~*~Prologue~*~

He was always so quiet at school. Never talked to anyone, never talked to a teacher unless called upon, but even then it was short and to the point, and always the correct answer. He was such a mystery to everyone.

But he had the one smile that would melt all the girls' hearts. Boys were jealous of him, the girls loved him. No one talked to him. As a freshman in high school, the head senior cheerleader asked him to the homecoming dance. He laughed at her and walked away, crushing her heart and sending chills up her spine at the same time.

In four years he managed to outcast himself from the other students. No one talked to him. No one applauded him as he received his diploma. No one stopped him as he walked out of the football field after descending the stairs. No one paid him any mind until he was out of sight. No one saw him after that day. No one knew what became of him. After that summer before college, no one bothered to wonder if he was even still alive. No one cared...

Except for me.

I was fortunate enough to be in every one one of his classes from first to twelfth grade. I was probably the only person in the world who knew he had a personality - one other than a quiet lunatic who would one day open fire on the students in a massive bloody bath that left no one alive, save maybe for him. I wasn't afraid of him. He was human; he did have a heart, a brilliant mind, and a smile that would brighten my day no matter how dark the clouds were. Sometimes, I'd even think he could make the sun rise with that smile.

His only flaw was his obsession with the supernatural. I didn't believe in such things, but he was so adamant that anything and everything out of the fairytales was real. I think that's what drew him away from me in the end. It's my fault he left our graduation so abruptly, never to be seen again. I cried for him that night, though everyone thought I was sad about leaving high school.

It wasn't until years later that I'd see him again. How ironic was that? In the grief of losing my husband to something not human, he was introduced to me as Ted Forrester.


~*~ 1 ~*~

It was full dark by the time the limousine arrived in my roundabout driveway. I stood on the top floor, looking down through the window of my bedroom as my guests’ faces appeared in the door as the chauffer stepped back, bringing the door with him so it opened fully. I had let them use my personal limo, the white one with a single red stripe that ran along the middle of the vehicle all the way around. My husband had added the stripe to add individuality, he had told me.

He was like that, my husband. He loved being different than the ordinary rich man. I hadn’t known him in high school, but I’d always imagined him to be one of those types who dressed in odd colors, had a mohawk every color of the rainbow, and a single earring that stretched the skin so you could poke a pencil through the hole. He was ten years older than I, but his hair was dark red, a shade of maroon, I believe. His eyes, I swear, were naturally a brown-reddish color.

Those eyes, I would never be able to see again.

I swallowed back a sob that was threatening to emerge, and I had to turn away from the window as the woman stepped out of the limo. Closing the drapes quickly, I wrapped my silken white robe tighter around me, as if the room had suddenly become the South Pole. Thinking of Adam, as of late, had made me feel this way. It’s been only an hour, but it felt like an eternity since the break-in. I wasn’t sure how long I was able to hold back my hysteria, but my sanity wasn’t lasting much longer. Hopefully I’d be able to explain the situation before then.

A knock sounded at my door and I heard Landen, my husband’s manservant, announce Anita Blake and her team.

I slipped on my thin slippers, white like my robe, but softer than a newborn kitten’s fur, and opened the door. Landen gave me a small smile. He was sixty-five, and had yet to see the body of his former employer. I made sure he didn’t see Adam, for fear of Landen’s already weak heart.

~*~ 2 ~*~

The Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, that had taken the time to travel the forty-five minutes to my home, consisted of three people: Anita Blake, and two others who had already been led to the body of my husband by our gardener. The gardener really wasn’t who would have been my first choice to show off my dead husband, but there was no one else remotely close to my home, other than Landen.

As I descended the staircase, I studied the famed “Executioner”. She was short, but not much shorter than I, and I wasn’t considered tall for a woman. Her curly hair was pulled back into a somewhat large ponytail, most likely due to the humidity the summer night had offered us. It tended to be about ten percent more humid out here in seclusion from the city than the city itself, so I really couldn’t blame her. She wore a regular, crimson red T-shirt, tucked into a pair of black jean pants. She wore a pair of black Nikes. I wasn’t too critical about her wardrobe, after all I would have chosen something similar before meeting Adam. On the whole, I really liked the sight of her. She made me feel safer from whatever it was that broke into my home and maimed my husband. Perhaps it was that firearm she flaunted in a shoulder holster that made me feel that way.

She was looking at the portrait of my husband and me; painted for us by an artist in France on the only trip to France I had ever taken in my life. It usually was the first thing guests noticed when walking into the front hall. I was told it was the necklace I wore for that particular occasion. It was a somewhat large, clear diamond, the size of my fist, that hung lightly on a simple, silver chain. Yes, that’s right, I said lightly, as if the diamond didn’t weigh much more than a strand of hair. I don’t know where my husband bought it, and I’m not quite sure what he did with it after that painting. I do, however, wish I still had it to show off to some of the other women I had the misfortune of knowing.

I stepped off the stairs and Anita Blake looked at me. She blinked the moment she laid eyes on me, as if she wasn’t expecting what she saw. I was used to that reaction. I was only twenty-five, and that painting looked as if it were created maybe twenty years ago, when in reality it was only a few months old. I was aware that any make-up I had on was now smeared due to hasty removal, and my eyes were red from both fatigue and tears. My usual straight, auburn-colored hair was a ratted mess. I will be the first to admit that I was nowhere near a sight for sore eyes. In fact, I was probably the reason the eyes were sore to begin with.

“Anita Blake,” Landen said, “this is my employer’s wife, Lillian Murray. Mrs. Murray, this is Anita Blake, as you have called upon.”

I thanked Landen and sent him off to get some coffee. I wanted him gone before I could tell this woman what was in the dining room, but I knew I had only a short time to tell it.

As soon as I was certain Landen was out of earshot, I led Ms. Blake back towards the front doors. Not to go outside, but just far enough away from the kitchen so Landen couldn’t overhear what I was about to say. I know she was a little unnerved about the sudden human contact, and I was highly aware of the gun that hung on her side, but it had to be done. Without an invitation, I blurted out everything.

~*~ 3 ~*~

“Before I tell you anything,” I said in a rush, “I want you to know that you came highly recommended, and that the body I’m about to show you has not been touched or seen by anyone before your men.”

Anita began to open her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. I could tell already she was a woman who didn’t like to be interrupted, but I had little time before the old man with the weak heart came back.

“That’s my husband in there,” I began, pointing in the direction of the dining room. I had to swallow another choking sob before I could continue. I knew I had only a little composure left before I had a meltdown, and I wanted to get as much out as I possibly could. “I don’t know what did it, but I know it wasn’t human.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked. I could tell she was a little miffed about being called out here without anyone surveying the body before her coming here; she seemed to strike me as that type of person.

