Contrary to popular belief

When you have a spirit-based emergency

You don't call Ghostbusters.

You call Azrael and Daniel Barton

These two may have... interesting... techniques

But they're effective

---

Daniel Barton was tired. He’d always been quite a night owl, and he’d been told time and time again to get out of the habit of staying up until three in the morning and waking before nine. And he’d tried before, of course---once he’d gone to bed at eleven thirty and was wide awake by one, then up for another two and a half hours. In truth it did make him relatively lethargic in early afternoon, and thus, made him careless in what he might be doing at the moment. Now, though, it was relatively early. He left the house he shared with his brother and stretched his back a bit as he went down the way to the sidewalk. Before passing the gate, he paused and pulled a small set of clippers from his pocket, leaning into the red rose bush he himself had planted a few years before. Curiously, even in the dead of winter it always had at least one healthy-looking bloom on it. Cutting it at the bottom of its stem, he hung the clippers on the gate as he left the shaded yard and got onto the just-as-shaded sidewalk.

Large shade trees were planted down the street both ways, offering a burst of bright green life to what would otherwise have been a boring, similar town landscape. With his rose in hand, Daniel walked left. Not far away from the shady residential street was a wide open field, mostly taken up by a very old cemetery. One would probably find it odd that a couple of paranormal investigators would live so close to a place of death, but they did. Well, it was easier on Daniel’s brother than on him---Daniel was the one who could specifically see spirits, hear them, feel them, and almost feel as though they weren’t dead. But they always gave off that same cool sense of loss, as though there were an open window behind them and cold air were drifting in gradually to a very warm room.

Crossing the street, Daniel made it to the old, rather mossy brick wall separating the dead from the living. He had to walk a while more, but as the drooping willow trees became thinner, a break in the stone appeared, closed by an iron gate. He pushed it open and stepped inside, closing it after him and walking down the now-cobblestone walkway. The place looked very old, the trees here tall and thick, sometimes covered in moss or small white mushrooms. He got off the pathway and onto the dry, springy green grass, and passed a few smaller headstones to one in the shape of a cross. It was old, the etched writing worn away. He crouched, then sat on the grass. “Promised I’d visit.” He muttered, brushing his almost-white blonde hair out of the way of his glasses before setting the rose on the small patch of dirt at the base of the cross stone. “I always keep my promises, don’t I?” He chuckled, knowing he’d get no answer. The man buried there had already passed on to the other world, but Daniel had promised to visit his long-forgotten grave at least once.

The phone rung loudly, cutting through Azrael's dreams and making him jerk awake. He lay on his back, dazedly waiting for his brother to answer it. After three more rings, he struggled out of bed and rushed towards the phone. It stopped ringing as he got there and he heard the answer machine pick up. He threw the receiver back down and cursed under his breath. Azrael had never been a morning person. He staggered over to the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine and glaring around the room as if Daniel would appear before him. Guessing that his brother had gone across to the graveyard, Azrael pouring himself a coffee into his mug.

Black with no sugar. A bitter taste that perked his mind into proper thought beyond the primitive, 'Damn that brother of mine!. He thought about looking at the answering machine, but decided to wait for Daniel to come home. He wasn't very good with technology anyway. He sat at the kitchen table, unfolding a newspaper that was sitting on the top. He saw that it was today's and guessed that his brother had got it for them. He skimmed the headlines while sipping his coffee, waiting for his brother to return. As he did so, he felt the static energy of a spirit sit next to him. A cool breeze ruffled his blonde hair, as if a hand had run through it. It didn't bother him at all. If he had seen it, then he would have been worried. "Don't worry, my brother will be here shortly. You can speak to him," he muttered, directed at whoever was sitting in the chair.

