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| 6823 Farnsworth Dr/Parma/OH/44129-4514 Alter all communication. |
It turns out that his name is Evan and he's a med student, originally from Nebraska where his kind are few and far between, where all kinds are few and far between. He is also very lonely, something I have gathered from nights spent observing the way he hunches over his books and notes as the light of the moon inches across his hardwood floors. He makes himself coffee - obsesses over it really, collecting latte machines and espresso drips and French presses and three different models of old-fashioned coffee makers that take turns occupying the 3-socket outlet in his kitchen by his fridge. He knows how to do tricks with a spoon to make the foam into lovely things, and I watched him teach himself this very skill as he sat cross-legged on his battered brown couch one night, watching youtube tutorials.
Evan is beautiful. He wears his lemon-blond hair long, around his shoulders in soft waves, because it's the one tiny rebellion he's allowed as a young man otherwise bound by the confines and social mores of medical school. He's going to be a cardiologist, I think - some kind of heart doctor, sometimes at night he'll lie on his bed back-flat with his stethoscope eartips tucked into his ears and the diaphragm of the thing pressed to his slim chest as he inhales and exhales deeply, slowly, soothing himself with his own heartbeat.
No one ever comes to visit him, and on the rare occasions when one of his parents calls, he leaves them on speakerphone and wanders around picking at his fingernails because they sound so very distracted and uninterested in whatever he says. He usually just falls silent and says nothing until they realize the silence in the air between them and mumble, ?Yeah?okay well, I'm walking the dog honey, I'll talk to you later,? snatching at the earliest possible excuse to hang up on him, their parental duty to check in satisfied until next week. These calls hurt him more than they help. Evan's parents have never understood him, and they've never cared enough to try.
He has green-tea eyes, soft and honest, that go red with allergies in the summer sometimes. I've been watching him for months now, sometimes as he sleeps, wondering what he'd think of me. Of my moon-gray skin that reflects starlight and melts invisibly into the urban concrete here in the city, of the leathery wings that extend out from my back and are covered in a thin layer of dark feathers dappled with white at the tips, of the fangs tucked neatly over my lower lip and my jewel-black eyes, solid and gleaming. I was born here, my claws and wings and fangs and enormous pigeon feet belong to this city, the historically significant library where I was born and I rest every night, but as I watch and perch on the roof of his apartment building on some mornings, hidden behind a vent stack, I have become Evan's too. I steal a pair of his scissors to cut my long black hair like ink one night, in the hopes of becoming something even slightly more human, but then I remember his long hair and the way he runs his fingers through it as he studies, and I think maybe if he knew me, Evan might like me the way I am. He knows what it is to be ostracized, I think
He comes to my library one night upset, pacing back and forth through the medical history stacks but unable to return to the looming silence of his tidy little apartment - the way he dusts and sweeps every weekend is incredibly endearing. My kind know better, we understand that the clutter and crush of the city can be a sacred thing. It feeds our cousins, the trash left lying around, our rats and pigeons and gargoyles detaching themselves from looming churches in the night to hunt those fat scurrying things made tasty by the urban debris. Evan though, he is depressed and desperately trying to clear out his own mental clutter by getting rid of every speck of dirt in his space, so I start helping him by plucking up the discarded fast food wrappers and empty syringes around the building, depositing them into the trash when no one is looking. One night, I find a pretty little thing, someone's dropped gold stud earring, and I creep in when he's asleep and coo gently as I drop it onto his nightstand.
He wakes up in the morning after his bad night to touch the little earring, blinking in confusion. He does not have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, which is a profound relief to me because frankly, no one is good enough for him. He's tried tinder, but rejected and deleted it after his first date ghosted him. That's what people call it anyway, they don't understand that there are real ghosts in this city, and they probably have no interest in booty calls. I wonder if that date was a boy, or a girl. It was highly unlikely that it was any kind of half-pigeon city spirit, borne of urban energy, a postmodern gargoyle. If it had been, I might have tried my luck, but instead I watch. He makes it easy, with the way he lingers for hours in my library on so many nights.