“My husband told me so,” I said in a rushed whisper. “We had just gotten home from dinner, and he had just sent everyone home for the night, when someone knocked on our door.” I nodded to the double French doors of which she stood in front. “He told me to go up to the attic, grab one of his hunting rifles, and to stay up there until he came for me.” I had to take a second to swallow another sob. It was getting harder to hold myself back by the second. My voice was already starting to crack. “I did as he told me. What I heard from beyond the door to the attic was the window crashing and my husband shouting, then…” I couldn’t finish. Replaying in my mind what I had heard wasn’t going to come out easy. “He started gurgling.”

Anita looked towards the dining room to our left, and no doubt noticed the blood splatters on the curtains that covered the pair of redwood French doors. I wasn’t going to allow myself to look in that room at the horror of my husband’s body once more.

“Was there any sound of struggling?” she asked, looking back at me.

I shook my head. “Just him gurgling and then silence. I waited about five minutes, but nothing else sounded. I came down here as quickly as I possibly could, and I saw what was left of him.”

I saw her swallow something back, and that pushed me over the edge. The tears came first, and then my hands began shaking. Almost immediately I started hyperventilating. I hadn’t had much time to begin grieving the loss of my husband, and everything was coming out in crashing waves of emotion.

It was at this moment Landen came back carrying a tray of an elaborate coffee pot, complete with two cups. He set the tray down on the mini bookcase we kept in the front hall, hurriedly and yet so gracefully to not spill the scalding liquid, and led me to the parlor across the hall from the dining room. It was there I fell onto the only sofa in the room, and cried. I cried until I couldn’t cry any longer. Landen had left me to my grief, most likely to allow Anita to see what lay beyond the dining room doors. I had already forbidden him to see what was in that room and I trusted him enough to obey me under even the direst of circumstances.

The image of seeing nothing but human bits and blood in such a small space had made me sick when I first saw it. His head was placed on the crystal candelabra he had bought for Christmas last year, which was placed in the middle of our fairly small dining table. It only seated four people, since we weren’t the kind of couple to hold extravagant parties. His head was really the only distinguished part of him left intact, his eyes wide in terror, and his mouth open so big it was if his jaw was broken so he could get out whatever it was he trying to shout, or gurgle; everything else was torn to bits and thrown in such a way that whatever did it had a hay day of throwing my husband’s body bits in celebration. Nothing in the room was left untouched of blood, and the smell was so strong it could’ve choked a cow. How Ms. Blake didn’t notice it was beyond me. I had gotten used to the smell, and Landen couldn’t smell.

It was in the final moments of my hysteria did I remember something someone said from my childhood.

“The monsters are out there, and I’m going to kill them all. You may not believe me, but one day you will. When that day comes, I won’t be around to save you no matter how loud you cry for me.”

I shook my head, my face buried in the expensive satin fabric of the sofa. I could vaguely hear myself repeating, “I’m sorry.” To whom, I wasn’t sure, but it was there, and no one could hear me.

~*~ 4 ~*~

I watched, with great interest, the fireflies dancing just outside the parlor window. I had closed the window drapes during my hysteria, not wanting any possible murderers or paparazzi to witness my breakdown. That's all I needed at the moment. Tomorrow morning, on the stands, I'd love to see my face on the cover of some life-ruining magazine, the whole world reading about my husband's demise.

Now that the crying was all passed and done with, I had chanced opening the smallest wndow in the room, and that's when I noticed the little lightning bugs, all thoughts about being in a magazine gone from my mind. Somehow their ignorance of the violence and blood in my home had seemed to calm me down immensely. Adam had told me these little bugs held calming powers, and they were using it on me now.

I heard the parlor door open and watched from the reflection of the window as Anita Blake and someone else walked in. The second person, from what I could see from the darkened window, was about five inches taller than Anita, though I wasn't the best person for height estimation. From the window, he looked bald, but a faint fuzziness on his head was distinguishable, so I knew he wasn't. He wore very casual clothes: a regular T-shirt untucked over his regular jean pants. I couldn't tell the color of any of his clothing from the window, but I didn't think the color was really relevent. Had it been any other occasion, I would have had Landen toss this man out, but he looked like he was an assistant to Anita Blake, so I let it go.

"Mrs. Murray, I'd like you to meet Ted Forrester," Anita said as she closed the door.

I turned around, and my breath was nearly taken out from my body. Staring into those blue eyes that I had seen so many times before as a child, I knew Ted Forrester felt the same, yet he didn't show it.

Immediately he turned around and walked out the door, nearly slamming it as he closed it. Anita watched him go, then looked back at me, her mouth slightly open in confusion as she did so. I just stood there, staring at the spot where he used to stand. I felt myself smile slightly at the irony that, of all the occasions he could have had to return to my life, it was the night my husband was murdered.

"I'm sorry," I heard Anita say carefully. I looked at her. "I've never seen him do that before." She narrowed her eyes at me, but all I could do was stand there, dumbfounded. "Are you okay?"

I blinked furiously and shook my head. Smiling, I said, "Must be my appearance. I'd run from me, too, if I were him."

~*~ 5 ~*~

It was a bright, summer day, and there wasn't a child who wasn't on the metal jungle gym. Either it wasn't as hot as it could have been, or everyone just too preoccupied to notice if the metal was too hot. I certainly don't remember going home with any blisters, or even a sunburn. But the sun and heat weren't what I recall of that day anyway. What was significant about that day was that it was the day I had first met my oldest and dearest friend, Jack. It wasn't the first day of school, but it was for him. I remember running after my friends, being "it" in tag, and seeing him standing there, watching us. I remember stopping in front of him, and marveled at the bright blue that occupied his eyes. I had never seen any eyes that color, and, as a six year old, they captivated me.

"Hi," I said. I wasn't shy, and I loved meeting new people. It was both a curse and a blessing that I uttered this simple greeting to him. It was how our complicated friendship began.

He blinked at me for a handful of seconds. I was about to walk away when he smiled at me, though it was a malicious smile. For a six year old, malicious was not something you'd expect.

"My parents died in a car crash last month," he told me. It frightened me slightly, but I felt sorry for him, though his smile did tell me that he wasn't asking for pity. I grabbed him and hugged him. I couldn't imagine losing my parents, and so I felt he needed some comforting. He stiffened as I held him, like he wasn't used to being touched, let alone embraced.

"I'll be your friend," I whispered in his ear. I know now that wasn't his objective, but it's what I would've wanted if my parents had died.

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, but quickly regained his composure, and shoved me away, knocking me to the ground.

"I don't need a friend," he said, his voice filled with a certain cruelty that no child should ever have. "Especially a girl friend." He practically spit the word "girl" out at me, and I was instantly hurt. I thought about crying, calling for a teacher to get this boy in trouble, but something about the way his cheeks burned red made me
leave him be.

