Trilby's Notes: The (Un)Official Novelization (Chzo Mythos #3)

Chapter 1: The Clanbronwyn Hotel

       On the 28th of July, 1997, I caught a ferry from Porthllechog in Anglesey and arrived at around 3 pm in Clanbronwyn Island's coastal village. It seemed a peaceful hamlet, and, in defiance of stereotype, the locals were welcoming, and told me no local legends to dissuade me from exploring the island. The Clanbronwyn Hotel was in the island's centre, surrounded by forest. I made my way there on foot. The hotel was unstriking, inconspicuous, forgettable. A balding man in a grey suit jacket stood near the door smoking. Though as I reached the entrance, he approached me.

       "You're Trilby, right?"

       I wondered if I was expected to know who he was.

       "That depends."

       "My name is Lenkmann. I'm with the Ministry of Occultism."

       "Oh?" I replied, rather shocked. "I thought the Ministry was clear on the fact that I was handling this on my own?"

       "Maybe there are still people who don't trust you, Mr. Trilby."

       "What?" I felt taken aback and frankly, rather insulted. "I haven't stolen anything since I joined the STP!"

       "Your colourful past is not what concerns my superiors. It hasn't gone unnoticed that your history with the DeFoe wraith influences you psychologically...I'm sure you resist it, but it could still cause you to act irrationally, disobey orders..." 

       I raised my eyebrow at him, hoping to make him relent even a little.

       "Everyone just feels a little safer with someone else on the ground."

       "I see..." If he was correct, it couldn't be helped. Damn those smug sons of bitches. "You can rest assured that I will endeavour to maintain absolute professionalism on this assignment."

       "Nevertheless, I have my orders," and Lenkmann turned to go. "I would suggest we keep out of each other's way, then, and pursue separate investigations," he called to me without turning around. "I'm sure I don't want to get mixed up in a reunion."

       I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched him disappear around the corner of the building. I very much doubted that Lenkmann and I would become friends.

       The Clanbronwyn Hotel lobby was a warm welcome. The building was certainly well-maintained, and yet there was something about it that nagged at the back of my mind, quickening my pulse. I dismissed the sensation. An act which, in retrospect, I would come to regret.

       "Good evening, Terence Railby. I have a reservation." The woman behind the desk, set into age and kindly, smiled at me.

       "Ah, yes, you're here for the antique fair? We've put you in room 3-C, on the third floor. If you'd just like to sign the check-in book?"

       Just then, a man appeared next to me. Old and dressed rather frumpily, I slowed my signature and studied him from my peripherals.

       "Hullo, Bethan, just letting you know I'll be having dinner in my room today."

       "That's absolutely fine, Professor." 

       This, I decided, was what they call a 'golden opportunity'.

       "Professor Chahal?" 

       "Yes?" I was afraid I would be talking to the wrong professor, but I truly was lucky today. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."