* * * * *
In my experience, weirdness usually begins at a bar then ends at another location. Well today was mixed up because we started the weird at another spot and ended up at the Booze Bin. Frankie looked less than pleased to let us into the pub since he usually kept it locked up tight until the sun went down. But oh, how the barkeep’s eyes lit up when the Twins informed him they were opening a tab in my name. After that Frankie practically threw the doors open and waved us inside like long lost relatives.
So there we were; The Twins, Fiona and myself, all sitting in the back of the bar sipping beers. A word hadn’t passed between us since leaving Hell Scratch, probably because we were still trying to internalize the events we had just witnessed. Half an hour passed and we were still on our first drinks, a fact that only came to our attention because Frankie grumbled about it.
“So,” West spoke, finally breaking the silence, “If no one else is going to say it I will. That was-”
“-Beyond fucked up.” Kurt finished for his counterpart and they each took a sip of their beer in unison.
“What just happened?” Fiona squeaked, her eyes watering, “All those girls…and then he was flying…and…and…”
“Short answer?” I interrupted, giving her a gentle pat, “We don’t know. The long answer is we don’t know…yet.”
Fiona looked up at me confused.
“This isn’t over yet.” I told her with much more confidence than I felt, “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Should we go to the police?” Fiona asked.
The Twins burst into laughter at her suggestion and while I didn’t share in their laugh, I agreed with them. No way were we going to the cops. I had already been framed for one murder and now was directly involved with another death. We couldn’t call the cops and neither would the Daughters of All since explaining a storage room of unconscious teens would be a tricky situation.
As usual that left us on our own.
“Yeah, that was a stupid idea.” My client admitted, sipping her beer quietly.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” I said, “But we can’t get the police involved just yet. Plus I think it’s time we get our answers straight from the top. Like the cult leader, for instance.”
“You think they’d know where Faye is?” Fiona asked hopefully.
Hell, finding her sister was the furthest thing from my mind. All I wanted to do was jump back into my nice and semi-cozy lifestyle of conning Uncle Sam out of grant money and performing bogus exorcisms. Quickest way to do that was finding the leader, king, or Messiah of the Daughters of All. After finding the cult’s mastermind, I had several options including bribery, blackmail or backstabbing.
Of course I didn’t tell Fiona that, instead replying, “Of course. Your sister is a big piece of this puzzle and we need her to solve it.”
A few hours ago that would have been the truth. Fiona’s supposedly dead sister had been the best lead we had on the Daughters of All. But not any longer. That woman we had encountered at the club was a direct link to the cult and I bet it would be easier to find her than Faye. Sure, I didn’t know her name, age, height, weight, or any other details but what did that matter? We were living in the age of technology which streamlined the whole detective process.
Reaching into my pocket I pulled out my cell and punched in a number, which was answered on the eighth ring.
“Yeah?”
“Buggy, I got a few impossible tasks for you.”
“Okay.”
“Name your price.”
“One large pizza with the works and a six pack of cola.”
“Okay. See you in a bit.”
Hanging up, I looked over at the clock. It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. Right now I should be passed out at my apartment, office or a floozy’s place. I shouldn’t be awake or sober and I definitely shouldn’t be involved with series of events that included a cult, a trash monster, a flying junkie and dances with a dead girl.
“Fellas,” I announced as I turned to go, “Please see Miss Ambrose home safely.”
Fiona gave me a pleading look that begged me to take her along, but I couldn’t comply. Partly because I didn’t want her to see how many laws I was about to break but mostly I didn’t think the fairer sex should suffer through the unique mess that is Buggy’s basement apartment.
“Oh and guys?” I called out before exiting the bar, “Keep your guns loaded for crazy. I think things are gonna get a whole lot worse before they get better.”
“Hell yeah!” The Twins’ unified and excited cry followed me out into the street.
* * * * *