I shrugged, and stood up, brushing my knees off of dirt, though my knees aren't what I fell on. I smiled at him, and went back to chasing after my friends.

Now, as I stared at Anita Blake, the eyes of Ted Forrester still imprinted in my mind, I smiled wider. Him walking out the room was just like him refusing my offer to be his friend all those years ago. I'll be the first to admit that seeing him again had certainly made me feel better. I wanted to run after him, throw my arms around him like I did that day on the playground.

Then it hit me. Anita introduced him as Ted Forrester, and not Jack Young. Why would he change his name? Jack was a fine name for him, but Ted? I'd never pin him as a Ted, but that's just me.

He had definitely grown in the last seven years since I saw him last. His body matured greatly, filling out in all the right places. I'll be the first to admit he was a scrawny individual, and to see his body muscular and looking just about perfect, I realized I was a little angry he waited until after he left to become more healthy. I was constantly trying to get him to eat and exercise for years, but he only ate if he absolutely had to, and his only exercise was walking to and from school.

"Mrs. Murray, if you would wait a moment, I'll go bring him back."

I blinked at Anita, whom I had nearly forgotten all together. I nodded, and decided it was for the best that she be the one to retrieve him. I would've found him and hugged him, as I have already said. She would find him, bring him back, and make sure there would be no human contact at all. I would keep my composure because she would be present, and it was probably for the best.

~*~ 6 ~*~

Unfortunately, Ms. Blake returned alone, saying her associate wanted to survey the perimeter of the house. My home is fairly large, so if he really was trying to avoid me, that would be the way to do it. While she was gone, I had time to realize that him not being here was a good thing. The last words spoken to each other have no doubt been remembered in his mind, and I have been regretting my words to him since I'd shouted them.

I stared at her and she stared back. I knew she wanted to ask what had just happened, but I really didn't want to go into detail about him just an hour after my husband's murder. I broke eye contact with her first and sat down on the sofa.

"Could you tell me what happened earlier today?" she asked me. She remained standing. I smiled slightly, relieved that she changed the subject that was floating around both our heads.

I nodded. "I hadn't seen Adam at all today," I began. "He left before I woke up this morning, which was odd for him, because he isn't a morning person. Today I spent the whole day by myself. I read and watered the garden outside."

"I thought you had a gardener for that?" Ms. Blake asked. "Why would you do his job?"

"I love to garden. I have a little vegetable patch out by the pond." The pond was Adam's guilty pleasure. He loved exotic fish. "Travis was hired to take care of the lawn and the trees. Mostly landscaping."

Ms. Blake nodded. "When did your husband return home?"

"About five. He told me to get dressed, because he was taking me out to dinner. He seemed rushed, which made me think that there was something going on. I wasn't sure what, but something in the way he wanted to leave in such a rush made me think something was going to happen." I looked at the parlor doors, where my husband was mauled just across the hall. "I had no idea this is what was worrying him."

"What about dinner?" she asked in a rush. I think she noticed I was going to start crying again. I didn't blame her. The last time I was crying I was inconsolable.

"He took me to this very secluded resteraunt." I looked away from the doors. "It's about thirty minutes from here. He only takes me there when there's something special going on. He took me when he proposed to me, right before leaving for our honeymoon, and every anniversary and birthday since. This time, we sat near the back, no one around us, and until we left, I noticed the waiter hadn't even come. He talked to me about the jewel."

I glanced at Ms. Blake and realized she didn't know what I was talking about. "The one you were studying when we first met. The only time I wore it, and the only time I've seen it. He told me it's cursed. The last person who had it died. He had died the same way Adam did. I asked how he got the jewel, and said he had Landen steal it. Adam and a friend of his found it in Japan, and his friend was torn apart."

"Landen?"

"Adam's man. His butler."

"How well do you know Landen?"

I stared her, my mouth slightly open. "You think Landen did this?" My voice cracked, and I could feel tears building up in my eyes again. "He can't even stand to look at a bug he'd accidently stepped on, let alone tear a man apart and cause a mess like that in under five minutes."

"Are you sure he's human?"

"You're the preternatural expert, you tell me." Of course I knew Landen was human, but now that she asked me, I wasn't so sure anymore. I was hoping she'd tell me he was human.

"I didn't feel anything nonhuman coming from him," she said. "But some of the time you can't tell just by looking."

"Would Jack know?" I asked. I didn't realize she didn't know who I was talking about. I had forgotten his name was Ted.

"Who's Jack?" Ah, I knew it.

I shook my head. "Ted. I meant Ted."

She blinked at me, her eyebrows raised. Sighing, she asked the question that was hovering over her head since he'd walked out. "How do you know him?"

I shrugged. "I knew him when we were kids. To be honest, I had no idea that this was his choice of a career." I laughed at the unlikliness of the situation. "I didn't know he liked the name Ted. He was always so fond of Edward. He had planned on changing his name when we graduated high school."

I looked at Ms. Blake and saw something flash behind her eyes. I wasn't sure what, but it was there and gone.

"He graduated high school?" She seemed interested in her partner's past. She asked this question like she didn't believe it herself. I had figured all police had to graduate high school. Maybe he wasn't police? Maybe he was something else entirely.

~*~ 7 ~*~

Oddly enough, we spent the next thirty minutes talking about none other than Jack, I mean, Ted. I learned the two of them were friends for about six or seven years, which meant he walked into her life just after walking out of mine. He wasn't a policeman, like I had thought orginally, and neither was she. That didn't bother me, though I was trusting them with solving the crime of my husband's death. As a matter of fact, she was a little surprised this wasn't a vampire killing, which is usually what she's called in for. Having this not be a vampire attack was good news, and bad news. The good news was we ruled out vampires. Unfortunately, that brought us to the bad news being it still could be anything else. After seeing the damage, she called Ted because, she admits, he loves to help solve murders like this one, not to mention I was paying top dollar. This bit of information was a little disturbing on my part, but I was willing to accept any and all help.

Honestly, I had no idea he was actually willing to kill things for a living. Ms. Blake told me he was a bounty hunter, and I never would have guessed. He only ever talked about finding "the bastards" who caused the car wreck in which his parents were killed. I continuously told him that it wasn't a scary monster, and that it was just some drunken bastard who killed himself in the crash. Of course, like always, Jack didn't believe me, taking the accident way out of proportion. Though, as of a few years ago, I began to doubt myself. What if his parents did die because of something not human? If so, what was it? I'm sure he already knew, but I wanted to know. I knew I would be the last person he would share this information with, but it didn't hurt to wonder, right?

