Fracture: Part I
The business started off well. You’d be surprised how many problems people have! In fact, one night I found myself working pretty late. Quinn had already left for a quick nightcap while I finished up logging information on our latest case; some old dude claiming that his wife was sucked up into the sky by aliens. A complete loon to be sure, but he was paying us bucketloads of cash to do practically nothing!
When I had finished, I decided to go and get a quick bite–literally. I only had a few hours before dawn and I hadn’t fed yet. I idly wondered if Mr. Douglas would be out this late when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Excuse me, but are you Beryl Cross?” The man asked. My breath caught in my throat.
At that moment, I had to be THE luckiest girl in the entire world. Who else has the chance for a hot-hot-hotty-hot… did I say HOT?-male to not only know their name, but actively intiate a conversation? It was almost as if there was a gigantic blinking arrow above his head reading, “APPLY VAMPY VOODOO HERE!”
Like I even needed the invitation!
“Are you all right?” I barely heard him say as I came out of my dream world.
“Oh! Yes, I’m sorry,” I replied quickly as I could muster with my suddenly weighted tongue, “I’m Beryl Cross… how can I help you?”
“Well, I need your services. Could we talk elsewhere?”
“Technically, we’re closed for the night… but I’ll make an exception.” I said, trying to sound as cool and indifferent as possible, “Let’s go up to the office and I can take down a report. We can finish the rest tomorrow, since it’s quite late.”
As we walked up the small hall to the office, it was all I could do not to jump up and down excitedly. I felt like a gradeschool girl again. I’m such a sad, sad excuse for an assertive female… but who cares? Feminists have never witnessed such a fine, fine specimen of the male gender!
I managed to clear my head long enough to take down a coherent report. It seems that Mr. F-I-N-E’s name is actually Antony Vega and he’s a widower. Widower, meaning prime competition is dead and buried–literally! I know, I know, that’s mean… but I’m a vampire. I wasn’t created to be nicey-nice. Anyway, he has a daughter who is having issues with what was once thought to be an ‘imaginary friend’. It’s been elevated to ‘poltergeist’. The funny thing is, she is the only one who can see it.
Poor Antony hasn’t slept in months thanks to this nasty spook and his poor daughter had to withdrawal from school because the board feared she wasn’t well in the head. Apparently he’s had all sorts of folks visit and try to rid of it… Diviners, Priests, the works. Nothing has worked so far. I’m kinda his last hope.
Eee! Major points there for me! This spook is toast.
I was too busy trying to keep up with Antony’s frantic explanation that I failed to hear the door open. It wasn’t until I heard footsteps behind me that I realized someone else had entered. I knew without looking who it was. My vampire senses weren’t that dull.
