these to him?” Book Butterfly asked.

Spirit took the papers and nodded, “Sure thing.”

With a tense sigh, BB went back to her chair.

“Better get back to researching, or Pensive will have my wings on a silver platter,” she joked.

“Best of luck to you,” Spirit encouraged, though slightly creeped out. BB set to work immediately; Spirit, with papers in tow, left BB to her research in the archives.

Spirit made his way back towards the dining room where they had set up all the decorations. He recalled that Stevens had gone to find Omen, a pegasus with the gift of Divination. Though Spirit just thought of it as a way to cheat at poker.

He made his way towards Omen’s room, no doubt he would have found something by now. Whether it was about Daemon or not had yet to be seen.

As he approached, a loud scream echoed out from his room. Spirit dashed to the door and threw it open. Inside was Stevens, contently sitting at the small standard issue kitchen in Omen’s room. Spirit looked around a bit more and noticed Omen, stuck to the ceiling like a frightened cat would stick to a sofa.

“Omen! Are you alright? I heard somepony scream,” Spirit asked.

Stevens gingerly sipped a small tea cup, he looked up at Spirit.

“Ah how nice of you to join us Spirit,” he commented, “We were just discussing Omen’s recent attempt to locate Daemon when an unexpected visitor arrived.”

“Visitor?” Spirit raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

Omen trembled as he attempted to hold on to the ceiling, the feathers of his wings fluttering sporadically. He made a motion to the table. Spirit fully entered his room and examined the table. Tarot cards laid strewn about, a few candles decorated the center, and what appeared to be a incense burner sat in the middle of the candles; burning something that smelled like lavender. Glancing around the room, Spirit saw a slew of mystical fortune teller things: herbs, crystals, candles, dream catchers, etc. He couldn’t find this unseen visitor however.

Spirit looked back at Stevens, who motioned to the table as well. Spirit took a second look, and upon further inspection, he saw a small black spider sitting on the Death tarot card.

“Seriously Omen? A spider?” Spirit chastised.

“Spirit you know that I was cursed to die by an arachnids venom! I’m terrified of that thought,” Omen stuttered, “Just get that monster out of here!”

Rolling his eyes, Spirit picked up the tiny arachnid and led him to the door. With a flick of his hooves he swatted the spider out into the hallway. He turned back, slightly annoyed at Omen’s cowardice. Slowly, Omen loosened his grip and gingerly floated down. Spirit went back to the table and took a seat.

“So I take it that the search isn’t going so well?” Spirit asked.

“Unfortunately, you would be correct,” Dr. Stevens replied. He took another sip from his cup; calmly setting it down, he reached for the tarot deck. “All we’ve been able to gather is that Daemon is faced with a darkness he’s met before.”

“So it could be…” Spirit started. He was reminded of what Book had said before, about how Pensive suspected that Slendermane was involved. He pulled out the papers that BB had given him. “Say, Stevens. A pegasus from the archives asked me to bring you these. They might be important.”
Steven levitated the papers from Spirit’s grasp and began to read them immediately. It was only a matter of moments before Steven set them down and looked back up at Spirit.

“So Pensive suspects Slendermane as a possible culprit for the camera cutting out, fascinating…” Stevens started, “Omen, do you still possess that fragment of Slendermane’s tie?”

“Yeah, but I keep that locked away. The thing has bad mojo written all over it,” Omen answered, “What did you have in mind?”

“Go get it; we’ll need it for finding Daemon,” he answered back. Omen got up from the table went to his bed sitting in the far corner of the room. He pulled out an engraved box from under the bed and began to rummage in it.

“Wait… You’re not thinking of using clairvoyance are you?” Spirit questioned. Along with Omen’s precognition, he could also use the power of clairvoyance-- also annoying when playing cards with him-- which allowed him to receive visions of other places or ponies when in contact with an item associated with them.

“If it is Slendermane we’re dealing with, then we need to know where he is as quickly as possible. He can travel great distances in a fraction of a second, and if he has Daemon, then we won’t have much of a chance finding him otherwise,” Stevens explained.

“That’s true but,” Spirit looked over at Omen, “If Omen manages to see Slendy, then there’s no telling if he’ll be okay afterward.”

“You don’t have to worry Spirit,” Stevens comforted, “If anything goes wrong then I can handle it; I am a doctor after all.”

Omen triumphantly returned with a small piece of red fabric. He removed the incense from the center of the table and began to draw a hexagram with a piece of chalk. As he worked on the ritual Spirit grew a worried look on his face. He had known both Stevens and Omen for quite some time after joining Paranormals, but he also knew that Stevens could be a bit questionable with his method of treating ‘patients’.

“Some days I question whether you really are a doctor,” Spirit commented, “I mean, most doctors don’t typically use a chainsaw when they work.”

Dr. Stevens grew a slightly sinister smile, “I’m not a typical doctor, I like to take risks.” Spirit noticed that Steven’s eye was slightly twitching, almost like a nervous pulse.

“Alright! The circle is complete!” Omen blurted, “Let’s not worry about whether Steven’s is legally allowed to work on ponies. Let’s just get this over with so that we can find Daemon and get him back here for the party.”

