Damien walked across the cobblestone sidewalks. A dark shadow rippling across waves of different, exotic colored suits. Steam trains puffed past him, horses brayed as they tugged carriages and streets trembled as the buzzing underground rocked the bronze lined tunnels beneath his feet. The city of London was dizzying which was why he tried to stay away from it as often as he could for as long as he could. Paper boys yelled out the latest news, "The Ministry and Parliament ablaze; what's next for London?"

Damien ducked his hat down fanning away the noises battering his attention. He turned into an alleyway walking as quickly as he could to the end. The city noise couldn't follow him there and he breathed a sigh of relief. A notched door painted crimson stood on the adjacent wall he came to. On it was the number '3', but there was no keyhole nor doorknob. He pulled out his pocket watch turning the minute hand to '3', the golden cover revealing an intricate work of a leviathan swirling around a dragon. The door clicked, opening slowly and Damien entered.

The hall was lit by sconces whose flames licked the black stone walls. His hat was at his side and the clack of his shoes against stone echoed like drums. He came to another door where two guards stood. They bowed with a curt greeting opening the door. It felt like he was walking back into the city even within the walls of the Ministry. Men and women scuttled down the main hall carrying papers, exchanging arguments about why certain forms of manipulation would work and why others wouldn't. Tables were painted with maps of the city outlining various areas for different projects that could be implemented. Sparks cracked as other workers designed time pieces with expert craftsmanship. Damien walked past it all and hurried across another pathway. Intricate letters above the archway read 'Gryphons Quarter.'

The halls turned from black stone to a mixed copper-gold. Lords walked about murmuring philosophy to one another, quieting as Damien walked past. Fresh vases of assorted flowers stood upon various mantels polluting the air with their pungent scents. Iron Gryphons hung on curled bars protruding from the walls like vines wrapping their way around the golden copper. He came to another set of doors knocking before entering. The door swung open and two men were arguing quite intensely.

One, a man with dark hair salted on the sides and glasses, was sitting at a large desk with papers scattered about from the fury of whatever they were arguing about. The other man, taller and whose muscular build could be seen underneath the layers of his suit, stood to his side, leaning on the desk. The two of them stopped and turned their attention to Damien. He bowed to each of the men, both returning a slight nod back.

"We'll continue this later, Charles," said the man standing. His hair was pale-blond, shaped as wickedly as his manner. A jagged scar cut across his right eye ending in fingers which trailed down the visible part of his neck. The air around him felt dense.

"Please forgive Victor," said Charles. "He's been a bit ill-tempered recently. All the sightings we've received of this ghost has every Ministry in an uproar."

Charles rested his head in his hands massaging his temples looking to the sea of papers across his desk. He was a captain trying to navigate the violently turbulent waters of bureaucracy.

"We are one branch of the greater whole, but everyone seems to come to us for answers."

"Who better to answer them than you, sir."

"Stop with the sir, Damien. It makes me feel older than I already am. What news do you have from Gerard?"

"He's in the same position we are, yet it seems the researchers here aren't accepting any of his findings. They want more."

"They're paid to be that skeptical. We need to understand what we are dealing with."

"And he's only trying to help, but they keep refusing to accept what he's giving them."

"Because we need more, Damien. I'm not sending good men out on a ghost hunt."

"But this is not a ghost. It is a person with disturbing skill."

Charles stood up from the desk resting his hands on the mantle of the fireplace. The tension in his back seemed to loosen as the heat washed over him.

"I'm getting too old for this, Damien. I've lost so much for this job."

His eyes washed over the picture resting above the fireplace. A white haired woman stood between two men. All of them were laughing in the light of the sun on a field. Behind them rested an old castle and a tree peeked in the photo.

"So has Gerard," said Damien. "So have we all."

Charles came back to his desk fumbling through the drawers for a moment. He procured a folder and slid it across the table, parting the spillage of graphs and photos.

"Your next assignment has come in. Your ghost was seen in Vienna."

Damien flipped through the contents and came to a photo of burning rubble. People lay dead on the ground charred from the fire that had consumed their bodies while medical workers rushed the wounded into carriages .

"She blew up a Ministry branch. Do you have any idea what this means?" said Charles.

"That she's not an idiot."