* * * * *
Let’s face it. I had no experience with the paranormal and this was way out of my league. Until meeting Fiona, I had to only worry about the simple things. Like cops, crime lords, people I’ve double crossed, businessmen I’ve cheated, street gangs, fraud investigators and my ex-fiancé’s brother. How carefree I had been! But now? Now I had to worry about the fucking supernatural?! Witches, demons, warlocks, ghosts, goblins, and Lord knows what else! It didn’t seem fair!
What did I possibly do to deserve this?!
From the Bin I walked to Buggy’s place. It was a long, long walk and my feet were throbbing by the time I knocked on his door but I had needed time to clear my head. Plus it would have been too easy for me to instruct a cabbie to head to the airport. Yes, I still wanted to cut and run. That Plan B briefcase had enough cash to set me up rather comfortable in a foreign country where the Daughters of All would never find me.
It’s not like it would be the first time I’ve fled the country. Once, when I was still a young and had more balls than brains, I got caught trying to con the wrong people. Long story short, I had the shit beat out of me and was left to die in a Mexican desert. I walked thirteen hours in the blistering heat to the nearest village with only a t-shirt, a pair of boxer shorts and a hundred dollar bill stuffed in my sock.
In that village I discovered some interesting facts. First off, being nursed back to health on a diet of beans, rice and jalapenos was a horrible experience. Secondly, the locals were being cheated by an American landowner who was in charge of all the farming done in the region. With my one hundred dollar pittance, I managed to set in motion a new con targeting the landowner. In less then a month I was back up to thirty-five hundred dollars and making my way back stateside. I had even paid the villagers back for helping me out, insuring they weren’t charged triple for renting farming equipment from the oppressive landowner.
Photos of him in the arms of a gay lover were all the leverage they needed to keep the bastard honest.
The point of the story was that with a little cash and a little brain power, you can accomplish great things. The cash in my briefcase was all the seed money I would need to set up another comfortable life in Canada or maybe Cancun. So why not run?! It made the most sense! I couldn’t say for sure. Maybe I was too scared to run from these freaks. Maybe I was too tired to start all over…or maybe, just maybe, I genuinely wanted to keep my client safe.
After all, Fiona needed a miracle and all she had was me.
Poor girl. Destiny must really hate her.
I knocked on Buggy’s door, just as the sun began its descent. I was tired, frustrated and confused. Conflicting emotions battled for dominance. One second my courage wavered and I was ready to run, followed by my resolve coming back stronger than ever…just to have it abandon me again. I imagine bravery is much like a muscle and by living a cowardly life like I had, the muscle was weak.
With Buggy’s help, I was hoping to become brave in little steps.
“Who is it?” Buggy asked through the door as per his usual greeting.
“Me.” I grunted.
Locks were thrown, chains were rattled and the 2x4 brace removed. The door opened a crack and Buggy peeked out, one eye focused on me.
“Are you, or have ever been, associated with any law-enforcement agency including the CIA, FBI, Homeland Security, or similar organizations?” The hacker asked, more out of force of habit than anything else.
“I’m too tired to be snide,” I replied, “No.”
The door swung open, allowing me inside. I entered the abode and waded through the mess to sink onto the couch-shaped heap. Buggy scuttled back over to his computer with plenty of haste, apparently two minutes away from his digital throne was much too long.
“Well,” Buggy said with zero tact, “You look like shit.”
“I look a thousand times better than I feel.” I replied, gingerly probing my ribs with a finger to test how well my body was holding up.
“So what happened?” Buggy asked, doing his best to be helpful while focusing on the several different computer monitors before him.
“Long story short: another dead body, a room full of unconscious teens and some woman who wants me dead.” I grunted, reaching for my flask but then remembered I had drained it on the walk over.
Silence would have fallen on us if it weren’t for the several different beeps, buzzing, whirls and clicks of Buggy’s technological shrine.
“Well you said you had an impossible task,” The hacker asked, sparing a glance in my direction, “How can I help crack this conspiracy wide open?”
I decided that if I didn’t see a pattern with the Daughters of All then maybe a greater mind would and no one I knew had a greater (though odd) mind than Buggy. Reaching into my pants pocket, I withdrew the adoption papers that I had stolen from the clipboards at the club.
“First, I need you to dig up all the info you can using these,” I told the hacker, handing him the papers, “Second, I need you to find some woman that tried to have me killed at the Hell Scratch a few hours ago.”
“Done and done.” Buggy said, taking the papers from me and laying them on the desk next to his computer, “Anything else?”
I paused, then grinned, “You have a lot of interests, yeah?”
“Indeed,” Buggy nodded, his jowls jiggling.
“How do you feel about ghosts, possessions and that stuff?”
“I got gigabytes of data on that!” He boasted proudly.
“Meaning…?”
“I know a lot about it.”
“Got any experts you recommend?”
“One.”
“Can you get me in touch with him?”
Smiling like a kid who had just completed his first jigsaw puzzle, Buggy clicked a few things on his computer and brought up a number. He read it off to me as I punched it into my phone.
“That is the unregistered home phone number belonging to Dr. Roy Martin Spriggan,” Buggy informed me as the phone rang, “If it isn’t suppose to exist, he has written a book on it.”
“Great.” I replied and was unable to resist, “How did you get an unregistered phone number?”
“I selected the one number that all of his publishers and business associates called.” Buggy grinned, “I figured that if I ever became possessed, he could help me.”
“Groovy.” I grinned, wondering what demon would be desperate enough to possess Buggy’s doughy physique.
The phone rang several times before it was replaced by a groggy voice.
“Hello?” The groggy voice half-yawned.
“Dr. Spriggan?” I asked.
“Yes…who is this?”
“Well I’m about to become your number one fan.” I replied, trying to decide how to start my story without this guy hanging up on me.