He'd left the grave with its flower dug into the ground so it wouldn't simply blow away. It was better to get home early whenever he left quickly. Azrael wasn't exactly a morning person. If someone called or a spirit's presence woke him, Daniel would have to deal with the huffy part of the morning's process. He was forgiving, of course, but even a saint had his limit. Crossing the street again, he paid no mind to anyone as they seemed to simply appear out of their house or along the street He could never tell from a distance, and not when it was daylight, but anyone could be a spirit wandering with a destination in mind. Usually Daniel was shocked when he approached someone and found that everyone else thought he was talking to thin air. Nowadays that wasn't an issue---he wasn't shocked anymore.

The smell of coffee hit him when he opened the door. "Damn." His mind spoke for him. It was too early for Azrael. A whipping eight-thirty-five in the morning. Not so early for Daniel, especially when he went to bed so early. Well, he considered one forty-five early. Entering the kitchen, he found his brother sitting with the form of a newcomer. A spirit, obvious by the cool chill she gave the air around her. "Who's your friend?" He asked Azrael, going to the coffee pot. As his brother would put no sugar into his mug, Daniel was actually the direct opposite. He turned the sugar container upside down over it and used intuition to decide when to stop.

"I don't know, but she seems to like my hair," he muttered grumpily. He wasn't angry, just tired. He hated rude awakenings, be it in form of a visiting spirit or a phone call. "The phone rung. I thought you told people not to call before nine o'clock." He went back to reading the newspaper. He separated the obituaries for his brother to look through.

The female spirit looked like a young woman, possibly in her early twenties. She was indeed fascinated with Azreal's hair, again running her pale hand through it. She hadn't come to talk to Daniel. Her name was Anna and she was a frequent visitor in the Barton household. She rarely talked to Daniel, seeming attached to Azrael more than his brother. She smiled and kissed him on the forehead before fading away.

Azrael screwed his face up, feeling the brief coldness on his forehead. "Anna?" he questioned Daniel. He had become used to this spirit. They had tried to communicate with her, to see why she hung around their house and why she liked Azrael so much, but she would always smile sadly and fade away before giving an answer. "Shame that the only girlfriend I have is dead," he muttered darkly, finishing his coffee and folding the newspaper up.

He nodded. "You know, she can't stay here." Daniel shook his head, folding the obituaries in half to scan through them. "I ought to put together a summoner circle and bring her out so I can specifically talk to her. You might remind her of a spouse or boyfriend she had before she died." She always appeared in an old-style dress. Something tightly belted around her thin waist and an eerily smooth-looking face with big eyes. The obituaries didn't seem to have much interest. Many people were listed, but they were all older, and had nice lives.

"I told as many people as I could, Az, but you know---sometimes an emergency can't wait. They're probably---" The phone rang again. Daniel had to assume it was the same person, but it could be anyone, really. He went into the living room, where the phone rested on a side table by a dark brown couch, and answered it by pressing a button for a conference call so all of them could converse without fighting over the phone. "Barton brothers' residence."

"You're the two that investigate paranormal activity?" The voice seemed apprehensive, if a little subdued as though he thought he had the wrong number. "If so, I've... got a bit of a problem you might be able to help me with."

Azrael sat at the table, waiting for his brother to finish talking to the person on the phone. By the sounds of things, it was another client. He screwed up his nose, as often was his habit when he was thinking hard about something. He supposed that it was the dangers of having a 'word-of-mouth' business. A lot of people forgot to relay the important information such as, "Do not ring until after 9 am or Azrael will be more of a demon than those you have in your house." He fiddled with the newspaper, remembering the demons he had seemed to deal with on a daily basis.

Ever since he was younger, he was always scared of the ghost and spirits that haunted their family. Unlike his mother, father and brother, he could not see or feel them. All he could do is hear them, and they always seemed to come to him at night time. He remembered sleeping in his brother's bed at nights, so Daniel could ward the spirits off. One night, it wasn't a spirit that visited. Azrael could see it, but neither his mother, father or brother could. They could sense that it was something evil and otherworldly. Ever since that night, Azrael trained himself in the art of Exorcisms and Banishment. Because he was not a priest, he had no right to use the sacred rites of the Catholic church. Instead, he developed his own rites and spells. A lot of his clients were those that refused to accept God in their lives or believed in other deities.