Another thirty minutes passed before Landen walked into the parlor, and asked if he be allowed to go home. I hadn't the slightest clue it was almost midnight, and, knowing his estranged seventy year old wife, he would probably be coming home to a not-so happy home. After he left, Ms. Blake suggested that I go to a hotel for the night so she could have the room cleaned and the body parts examined more close. I shook my head, saying that I refused to leave until I could at least talk to Jack just once.

She smiled. "I'm not even sure he's still here, but if he is, I'll find him and let him know." With that said, she left me.

If he had left, then I'd stay here until he came back. I didn't realize, until now, how much him being here was a relief. I know Adam told me to hire Ms. Blake should something happen to him, but I had no idea what she was like. I remember reading stories about her, and seeing her on television sometimes, but this was the first time meeting her, and I'll be the first to admit I was skeptical. With Jack, I felt better knowing a friend was solving the murder of the one I hold dear. In high school, there was no one I trusted my life with more than Jack. Even my quarterback boyfriend seemed like a wuss when it came to standing up for me; almost as if he refused to protect me. Jack didn't think twice when two men decided to think they could mug us on a trip to Las Vegas.

We were both sixteen, about a full year from the moment he lost his trust in me. My parents had paid for him to join us on our yearly family trip. Since we were underage then, we were often left to stroll the strip and search anything and everything that we could do. On this particular night, we had just gotten finished watching a Celine Dion concert, and were making our way back to my parent's rented home. He didn't enjoy my choice of entertainment of the night, but I had wanted to see her in concert since I first heard of Celine Dion. Jack didn't know how much it meant to me that he went with me.

It was two in the morning, and we had just gotten out of the taxi we had to take to get us back to my parents' little private home. I could've sworn two men were waiting for us at the door, unless they were trying to break in. Jack and I had just barely stepped onto the porch when a man, nearly three times my size, jumped on me, bringing me to the ground, with the man on top of me. My head landed on its side, and I was able to watch the happenings of Jack, though my vision did blur at times. The other man jumped on Jack, but Jack was so quick, I could just barely see him grab the man's arm and swing him around, throwing him into the door. Because the door was so thick - though I wasn't quite sure why and at the time not sure I cared - the man was instantly knocked out. All Jack had to do was look at the man on top of me, and the man jumped off me and backed down the steps. I remember scrambling towards Jack, but he was busy running at the conscious man, and just one punch to the face made the other man unconscious. Later, Jack told me he was sorry to leave me sitting there on the porch, but the guy had a gun and would've shot either of us.

If I ever fell in love with Jack, it was because of that night. I never left his side the rest of the trip. We even managed to obtain fake IDs and spend the rest of the vacation gambling. I even went with him to a strip club, and I pretended to enjoy it, since he did the same for me at the Celine Dion concert.

I realized I had been laughing, and hadn't noticed I wasn't alone in the parlor any longer. What brought me out of it was a low voice, and it surprised me so that I let out a shriek. It wasn't loud or long, just a tiny, squeaky shriek. Wouldn't I know it, but Jack was standing there for who knew how long. I was suddenly embarrassed, but I stood up and stared him down, laughter gone from my face.

"Don't mind me," he said, "if a loved one of mine was just maimed, I'd be laughing, too."

I could feel heat rushing up my cheeks, but I couldn't move. Just seeing him there, standing in my parlor, was almost too much for me. I know I wanted to speak with him, but after seeing him finally after all these years, I felt I was
suddenly speachless.

"You gonna say something, or just gawk at me? I have work to do." He turned as if he were going to leave again, but I stopped him.

Without knowing it, I closed the distance between us, only a few steps, and wrapped my arms around him. I realized, just then, that it wasn't just the fact that I hadn't seen him in so many years, but he was the only real friend I had, even in my life now. I have yet to meet some of the rich snobs who would accept Adam and me because we were under forty. Sure, Adam had friends, but I didn't, not like Jack had been.

I was glad that he didn't pull away and walk out. I half expected him to. He let me hold him for a few seconds before grabbing my hands from around his waist, and stepping away from me. I hadn't noticed until then I had silent tears slightly running down my cheeks.

"I can't believe it's really you, Jack," I whispered. I didn't know what to do, so I stood there, hands balled up in front of my stomach.

He pointed a finger at me. "Call me Jack again, and I'll personally rip your throat out." His voice was low and menacing, I had to flinch. He never spoke to me like that. Maybe to anyone else in the world, but not to me.

~*~ 8 ~*~

For a minute, I expected him to give me one of his rare smiles and tell me he was just kidding. When it didn't come, I shook my head.

"I'm sorry, I meant to say Ted," I whispered. What he had said had taken me aback, and a whisper was all I could muster. "I'm just so used to calling you Jack."

"Well don't," he snapped back. He looked around, his eyes darting here and there as if he were trying to see any place someone could listen in on us, or avoid me. "I changed my name so no one knows who I was. I would like to keep my privacy, if you don't mind."

Not exactly the apology I was hoping for, but I guessed that was the best I was going to get out of him. "I'll try to remember that."

He looked back at me, and gave the slightest of nods. "Great. Now what do you want? I need to get back to work. Don't get me wrong, but you never struck me as the type of person to want to pay for someone slacking on their job."

He was right. Everyone who worked in my house never stopped to chat with each other while working. This was how I was since he first met me, so he would know, wouldn't he?

I smiled. "For you, I'll make an exception, Ted." I stressed his name, hoping he would get the hint that I didn't like it. Not that I expected him to run to the nearest courthouse and change his name on the spot, but I wanted him aware.

He pulled up his shirt a little, revealing a gun half concealed in the waist of his pants. Once he placed his hand the butt of the gun, I felt the blood drain from my face. I held up my hands as he lowered himself slightly, like you'd see a cowboy doing in one of those movies when he's about to duel the bad guy at sundown. I half expected him to say, "You feelin' lucky, punk?" in a low Clint Eastwood voice, but he didn't. Instead, he told me to get down.

I stared at him for a fraction of a second before the glass of the window I was looking out of earlier had exploded. I didn't wait to be asked again. I dropped for the floor, screaming and covering my head as glass shards fell on me. A few gun shots above my head, and something was suddenly on top of me, holding onto my shoulder so tightly I thought it was going to put a few holes in my body. I screamed as the pain was excruciating. A few more gun shots, a shriek that wasn't mine, and whatever was on me was suddenly off.

I managed to look up, though the simple gesture hurt my shoulders, and saw a blue person squat in front of me. The person was completely nude, and, after determining the blue person was male, I looked up at it's face. Bright red, almond shaped eyes glared down at me, a hole in the middle of its forehead bled something black and smelling putrid. Its mouth snarled at me, and I could see nothing but shiny, white, sharp teeth, reminding me of a tyrannosaurus or something equally frightening that only had eyes for meat. It was completely bald, and had a flat nose that made a resemblance of someone from southeast Asia.

