West Park Asylum

From the dock of Raven’s Hold, Grace watches the tiny ship capsize and its riders get sucked beneath the gentle waves. A faint shimmer around the edge of the island tells her that something is going on beyond her senses. Sipping at a margarita, she fixes her glasses and lets this brief moment of calm wash over her. When the mysterious haze around her surroundings has evaporated, Grace places her drink on the ground and watches the sun quickly get back into its proper position.

A bobbing object catches her attention as it nears the island at a suspicious rate. Carried on a strong current, the waterlogged purse is tossed on the gentle waves until it hooks the top of the dock’s ladder. Grace tries to finish her drink, but the margarita turns salty and putrid in her mouth. Hurling the melting glass into the ocean, the blonde grabs the bag to search for anything that can identify the owner. Finding the leather wallet, she takes out the driver’s license and frowns at the familiar name. With a mild curse, the doctor rummages for her phone and casually dials the number for the front office.

“Send a staffer to the shore with a wheelchair,” Grace says while she watches the tide bring in pieces of the boat. A severed arm with teeth marks catches her attention, but she ignores it when she sees it is part of a male. “We’re going to have an unexpected guest. At least we didn’t know about her. I can only guess at how long he’s been waiting for this little toy. This does explain a few things that have happened recently. Look for a woman to wash up onshore and bring her to the basement. Her rebirth must be a top priority, so tell him not to play with his food for too long. I’ll visit after my rounds and another margarita. Things are going to get messy around here.”