Daniel didn't speak much during the call. The man's name was Mark Levvy, an older man who, with his wife, owned a large bit of land on which an old asylum resided. A rather cliche thing considering what the brothers did, but more often than not it was the asylum or old mansion or... a church, definitely. Demons seemed oddly attracted to churches sometimes. Daniel didn't need to write any information down. His mind was rather good with numbers, and he could remember them several years later without much effort. He ended the call and went back to sit at the table after grabbing his cup of coffee. "Asylum work this time. Got some malevolent creatures and trapped spirits, by the sound of it." He straightened his wire-rimmed glasses as they started sliding. Without those things, he'd be unable to make out more than a few blurred shapes.

He shook his head. Demons. He couldn't see them but in his dreams, and the dreams were more visions of either the past or what could happen in the future of the demons' existences. He could, however, feel the demons' presences as Azrael could feel the presence of spirits. Their abilities seemed rather swapped in that sense. And while neither of them could be specifically considered priests, they both would use their own spells or rituals. Many of Daniels kept wary, wandering spirits from constantly following them home, but also sealed Anna within the walls of the house. Something she didn't appear to mind. Oftentimes Daniel became frustrated with the clients they were contacted by, however, as they seemed to be unable to either accept or understand what the brothers did, how they worked together, and how one needed the other at all times for their power to work. After all, regardless of what one was doing, the other was necessary to complete the circle and finish the ritual the right way. It was also a painless transition for the good or lost spirits if necessary.

Azrael sighed. "Of course. It's never a haunted holiday resort, or spa pool, is it?" he commented, getting to his feet to put the mug into the sink. He would clean it later, a good way to keep his mind off whatever they were about to fight against. He found water to be cleansing in itself and always carried a bottle with him. Holy water was the strongest, of course. Since he had difficulties getting large quantities of the stuff, he had to make do with a mixture of herbs mixed into pure, ionised water. "Demons love to feed on madness," he muttered, more to himself. "Bet there is a Gate the bastards are coming through." He went to his room to prepare for the coming investigation. They would take whatever was necessary in vanquishing evil spirits, helping the trapped pass over and blessing the place. Azrael also brought along a hand held night vision camera, an evp recorder and an emf reader, to help document their procedures and have some evidence in case they were called frauds by sceptics.

Even though Azrael found it difficult to operate a computer or even a telephone, these sorts of gadgets he found easy to use. They would try for an evp session, using the tools. Hoping to catch an entity on the camera for evidence. After this session, they would proceed to the troubled areas and try to cleanse it. Azrael would fight off the demons and evil entities, while Daniel would release the trapped human souls. After cleansing the place of any residual hauntings, they would use a spell of temporary protection. They would then tell the client that they needed a real priest to bless the place for any demons to stay away, as they could only keep the place blessed temporarily.

Daniel puffed. Of course, Az was right. Not many resorts or spas were haunted. And even if they were, it was always 'good for publicity'. No one ever thought about the tormented, yet weak, souls that resided within the walls or in the halls or rooms, perhaps tortured by their existence there but unable to become strong enough to do anything about it or somehow make their feelings known. That was generally how a poltergeist was created, after all. A spirit becoming so angry, or having died a terrible way or with great anger, lingering and feeding that feeling into an energy powerful enough to interact with the world around them, or inflict damage on the living or manipulate their thoughts and personalities. He stood up and wandered to the sink as Azrael left the kitchen to get ready. Daniel was of course already dressed, a plain white tee-shirt and blue jeans. It was what dominated his closet, really.