I vaguely heard more shots, too terrified by the sight of the creature in front of me to count how many times it jerked and bled. I had to put my head back down to avoid being sprayed in the face by the putrid smelling blood. Another shriek, and I swore my head buzzed as if felt like a million bees were flying around in my skull, but in the midst of it all, one of them was trying to tell me something. The buzzing was too intense for me, I had to hold the palms of my hands to my ears, and looked up to see the blue creature jump back through the window, leaving a trail of
blood on my carpet.

I looked back at Ted, my breathing coming out ragged and hastily, and saw that Ms. Blake had joined him, both holding guns pointed at my window. His face was set in a glare, my guess trying to figure out what it was he just saw. Her face was of pure terror, mimicking my own. The two of them slowly, cautiously, walked towards the window, and I huddled as close the couch as I possibly could, grabbing hold of the upholstery as hard as I could. As much as I wanted to join them, if that thing was to come back, I'd be completely helpless and in the way, so I let the experts do their job, and I stayed behind.

"Jesus," Ms. Blake breathed. "What the hell was that?" She turned to look at Ted.

"I'm not sure." He put his gun up, and turned to me. She went back to looking out the window. "You okay?" he asked me.

I gulped, and shrugged. "I'm not dead, but I'm pretty sure that caused some mental damage some where." I tried pulling myself up as I said this,
but as far as I could get was enough to sit on the couch I was shaking so bad. I looked down at my hands and saw that some of the black blood had splattered on me. "Did that thing kill Adam?" I asked, looking up to them. Once again, I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

The two of them exchanged glances, and Ted walked out. Well, he hurried out is more accurate. Ms. Blake took one more look outside, and walked to me, taking one hand off her gun and held her gun pointed up.

"It's definitely a start," she said. "If not, then your house is under attack." I must have paled even more than I already was, because she quickly added, "But most definitely not. I'm sure we found the killer. We just need to catch it. Though I'm not quite sure how to go about doing that."

I looked at the window, and then back to her. "You don't think it's after the jewel, do you?"

"If that's the only thing coming after that hunk of rock, I'd be surprised." She shrugged. "It's definitely a possibility."

~*~ 9 ~*~

I stared at my reflection in the television screen at my hotel room. After what had happened, I was ordered to find a place to stay until they could clean my dining room, and take pictures and do what ever else it was that police do. I was asked if the rest of Ms. Blake's team could take part in solving the crime. I didn't mind. Anything to get that creature caught.
I had brought a laptop with me to my favorite hotel in St. Louis, hoping to get any information about the jewel. According to Adam, it was found in an old, abandoned shrine, and it was buried nearly ten feet in the ground. After not being able to find anything in "Ancient Japanese Treasures", I'd taken a break and started staring at the TV. At first, I was debating whether to watch anything or not, but then my mind started wandering.

First, I was wondering if my husband's murder was on the news yet. Knowing the reporters, it probably was old news by now; we weren't exactly prestigious enough to be mentioned for a long period of time. Then I started thinking about what Anita mentioned about that creature being the only one after the jewel. I'd only seen it once myself. Even when our portrait was being taken, Adam had given it to me nearly a second before the picture was to be taken. After our picture was taken, he took it back, and that was the last I'd seen of it.

Then I began thinking about Edward. I had found out that he had changed his name to Ted, but he was more comfortable with being called "Edward". I must be honest that I was relieved when he said "Ted" was only a cover name, though "Jack" still suited him best. He was the one who brought me to the hotel while Anita and her team investigated my home. Normally I'd have been stingy about strangers looking through my home, but I gritted my teeth and dealt with it. I wasn't hiding anything, so why should I worry?

The car ride was silent except for him allowing me to call him Edward. I tried to start a conversation a few times, but after getting either silence or a one-word answer, I pretty much just gave up. He helped me into my room, gave me two numbers to call should I need something-one being his and the other being Anita's number-and left. So much for wanting to learn a little bit more about him. We were alone for about an hour, and all I learned from him was that his name was Edward. I guess that was better than nothing.

Sighing, I got up off the bed and walked to the bathroom. I had washed the blood off my skin and changed my clothes before I left, but I didn't get a chance to wash the blood out of my hair, if there was anything in my hair. Just in case, I didn't want to sleep with dried blood of a little, blue, naked person clinging to my hair and rubbing off on my pillow, and then proceeding to, most likely, rub off on the skin of my face. Not exactly what I wanted to wake up to.

I kept my suitcase in the bathroom so it was easier for me to change and do the pre-bedtime pleasures of teeth brushing and face washing. I had packed my favorite shampoo, which could get anything harmful out from my hair. Even so, it still took me about ten minutes of scrubbing, lathering, and rinsing to be satisfied that nothing was left in my hair except nutrients.

When I was done, I threw on a pair of Tinker Bell pajama pants, and a dark blue tank top. I wasn't into the expensive silky nightgown that most people I know would wear. Adam had bought one for me, and I wore it once, but that was it. It still hung in my closet as we speak, probably being groped and shoved around while someone looked for the jewel.

Staring at myself in the large, wall sized mirror, I found my eyes were redder than a tomato. If I hadn't known better, I'd say I looked like I just smoked some funny things. My pre-bedtime routine starts with me brushing my hair, then brushing my teeth, and ending with me throwing on some lotion on my hands, arms, face, and feet. Content that I was ready for bed, but not ready for the possible nightmares, I walked out.

Walking back to my bed, I froze. A small pile of papers, stapled on the top left corner, lay on my pillow. I didn't remember hearing anyone come in, nor do I remember giving any permission at all for someone to waltz in. Housekeeping never walked in during the night, especially when the clock showed almost two in the morning. I looked around the room, and found nothing disturbed, except the papers on my pillow. I cautiously walked to my bed, and read the cover page.

"Some things you might want to know about your husband." This was hand written in not-so-fancy handwriting, like it was written in a hurry. I wasn't quite sure whether or not I'd be more upset over cursive, or very fancy print. I picked up the packet, and sat down with my legs criss-crossed, pulling the blankets up so they covered my legs and lower stomach. I stared at the cover, wondering who came into my room and gave me this. Did I really want to know? What could Adam possibly be up to to have a whole packet dedicated to him? Flipping the pages, I counted ten pages. Ten pages dedicated my husband. Again, what was so special about him? I didn't think I wanted to know. I put the packed under my pillow, and lay down, pulling the blankets up to my chin.

Suddenly, I wasn't in the mood to sleep. Mainly it was because I was afraid of what I might dream about, and partly because I didn't want something jumping out at me. I left the lights on, though I wasn't sure how much help it would be. Before tonight, I would have loved to keep the lights and tell myself that the monsters won't harm me. But now, I probably might just grab the blankets and pillow and go hide in the bathroom. That didn't really make me feel better either, considering if someone could break into my room through the front door, it shouldn't be too hard to get through the bathroom lock. So I stayed where I was, looking at the blank TV screen once again.

