Underneath the Moon is Where My Secrets Lie

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Tracking Down A Demon

     I went to my house that evening in order to paw through my garage, hunkering down until I was eye-level with a specific, locked cabinet.

     I opened it with an antique, shining, brass skeleton key. 

     I spotted a sparkling black gun, and immediately, I knew what it was.

     It was a gun used for sending demons back into their realms.

     Especially the Portal of the Locked.

     I took an impromptu break to grab the gun and stick it into a space in my belt.

     Then, I went into my house to collect information on my case.

* * * * * * *

     My phone chimed and vibrated in my jeans pocket.

     I looked at my ebony-colored cloak.

     It was slung over a worn, wooden chair, the cushion a dark crimson. The onyx pin was unclipped, leaving the unraveled black support cords dangling over the back of the chair.

     Such a dark contrast to the light, polished wood. 

     I soon remembered that my phone wasn't in it.

     I tore my gaze from my laptop, and I pulled out my black-cased phone. I moved my thumb over the power button, but I realized that it was already on.

     I HAVE SOME HELPFUL NEWS, a text from an unknown number says.

     I rolled my eyes, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket.

     Less than five seconds later, it chimed and vibrated again.

     With an agitated growl, I threw the electronic onto the table I was sitting at.

     Underneath this mystery person's previous text, another read:

     I KNOW ALL ABOUT THIS CASE. DON'T BE A FOOL.

     I finally give in, and I text a short reply.

     I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP.

     The comeback chimed almost immediately after I'd sent my own text.

     BUT YOU DO.

     I sniffed at that, my fingers typing away.

     I DON'T. YOU'RE BEING A FOOL, THINKING THAT I CAN'T FINISH THIS CASE WITHOUT YOU. YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH.

     I smiled, satisfied.

     DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH, RAVEN SHARPCLAW?

     My smile disappeared.

     YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT. I KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU, TOO.

     I decided to take a risk.

     THIS IS GETTING PRETTY CREEPY, SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST TELL ME YOUR NAME ALREADY?

     I figured that my text would get a decent response, but what I got sent chills running down my spine.

     YOU'RE NOT READY FOR THAT. YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE ME, ANYWAY.

     A small twinge of annoyance tore a small hole through the thing called fear that I carried.

     YOU'RE NOT THE JUDGE OF THAT. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

     This person was right, because I didn't like their answer.

     MICKEY GARROWAY.

     Now, obviously, I wasn't about to take this person's answer seriously.

     After all, hadn't I "taken care" of Mickey already?

     What was sent next almost gave me a heart attack.

     I CAN SEE YOU.

     I inhaled sharply.

     STOP PLAYING GAMES, "MICKEY".

     I gripped the sharp edge of the rectangular glass table, absentmindedly stabbing myself.

     WANT PROOF?

     Suddenly, the half-filled wineglass I'd been using slipped off of the table, breaking into a thousand pieces on my tile floor.

     Blood-red wine spilled into the cracks of the tiles.

     My heart skipped a few beats, I was that scared. But I acted like I had elbowed it off the table, shooting my arm straight up in the air.

     "Ugh. I'm always elbowing stuff off the table," I lied out loud, hoping that some spirit hadn't actually done that. I sent the person another text and went to get a towel... and a broom and dustpan.

     SURE.

     Chime! Bsssssssst. 

     Right after I'd finished cleaning up that unexpected mess.

     WASN'T THAT ENOUGH PROOF ALREADY?

     I waited a few seconds before responding again.

     THAT WAS MY FAULT.

     I bit my lip.

     SURE IT WAS, RAVEN. SURE. 

     I was done playing games.

     WHY ARE YOU MESSAGING ME, ANYWAY?

     I didn't like what this person - that went by the name I could never seem to forget, no matter how many days had passed since his death - was up to. 

     In other words, suspicion and doubt clouded my mind.

     BECAUSE I WANT TO MAKE A DEAL WITH YOU.