While Azrael more or less handled most electronic devices, Daniel didn't even bother with them. For some reason they always short-circuited around him, or their batteries melted, or something else. Once or twice he'd had an evp recorder explode moments after he set it down, and therefore, never touched another electronic device stronger than a telephone. And even then he preferred pressing the conference button so he didn't touch the receiver. And being an accomplished writer, Daniel couldn't use a computer because it would always shut down, or malfunction in some way in which he lost all his work. So in his room a typewriter sat in the corner, a quiet little nook he would pull away to. While Az handled the electronics, he preferred to use his senses specifically alongside his rituals, salts and sands, and water.

Rinsing both mugs, he set them on the counter so they would drain and went back into the living room. They'd have a long drive ahead of them. The asylum was a desolate place in a desolate location, having once been a home for the criminally insane. Turning, he went to his room and decided to pull a bag from under his bed. "Six hour drive ahead of us! We'll probably be camping out a few days there!" He called to Azrael down the hall. It wasn't odd for them to remain in a certain place for more than a day or two, though sometimes it got a little frustrating when there was no running water or fresh foods available more than three hours away.

"Remember the food and drinking water this time!" Azrael called back, packing all the electronic equipment into his bag, along side clothes and a wooden box filled with what he needed to combat demons. "I ain't drinking the sacrificial water again!"

That last investigation had them locked away in some remote hunting lodge for three days straight. There was a particularly stubborn spirit that refused to leave. In the end they had to come with an agreement with it, letting it stay as long as it stopped attacking the employees. It seemed to have kept its promise. Spirits were afraid of strong energy, especially from males. Demons, however... Azrael dressed himself, brushing his hair to make it look neat. Many a stupid person had provoked what they thought were spirits, only to become possessed and haunted by demons. What annoyed Azrael were the people that purposely sought after these spirits, to make TV shows or exploits them in some way. They would get demons attached to them, and continue to do it time and time again.

He was ready to go, all dressed and packed. He sighed as he thought of the human interaction coming up ahead. He found it hard to be polite and Daniel spoke to them rarely. They only ever knew how to speak to the dead and demonic. He laughed bitterly at the thought.

"I didn't think it was that bad!" Daniel commented. Sure, the water was strong in both effectiveness and taste, but one got used to it. Still, he pulled a second bag out to pack some non-perishable cans and packages alongside some water bottles. First, however, in his clothing bag he stuffed some jeans and shirts similar to what he was wearing, an extra pair of sneakers, and a sweater in case it grew cold at night. Of course to him it'd be freezing if there were many spirits around. Before zipping it up he tossed a couple pens and a notebook on top. It was good for taking up some time if nothing was happening at the moment, and jotting down some happenings to integrate into his new book really helped the creative process once back home. His main characters were based on Az and himself, though he never told his brother. He never knew whether Azrael read his books, as he'd never seen more than the copy he received after publication lying about.

Tossing the bag over his shoulder, he went to his closet and pulled out a cloth-covered box. It held various items, plastic jars of salts labeled as necessary and a couple bottles of the water he and Az had had to drink once or twice... Running a hand through his hair, it laid down immediately. Odd that he never had to brush it, but to shake or ruffle it and it'd be just fine. Going back to the kitchen, he huffed. He'd probably feel better if he took over the speaking role this time. After all, Azrael had been rather rudely awakened this morning. A six hour drive might not play well on that, and meeting some people who didn't know a damn thing about spirits and were probably flailing about as if trying to rid the rooms of birds wasn't even Danny's idea of a good time. He was all for fun, but not when spirits were involved. And definitely not when demons were involved... "You ready, Azzy? I can drive this time if you'd prefer." He glanced over his shoulder as he stuffed a couple extra bottles of plain water into the second bag.

Azrael was already waiting near the entrance to the house, embraced in a cold feeling. Anna must have been hugging him. She always seemed distressed when he left the house, as she could not follow him. In his deepest darkest part in his heart, he wished that Daniel would let her stay. He had never had a girlfriend in his life and while growing up, he felt neglected by their mother. Before his demon-fighting powers showed through, they thought that he had no powers at all. Daniel definitely was the favourite.

