St. Mary's Hospital ~ Room 13

St. Mary's Hospital, Arkham Mass., March 7, 1928, 7:00pm – Day 2

The evening sky was a dark purple as the last rays of light from the setting sun faded over Arkham. It had been an eventful, and almost tragic day, for the group of investigators that had ventured from Miskatonic University to Professor John Wenton's house earlier. The evidence found at Wenton's - the dismembered body of Mrs. Wenton, the four human hearts captured in glass mason jars, along with the attack on Dr. Moriarity and Spencer Lowry, followed by a brief gun battle between Wenton himself and Filip Latinovicz which ended in the near death of Wenton's unassuming old neighbor and Wenton's escape - all pointed to Wenton as the prime suspect in the mysterious rash of killings plaguing Arkham. Was Wenton responsible? Was there an accomplice, someone in league with Wenton's maniacal designs? What could have driven him to do such unspeakable horrors?

Dr. Moriarity and Spencer Lowry, along with the wounded old neighbor, had been rushed to St. Mary's hospital shortly after their run-in with Wenton. Lowry had been shot through the shoulder, while Moriarity had suffered a grievous injury to his side courtesy of a knife wielded by the deranged professor. The old neighbor barely made it, but thanks to the fast acting on Dr. Moriarity's part, he reached the hospital with just enough life left in him for Dr. Lindhal to save. The old man would live, though it would be weeks, maybe months, before he would eat solid food again and breath without the assistance of tubes.

The two men, Lowry and Moriarity, recovered from their minor surgeries in Room 13, on the first floor. Both were awake and cognizant, a little worse for wear and tear. The pain medications had been thorough, but both men could feel the dull throbbing of their wounds. It would be a couple of days before Lowry would be able to use his arm fully, and Moriarity would feel as if he were breathing fire with every breath from the puncture on his side.

After gathering whatever clues they could and finally wrapping up the investigation of the Wenton house, Officer Murphy sealed the site up for further police review and the investigators took their leave. A single marked car would remain behind on the off chance that Wenton returned to the scene. There was much to discern from what was learned at Wenton's and it was decided that they would need to visit the others at the hospital in order to bring all the facts to light.

The investigators, Agents Callahan and Hammerstein, Filip Latinovicz, Professors Jeter and Valentine and the newest addition to the party, Dr. Bohumil Jelinek, who had been of some assistance back at the Orne Library, had arrived at St. Mary's while their colleagues were being tended to. Some hours later, a nurse approached the men sitting in the a small alcove off from the main waiting room and addressed them, "You may see them now. They're in Room 13, right this way." The nurse turned and ushered the group to the appropriate door and opened it. She spoke one last time before returning to her duties, "Visiting hours will be over shortly, but these men won't need to stay the night."

Moriarity hated being on the other side of the doctor-patient relationship. He was a man used to having the answers, being the sage physician caring for the sick and wounded. The sheets were over-starched, the pillow case was scratchy, there was too much light from the windows and what was that smell? His senses had learned to ignore the disinfectants that were so popular these days, though he wondered now at the wisdom of leaving patients inhaling their toxic fumes while the medical staff were able to escape the rooms to their other duties.

"Mm," he grunted as a whistle of hot pain reminded him that he was a patient indeed. As was the habit of all wounded patients, he lifted his sheets and looked grimly at his bandages. They were wrapped thickly enough that even if he could breathe, he wouldn't have been able to expand his lungs very far. Did the idiots think that they could compress internal bleeding?

With an effort, he sat up a bit, propped his pillow against the headboard and began to grunt his way to a sitting position. Once there, he found his journal and his fountain pen and flipped it open to the pages he had scribbled down last night. A steaming cup of hot coffee was his only salve against the humiliations of being a patient and he smelled it's harsh aroma before gingerly taking a sip. The hot liquid coursing down his esophagus, he felt a wry smile play his lips.

"Well, Lowry, I can't help but think we got off lucky," he said. "Thanks again for coming to my rescue. I'll try to be more careful with elderly archaeology professors in the future."

Jeter walked into the room with the others. He looked grimly at the two patients, letting his visage settle more firmly upon Moriarity. He studied the doctor for a moment, seeming as though looking for something. After a moment of the this perusal, he broke his own silence.

