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Scene #68
People say nothing ever happens in a small town. They would
be wrong. They just don't want to know or they pretend not to
know. But I did. Unfortunately. Every time I got one of the
letters, I knew something horrible had happened. Or was going to
happen. Something that went beyond the norm. Something that
belonged only to those realms where human logic had no hold. And
I'd be the one to go out and take care of it. That's what I dealt
with. I'm Liz St. John, agent for O.W.L.: Occult World Logistics.
There are humans out there with vivid imaginations. They believe in
ghosts, spirits, witches, vampires, werewolves, all sorts of weird
matter. They're looked at as psychotics or they make a living
writing fantasy books or horror movies. What they don't know is
that all that stuff, and more, is true. After all, I'm not human
myself. I wasn't exactly sure what I was. I'm mostly human,
but with a few extra capabilities. And believe me, others have
tried to find out where I fit in the supernatural scheme of things.
The closest we could come is a witch, but mixed with something
else, possibly elf. What I had was not exactly psychic abilities or
powers, but a combination of both, and more. And I can do other
things. Weird things that creep out at the oddest of times, like
thunder when I'm pissed off or making the ground shake when I'm
especially emotional. I'm not infallible. I made mistakes. But I
always cleaned up my own messes. And others. The sweat on my
hands had nothing to do with the Florida temperature as I held the
envelope that had been stuck to my steering wheel. It wasn't the
first time I'd gotten one. Over the last ten years, I'd received
maybe a dozen and a half letters like it. They always meant bad
news. Always. But even though I knew this, I opened it, glanced at
the wad of money included, and read the note: “North on I-95 to
Philadelphia. Rte 76 west to Harrisburg. Rte 322 north to Rte 34.
Follow enclosed directions from there. Look for Charly and be
prepared for anything. Bannig is back.” In addition to the
letter and the money, a business card fell out along with a puzzle
piece. I glanced at the card and read “K.P. Private
Investigations.” There was an address and phone number on the card.
After reading it, I tucked it back in the envelope. I usually had a
contact wherever I went. This K.P. was probably my contact. I
reckoned I'd take a closer look when I got there. And I knew I
would go. As soon as I touched the paper, I knew. Knew whatever was
coming wouldn't be good. I rubbed the scar that crossed my ribs, a
remnant of the last time I'd faced Bannig. Except for the King of
Evil himself, there is no badder bad in the universe. I'd dealt
with a lot of different malevolent things over the years, but
Bannig was the worst. Three years ago, we'd met. I'd taken care of
his plans, and his minions, but barely. And the Powers wanted
me to meet him again? Did they have no feelings at all? “I'm
supposed to be on vacation!” I bellowed at the roof of my car. The
air conditioning blew the sheet of paper as it hovered in front of
me. “You promised me a vacation. Bannig is definitely not my idea
of a vacation.” My forehead bounced on the steering wheel and
I rolled it from one side to the other, trying to deny what I knew
I'd have to do. I'd seen enough bad in my life. Bringing a little
good was the least I could do. I considered it retribution. Evil
made my life a living hell and I liked getting back at the bad
guys. But Bannig? Meeting him once was definitely more than enough.
The letter floated above me. I lifted my head enough to see
it and the knowledge pounded into my brain. The psychic vibes
coming from the sheet of paper were stronger than at any other
time. Bannig was coming. And very soon. I laid my head back down.
“I really do not need this. You hear me? I don't want to do this
anymore. Can't you find someone else? I'm sure you have other
agents.” The paper hung there, like a stern teacher frowning
at a recalcitrant student. I'd seen the look often enough to
recognize it, even from a sheet of paper. Silent and
uncompromising. I sighed, got out of the car and went to my room. I
threw my meager wardrobe into a backpack, then stowed my crystals,
each one in a separate compartment in a special box I'd constructed
for them. Next I had to talk to Suzanne, owner of the B and B I'd
been staying in and helping out at for the last few weeks. I was on
vacation from O.W.L., but that didn't mean I couldn't use a few
extra bucks.
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