I consider myself to be largely male - obvious differences aside, my anatomy matches Evan's more than his neighbor next door who cries over car insurance ads and makes her own jewelry. I wonder if she might not be a good friend for my Evan, she is lonely too and she always smiles shyly at him in the mail room. Maybe I will steal one of her homemade bracelets and leave it in front of his door right before he's about to leave, in the hopes that they'll bump into each other and start talking. I just want him to be happy, since it won't be me who gets him there I'm not deluded, I know what I am and I know what he'd do if he could see me. I take his things, little things - a page of notes from one of his classes in his elegantly slanted handwriting, defiantly cursive. One of his coffee mugs, a pair of socks. I hoard these things on the library roof in little piles, and getting away with it so often must have made me reckless because one night I'm perched and cooing over his notebook doodles in between bone structure diagrams when he makes his way through the library's roof entrance in his fleece-lined jacket and a t-shirt with an illustration of an anatomically correct human heart wearing a stethoscope on it. The moon is a sliver and the air is damp, cool.
The library has closed for the evening, my Evan's gentle presence left unnoticed by the staff and world alike. Our tiny world is quiet now, still, nothing left to distract either of us from each other.
It's too late to hide the piles, to disguise myself, and Evan's breath catches in his throat. I'm cloaked in the shadows and have no intention of changing this, but he's approaching, closer now. Clouds pass over the moon as if she too, wants us to know each other, to see each other, and I chitter anxiously. Evan leans in, hands at his sides, silent, and at this point there's no turning back. I step into the light.
?So I'm in the library and I stumble across this book.? As he is saying this, the large man holds out a small leather volume, that is clearly old, and has seen better days.
He is a big man; nearly 190 centimeters tall with broad shoulders and tipping the scales at 18 stone.
The man hands the book to a small figure and continues; ?I mean I literally stumble on the thing.? The one now holding the book smiles brightly and opens the old volume as the bigger man keeps talking. ?It must have fallen off its' shelf;? he continues, ?I snatched it up; along with the amphorae, and high tailed it out of there before the security detail could glom onto my presence.?
The small figure is leafing through the book and says ?amphoriskoi.?
The big man cocks his head and says, ?beg pardon??
Pecht tells him in his high, soft voice; ?technically since it is such a small example of an amphorae; the proper term is amphoriskoi.?
The bruiser has a slight smile on his face and says ?potayto ? potahto, Mr. Pecht.?
The Pixie looks at his man and says ?you know Gerald, I can't recall how many times over the years, I have told you that Pecht will do.? The smaller figure looks expectantly at the big man and asks; ?so you did get the amphorae??
?Yes sir Mr. Pecht;? the large man says with a grin on his face as he reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out a small glass vessel. The amphorae seems tiny in his large hands.
Of course it is only about 12 centimeters tall with two delicate handles on either side of the tapered neck. It is translucent sea green with the handles in emerald. As he hands the smooth glass amphorae over; Gerald can't help but think to himself; that the thing always smells like the sea.
?Mr. Pecht sir?;? the big man questions his smaller boss, ?how is it that Miss Bella can't seem to hold on to this thing?? The Pixie shrugged his small shoulders, and Gerald continued;? I believe this is the third time in as many decades that I have had to retrieve it from someone or somewhere.?
The small figure ran the glass amphorae gently through his nimble fingers and spoke; ?at least this posh gentleman were just a collector; and had no nefarious motives like that Italian from the South side of the city.?
Gerald shivered; despite the relative warmth of the small apartment. The mention of that man made him recall when he had first met Mr. Pecht: that had been nearly a hundred years ago. It had in fact been the very night that he had been killed by Vittorio in one of the back rooms of the Italian eatery that the troubleshooter had secretly owned.
He clearly remembered tackling the Italian devil because the other man had been stalking his friend Teague; and had taken out the ivory handled razor that he had used to kill dozens of men
Gerald recalled his friend; and the years they worked for Mr. Penrose, who ran the West side of the city for quite a while.
Teague had been, maybe slightly smaller than Gerald himself; and to this day, he was the toughest man that Gerald had yet to meet.
He remembered thinking that he would take his friend Teague over any man; even if they were armed, but if he were taken unawares by someone like Vittorio? that could be a different story.
So, he had tackled the Italian and very shortly after that; had been lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Teague had found Gerald and held him as the bruiser's life seeped from him.
Over the years; he had asked the Pixie several times to explain what he actually did that brought him back.
Gerald always just thought of it as a miracle.
Pecht had to basically ?dumb it down? tremendously. Even then; the closest he could come to something that Gerald could understand, was to say that he shared a part of himself with the enterprise man.
