Federal Bureau of Investigation
Department of Paranormal Agents and Operations
New York City
10/31/1924
Report by Special Agent Locke
Truthfully, I forgot what day it was. I was hard at work on my latest project, the Lycanthropy Thesis, a master document on all things Lycan written by yours truly, the world’s oldest living werewolf, for the future use of the Department. At approximately 6PM on Friday, October 31st, my partner, Special Agent Artmeis Strahm, burst into my office with a white slip of paper in his hand. He seemed to be trembling. With fear, I thought at first, but when he opened the paper, adjusting his glasses to read it, he grinned with boyish delight.
“We’re in, Hieronimo,” he said, stroking the waxed mustache over his lip. He marched around my desk to show me, “The office Halloween party.”
The slip of white paper, folded once in half, opened to a blank field with only black words written upon it,
“Dear Ms. Pearce,
I hereby extend an invitation to you and your subordinates to the office’s Halloween celebration at 7PM tonight. Costumes optional. — Assistant Director Spencer Morrigan.”
Addressed to our superior, Wilhelmina Pearce, Assistant Director of the Department of Paranormal Agents and Operations, from A.D Morrigan from upstairs, I was suspicious as to how Artemis got ahold of it.
“She gave it to me, of course,” Arty explained. “I just can’t believe we were invited. Can you? Pearce and Webber already agreed to go.”
“If you’re asking me to come, I respectfully decline. I trust you’ll have fun without me.”
“Well, I guess if that’s what you want…”
Behind Arty’s spectacles was a rare sadness only found when a boy loses his favorite toy. I couldn’t bear it. “Fine,” I sighed. “But for no more than an hour. I have work to do.”
I left my office shortly after 7PM, sure to find my colleagues upstairs. The Department’s facilities are situated on the basement level of the FBI field office in Astoria, New York. I already heard the commotion from above through the ceiling. Considering the top’s relative ambivalence to our work, an invitation was rather strange. Relations between the Assistant Directors were icy, anyone could see that, but A.D Morrigan, while a sour fellow, knew when to throw his troops a party.
The first floor of the office was where it was staged. It was far from the most lively of parties, especially compared with the ones that were no doubt being thrown at that very moment across the city, but lively enough to grate on my Lycan senses. To a mortal man, the chatter was nothing more than idle talk, but to me, it was a downpour. The men left their costumes at home, but plenty of secretaries modified their peacoats and headbands with spiderwebs or bat ears. My arrival earned no attention; it was as if I were a shadow. I parted my way through the crowd, working my way toward the refreshments table. I poured the pitcher of water into a champagne flute, drank it, then poured another. All the while, Webber carefully disguised her steps behind me, but there’s little anyone can hide from my ears.
“Boo!” she yelled.
Webber Westlake served as A.D. Pearce’s assistant and secretary as well as the Department’s publicist. She had exchanged her typical purple coat for a black one. A painted black nose and whiskers adorned her face with crafted paper ears for her headband. Artemis kept close, accompanying her all the while in his invisible form. Typical way for an invisible man to behave, but rude all the same. When he decloaked, he appeared in costume. A black sheet hung around his shoulders, cut into the shape of bat wings.
“A bat and cat,” I sighed.
Webber’s face, young and soft, turned downward, “You could at least pretend to be scared…”
“What’s scary is this racket.”
“Where’s your costume?” Arty asked.
“I’m dressed as an FBI agent. Now where's Pearce? I need to update her on my Thesis.”
If I wanted to, I could track her by the scent of brimstone that followed most practitioners of Magick, but she was the one who found me. When she appeared from the crowd, I wondered how I hadn’t seen her before. She wore her typical outfit, a white dress shirt with silky red tie with two tails and black pants and red shoes, but tonight let her pale blonde hair down as she wore a wide-brimmed witch hat. She placed her hands on her hips, looking at me with her cold lilac eyes.
“Forget work for just one night, Hieronimo. We should better our relationship with our upstairs neighbors by engaging in this party with them.”
“I Just can’t believe we were invited,” Webber said, collapsing her hands together in delight.”
“Then let’s get back to it,” Arty said.
They both returned to the floor to mingle, Pearce joining me at the refreshments table. She poured herself a glass of water, and with a tap of her finger, made it bubbly.
“Take that out of your closet?” I couldn’t help myself.
“I found it.”
It wasn’t long before I grew bored and tired. The noise of the crowd made my head pound, and no one was much interested in talking to the monsters downstairs. It tured out that my Lycanthropy Thesis was the antithesis of a conversation starter. But when I thought of how disappointed Artemis might be if I left, I decided to remain.
At approximately 8PM, a cat fell through the roof. A panel in the ceiling buckled under the weight of black cat, the feline landing perfectly upon its feet. The entire floor turned to watch the panel crash against the floor in a sea of murmurs and gasps. The incident occurred only a few feet from the front entryway, giving me a clear view from the refreshment table. I quickly and correctly identified the cat as “Blinky,” a neighborhood stray that had become the subject of one of the Department’s cases. (Webber was also known to feed Blinky when he climbed up her fire escape.)
“Catch that cat!” I yelled without hesitation.
None of the topside agents were willing to touch Blinky, but Webber and I had already rushed to his side. When Webber bent down to grab him, he did his thing; he multiplied. With a little bit of pressure, there were now two Blinkys. In May of last year, I had responded to a call the Department had received about a herd of black cats around Astoria, but this herd was truly only one cat. The second Blinky fell out of Webber’s hand, running between the legs of the partygoers.
“Someone grab him!” I yelled to anyone who would listen.
No one moved. Before we knew it, the Blinky in Webber’s arms multiplied again. Then again. And again. The crowd’s whispers were like daggers to my ears. “Always something with those people,” someone said.” “Who invited them?” “Yeah, who did?”
“ENOUGH!”
Assistant Director Morrigan stepped out of his office. Grisled and icy, he looked at everyone with his hard gaze. “You will retrieve these runaway felines and rid my office of them or none of you will remain agents of the U.S government, do you understand? Now move.”
All hands were on deck. Everytime someone grabbed Blinky, another would spring forth. In time, we were overrun. There was more of Blinky than there was of us. I attempted to assist, I found that they began to avoid me in particular.
“Too much dog for them,” Artemis said.
They began to congregate around Webber. Afterwards, they all got sleepy, and when they laid down on top of one another to nap, they all folded back into the original Blinky. Webber picked him up, and all that multiplying must have really taken it out of him, since he fell right asleep.
The party died after that. Many went home, citing our presence as some kind of cause for Blinky’s arrival, although this cannot be corroborated. I conducted a questioning of those who remained in search of any information regarding Blinky’s sudden presence at the Astoria office. A more detailed search of the premises would be in order to ascertain how he got into the building’s infrastructure. Nevertheless, my questioning did yield some interesting results. Special Agent Strahm reported finding car hair and droppings along the piping in the boiler room adjacent to our facilities. Webber noticed that Blinky had not come by her apartment the last few nights. And Assistant Director Morrigan could not recall ever sending invitations to Department staff.
