nick_garou | Sorry I can't end your torment yet, Crosby. But soon. Soon.

Tuesday morning, before sunup, I headed to Andy's Donuts to get a cinnamon twist, my thermos filled with coffee, and the morning paper. Then off to park the MR2 about a block away from Plasticorp's main gate while I waited for the workers to show up. A stake-out, just like when I was a cop working my way up towards detective. As the workers started showing up, I started scanning them. The work force looks clean, but security (all five of them) appears to be mildly contaminated. Also, two guys in suits looked pretty off: One was a blond guy that I'd never seen before and the other I recognized from my earlier website research of the company as Plasticorp's PR guy (Dan Perry). I skimmed a security guard's mind as he entered the keypad access code: 12684. Piece of cake. I was out of there in under an hour. No sign of Patricia Wellsworth, the CEO and a candidate for Gov. of Washington State. I'm really, really, really hoping such a high-profile figure is not involved. Not only because it would help minimize media attention, but because.... talk about destroying one's faith in politicians!

Afterwards, I dropped by Athena Library. I thought I'd recalled seeing a book there about places of power and, on an off chance, I thought I might browse it to see if there was anything that might be of use in rending a place of power dormant. (I'm still scratching my head as to why Mouse asked me if I could put a caern to sleep. The local garou must be getting really desperate.) I didn't find anything of use in the book, but noticed they'd added a couple new books to their "occultish" section, so I browsed a bit. This big guy tools in, starts looking at a book on local relics and legends, and we struck up a conversation. He's a treasure hunter/adventurer. I gave him my card, in the event he found anything and needed someone to sell it for him, but told him I doubted there was anything of merit in the area other than Indian pots and lithics. He said he was here working a commission for a client. Then, as we were getting ready to split, he said his name was Karuvar. (Crap-cakes! It's the tiger-shifter! God DAMN it, Entropy! Quit fucking with me!) He didn't seem to have tailed me there, and he didn't tail me as I left. Cleverly, as I departed, I mentioned that I didn't resell stolen relics. Foot? Meet my mouth. Good god, I hope he doesn't piece things together. I need to give Val a head's up on that one in case he asks. Sheesh, Nick. Where's your head?

Took a much-needed nap for the rest of the day, then got stirring again after dark. One last thing I wanted to do: dreamwalk H. Crosby--the woman gunned down in that driveby several weeks ago outside of Slaughterhouse Five--at the hospital to see if she knew what had happened prior to her being shot and on the night when the hospital was broken into, shortly after her admittance. I was nervous. I'd never dreamwalked a person before, and I suspected Crosby might have an "interesting" mind. Seeing as she works (worked?) for a local conspiracy theorist rag of a paper, I suspected her mind might be a little on the paranoid side. I went to the hospital's waiting room, pulled up a newspaper to make myself look inconspicuous, and let my consciousness enter hers. (Ugh. Is this akin to brain rape?) I tried to be as non-invasive as possible, just nudging her dreams rather than forcing information out of her. The last thing this woman needs is more trauma. It felt like there was a constant presence watching me from the corner of my eyes and from the dark dream-shadows I couldn't see into. Crosby's fear-induced dreams welled up and seemed to be trying to suck me in, so I crafted a protective mental barrier to shield myself from the emotion. I was the eye of her hurricane nightmare. I didn't really learn anything about the shooting or the night the hospital was broken into, although there seemed to be a transition from normal dream to her current nightmare state--maybe the origin of her current mental state. As I hadn't seen anything really resembling "normal" in her current dreams, I figured it might be worth taking a look into the past. I ended the dreamwalk. No one was paying me any attention in the lobby. I started a new effect.

A little Correspondence woven together with some Time; a known date, known time, and known location; and I watched as the hospital break-in occurred. The doors were wrenched open after five tries. (Strong, but perhaps not as strong as a garou in the war-wolf form.) I saw a few figures, but one was definitely not entirely human (didn't recognize it) and the other was the blond guy in a suit I'd seen earlier at Plasticorp. Link: CONFIRMED. Crap. Then Blond-suit's skin /melted/ like microwaved butter, and he turned into a woman wearing a physician's attire. Double crap. He successfully impersonated the doctor, went up to Crosby's room, whispered "Fear" into her ear--accompanied with a magical effect that seemed to have a mix of Spirit, negative Entropy, and Mind to it. I studied it, and I think I can undo it fairly easily. I ended the magical effect, packed up--with the feeling that I was being watched/hunted screaming in the back of my mind--and beat feet. I debated freeing Crosby's mind before I left, but I'm afraid that might tip off Plasticorp and get her killed. Plus, she's not well enough to leave yet. It hurt leaving her like that, knowing I could help her so easily.

I did a couple detours and doubling back to make sure there were no tails. I fully realized my concern about being followed/stalked might have been a holdover from Crosby's mind and the curse that Blond Suit placed on her, but it never hurts to be careful, right? I got onto the houseboat, checked it from top to bottom to make sure it was clear, cast off, and dropped anchor in a cove where anyone who wanted to get on my boat would have to swim or have their own boat (or fly). Tried to sleep, but fucked up dreams. Seriously fucked up, paranoia-themed dreams. Hungry wolves chasing me, hunting me, going to eat me. Ravens betraying my position when I tried to hide. Running. Heart pounding in my chest. Hot breath on my back. Teeth at my heels. Yellow eyes watching. I woke up drenched in sweat. I knew I couldn't go back to bed: there's no rest for me there. I'm exhausted, but sleep isn't worth the torment.