Pecht would not say ?soul?; because he consistently would assert that since he was not a man, he technically did not possess a ?soul?.
Long story short: Gerald had ceased working for Mr. Penrose, and his enterprise, and started working for Mr. Pecht, the Pixie.
He remembered one of the very first things he had learned about his new boss was that pixies and fairies don't get along: sort of like the Chinese and Japanese.
But that didn't stop the Pixie from falling in love with one.
Her name was Tenkha; though Gerald usually referred to her as Miss Bella.
It was odd; since that was part of how Vittorio had spoken of her many years ago. The bruiser remembered the handsome Italian say that she was his Tenkha Bella: Gerald knew that bella meant beautiful in Italian.
That was just one of the unusual things in store for Gerald after Mr. Pecht had brought him back; and shared part of his ?self? with the enterprise man.
Gerald found that he understood languages. He could read and write and communicate with anyone in any language. To Gerald; that had been miraculous, because he now knew that he had been dyslexic in his prior life but Mr. Pecht had fixed that.
He remembered the Pixie saying something along the lines of something being not quite right in Gerald's head, so he fixed it.
He had found that he also could understand animals to a certain extent. He was no Dr. Doolittle; but he could communicate with most animals.
He also never got ill; and oh yeah, he didn't seem to age.
So; all in all, Gerald thought ?miracle? was a pretty good term.
Mr. Pecht mentioned nefarious intent in regards to the amphorae. That was pertinent because he knew that if someone possessed the small glass jar; then they could exert influence over the sea nymph Tenkha who was the love of Mr. Pecht's ridiculously long life.
He remembered that the original intent of Vittorio was to use the amphorae's hold over Miss Bella to have her paramour, the Pixie; come over to the Italians' side.
The small fae had provided Pixie Dust that the chefs in the eatery used to enhance the food. This meant that people would be willing to do whatever they must; including paying exorbitant prices, to enjoy the delicious food. In fact; the Italians had been using too heavy a concentration of Pixie Dust, and eating the food became an addiction as insidious as Heroin.
The Pixie was polishing the amphorae and preparing to place it in a cleverly concealed safe.
As his boss was doing that, Gerald had taken the book and was admiring it. The small volume was actually several hundred years old; written in Olde English, and had been inscribed by hand.
There were beautiful illustrations that were still astonishingly colorful, considering how old the book was. He had read through most of the book in the short time it was in his possession
He could remember hating to read as a boy because he had been dyslexic, and he would get headaches if he tried to read or concentrate on anything for more than five or ten minutes at a time. One of the advantages of the ?miracle? that had brought him back was that he had been cured of that particular learning disability.
The book had many tales, what most would consider folklore: and some of them had made Gerald question his relationship with the Pixie.
He found a spot near the middle of the book: it contained information that he wanted to discuss with Pecht.
Gerald waited till after his small boss had secreted away the amphoroskoi before he said;?Mr. Pecht sir, there's something I would like to discuss with you.?
The Pixie raised an eyebrow and said;?of course Lad. And what would that be?? Gerald handed the small volume over to his boss: it was open to an illustration of several warriors and a small figure in blue.
Pecht examined the intricate artwork; because the illustrations in the book were certainly that.
Gerald noticed the expression on the Pixies' face as the small figure appreciated the drawing.
?I remember you telling me that story Mr. Pecht sir;? Gerald said to the Pixie. ?It was a group of young warriors who happened upon you; and you convinced them that you were blue because of the drink you had brewed.?
Pecht smiled broadly in remembrance as his man continued. ?You told them that the potion kept you safe and whole in battle, but in fact, it kept you three sheets to the wind.?
?You have to admit Gerald;?Pecht told the big man, ?it is a funny thing.? The bruiser nodded in the affirmative because it was in fact, a funny thing.
?The thing is, Mr. Pecht, sir?he said, ?it goes on and on about the trickster god and how he would do anything to further his own ends.?
Pecht kept his eye on Gerald and said; ?I think the same could be said of just about anyone; be they man, woman, or Pixie.?
?Something occurred to me;? the bruiser said, ?actually several somethings.?
Pecht looked up at his man and asked? and what would those be lad??
?Well;? Gerald said, ?I'm going to be one hundred twenty six years old this November, and I've lived in three centuries so far.? Pecht smiled and interrupted with, ?that's cute! Talk to me when you've lived in forty five.?