"Is everything alright now?" he asked, never much of one for effacing condolence in a proper manner, but there was sincerity in his voice, "If you are up to it, I presume we have much to discuss regarding not only what happened, but we all have discovered."

Joe strolled in after Jeter and, waiting till after the Nurse had left, struck up a cigarette and inhaled a lungful. He offered the pack to the others. "Never been that comfortable in the sick ward, more so if they don't let me grab a smoke"

He leant against a wall as the others entered. "Dunno what the local boys have mentioned but we looks like Wenton is our local nutjob" he said and proceeded to fill them in on what they had discovered at the house after they had left.

Pulling out the map he had found he laid it out on one of the small tables and pointed out the sites that dead bodies had been found at. "We got this from his place as well. Some of the bodies are already down, but look like there are some more places he may be planning on trying."

Moriarity quickly forgot his various discomforts as he listened with interest from under a skeptical furrow of his brow. Still, much seemed to have been explained.

"There must be an accomplice," he said trying to convince himself. "The man we struggled against compared to Tarski's wielded a very different sort of weapon and did not appear at all like Wenton. Filip, you were at both places. Do you think they looked at all alike?"

Moriarity looked at the map and indeed, there seemed to be more than coincidental overlap with the places where hearts had been taken. Sacrifices? His mind tried to see a pattern in it all. Could Wenton be trying to 'summon' a monster or something? [occult: 30%]. Did the pattern develop into some sort of circle or pentagram or some other pattern?

"We have to remember that some murders may have been performed with a purpose other than some grand design. His wife and Tarski may have been murders performed for a separate reason than where the other markings are. I presume you've alerted the police to have detectives standing by at these places?" he hummed at Callahan.

Back at the hospital again. Artemis thought to himself, looking around at the stark, clinical environment. He was still vaguely smiling, but beneath it he wasn’t particularly comfortable. He’d never been to hospital before for a happy reason, after all.

As the rest of the group headed into the ward and started to engage in conversation with their two injured members, Artemis just hung around towards the back of the gathering. He stayed silent for the time being and listened, taking on board the information the others were sharing.

When Joe lit up the cigarette, Artemis tried to discreetly cover his nose and mouth with a hand, as he stifled a cough brought on by the smoke. His eyes flicked briefly over towards the window in the room, but he made no move to go and open it. He wasn’t even sure if it did open, and he was fairly certain that filling the hospital with the cold evening air would be frowned upon by the nurses.

"Well, Lowry, I can't help but think we got off lucky," he said. "Thanks again for coming to my rescue. I'll try to be more careful with elderly archeology professors in the future."

Trying to laugh made his shoulder hurt so Spence just smiled at the good doctor and nodded. It was an eventful day wasn't it?

Spence then gratefully took a Cigarette from Joe with a thankful look in his eye, lit up and took a deep drag.

I will tell you this boys, I sure would like to know what happened at that dig site Wenton just returned from...I'd say something really weird got to him, some kinda possession or other bit of evil. What have you guys uncovered? Anything useful at the library? There seemed to be a strange presence in that house something even more deadly than Wenton perhaps.

Dr. Jelinek walked over to the bedside of the two wounded investigators and presented his hand to each of them. "We did not have the opportunity of meeting before, since at the time of my arrival you were both grievously wounded. I am Dr. Bohumil Jelinek, Professor of Old Testament Studies at Charles University in Prague. I am here on sabbatical conducting research into biblical folklore and I ran into your colleagues Drs. Jeter and Valentine in the library. When I found out they were investigating Dr. Tarksi's unfortunate demise, I offered them my help, since Dr. Tarksi and I were formerly colleagues. In fact, I was supposed to meet him to discuss a volume that had come into his possession that he thought might interest me, since it was written by a fellow Jesuit. Unfortunately, the meeting never came to pass and I never got to see Tarksi again. And so here I am. I hope that I will be able to assist you and your fellows in your attempts to get to the heart of Tarksi's murder. However, first you must both get well and I wish you luck and a speedy convalescence."

Jelinek paused by the bedside for the exchange of introductions, and then joined Dr. Valentine towards the back of the group, not wishing to crowd the wounded investigators.