Groaning, I grabbed the packet out from under my pillow. I couldn't hold in my curiosity. I mean, how bad could it be?

Opening to the first page, it started off with simple information that I already knew.

Subject: Adam Jackson Murray
Age when deceased: 35
Marital Status: Married
Spouse: Lillian Anna Kay Murray
Spouse Age: 25
City: St. Louis
Length of Residence: 4 years
Length of Marriage: 3 years
Occupation: Treasure Hunter
Spouse Occupation: Housewife

That was all on the first page. I closed the packet, and put it back under my pillow. I hadn't expected it to say anything about me. It was disturbing, and I did not like it one bit. If that packet had anything regarding me in it, I was going to bring in the lawyers, and I hated lawyers. Not that I had anything to hide, because I didn't. Why would I want to read about what someone knows about me? It even stated my full name.

Immediately, I threw the covers off me, and rushed to the bathroom where I had stashed those phone numbers in my suitcase. I stared at the piece of paper with the two names and the numbers. It was near two in the morning, and the both of them were probably working like little bees in my home, but I was terrified of that packet. It had to be evident that someone was spying on Adam to know any of these facts. I picked up the hotel phone, and dialed.

"Yeah?" The voice that answered was gruff, and I knew he was at my home. There was commotion behind him. "Lil? What is it?"

I realized I had froze when he answered, like I had forgotten why I called. Shaking my head, I talked. "Someone sneaked into my room."

"What?" The background was suddenly quiet, which meant Edward either walked into a room where he was alone, or everyone quieted down to listen in on the conversation. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. They left something for me to read about Adam." I glanced at my pillow.

"Did you read it?" His voice was bland as he said this, but there was something under that blandness that sounded like he was interested in the answer, just trying to hide his curiosity. Of course, it probably was just me being paranoid suddenly.

"Only the first page. Whoever gave it to me had my information. Everything just short of my social, though I'm sure I'd be surprised if I turned to the second page and I'd find it in big numbers covering the whole page."

"If it was left for you, I think you should read it, don't you? It could hold some vital information that we might need to know."

"I'm terrified, Edward." I whispered that last, because I was terrified. I hadn't realized until that moment that I had been clutching the phone so hard my hand was shaking. I didn't loosen my grip. I don't know, but clutching the phone in a death grip seemed to make me slightly better. "I don't want to know if my husband was dealing with the mafia. I don't want to know if he killed anyone. I just want whatever killed him caught and destroyed."

"Okay, don't read it. What's so hard about that?"

"It's staring at me, urging me to read it."

He sighed, long and hard. I could tell he was getting annoyed with me that moment, but I didn't care. "Then go to sleep, or watch TV. Do something to occupy yourself."

"I can't sleep, and I don't want to watch TV. I'm terrified that blue thing will come crashing through my window at any minute. I'm not comfortable being away from my home right now."

He sighed. "I don't know what to say right now. Just stay there for the night, and you'll be able to come home tomorrow." He hung up.

I stared at the phone as the buzzing commenced, letting me know he was gone. There used to be a time when I could count on him. I suddenly realized that when I could count on him was almost ten years ago. He had changed, and I must have forgotten, or was unwilling to accept it.

Sighing, I reached under the pillow and retrieved the packet. I wasn't anywhere near going to sleep, and there was no way the TV was going to be turned on, so why not read? I positioned myself on the bed like I had before when I was reading the first page, and opened to the second page. It was like reading a transcript. Flipping and scanning the rest of the other eight pages, I noticed the whole thing was paragraphs-big paragraphs. I turned to the second page, and began reading what I really didn't want to read.

~*~ 10 ~*~

"Glad to see I'm not the only one awake."

I jumped, nearly spilling my insanly strong hot chocolate, which would have been drastic and painful had I not caught the cup. Turning to my right, I watched as a man took a seat at the bar next to me. My first thoughts immediately told me he wanted to pick me up and possibly take me up to his room. I wouldn't let him take me to his room, but it was nice not to be alone at this hour of the night.

Shrugging, I turned back to my steaming drink. "I've only been here for a few days. I'm still on American time."

He laughed, and that sound sent chills through my body. I took a careful sip of my drink. I burned my tongue, but the chills were still there.

I opened my eyes as the sun's rays warmed my face. The sudden brightness hurt my temples, and I closed my eyes and rolled away from the sun. It felt as if I'd only slept for ten minutes, and, glancing at the clock, was surprised to see I'd been sleeping almost all day.

I had stayed awake reading about my husband's life. It wasn't as bad as I had thought, more intresting than not. I actually didn't mind that it involved me at one point. I'm sure whoever recorded this was careful not to include too much about me. Something that caught my attention, though, was the information about the first night I had met him.

I was in Japan on an after graduation vacation with some of my friends when he introduced himself. I had originally thought he had seen me and meant to pick me up, but what I read made me feel silly to assume that he had eyes for me at that time. What he had told me at the resturaunt last night about him finding the jewel happened the day before he met me. I had thought he wanted to make conversation with me at the bar because I was there, and alone, but no. Apparently, Landen was late with a car to take him to the airport to come back to the states. After meeting me, he had canceled his plane trip to see me more.

I hadn't known whether to feel angry or flattered that he postponed his own death. His friend died the very next day, and he could've died with him.

Remembering those first three weeks together made me smile. I had forgotten about Jack - Edward - and probably had a better time with Adam than I would with my friends. We were together in Japan for three weeks before my friends kidnapped me and forced me to continue our trip to Australia. He didn't follow me, though at times it felt as if he did.

~*~ 11 ~*~

I'd spent the next few days at the hotel, reading the packet, watching TV, and just lounging in my pajamas. I'd had a few calls from Anita about how the cleaning and disinfecting of my dining room was going. She eventually wanted me to come back and help search for the jewel. She said it was very crucial we find it and learn how to destroy it soon, because they had two more run ins with that blue creature. Luckily, no deaths, just some severe injuries and hospitalizations. Not once did she mention Edward, but more than once I found myself thinking about him. Was he okay? Was he even there anymore? I felt so terrible that I had dragged them into these dangers, but how was I supposed to know that some blue person was after that stupid rock?

I had all my clothes packed, and was waiting for my ride to take me back to the house by noon. I was finally at the end of my husband's life, and was unnerved to read about the ordeal of his murder, and my hiring Anita Blake. That meant whoever left this on my pillow was there when Adam was killed, or at least knew about it, more than I.

