He could hear the soft lull of the black waters caressing the grey sand gently, it's a deceptively soothing sound for in a moment the sand will be gone, drowned for the evening in high tide. He looked ahead, up from the monochrome beach to the old building atop the cliff. It should be abandoned, it looks derelict favouring the Dutch Colonial style, it could even be from that era, he's unsure.

He tensed seeing a figure at the window, a pale palm pressed against the smoky glass, it's almost a cliché. He tried to stumble up to it but suddenly his feet felt weighed down. He looked down to see the tide's come quicker than anticipated and he's already knee deep in salt water only it's thick and black like oil.

Eyes up again and the window is right in front of him and it's like he's peering through a tank at a strange exhibit. A young woman is glaring back at him, violet-blue eyes fierce and accusing. The water's at his chin now and she's clutching her head with both hands, screaming and twitching as bolts of electricity seem to dance around her skull. He's drowning now while her brain is frying.

John Myers awoke with a gasp for air that almost sounded like a scream, almost. Disoriented, he sat upright for a moment, just staring blankly ahead as he reached his right hand up to wipe some of the sweat from his brow. He sucked in a deep breath and turned to the right, glimpsing the green digital numbers on his clock- 04:15. He swallowed down a curse, it was too early to just get up but he knew he couldn't get back to sleep. He shook his head as if his nightmare was something to be physically dislodged before he pushed his crumpled duvet back and swung his legs round. He winced as his bare feet hit the cold, wooden floor before he stood up.

He could hear the traffic humming from outside and felt a small hint of pleasure in the knowledge that other people were awake at this unnatural hour. He moved to his window, parting the thin, yellowing curtains to peer out the cold, thin pane. The sky was brown, tainted with smog and light pollution, and below the roads gleamed slick with damp like oil. John withdrew from the window with a shudder as it conjured his nightmare all too quickly. A sea that had turned to oil and tried to drown him, he shook his head once more in an attempt to banish the image.

He rubbed at the sleep in the corners of his eyes with one hand before crossing the small room with a few heavy, laborious steps, his feet refusing to adjust to the coldness of the floor. His apartment was basic, it was close to his place of work, it offered him shelter, the rent was decent and no one bothered him here. In fact no one visited him here at all, not even a single co-worker. John frowned at that thought as he finally dropped his hand from the corners of his bloodshot blue eyes and reached for the door handle.

His work phone rang then, offering a welcome distraction. At the shrill ringtone he moved hastily back to his bedside, snatching the black mobile up from the wooden cabinet at his bed. He glanced at the number briefly, withheld, and flipped open the phone. "Agent Myers," he greeted calmly.

"Myers you got work to do," the steely voice of Agent Marble greeted him bluntly.

"Where?" Myers queried calmly.

"Outskirts of town, the recently closed Hotel Briarmarsh, some company was hosting a private function there and things have gotten weird."

"How weird?" Myers retorted as he balanced his phone with his chin and shoulder whilst moving to his underwear drawer.

"Well it isn't your regular Wednesday morning put it that way," came the dry retort. "Just get your shit in gear and meet us there in thirty minutes, I'll be bringing the guys."

"Both of them?" Myers queried in surprise.

"Blue and Red, Manning's orders," Marble replied brusquely. "See you there." He hung up the phone leaving Myers to wonder at the gravity of the situation if it required two of the Bureau's best agents.

John hastened to dress in a plain but practical suit, taking care to check that his Heckler and Koch USP Compact was fully loaded. Satisfied with his gun, though he was beginning to think that in most situations it was as useful as a limp fish, he finally headed out of his apartment.

John followed his SAT Nav's directions with little difficulty. As it was early in the morning though there was traffic it was light and there was no rain, just a few puddles. When he left the city things became a little trickier as the roads were less travelled and his tyres squealed over a few mud traps and concealed rocks whilst his SAT Nav ordered him down non-existent turns and into dead ends. After several curses he finally reached the hotel, albeit he was ten minutes later than agreed.

The hotel sat off the main road and up a long and winding road, sitting amongst long, wild grass and trees now bare as autumn began to drift into winter, looking black and dead in the darkness. The building itself was even less appealing- grand and gothic, following the popular Gothic Revial style, it was every horror seeker's wet dream. The former hotel was four floors tall with finials at its roof, lancet windows on the ground floor and tall, iron gates to guard its entry with stone walls on either side, now half-crumbled with ivy crawling through them. The gates were open and as John drove up to the property he could see the oddly placed Waste Management truck at its entrance along with several other cars. Two large, stone pots stood at either side of the steps leading up to the grand, wooden and glass doors, though their flowers had died long ago leaving only straggly weeds sagging in the soil.