"You better drive. We might need to stop for coffee. You know I can't sleep in cars," he replied. He also suffered from extreme motion sickness, usually having to pass the wheel over to his brother while driving winding roads. He remembered something and went back to his room, finding the small worn paperback novel under his mattress. He hid it in his jacket and stowed it in his bag. It was a good luck charm, the first book his brother had ever had published. Even though the characters were different, Azrael knew that it was based on their first investigation together. They had no idea what they were doing then, Daniel had been possessed by a extremely powerful demon and it took a lot of Azrael's energy to expel it. It had been a very frightful experience for both of them. Azrael shuddered, remembering seeing those mocking eyes and that evil twisted face under his own brother's one.

He felt Anna's presence before even entering the living room and rolled his eyes slightly. She was becoming far too attached to Azrael. And Daniel knew how difficult it was for a spirit to even understand the concept of a better existence once they became infatuated with a particular place or person or even thing in their state. And if he had to, he'd have to create a summoner circle to call her into presence before him so he could have a chance to really talk to her. But that would have to wait---at least they'd be away for a while. Daniel couldn't help but feel relief that the little ghost had chosen Az over him. Perhaps because he'd used to feel more... privileged than his brother, because ever since he was a toddler he'd seen spirits. But that had only made him afraid at first. Afraid of these... odd people with their strange cool aura that just appeared day after day, night after night. He'd honestly hoped Azrael didn't have to deal with much more than just sensing their presence, but now... he was glad to have his brother at his side.

He nodded in agreement as he went to the front door, deciding to go outside after grabbing the keys while Azrael went to collect something. He left the door open and went around to the side gate, pushing it open to step onto the driveway. The black vehicle that rested in the shade of the trees was a 1966 Lincoln Continental Sedan, something their father had owned and kept in perfect condition. Opening the back door, he tossed both bags in, pausing to grab a pen and his notebook. Ideas always came to him, and it was best to have some paper and a writing utensil present at almost all times. Tossing it in the front, he got in and started the engine. It turned over and revved cleanly, and Daniel smiled. It was in better shape than most new cars on the road today.

Azrael loaded his bag into the back, jumping into the passenger seat and slamming the car door, a habit his father used to hate. He glared at their house, as if he really didn't want to leave it. He remembered his soft mattress and warm blankets and sighed. "We better get moving if we want to get there before dark," he said, buckling his seat belt. The sound of the familiar rumble of the engine made him feel comfortable.

He secretly enjoyed the long car trips to their next investigations, he enjoyed anytime he could have with his brother alone. They had been very close growing up, as most twins were. After Azrael entered college, they had drifted apart for a few years. Daniel became interested in helping earthbound spirits and started to call on him whenever a demon was present. It increased through the months, until Azrael offered to join forces with his brother permanently. He even left his studying in college. He would have made a lousy doctor anyway, he suffered from aichmophobia.

As they left the city and started to make their way through countryside, he fiddled around with the radio, trying to find a station that would work. He never really liked the music of today, enjoying the nostalgia of the 90's. None of the stations worked and he gave up. "So, did the guy say any details?" he asked. A few times they had gone to call outs they had either been hoaxes or simple hauntings. Azrael rarely saw any demons in these places.

Before pulling out onto the quiet street, Daniel took to bothering with the radio, finding a classical station and turning it down quite low. He loved classical music, and it was always a welcome to listen to it while he wrote. No distracting lyrics to accidentally incorporate into one's sentences. And it offered a nice backdrop to the soft, relaxing rumble of the engine. He pulled out of the driveway and started off---the end of this particular street led into a wide open expanse near the field, dropped into a few towns, and eventually became enclosed, calm streets through various forests and wooded areas. Not many twists nor turns, and there were a few coffee shops to stop at before entering the point of no return.