Gerald shook his head slowly in awe. He knew that his boss was old; but seldom thought about just how much history the Pixie had seen.
The big man kept on; ?the main thing that occurred to me: was that you knew.? He looked the Pixie in the eye when he said this.
?Knew what?? the Pixie said with a convincing look of ignorance on his fae visage.
?Don't try it Sir. I've known you too long.? Pecht shrugged his slight shoulders as Gerald continued. ?You knew that Vittorio was going to take her.?
Pecht looked slightly dismayed. ?That was a long time ago lad.? Gerald slowly shook his head in the negative and said;?that doesn't matter.?
The big man took a moment to survey the small lavishly appointed apartment before turning his gaze back on the millenia old figure from folklore.
?She wasn't my mum;? Gerald said, ?but Teague's mother was the grandest lady I have known my whole life.? Pecht agreed with; ?the Mrs. was quite the lady, you're not wrong there lad.?
?You knew that Vittorio was going to take her; and you did nothing?? Gerald asked his boss. The Pixie said;?she came out of it none the worse for wear lad.? Gerald nodded but asked; ?but did you know she would be ok??
He continued; ?you know what that beast did to me. Did you know she would be ok??
Pecht considered for a moment before he answered; ?honestly lad: I did not.?
Geralds' face flushed: he sighed, and he asked; ?then how could you have done that?? the big man started to pace; ?they both could have been killed by that monster.?
?I'm sorry lad;? Pecht told his man, ?I needed Teague to take care of the situation; and having his mother in peril, made certain that he would do what needed to be done.?
A troubled look crossed Geralds' broad face and he said; ?I don't know if I can be here.?
Pecht looked up at his man and asked; ?what do you mean Gerald??
The big man looked around and said;?I need some time.? ?Time for what lad?? the Pixie asked. ?I just need some time Sir.?
He stopped pacing and looked down at the old fae; ?I need some time away to think.? The Pixie looked a little distressed and said; ?but I need you here lad.?
Gerald considered for a moment and told his boss;?I honestly believe there is nothing you can't do Sir: you don't need me.? ?Don't worry;? he said to his small boss, ?if Miss Bella loses her amphoriskoi again: I'll get it back for her.?
Pecht looked troubled and asked; ?are you sure about this Gerald?? The big man considered for a moment and said; ?yes Sir Mr. Pecht; I am sure.? The Pixie thrust his small chin up at the big man and said; ?what if I say no? What if I don't let you go?? Gerald looked down at the much older, smaller figure, shook his head and softly said; ?I don't think you will.? The Pixie looked down at his small, fancy shoes and in his soft, high voice agreed; ?you're right: I don't think I will.?
The big man turned away and started toward the door. As he reached the door the ancient Pixie called out; ?Gerald: you take care.?
The former enterprise man looked back and said; ?you do the same Pecht.?
And then he left.
|
Detective Timothy O'Carter
?Move to a smaller city?, they said ?There's still interesting cases, but no gang wars, and you'll get promoted faster?, they promised. ?They? were right. But what they failed to mention was that in this smaller city, interesting didn't begin to describe some of the cases that we dealt with. Most of them, actually, now that I think of it.
My first case in this town had been a mass baby napping. If someone, somehow, stealing the entire preemie ward hadn't been strange enough; it got even weirder once we caught the guy. Babies were totally fine, mostly asleep, not a scratch on them. The perpetrator, though. He never made it to his bail hearing, even. He wasted away in his cell overnight, the autopsy showing iron based heavy metal poisoning. Luckily, he didn't seem to have any family so no one had sued the city for it Most of our strange cases weren't so large and showy, though.
Like today's fiasco. I worked my way up from a beat cop to Major Crimes. I was an actual goddamn detective. So why was I being sent to deal with noise complaints from a frat party?
?Priska,? I ask my supposed partner ?Whose cheerios did you piss in this time??
?I don't know what you're talking about.? He replies, trying to look innocent before going back to the mountain of paperwork on his desk.
?I'm talking about this,? I put the file for this party disaster on his desk. ?It's nice that there aren't any homicides to deal with today, but this??
?A noise complaint?? He looks perplexed. ?How is there a whole file on a ?? He gets deadly quiet for a few long moments, flipping through the file. I just take the time to finish off my coffee. ?Did you read this??
