Excerpt:

“We have a lead, Ash.”

That was all it took, those five words sent over the crackling connection of the handheld radio, and Special Agent Asher Tillman was hurriedly throwing on his gear - boots, gun holster complete with his loaded revolver, his weapons belt lined with two daggers and one finely sharpened wooden stake, one pouch of blessed seals and another of engraved silver bullets, leather gloves and jacket, and one three foot steel sword – and rushing from the dark quiet of his house to the significantly less quiet darkness of Trion City’s streets. He sent a quick text to his younger brother on the way out, and, as he always did, silently wished his son a safe and sound sleep away from the monsters and demons that lurked in the night. Asher was glad as he slipped soundlessly into a deserted alley that he had thought to send his son to his brother’s for the weekend; worrying about his well being would have made the night a disaster. And Lark didn’t need any reason to be suspicious of his father’s sudden trips at the late hours of the night. No, keeping him away from OGRE and its business was the best way to keep him alive, and Asher tended to that cause diligently.

The alley he was in was filthy, on one side a pizzeria and on the other a laundromat. He could just barely make out in the gritty darkness the outline of the object he was looking for. The old top loading clothes dryer was beyond being salvaged. Any curious passerby could tell from a glance that all its vital pieces had been stripped from its frame, perhaps sold and scrapped long ago. What most ordinary people would not notice was the invisible barrier around the old machine, meant to divert the attention of anyone who got too close – anyone without the proper authorization. Asher walked towards the dryer, left arm uncovered and outstretched, and did not so much as bat an eye when he felt the shield meld around him to admit his person. He quickly drew his sleeve and jacket back down over his arm, covering the black mark that stood out starkly against his skin, and opened the machine’s lid. Its inside was much bigger than it should have been, spacious enough for a human adult of slightly larger than average proportions. Asher climbed inside.

The bottom of the dryer started to descend as soon as he shut the lid over his head. The metallic grinding sound it made as it shuttered down echoed about the shaft of the unusual elevator. Ten feet or so down, tiny fluorescent lights were installed in the circular walls, illuminating the dank space. The whole ride took approximately ten long minutes. When it was over and the machine stopped with a resounding crunch, Asher pushed open the door to the chute and stepped into a room whose size was equivalent to that of Penn Station, but which could not have looked more different in terms of the people and things it contained.

OGRE – the Organization for the Gathering and Regulation of the Ethereal – Headquarters was crawling with Agents, as per usual for the night shift. Asher knew them all by name, and they he, but he ignored most of their greetings as he made his way through the throng, sparing only a handful a nod of recognition. He could exchange pleasantries later; there was important business at hand and he had already wasted enough time.