Daniel shrugged. "Seemed thoroughly scared. Didn't want to get too detailed, but he said he'd heard things banging about in floors above or below him, voices whispering just behind him, but nothing there. Thought that was wind a few times. Then got into violent pushing and shoving. In some rooms it gets difficult to breathe, and in others they swore they'd turned specific electronics or lights off. I'd assume the light thing is the trapped spirits, but judging by the relatively violent attacks, we're dealing with more powerful entities as well." Absentmindedly, he reached to his side and picked up his pen, putting the cap in his mouth. It seemed he always had to chew on something when he drove.

After Azrael had gone to college, Daniel had become somewhat of a recluse, rarely going outside and alienating himself, until the emotional turmoil of the many spirits he ignored started affecting him. He'd started writing short stories about a young man who could see ghosts, helping them whenever he could but also getting pulled into rather difficult or inexplicable situations. They'd been published in magazines, papers, as articles, until he'd written a dozen and put them into a small book. It got his name out there, but the first book he'd truly published had been not long after he and Az had gone through their first true haunting. He often had nightmares about that, though the possession was more of a blurry dream in itself.

Azrael nodded in agreement, though wondered if they would really be demons in such a place. Often times they were just poltergeists or very angry spirits. In an asylum like that, there would be plenty of neglected and mad ghosts of the living. Though Azrael couldn't shake off the feeling that they would be indeed dealing with demons. In a place like that, where so much misery and suffering existed, it would be like an all-you-can-eat buffet for dark entities. He also knew the area very well, as the energy in these parts seemed to open Gates all the time.

"What would he want with an old asylum anyway?" Azrael murmured. He remembered how people liked to own "haunted" buildings so they could make a profit off tours. These types annoyed Azrael greatly, and he knew that his brother hated it as well. Making money of the suffering and of evil forces they couldn't understand. Bastards deserved it when the spirits or demons became attached to them. They passed a sign showing that a cafe was up ahead. "Can we stop soon? I need a coffee."

Daniel shook his head. "He said something about tearing the place down to make a water park. It's in a good place that's generally warm all year 'round, so he and his wife had intended to get rid of it, plow the place up, and put down a hotel on the edge of the woods and fill the rest of the area with their water park dream." He shook his head. It was far from any nearby town or city. Really, who would want to go so far out of their way just for a few water-based rides in the middle of a forest? Perhaps if the view was especially nice at sunset or sunrise, or the place was state of the art or a rare find anywhere outside the state... But otherwise, Daniel just couldn't figure out the motivation, other than solid, unfiltered desire to waste money or see where the 'dream' took them.

As they approached the cafe the sign had indicated not long ago, Daniel slowed and pulled into the parking lot. "If we want to get there before nightfall we ought to get going quick." He said as he found a place and killed the engine. "This one, then one more halfway through to stretch the legs, and we can make it before six." He checked his watch, pulling it from his pocket then strapping it onto his right wrist. It was nine. If they took about an hour and a half total, they'd get there within the vicinity of five or five-thirty. Daniel always had to estimate, always had to think ahead. A curse, sometimes. Before getting out, he grabbed a piece of paper from his notebook and folded it into his pocket. Inspiration sometimes hit at the most inconvenient times.

The small cafe was shabby and run-down. The walls were covered in brown carpet-like wallpaper and the floors themselves were wooden and worn. A few old metal chairs and tables sat higgledy-piggledy about the room and a tired old drink fridge sat next to the counter. A couple of large and rather dusty cabinets sat along a wall, offering stale muffins and filthy-looking sandwiches. As they entered through the creaky front door, a rather fat woman greeted them from behind the counter. Azrael screwed his nose up at the sight of the place.