"Pleasure Jelinek," Moriarity responded and also nodded to young Artemis. "I agree with Spencer, let's see where we're at in this. What have you all found at the library and at Wenton's house? This map is intriguing but perhaps we should put it together with everything else we have. If he's going to attempt another murder to...complete his work, then we may need to join some of the stakeouts."

Indeed Dr. Jelinek a pleasure sir, Spence said as he took another drag of his cigarette trying his best to keep the smoke from building up in the room lest they be caught by the nurses.

Conrad stood quietly just inside the entrance to the hospital room, feeling somewhat the outsider as he had little personal connection with the victims. He found himself twisting his cane absent mindedly in his hand as he recalled the locations on the map and tried to recall any significance the pattern may have had and to determine which location might be scene of thier next murder.

Although he usually tried to present himself with an air of distinction, gaterings of this sort always made him feel uncomfortable and out of place. He knew that proper ettique dictated he say something at this time, however...

Conrad smiled to himself as he smelled Callahan's cigarette. Glad for the refreshing smell that was masking those of the disinfectants. Cigarettes were often tolerated more than cigars, and he knew from experience that nurses and cigars tpically don't mix.

''I am all for a stakeout, if anyone can determine from the map the most likely location. However if Wenton is truly posessed, I don't recommend splitting any more than we have to. When it comes to the paranormal, numbers are our key advantage. I dare say it is the only reason some of are alive right now.''

"We have to remember that some murders may have been performed with a purpose other than some grand design. His wife and Tarski may have been murders performed for a separate reason than where the other markings are. I presume you've alerted the police to have detectives standing by at these places?" he hummed at Callahan.

Joe shook his head "Too many at the moment. I can't cover all of 'em with what we got on the ground"

However if Wenton is truly posessed, I don't recommend splitting any more than we have to. When it comes to the paranormal, numbers are our key advantage.

"I'll agree with you on not splitting if'n we can avoid it. As for advantages I'd call for firepower and the local reserves myself." he shook his head "The guys a kook. We got ta assume he ain't gonna shift from his pattern much if he can avoid it." He stabbed a finger at the map. "Last death was the Panther club and he had a match book from the place. The deaths we got so far are bunched in a nearby pairs" he glanced up at Moriarty "Assuming the landlord's death was linked to Tarksi's that is. So that is on our list of stake outs"

He shifted his finger across the map to another cross "The bus station, far side of the river. Wenton appears to be working across the town. If it holds then he'll be over here at some point soon." Joe leant back against the wall "I reckon I can call in some friends to keep an eye on the panther club if we need to. Frees us for the station. Less anyone wants to watch the club while I get some boys on the station?"

Moriarity found himself gingerly moving himself out of the bed. "Yes, yes, but there's something you folks aren't telling us. You made a big deal about the knife or dagger. What was that about? What's the Aztec connection? What'd you find in that damn spanish tome? If he hit Tarski to get it then went back for it and killed the old man, it must be pretty damn important! What else did you find at Wenton's? Was there anything else than this map or was that it?"

Jeter looked around at them all, noting that it seemed the pleasantries, such as they were, had been completed.

"I shall attempt to sum up," Jeter said, "The tome tells of a member of the Spanish clergy who accompanied conquistadors during their travels through the lands of the Aztecs. There was a particularly nasty tribe isolated from most of the other 'civilization'. They were accused of more horrific worships and sacrifices than the normal Aztec religious celebrations. It seems all of this centered about a knife, which seemed to be of ancient Egyptian origin, begging the question as to how it got in the hands of some Aztec primitives. This knife was wielded by whomever was in power, and it seems the knife craved just that. Perhaps it was seen as some conduit to their dark god, but it brought about murder in the heart of its owner and covetousness in this within its aura that did not possess it.'

"I believe Wenton found this knife, and it has now been used against our good Dr. Moriarity."

So, does it follow gentlemen that if we were somehow able to disarm the soul that wields this knife from hell that this may become more of a rescue mission than a manhunt? Is it possible that once the blade is cast aside that the troubled mind would return to it's senses? And I dare say let's be sure none of us pick up this cursed thing or attempt to touch it at all.