John stepped out of his car, locked it and hastened up the steps to the wooden doors, pressing down the handle of the right one hastily and pushing it in. He half-expected it to give an ominous creak and was a little disappointed when it didn't. As he entered the gloomy lobby he felt a prickle of unease rush through him as the temperature plummeted and he found his breath misting before him.

He tugged out his H&K gun hastily, holding it up slightly as he clicked the safety off and scanned the area. He made out a faint trace of light beneath a door to the left and hurried that way. He paused when he reached it, feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand up as he heard oddly muffled voices coming from behind the door. He leaned against it slightly trying to make them out but it was difficult.

"Yesterday upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there."

John felt his chest tighten slightly at the female voice he heard faintly chanting through the door. He knew those words; he had heard them before a long time ago, murmured over and over by a young, half-mad girl. It was a poem, not a popular one he thought, but one that almost seemed sinister. There was a creak from behind him and he found himself turning slowly as the voice continued.

"He wasn't there again today. I wish, I wish he'd go away."

John's warm blue eyes widened in a moment of horror as they spied the silhouette of something standing on the wide staircase near the bottom, perfectly still as if a statue. If it were not right in the middle of the staircase and its clothes seem to ripple in a wind John couldn't feel he might have even thought it an odd decoration.

"When I came home last night at three," the disembodied voice continued from behind the door, still soft, almost like a whisper. As it spoke John saw the form move as if it too could hear the voice, it seemed to turn its head slowly as if seeking out the source of the poem.

John felt his blood run cold as he knew suddenly that he did not want to see the thing's face. "The man was waiting there for me."

A withered, grey face looked upon John with reddish eyes sunken in it as if the skin were rubber. Its black lips parted and a loud, wild shriek erupted from it before it moved. It seemed to come through the banisters, arms outstretched and reaching for him with long, yellowing claws attached to rotted, skeletal hands.

BANG! BANG! John didn't think he just reacted.

The door behind the agent opened up suddenly, spilling golden light into the lobby before a strong, heavy hand grasped at his right shoulder and pulled him back. As he was pulled John let out a betraying scream of alarm.

"Damn Myers you're a natural at subtle entrances," he heard a familiar voice tease.

John relaxed only slightly, his blue eyes remaining wide and focused on the now deceptively empty lobby. "I saw something," he muttered nervously.

"Yeah, yeah, you and all the other nuts in here."

The hand finally slipped off the agent's shoulder allowing him to turn and face the small gathering. He paled at the sight of three corpses on the floor, their innards on display as their blood dried slowly on the floorboards. His stare flickered up to the pallid faces of three women and four men, all in high society fashion mimicking the 1920s' flapper and gangster style. One man and one woman were both stained in spatters of blood; another had her beaded dress slashed in two places and bore visible wounds akin to claw marks while a man had bruises all over his face. Behind them was writing on the wall in blood that still trickled down it. The blood read- I AM HERE.

"Um...what happened?" John queried sheepishly as he continued to gape at the scene. Scattered beads and pearls littered the floor along with shattered glasses, spilt champagne and whiskey, torn scarves, and bloodstained books and cushions. His blue stare finally settled on an object resting beside the upturned coffee table and he shook his head with a sigh. "Really?" He looked up at the male who had yanked him into the room. "Someone trying to contact your relatives?" he queried mockingly, feeling a flush of relief with his remark as he finally calmed his nerves.

"Ha, ha Myers," came the dry retort. The speaker was hard to miss, at over six feet tall he was all muscle and despite the black top, leather pants and brown trenchcoat his carmine skin was easy to spot. Equally his black sideburns and stubble couldn't take away from the prominent horns stubs atop his head.

"They were trying to play a game," a woman spoke up coldly as she frowned over at the quivering group. "All part of the party tricks," she added as she folded her arms.

John resisted looking her in the eye, it still hurt to be in her company and worst of all she didn't seem all that aware of it. Elizabeth 'Liz' Sherman was one of the more normal looking members of the Bureau, offering a deceptive appearance of a young, fragile and dull but pretty, dark haired, pale woman. As John had soon learned she was anything but. He wished Agent Marble had given him warning that Liz would be at the hotel too but he supposed it wasn't like Marble knew or cared about John's complicated feelings with regards to Liz.

"Party tricks?" John repeated. "Does anyone want to get me up to speed here?"

The demonic looking male, known as Hellboy to the public who were meant to think him a myth and Red or HB to the few friends he had, was now glancing out into the lobby suspiciously.