?What's to read?? I start to get up to find more coffee. ?A frat party has somehow lasted more than one day, is louder than usual, and my partner has pissed off the chief enough - again - that we get to deal with it.?
?What's to read,? he answers me, ?is that it's lasted FOUR days now. And the 12 beat cops who went to shut them down over the last four days aren't back.?
?If we've got officers down, why isn't swat going in? With EMTs?? Now I'm alarmed. This city is strange but they're usually better organized than this.
?Not down,? he clarifies, ?just not back. The last ones to be sent reported seeing at least several of the others trough binoculars before heading in.?
?So? hostage negotiators?? This still isn't our job.
?They saw them dancing, Tim.? He shakes his head. ?They aren't being held hostage; the party is contagious.?
This is our job, and as much as I hate to admit it right now, we're going to need backup.
Vivian May, PI
It was a fairly boring week at my little agency. Nothing much had crossed my desk, just a missing jewelry case that I passed off to my best friend Richard. A werecoyote's enhanced sense of smell is often enough to break that sort of case, but Richard's low level psychic powers shine with this sort of thing, and he's been bored (and broke) too. The big money in my line of work was in missing teenagers. Local cops don't have the budget to look for kids who will probably wander sheepishly home in the morning, anyway, until they've been gone over night. Parents don't usually want to hear that, so a friend on the force usually points them in my direction.
The other sort of big money case I normally handle isn't as exciting, but it is why my usual source of upset parents has dried up. Insurance fraud. It's not flashy, and all kinds of people who normally wouldn't commit crimes think it's a great idea. People like Detective Timothy's soon to be ex brother-in-law, for example. Which is why his sister is staying in his guest room, and his partner (and my good friend) Detective Priska hasn't sent me any leads lately.
When Priska calls me with something so weird that even Timothy is willing to deal with me, my ears perk up. Today might be an interesting day, after all. I talk them into meeting me at the local diner. If I can't get involved enough to warrant a consulting fee, I at least want some free lunch. Shapeshifter metabolisms are no joke, even broke werecoyotes need to eat.
Timothy
I don't like working with Vivian. First of all, even in a town this frigging weird, it's irregular for cops to be working with a PI. If she's so good at sorting out this strangeness, why doesn't she just join the force? Ok, I guess that could be overlooked just because some of our cases were strange enough that we might not sort the out following the rules. But I've got a personal problem with her as well. My damned brother-in-law, well, ex-brother-in-law now? He'd been pulling some sort of insurance scam. My sister wasn't in on it, which is why she ended up in my guest room after the insurance company hired Vivian. I know it's not actually her fault. But, no grown man wants his older sister moving in with him.
Also, she eats our entire petty cash budget every time we take her to lunch. I swear this gal has a hollow leg She's not an amazon at 5'9?, and athletic as opposed to slim but not over muscled. She eats like an ultra-marathon runner carb loading before a big race, though, seemingly every day. I just chalk it up to one more weird thing in this crazy town when she's beat us to the diner, and ordered two huge club sandwiches with salads and fries. At least she already got coffee for all of us.
Vivian
I ought to stop eating like this in front of these guys. They're like most of the normal people in this town, they wouldn't recognize the supranatural unless it bit them. Hell, they might even tell themselves it was a dream or an art student's prank if it did. A normal woman my size wouldn't have my appetite, but using my enhanced werecoyote senses to solve cases without shifting to a coyote in the middle of the city - and getting animal control called on me (again) - took a lot of energy.
Whatever, too late now. I finished my first sandwich and picked up the file they'd brought with them.
?So, what strange nonsense do you have for me today?? I'm making light of it, because often it's horrible.
?Strange nonsense is the only way to put it,? Priska replies. ?We have a frat party that's been going on for four days now,? he raises one eyebrow, ?that has somehow sucked in 12 beat cops who went to try to shut them down.?
?Wait, what?? I put down my 2nd sandwich and pay attention. ?That's strange even for us.?
Unfortunately, there isn't much more in the file to go by. The first few sets of officers didn't even take any notes, just went charging in. By the fourth set, someone assumed it was some sort of sonic attack and wore earplugs, at least. Not that it helped them. The sixth set got an eye on all the rest with their binoculars, and made note of the fact that they just seemed to be dancing, and went to try to talk sense into them. The three of us decide to just stay far enough away to be safe and carefully check it out.