It seemed it was the blue person who did it, though I pretty much worked that out on my own. According to what this stranger wrote, it hunts down the last person who had possession of the jewel and will search day and night until that person is found. Once that person is found, it somehow disintigrates into a sort of wisp, and enters the body, where it becomes whole again, splitting its host, causing the person to explode. Very gruesome, if I do say so myself. Just imagining this happening to Adam made my insides churn and my head spin.

Landen knocked on the door, letting me know he was there and ready for me, talking from behind the door. He was lucky there was nothing on and I was waiting for him, otherwise I wouldn't have heard him. He's such a soft-spoken man. I figured, other than me, he'd be the most effected by Adam's death. According to the report, he and Landen have been together since Adam was nineteen. Maybe, if I gave him the packet, he could make out any hidden messages that I might have missed. I seem to be the type of person who would just read something and miss the deeper meanings of the words the author was conveying in his or her writings. But did I really want him to read this? After all, bringing back memories of the past might hurt him more than actually witnessing the bloody decoration in the dining room I tried to hide him from.

I opened the door, and helped him carry my whole two suitcases down to the car. I checked out, paid the man, and was on my way back to my house to asses the cleanliness of the dining room and to search for the jewel that's been causing all this.

Though, I'm not quite sure if there were any hidden messeges, the typing - yes, typing - of the report clearly states that Adam wouldn't even trust the Swiss with something so valueable and dangerous. Oh, how humble of my husband to think of the well being of a bunch of foreign bankers! I read that he kept the jewel some place secret in our home. I hadn't known of any secret compartments. If I didn't know, then certainly no one else would, either, which is probably why he hid it in our walls or somewhere. I'm sure the builders of our house might know something about secret compartments. Unless Adam built them on his own, he would have had to hire someone to do it, right? I could find out who built our house and ask them. Our house wasn't old; it was built after we were married. Sort of like a wedding gift from him to me.

Arriving home, the first place I went to was my dining room. I hadn't seen anyone on the short walk from the car, up the stairs on the porch, through the front door, and then the short walk into the dining room. It was pristine like it hadn't been drenched in blood a few days ago. It seemed as though the only thing missing was the table centerpiece in which my husband's head was mounted. That was fine. I probably would have gotten rid of it, anyway, had it been left there.

As I scanned the clean white drapes on the windows, a sudden chill ran about my body. I had seriously doubted those were the orginal drapes, unless someone was a cleaning magician and could get blood stains out in just a few days. Although, having a good look at at the rest of the room, I wouldn't have doubted it. My eyes fell onto the table. I couldn't help but wonder what they had done with the centerpiece. I wrung my hands together in attempt not to hyperventilate at the thought of someone in white latex gloves wrenching Adam's severed head from the golden candle holder.

Shaking my head, I turned abruptly, wanting to get as far from this room as possible. Closing the doors, Landen walked up to me from the direction of the stairs. Bowing to me, he let me know he had already brought up my luggage, and was wondering if there would be anything else.

Shaking my head, I put my arm on his shoulder. "Not today, Landen. Go home to Dorothy."

He bowed once again. I smiled at him and went on my way to my bedroom, where he left my things. As I was ascending the stairs, I wondered why the house was so quiet, why had I not seen anyone? Weren't there people searching in every crevice of my home, invading my privacy, trying to find that stupid rock?

Upon entering my room, I noted that Landen had set my bags on my bed. Very gracious to him for doing that, even though this was the first time he had ever done that. Adam never unloaded his bags from off the bed. I didn't understand why, it seemed easier when the bags are on the bed. Just one of the stupid little things that made me love him.

Sighing, I opened the first suitcase and began taking things to the closet. After hanging up the two shirts I had grabbed, I walked out. Empty bags, find someone, I kept repeating in my mind. As I was putting my underwear away, there was an amused voice behind me.

"You know, there was a point in time when I'd have loved to walk in on you playing with your under things."

I wasn't expecting anyone to be in my room, and it scared me. Dropping the undergarments, I wheeled around to see Jack-Edward standing in front of my private bathroom, leanind against the door, smirking at me. I was suddenly filled with embarassement, but was quickly replaced with anger.

"Jack, get out of my room!" I shouted. A little childish, I admit, but at that moment, I didn't care. How dare he hide himself in my bathroom and then jump out and scare me. If he hadn't spoken first, I'd have had a heart attack thinking that blue thing had come for me again.

Watching as his stupid grin turned into a scowl as if someone had turned off his happy switch, I'd realized that I had said Jack, and not Edward or Ted, like he had asked. Staring into that death glare, I began to think he was serious about killing me, and he was just biding time before he would.

Shaking my head, I apologized.

He shook his head. "Do you not understand the severity should someone find out who I was? It could ruin me. It could be deadly for me."

I picked up the clothes I had dropped and resumed putting them away. When I finished, I turned back to him. "If you had kept in touch for these last seven or so years, maybe I would. That's not my fault."

I could feel a cold chill of fear run down my back as he clenched his fists and grinded his teeth as he continued to stare daggers in my direction. Maybe standing up to him at this moment wasn't the best thing in the world to do. He really did look like he would kill me, and not think twice about it afterwards.

But, instead of jumping on me and wringing my neck until my head screwed off, he walked to the door. "I was told to tell you to go to Anita when you returned. She's waiting for you in the attic." And then he was gone.

Sighing, I glanced at the unfinished unpacking I still had to do. I concluded that it could wait, and made my way out the door and towards the attic. I could feel butterflies having a ball in the pit of my stomach, for the last time I was in the attic, my husband was being killed.

~*~ 12 ~*~

"Good morning, Mrs. Young. Is Jack here?"

The old woman behind the door smiled at me. Jack's grandmother was the one who stepped up to become his guardian. Such a sweet, old woman, now nearing her late seventies. I wonder if she realized just how obsessed with the otherworld Jack really was.

"He's in the attic, dear," she said in her sweet singsong voice. Taking a step back, she gestured me inside. "I made a fresh batch of festive Independence Day cookies." I stepped inside, and she closed the door behind me. Pulling on her shawl, she made her way towards the kitchen. "They're cooling at the moment, dear, but you can have as many as you like in about ten minutes."

"Oh, you know me too well, Mrs. Young." I loved her cookies. She was the model grandmother. The house was always smelling of sugary goodness, and she always had freshly made cookies waiting to be devoured by her grandson's best friend.

On my way up to the attic, I had to climb two flight of stairs, and walk passed Jack's room. Glancing inside as I strode by, getting a sneak peek of some school memerobilia, I wondered just how much of Jack's life his grandmother actually knew about. He didn't give a rat's ass about our school, the football team and whatnot, but he kept some flags and posters so she wouldn't suspect anything. I tried looking past his obsession with the
supernatural and introducing him to the real world one step at a time.