"They all work for Jaden Tech Industries," Liz explained, "and this private function was a work do to celebrate the firm's latest takeover of Sirius Produce, you know, the not so secretive weapons company. Anyway, some people thought playing with an Ouija board might add to the fun, now three of them are dead, as you can see, seven are with us, and ten are missing."

"Ten?" John echoed with a frown.

"Yeah, Abe, Marble and the other agents are trying to find them now," Liz explained, "but it's a big place."

"I noticed," John murmured dryly. "So what exactly did all this?" He gestured to the bodies with one hand.

One of the women let out a whimper at his words whilst a man crossed himself and murmured a prayer.

"They said it was a demon until they saw me," Hellboy piped up dryly, "now they're not so sure."

"And what's the plan?" John quipped, happy to be passive whilst contemplating what he had encountered in the lobby.

"The usual, you shoot pointlessly at things to feel useful, I shoot at them properly, Abe offers some psychic stuff and Liz burns things, then we all go home happy," Hellboy retorted calmly.

"Okay, but are we waiting here or-" Several gunshots and yells cut off Agent Myers.

They all looked out the open doorway fearfully; the women and men clutching at one another as they heard some hissing and words that came in a voice deep and demonic. Without warning every door in the building started banging open and shut violently and claw marks appeared down the walls, conjured by an invisible source.

"I don't like this," Liz muttered. She clenched her right fist tightly to banish the small, blue flame that sprouted in her palm.

There was another yell and then a loud banging noise as someone or something came tumbling down the stairs. When the figure reached the bottom, rolling onto the lobby, the entire building fell still and silent once more. John swallowed down a curse as he took in the crumpled form; he recognised the trademark black jacket, trousers and white shirt, though the shirt was now in bloody tatters, it was an agent. Judging by the buzz cut of fuzzy blonde it was Agent Brick.

Hellboy hurried to the form without hesitation. Not so long ago he had been careless with the agents by his side and they had become cannon fodder, cut down one by one by Nazis and a demonic hellhound called Sammael. When one who he had dared to count as a friend had fallen too, stabbed mercilessly by the Nazi agent known as Kroenen, Hellboy had made a private vow to try and take better care with the men risking their lives at his side. Sure Agent Clay had pulled through in the end despite the odds but the man had never quite been the same. So Hellboy moved into potential danger even though he knew it was highly likely that Agent Brick was beyond help at this point he still had to try.

"Red!" Liz shouted out in horror as Hellboy's large form was suddenly lifted into the air by an unseen force. She rushed to help as blue flames charged up both her arms and found herself forcibly flung across the lobby to slam hard into a wall.

John followed with his gun raised, ready to make a valiant effort but he couldn't see their foe.

BANG! John let out a shot and a yell as a form appeared in front of him without warning. It was the rotted, greenish corpse of a man, grinning with a gaping hole for a mouth, and one eye hanging by a limp, damp strand of skin in a large socket. The form reeled back with a hiss as the bullet whizzed through its skull.

"We're dealing with the undead!" the voice of Abe Sapien called from the top of the staircase. "I can't get a read on them, it's too confusing!"

"Very helpful," Hellboy retorted sardonically as he turned and twisted about trying and failing to wrestle the invisible form that had him in its grasp.

Liz out a scream of anger as she stood before sending a flurry of flames at the corpse that hissed at John. John raised one arm to shield his eyes from the fire before he felt something shatter against his limb. As he lowered his arm with a wince he found himself stepping in the shards of a broken vase.

There were several screams from behind and John turned in time to see a creature not from this world tearing one of the men to shreds. It worried at him with long, black claws, ripping his skin out at the chest like ribbons before it reached the meat. It tore out the man's intestines with ease before discarding them to one side.

BANG! BANG! John shot at the creature vainly. He paled when it halted and turned its spiked, black head in his direction revealing six sets of yellow eyes, all filled with malice for him. In that moment the agent thought that his time was up at last. It was a familiar and repetitive thought now, the kind one got used to when in the Bureau but right now he wondered if maybe this time the sands in his hourglass really had run out.

The creature was charging at him, bloody claws out and at the ready when it froze. There was a voice chanting from behind John, the same voice that had recited the eerie poem earlier, he was certain of it. It was saying something in a language he didn't understand but whatever it was, it was having an effect on the creature.

"Destroy the board!" the woman's voice snapped out from behind as she finished her chanting.

A woman in the room looked at the Ouija board like it was a snake before she dared to step towards it. It was a fatal move as she found herself mercilessly snatched by another unseen form and her head slammed up and down into a chest of drawers. Over and over her skull was pounded into the wood until her screams ceased and her face was just a pulp of blood and mashed flesh. John swallowed down a mouthful of vomit at the sight.