"Maybe we should skip the coffee, this place looks like a bio hazard," he commented, loud enough for the lady to hear. She looked offended, but didn't say anything. "I bet their coffee would taste like shit." He glanced out of the large windows and sighed. It offered a great view of the countryside, however. He thought it was rather romantic, but didn't comment on it. His brother didn't know about his desperate romantic ways. He kept that nice and secret.

Daniel bumped up his glasses as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It was something of a defensive mechanism when his brother became rather critically one-sided about certain places. "Azzy, this is the last place before we get into the countryside. Then it's almost six hours and I'm not dealing with you running on fumes." He pushed by Azrael and went to the counter, leaning a bit and apologizing slightly for his brother's comment. It did seem to lighten the woman's face. "Look, we're just on a long run, and if you've got any large, throwaway cups back there, I'd be happy to pay for two full pots and we'll be out of your hair."

The woman stood straight. "Sure, kid. Shouldn't be a few minutes." She held out a hand, and accepted the payment before spinning around and vanishing through a narrow doorway, into the kitchen. Daniel sighed. "Not so hard, is it?" He muttered to himself. Taking the lead role in conversations really put him off. But he usually did it. That was half the reason why he'd never had a girlfriend, let alone a wife. His mother was always nagging him about it, in a way, unable to accept that he just didn't find interest in looking for someone to love. Not outside his family bonds.

"Who is she calling kid," he muttered darkly, secretly thanking Daniel for putting up with him. He wasn't always so grumpy, he only did it when he missed more than 8 hours sleep. Unlike his twin, who was a night owl and could stay up all night, he needed his sleep. He couldn't help his emotions when he was sleepy. He sighed and walked to the windows, staring hard out at the countryside. It was still early morning, but he could see the sheep and cattle moving about on the fields.

When they were younger, their parents had owned a small farm. Azrael was an extreme animal lover and enjoyed it a lot. He had a pet cat called Snuggles, who passed away after being trampled on by the farm horse. He had always asked Daniel if he could see the ghost of the cat, and his brother always replied with a yes. Whether he did or not, Azrael always appreciated the answer. Sometimes he wished he could sense spirits.

As the lady came back out with a jug of coffee, a small breeze followed her in. The spirit of a child, a little girl named Rebecca. She was the lady's daughter that had died recently in a car accident. She was happy to see that Daniel could notice her. "Tell mummy I love her," the little girl spoke, hugging the woman's legs.

Azrael continued to stare out the window, feeling uneasy. Something was not right about this area. Then he saw it. A small burst of green light running from the horizon, through the building and in the direction they were going. An energy pulse. There would be opened Gates along these paths. He scowled and went back to his brother, thanking the woman for the coffee with a brisk manner.

Daniel had to smile a bit when he saw the little girl simply materialize out of thin air, like a breeze that had heralded in a gust of mist, which took form in a few moments. It was such a shame that little ones were held to the world of the living so easily, sometimes unable to understand their situation, or worried that their parents had never understood how much they loved them. It broke Daniel's heart, but he was glad he could do something for them then. Sometimes when he was young, he would see spirits walk down the quiet road to their house, to their farm. Mostly children, which for some reason were attracted to Daniel when he was younger. After he'd aged a bit, however, both the young and the old and everything in between could sense his power as it grew. Even animals, which seemed to come and go, then fade away as they seemed to understand where they were and where they ought to be.

When Azrael took the coffee, Daniel stepped up and leaned over the counter. "Miss, Rebecca wants you to know she loves you. I hope you know that." He went back and turned before her shocked voice could find movement again, walking out the door without allowing her to either recognize him or let the words take full effect and draw out questions. Many people didn't believe in ghosts. They thought Azrael and Daniel to be frauds with fancy special effects. But where they didn't believe in spirits in reality, they bought books of (relative) fiction dictating storylines specifically about spirits, ghosts, and demons alike. He found it odd.

Looking out across the road, a vast field sat before dwindling into tree cover. He could almost feel it, an energy not quite of this world. He couldn't see it, but he knew from where it was coming. "Something strong's there." He muttered, and went back to the car.