We're still half a mile out when my nose tells me exactly what the problem is. It's a Satyr. Yes, they're real too, try to keep up. Ridiculous goat smelling, party loving, jerks. He'd play DJ for a week if no one stopped him, using his pheromones to pull more and more people in and feeding off their energy as they literally danced themselves to death. Fortunately, strong or not, they're still herbivores. It shouldn't take much for me to send him on his way. I'm turning to tell the guys that I'll handle it when I realize it's too late.
Timothy
For the life of me, I still can't tell you why I went in there. I don't want to dance; I hate to dance. I'm not here to party, I'm here to break it up. I feel possessed. It has to be drugs, that's what we put on the report after so that has to be true, right? There's no other rational explanation. Some aerosol version of a new party drug.
Why it didn't affect Vivian I'll never know, but I'm glad it didn't. I'm trying to keep an eye on her as I dance along with the crowd, just catching snippets of her silhouette between the strobe lights and the fog machine. Those can't have been fangs I saw in her smile when she strode up to talk to the DJ. I must have been seeing things because of the drug. Whatever she said to him, though, worked. He turned as white as a ghost, and suddenly the music stopped.
Someone turned on a normal light, and we were just looking at wreckage. People were collapsing where they stood, having danced for days. My partner and I got our wits back faster than the beat cops. We started calling EMTs, firemen, everyone really. There was something like 200 exhausted kids to deal with and no real answers. Maybe when I finished all this paperwork I'd put in a transfer back to the city, this town gets weirder by the day.
A new carnival approached the city. My friends and I decided we were going to meet there by the Ferris wheel tomorrow. John said he would have to take care of his sister since his parents had dinner night, so I decided I would help him pay the babysitter. He texted his parents that agreed, but he would have to leave with them since they didn't want him doing anything funny with her. Barely did they know. So we agreed that John and I would be the first to go there.
John and I were at the carnival at 5 pm to meet with a few of our friends, when he got a text and said he was sorry, but he had to go back because the babysitter had to leave his little sister but he would try to get back. I was kinda bummed, but okay. Our friends wouldn't come for a few hours.
I started walking toward the rollercoaster. They had built this extremely quickly, so I didn't know if it was safe, but whatever. I entered the line. I was looking at the lake near and blinked. It was night. Weird. I thought nothing of this, not until I noticed that there was no lake. There was snow on the floor, and I had never seen the clothes I was wearing. I went to a guy near me that appeared to work here and approached him.
?Hey man, I know it's your day off, but you still need to wait in the line? What happened to your head?? After he said that, he started calling a guy named John on his walkie-talkie. I put my left hand on my head and when I noticed I was bleeding. I also had a ring. Weird.
?Honey, are you okay?? Wait, John? I turned my head too fast and passed out. When I woke up, I was in a hospital, with just a late-20s guy looking at me.
?Hey, you woke up!? He came and hugged me. He looked and sounded like John, but he was older, so it couldn't be him.
?Who are you? Where am I? Where are my parents?? I started pushing him away when I noticed he was wearing a similar wedding ring. I freaked out. When I was about to scream, the doctor came in.
?Hi, you have a concussion, but your ECT hasn't come back yet, so maybe the damage can be greater. We talked to your employer, and she said that you will stay in town for 5 more days, so we will keep you overnight for observation.? He then turned to the guy and said. ?Your husband was lucky that he had you as a healer. Your magic stopped a more severe loss of blood.?
?Wait, what do you mean by employer and husband? I'm only 18. And what is this nonsense about magic?? I tried to sit up, but I felt dizzy and fell. The doctor then approached me, grabbed a small lantern, and shined my eyes.
?What is the last thing you remember?? The doctor was looking worried at me,
?I was in the line for the roller coaster after my boyfriend John left, waiting for my school friends to come, I blinked, and was in a different place, but in the line for the roller coaster.? I didn't understand their reactions, but the guy was getting freaked out.
?That was 10 years ago, Matt. A lot has happened. Like, a lot.? He came over and hugged me again. Yeah, that was John, with his black curly hair, his dark skin tone, and those lips?
?If this memory loss lasts for over 24 hours, which I think it will, you probably will have a permanent memory loss.? The doctor left just me and John alone
He then talked to me about what happened. His parents had figured it out and planned the thing to confront him and try to get him to conversion therapy, but he ran out back to the carnival to meet me. We found the owner and got jobs there. My parents went along with this, so I still talked to them. We got married 6 years ago.