A ball of blue fire whizzed past John's left side into the room, successfully hitting the Ouija board. The demonic black creature let out a howl of agony as the board went up in flames. The entire building shook then and every window shattered.

Hellboy found himself dropped to the floor unceremoniously with a loud thud followed by the iron and crystal chandelier than landed just inches from him. He hastened to his feet in time to see the woman behind John with her arms extended up and out and her brown hair whipping about in a frenzy as she yelled at something he couldn't see.

"You're ashes and dust now! Go back to the dead, the living do not want you!" she snapped angrily.

The lights flickered out save for the blue flames dancing around Liz and the house continued to tremble violently.

"Your time is over here!" the woman yelled. "Back to the other side!"

John watched as the black creature turned to ashes as did the Ouija board. At last the hotel fell still. John remained tense for a moment, ready for yet another scare, sagging only when Hellboy's voice called out.

"I think it's time to go," Hellboy said calmly, "before this place collapses."

No one needed told twice and they all hurried out to gather in a frightened and bedraggled state before the hotel. Agent Marble and Abe Sapien emerged last, following the five of the missing ten that they had managed to find. The agents did a head count before grimly adding up the number of bodies to make sure no one was missing, Agent Brick was the only fatality on their side whilst nine of the twenty party guests were left unable to check out of the former hotel. The skeleton staff hired for the evening were all accounted for, though some bore grave injuries.

As Agent Marble took charge of the civilians and lesser agents, calling for ambulances and back up, Abe, Liz, and Hellboy rounded on the newcomer. Only when Hellboy queried bluntly, "who and what the hell are you?" did John look her way also.

The male agent turned an odd shade of grey as he took her form in, and there he had thought his surprises over for the morning. For a moment he was unsure, eyeing her like she was another ghost and blinking hard as if hopeful that her form would dissipate. He thought of all the things that made him try to convince himself that it wasn't her, that it couldn't be but one look of those hostile violet-blue eyes and he knew he was wrong. "Embry?" he said the name softly as if he didn't want anyone to hear it, not even her.

She had thick rivets of blood pouring out of both nostrils, her chin and neck were already crimson with it and yet she made no effort to stop it. Her eyes were bloodshot with heavy, dark bags under them and there was a tremble in her hands she couldn't seem to suppress. The violet-blue eyes, fair skin and dark hair John remembered. The slight curved tip to her nose, the faint scarring at her neck, and the vaguely pointed ears he recalled too but the clothes weren't her and she hadn't been so tall last time and she had been bonier, though he couldn't be unhappy to see her better filled out.

"Yes John," she answered frostily as she folded her arms and frowned at him.

"Wait, you know him?" Hellboy quipped as he jerked a red thumb in John's direction. "He doesn't know anyone unusual outside the Bureau."

"Know me?" she murmured, still hostile. "No he doesn't know me, he has never known me."

Liz looked over at John curiously, seeing the raw pain that filled his face at the stranger's words she knew that he didn't just know the woman but that he had to know her on a personal level. "Myers?" she queried calmly, waiting for him to explain.

John's blue stare flickered over at the mention of his name and he immediately regretted it as he caught Liz's probing, almost sympathetic stare. He swallowed hard as he tore his gaze from her and found it once more upon the new arrival. He tried to guess how long it had been, how old she might be now but he couldn't, he had made too much of an effort to force those memories deep inside him. "Why are you here Embry?" he queried quietly.

"The dead draw me," she retorted bitterly, "you know, the dead I make up in my head? Or do you believe it now? I mean," she suddenly gestured outwards with both hands as her tone turned savage, "here you are in the company of Hellboy and you're not even flinching! You, who called me crazy and forgot me to the madhouse, are suddenly in the company of a demon man and a woman who can conjure fire!" She gave Liz an unpleasant look then and noticeably took a step away from her before continuing her verbal barrage. "Let me guess though, you still think I'm a lunatic, right John?"

"This is getting awkward," Abe piped up as he looked at the woman ambiguously, keeping his emotions guarded as he usually did.

"No it's getting interesting," Hellboy mused as he watched the woman and John like they were part of a t.v drama.

"I..." John didn't even know where to begin, so many questions were buzzing through his mind but he couldn't settle on one. "I'm sorry." The words slipped out of him in a blundering moment, his voice sounding weak, pathetic even.

The slap came instantly, her right hand striking off his cheek hard. Hellboy let out a low cheer of delight whilst Liz looked stunned. The woman's hand turned into an accusing point at John as he looked back at her with hurt but no surprise. "You're a lousy brother John," she snarled at him hatefully.