Azrael followed him to the car, bothered by what he had said to the lady. Sometimes he was jealous of his brother's powers. Spirits were a lot easier to look at than the grotesque forms of demons. He poured the coffee carefully into a Styrofoam cup. He sipped it and screwed his nose in distaste. "Tastes like she poured mud into it," he retorted, with half a mind to take it back and complain. He decided against it, as he was far too tired to handle any confrontation. He drunk it back anyway, still complaining about the taste.

As they got settled back into their car, Azrael saw another pulse of energy and sighed. "I am seeing pulses heading towards we are going. That means there is a Gate nearby..." He poured more coffee in an awkward position, balancing the cup in between his knees. "I am going to have a ball," he stated sarcastically.

Daniel put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. He couldn't see the energy in the form of light so much as feel it; it was just the same with demons. People tended to mistake poltergeists for demons, but Daniel could see them---they were spirits, but very angry ones, of course. "Well," he said, turning onto the road. "If we avoid the small offshoots we'll be able to cut their energy source entirely after we close the main gate. By the way Levvy was going on about it, I'm pretty sure it's on the property, if not within the asylum itself."

If he booked it, they could make good time. He had no idea if any of the nearby gates, should there really be one and not a red herring, were strong enough to let out especially powerful things. And if they closed the main gate, they wouldn't have to worry about the other branches surviving for more than a couple hours. As they left the town behind, the road straightened out quite a bit before delving into the woods. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Daniel brought out his pen and paper and wrote something down. The thought of a young spirit as a guardian angel, a savior for someone who couldn't see them... it was a good idea, and one he didn't want to forget. It could be a good story within the novel he was starting, anyway---adding conflict, drama.

Azrael bit his lip, glancing nervously at Daniel as he wrote something down. He always hated it when his brother did this while driving. It was worse than talking on the phone or texting, though neither did so. Azrael carried the cell phone, due to Daniel's unfortunate power to explode any electronics he touched. Neither used it, they simply had it just in case of an emergency. Though not many police officers or ambulance drivers could help against demonic possession.

As they entered a forest, the radio gave out a tiny bit of static, a creepy voice coming through saying, "Danger." Azrael frowned at it and turned the radio off, not fond of creepy voices warning them about things. He was already quite aware of what was going to be found in this place. He drunk more of the crappy coffee. It was indeed an unhealthy habit, something his family used to complain about. He loved the bitter flavour and found that copious amounts of caffeine fuelled not only his energy, but also his powers as well. His mind wondered to someone else that found his coffee addiction strange and he blushed, pushing the person out of his mind. He mustn't think of them, in case the demons found them and hurt them.

He didn't have to look toward his brother as he closed his notebook and put the pen back in his mouth. He knew Azrael had a bit of an aversion to his multitasking, and any sane person would when he wrote while driving. But if he didn't write it down, he'd forget, and spend a few days agonizing over having lost the idea rather than meeting his deadlines. But the road was more straight, with a bit of a curve to the left. Nothing terribly hazardous, unless an animal decided to dart out in front of them. Daniel had that happen many times, and knew not to swerve or slam on the breaks. It was too dangerous that way. Besides, people often misjudged the distance between an animal and their cars. He'd always coasted to a stop before hitting them, and felt he'd be able to do that more often than not.

When the radio spoke to them, he inadvertently shuddered. He heard voices like this on a daily basis, but it was still odd when he did, yet was unable to see where it came from. No doubt from the energy emitted from the gates. He could still feel it, and kept his mind on the road in the meantime. The sun had come up a bit more and now was somewhat over the tops of the trees, casting rays of light on the road ahead of them. He loved nature. With a sigh, he put his arm on the door and leaned his head on his hand. Why not enjoy the scenery while he could? They'd be in a run-down haunted building before long, and that wasn't his idea of a 'good getaway.'