Moments; singular, siphoned, like grains of sand which fall restlessly, and build without limits...growing with increasing momentum, each step, beat, a steady staccato , marking down the minutes until the cold inevitability of the ...end ...death.
M...
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It wasn't terrible, now it wasn't overwhelmingly fantastic either, but it definitely wasn't as awful as I'd expected it to be. I turn right, then left, taking in the entire effect and nod my head, Yeah, it's not awful. But did it have to be so flipping tight? The red shirt that Walker had provided for me appears nearly painted on, it's silky and comfy as heck, but as much as it covers, I still feel like it reveals way too much. Hell, the girls barely have room to breathe. He'd paired the top with a pair of black skinny jeans (also so tight they may as well have been painted on) accented with silver spikes on the pockets and around the belt loops. The all around effect was actually pretty badass. But the icing on top of the cake was the completely kickass black duster he'd given me. It was fitted through the shoulders, arms and torso, and then flared out around the waist. It reminded me of the dusters worn in the movie Matrix, just this one wasn't latex. Thank God for small mercies. Heck, all in all, the outfit (although nothing I would have ever chosen for myself) wasn't half bad, and if I were honest with myself, I kind of looked like a total badass. Hell, I'd been worried he's stick me in something more appropriate for a Dominatrix, so this was a fucking great surprise actually. "You look absolutely divine, darling," Walker says from the door. "Seriously Walker, don't you ever knock?" "It is my home, darling, after all." "Doesn't mean it's not polite to knock before you enter someone's room, or the room you've given to someone to stay in." Walker cocks his head to one side, he genuinely seems surprised by my statement, and that, tells me everything I need to know about the nutcase I'm currently working with. "Sooo..." I sigh. This is going to absolutely kill me. I'd rather drink battery acid than admit it, but well, here goes nothing. "...Thank you. These clothes aren't...well...they aren't half bad. Not entirely terrible." Walker raises an eyebrow and laughs. "Really, darling? Not entirely terrible...not half bad?" "Ugh," I groan, "Fine, they're actually really cool, okay. Is that what you wanted to hear?" "Absolutely." Walker's face breaks into a huge smile and it's actually quite breathtaking. Transforming his already handsome face into something so far beyond handsome that it scares the shit outta me. Because the last thing I want is to feel any attraction to the psychopath who'd blackmailed me into working alongside Garrett and myself. "What, did you think it be all leather and lace, dearheart?" Well, sort of. But I'd never tell him that. "So anyway, thanks. And...and..." I sigh, "I really like this duster, Walker. I've gotta know though. Are you running some weird women's boutique from the basement of your house that I don't know about? Where the heck did all of this come from?" "Magic darling." Oh, stupid me, and I roll my eyes. Of course, magic, why hadn't I thought about that, probably because I didn't have the sort of magic that could instantly produce women's clothing on a whim. "You really magicked me up some clothes, Walker?" "Well, the duster was left by one of my mother's Coven members. She didn't want it anymore. So there was no need for me to expend any energy creating that beauty for you, and look, it fits like it was made for you. The rest, yes, I transmuted." Holy Hell! I'd known Walker was powerful, but this was like taking things up to the next level. Transmutation was NOT an easy thing to do, and required a great deal of power, ability and took a shit ton of energy. At best a witch or warlock was lucky if they could turn a penny into a quarter. But to take something completely non-related to what they were trying to create and transmuting it...that took some serious talent...like cosmic like power. Jeez. And now I wasn't so sure how I felt about knowing the nutcase had cosmic like power. Oyyy. God, well I had other matters on my mind that took precedent over whether or not Walker could kill with his pinky finger and Change a skyscraper into a dinosaur if he ever felt so inclined. "We need to visit the morgue. Talk to Dickens." "Oh, I love the morgue." Oh course he did. Psycho. "I need to see the bodies again. There were things that were just...off. And the Tread got so deep I think, I think..." and it killed me to admit this, "I think I may have missed something as simple as physical evidence on the body because I was too deep into the mind." "Ohhhh darling, it's okay. You are greatly burdened, what you do..." Walker smiles, but it's a sad smile, "...no one else can do what you do, Annora. You are singular, sweetheart. And trust me, I understand, I understand what it takes from you. You need to cut yourself a little slack, darling.' "I don't have the luxury of cutting myself any slack, Walker. Thee murders are happening too frequently and they're magical in nature, and we still don't have a solid lead other than the fact that one of the assailants is a damn fairy!" Walker sighed. "All right, all right, darling. We'll go to the morgue and talk to this Dickens of yours, by the way, who is Dickens?" "He's the coroner, Walker. He's also a pretty damn fine forensic psychologist. He just seems to prefer to work on dead people in the crypt." "The crypt?" "Yeah, it's what we call the morgue." Walker laughs. "I like it. Actually I love it." Again, he would. Okay time to get this shit show started. And Jesus, it was definitely going to be a shit show of epic proportions.