One more flight of stairs, and then the blue door. The most frightening door I'd ever seen. I know I didn't believe in ghosts and goblins and stuff, but that doesn't stop the mind from wandering and playing crude pranks on you. I knew Jack was in there, but I still felt butterflies in my stomach as I reached for the door. Never had I been able to just waltz into an attic or basement with glee, and just because my best friend was in there waiting for me didn't change an age old fear. I'm not even quite sure where the fear came from, but it was there, and it was hating me.

I slowly opened the door, and glanced inside. I didn't know what to expect, but what I saw drove my fear away, and replaced it with something I haven't felt since my current boyfriend first asked me on a date.

Jack was there, just like his grandmother had said he would be. He was polishing one of his dad's old swords with, what looked like, his own t-shirt. That's right, Jack was shirtless. I hadn't seen his bare torso in about two years, and it looked nothing like it did in that moment. He was buff, but not too muscular, like, say, a wrestler's body like my boyfriend had. No, his muscles fit his figure perfectly. The way his arms moved as he stroked the blade, polishing it to a pristine shine, made my mouth dry, and my stomach lurch. He must have been working out, which could also explain the fiasco back in Vegas last year.

Gulping back a sudden lump in my throat, I made myself known.

What wouldn't I give to see a handsome, shirtless man behind the door to my attic? The childhood fear of attics was still relevent as I held my hand over the knob on the door. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. What I saw wasn't a handsome, muscular man with his shirt off, but a petite woman, fully clothed, studying an antique trunk. She was kneeling in front of it, feeling the fine wood, probably looking for a way to open it.

Glancing up at me for a split second, she continued with what she was doing. "We've searched two rooms since you called me yesterday, and nothing." She stood up, brushing her hands on her pants. "I've sent Edward to the shed and other outdoor areas, and I've been in here all day."

"Honestly, I'd be amazed if Adam hid it in one of these boxes," I said as I looked around and stepped closer to her. "It'd be so simple."

"It's what I'm hoping for." She smiled at me, and motioned towards the trunk she was just feeling. "I hope you don't mind."

Shaking my head, I bent down and felt the front of it. Right between the crease where the lid meets the bottom there was a sliver, which had to be pulled in order to open it. A trick of Adam's mother to keep her most prized posessions safe from her nosey husband. The second I pulled the tiny piece of wood, the trunk opened so easily as if it hadn't been glued shut just moments ago.

"I don't care what you look through," I told her as she bent down and shoved an old dress aside. "I just want that thing found before that creature comes back."

~*~ 13 ~*~

It’s early. I turn to the clock beside my bed, and it reads 7:15 AM. I dislike waking up this early when there’s no dire need. Something woke me up, and while I turn to cuddle against Adam, I realize his absence must have been what woke me up. I can’t help myself, but I know I become clingy whenever he’s home, and my waking up to him not being in bed with me wasn’t at all surprising.

I get out of bed, throw my robe on, and just happen to look out my window and spot him standing out by his pond outside. His back is turned toward me. He’s fully clothed for the day, making me wonder how long he’s been up for. The sun is just barely rising in the east, so he couldn’t have been out there for long, I hope.

I make my way to him, the wetness of the dew on the grass making my slippers wet with every step I take. He turns and looks at me, smiling when he sees me. I happily walk into his open arms.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says, placing a quick kiss on the top of my head.

I hold him tightly, trying to meld my body into his. I hadn’t realized how cold it is this morning until he wraps his arms around me.

“What are you doing out here?” I look at the fish pond. The happy fish are bustling about, probably looking for food, or just happy to have their daddy back.

“Thinking.”

I look up at him. “Bout what?”

He smiles at me again. “Let’s get you back to bed. It’s too cold for to be out here in your robe.” He holds me in such a way that I know he wants to do more than just make sure I’m safe out of the cold.

~~

I never did find out what he was thinking about. It wasn’t a special day; he had just come home late the previous night from a three month trip.

Now, I stand there by the pond at 7:15 AM, just thinking, and that scene popped in my head. All the fish from that morning had since died, and Adam recently filled the pond with new ones. Little adolescent fish who can’t be more than three months old.

I threw in the rest of the food I was holding, and whispered sweet nothings to the fish. I never understood why Adam talked to his fish like he did. I always thought it was because he thought of them like his own children. I asked him once, why he talked to the fish like that. He smiled and avoided the question.

If I wasn’t so in love with him, I’d have been worried he was crazy.

I wasn’t sure how long I was out by the pond, but I knew some time had passed when Landen walked up to me.

“You have a letter,” he said.

I took the letter from him. “It’s too early for mail, isn’t it?” My name was written on the envelope, but no return address.

“There’s no mail today at all. It’s Sunday.”

I saw the empty corner where a stamp should have been. I smiled at Landen, thanked him, and watched as he walked back to the house. I waited until he was inside before I opened the envelope. The handwriting in which my name was written looked familiar, I just hoped it wasn’t who I knew it to be from.

Adam had a friend who lived in Las Vegas who was into the Black Market. The friend would sell a few artifacts Adam gave him, for a large profit in which he got to keep, in return for whatever Adam wanted that was black market material. In other words, illegal. I didn’t want to know what he needed from the black market, but that information could be useful now that he was dead.

My darling Lilly,


First off, my deepest condolences for your loss. Adam meant more to me than my own mother at times. Now, you know I don’t like to beat around the bush, so here’s why I’m writing:


A few weeks ago, Adam put an order out, and the order arrived for him recently. Now that I know the reason he hasn’t been returning my calls, I’m asking for you to meet with me. This is a custom order, and I can’t send it back. I would like to get together with you to discuss payment.


Again, my deepest sympathy.


John

Sighing, I folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope.

John. Of course, that wasn’t his real name. He’s been introduced to me as so many different aliases that I don’t think I know his real name.

I was a little worried about him wanting to meet with me. Adam never allowed the two of us to be alone together. I never understood why, but he creeped me out so much I didn’t press the matter. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the pudgy little man without Adam’s presence. Even with Landen looking after me, my insecurity towards the man was being pushed a little over the edge.

To be honest, I could have cared less about the merchandise Adam purchased, and if this man wasn’t serious about his work, I would have tossed the letter into the wind and forgotten about it. Had I done that, he would end up making an unannounced visit, and I would be forced to deal with him in the most unpleasant circumstances anyway. I would rather have avoided any and all trouble with this man.

Walking back to the house, I decided I would give him a call. Adam had his number in the office. Yes, Adam did do more than a few dealings with this man, and that comment about his mother didn’t surprise me as it probably should have.

Impressum

Texte: A fanfiction of the Anita Blake vampire hunter series, by Laurell K. Hamilton. Anita, Edward, and the RPIT are hers. Everything else, though, is mine.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.10.2010

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