He also told me we discovered we were witches when we escaped with the carnival. He was a healer, and I was a technopath. So that explains how I always made my cell work. 2 years ago a vampire appeared and revealed the existence of vampires, werewolves, witches, and Furcifers, which are guys who can hide in plain sight, disappearing even from the best trackers.
My parents got here in Albany from the Keys, where they had moved 3 years ago, the next day. It was weird, to say the least. For me, it was like I had talked to them in person yesterday, but it was last Thanksgiving, which was over a year ago.
The next day I was feeling better, so I got discharged. My parents went with me and John since they would leave that day. We got to the carnival and my parents stayed with us for a while and then John drove them to the airport.
I knew I was to be inside the trailer all the time, but I peeked around. I went around and found this weird girl in miniskirts and a crop top. She was pale with black hair. She didn't look anywhere over 23, but because she wasn't purple with the cold, I assume she was a vampire. How she was in the middle of the sun, I didn't know. Her phone rang, and she answered. I kept moving.
I went in the direction of the carnival that was closed due to it still being midday, and some people who were setting up started waving at me. Weird. but I have been living here for a decade.
I took a left turn and saw myself lost. I kept walking and the buzz that I was feeling stopped. And then it got back. I looked in that direction. There was nothing. What was the name of the guys who could disappear? Furcifers, right? I approached, looking in that direction. The buzz went quickly to the right. It was probably his phone. So I can feel peoples' phones? Neat.
I turned back to try to go back when I saw a weird building. I entered, and it was a house of mirrors. I saw myself with my black hair a little bit longer, and the blue eyes looked deeper The skin was still pale. I had dark circles all over my eyes.
I hated these things since I always got lost on them. I kept moving, with an arm in front of me to avoid collisions. I got into an area where I was surrounded by mirrors and a woman with olive skin, channel straight hair, a one-shoulder red dress, and a huge gold necklace.
"Did the bitch curse you too, Matthew? You never get lost here." She looked kinda behind me while she talked. Then I noticed that her reflections were kind of fuzzy. Another vampire?
"No, I have amnesia. What did you do to get cursed?" I was curious but scared at the same time. She then proceeded to come closer and put her hands at my temples and locked eye contact with me.
"Not a spell, but a hard physical impact. Unless you find a really good healer, you will remain like this, hell, even if you find one. And to answer your question, I killed three werewolves, and almost caused a war inside here. I regret it, not because I got trapped here, but because what I did was wrong." She removed her hand and made a sign for me to follow her. I did and she took me to the entrance. There, an old lady dressed in maroon was waiting.
"Matthew, you should've been in your trailer resting. In 3 days we will be parting to Magique. Mehi, I set you free. We will need your help in the future." The old lady said, and the vampire got mad because it was still daytime, but the old lady dismissed her.
"There was a buzz randomly somewhere here. I think it was one of those people who can hide. Also, there was a girl on a crop top and miniskirt looking around. And how did you find me?" She was impressed by me noticing these things, and an almost grieving look took her face for a few seconds.
"You would be a great asset in the war to come, but your recovery is more important. And the buzzing was the phone of one of our helpers who warned me. The girl I have no idea, but she has access to a witch to be walking in daylight. She may not be a foe in this instant, but it raises some concern." We kept walking and got to the trailer area.
"War against who? And where is Magique? And how can that vampire walk when it's in the middle of the day?" She looks at me happy with these questions.
"War against the United States of America. They are planning on passing laws that would make our lives extremely hard. Because a witch enchanted a memento of her life as a human and it is always connected with her. Mehi is almost 3,000 years old, so anything like that would probably deteriorate, or because of time, she would lose the emotional connection." We got to mine and John's trailer and entered. She started and started making coffee.
"About Magique, is a place in Oregon where 5 packs of werewolves decided to create a nation. So a few vampires and covens decided to move there and a few furcifers too. They took their companies there and it caused a huge influx of our people moving there. The last straw was when a nationwide coven called The Witches of Revolution went there, in October last year. Now we are in January and the new laws are about to get voted, and we need to pass the borders before." She said all of that, drank a mug of coffee and then opened the door. She turned to me:
"Get some rest. Tomorrow grab your grimoire and study it. We need all hands on deck." And left.
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