Stevens quickly regained his composure, “Right, let us begin then.”

Omen set the scrap of fabric in the center of the circle, he set six candles around it forming a hexagram; each had a unique color: red, blue, pink, yellow, green, and purple. He plucked a single feather from his wing and gently laid it across the red piece of cloth.

“One candle for each element of harmony, and a piece of myself to bind to the owner of the cloth,” Omen explained, “Do you mind grabbing the lights Spirit?”

Spirit nodded and flicked off the artificial lights with his magic; the room became very dark. A pale violet glow from Stevens's horn illuminated the area slightly. With a swipe of his head, the candles all flickered with the red orange glow they were all used to.

“Thank you Stevens, now for the fun part,” Omen apprehensively said. He closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply in a meditative state. The candles wavering almost seemed to be in time with each passing breath. The air felt heavy, yet calming; Spirit could feel the charge of magical energy in the air. Worry gnawed at his insides though; fears about Omen’s safety began manifesting. He kept quiet however, so he wouldn’t break his concentration.

“I think I see him!” Omen rejoiced, “He’s moving through a forest!”

“Is Daemon with him?” Spirit quickly asked.

“I think so, yeah! There he is! He looks like he’s passed out!” Omen responded.

Spirit gave a sigh of relief.

“Can you describe the forest they’re in?” Stevens inquired.

“Yeah, yeah. There’s a red silo, and many tall pine trees; I think there’s a large dead one just up ahead, and a dirt trail that leads right to it!” Omen described. As he gave more detail, Stevens jotted them all down on one of the papers Spirit had given him. He had almost a complete idea of where he was, when a cold presence suddenly filled the room.

Spirit looked in utter shock as one of the candle’s flame turned from a vibrant orange to a dark blue; almost a complete black.

“Um, Omen?” Spirit started.

“Wait, I think he’s slowing down,” Omen interrupted, “It looks like he’s looking around for something.”

Still looking at his notes in the dim light, Stevens asked, “Can you see what he might be looking for?”

To Spirit’s horror, he saw the rest of the candles turn to the dark blue coloring. They flickered sporadically, almost putting themselves out.

“Omen, the candles!” Spirit tried to warn.

“I think he’s turning around, he’s still looking,” Omen continued, “I don’t know what he’s looking for. Gah!” He screamed, “He just looked in my direction! Sweet Celestia, he’s creepy! I’ll just adjust my position.”

Spirit saw Omen concentrate even harder, sweat was starting to drip from his forehead despite the room suddenly getting cold. Suddenly, Omen’s face grew frightened; he began quivering in his seat.

“He-he’s still looking at me!” Omen panicked, “I-I think he can see me!!” The candles simultaneously flickered out. Omen shrieked. Spirit immediately flicked on the lights and grabbed the feather. The cloth clung to it like a magnet. Omen fell to the ground and was trembling, crying out in pain as if something were attacking him. Spirit desperately tried to separate the cloth and feather; a thin strand of smoke flared from the tip to the cloth. Stevens bolted to Omen trying to calm him; he checked his pulse, it was erratic like someone was zapping him with electricity. Omen screamed at the top of his lungs.

Stevens levitated a blank parchment and frantically jotted down a distress message. With a flick of his horn the page erupted into green flame, the smoke message fled out the door and towards it’s destination.

Spirit strained to pry the two items apart, he poured all his magical energy into pulling, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Come on! Give it up!” He huffed, “Just let go of him already you son of a manticore!”

A shock of energy suddenly cut off his magic, Spirit growled and grabbed a candle.

“You want to play dirty, then I will too!” He shouted at the cloth. Lighting the candle, he held the cloth end to it and it immediately caught flame. The cold of the room vanished, and the feather and fabric drifted apart; the scrap completely engulfed in fire.

Omen stopped moving, Stevens checked his vitals and sighed in relief.

“He’s alive, probably fainted from shock,” Stevens reasoned, “How did you think to do that?”

“What? The candle? I guess you could call it instinct,” Spirit answered.

“Fascinating, remind me to ask you about that later when we don’t have a crisis on our hooves.”

At that moment the doors burst open and a flood of personnel came through. They had medical supplies and a stretcher. Loading Omen into the stretcher, Stevens stood and grabbed his notes. Nonchalantly he straightened out his coat and mane. Stevens started to follow the entourage of personnel, he quickly turned back to Spirit.

“Right, uh, someone is going to have to tell Pensive about this. I’m obviously tied up at the moment, so could you take these to her?” He asked as he levitated the papers to Spirit, “Oh, and could you break the news about what happened to Omen gently? You know how she gets when one of her own gets hurt.”

“No problem,” Spirit begrudgingly agreed, “Just go.”

“Right, well then let’s make sure Omen doesn’t die today,” He told himself, “Just a normal day at the office.” With that, he raced down the hallway to catch up to the other medics.

All by himself, Spirit just rubbed his forehead in an attempt to rid himself of his headache.

“Just another day at the office.”