Hell's Army

Chapter One- Back to Normal.

"It's just- he's out all out to all kinds of hours. Says it's a work meeting or a callout or something like that." Mrs. Connelly dabbed her face with a tissue, her bear fur eyes threatening to overflow at any moment.

Anber Ingleseid leaned against the doorway to Fawkes' Psychic Agency, thinking about how hungry he was. It was lunchtime. He wanted lunch. He could very well be having lunch, sitting happily on Holly's couch with a tuna and salad sandwich, Beelzebub whining at his feet, if she hadn't insisted he stand around and watch Mrs. Connelly snivel.

Ever since they had stopped an interspecies war on Passage Street, Holly's business had been blooming, which Ingleseid found quite unusual, as in the years past, someone wanting a psychic investigator was about as common as a kiwi wandering the streets of Hamilton. He'd liked to have thought it was coincidence, but Abner Ingleseid wasn't stupid enough to believe in something like coincidence. Something was going on in this town. Possessions, goblins, vampires, they all appeared in Setan city at an alarming rate. It was like every magical creature out there had been given a free ticket to Ingleseid's lovely little city. And now people were starting to notice. They knew the strange disappearances weren't just disappearances. They knew the unusual murders where people were ripped apart limb from limb couldn't be done by any old human. Things were changing. People were starting to realize there were things in the dark, monsters in their closets. They knew they needed someone.

Someone like Holly.

"But I call them up, and they say there's no record of anything like that," Mrs. Connelly continued, by some great feat managing to not disappear into a flood of tears. "So, I followed him the other day. I know it's awful, but I had to know. There was a woman with him, and she was- she was blonde and, well, beautiful." Her voice shook dangerously, pink tinges creeping into her plump little face as it screwed up like a very ugly prune.

"There, there," Holly said, shooting Ingleseid a helpless look. Comforting people wasn't exactly her area. "My services have a one hundred percent success rate. I promise you, we will find out what your husband is doing."

"Thank you," Mrs. Connelly sniffed, and Ingleseid wondered if she actually knew how to talk without making a sound like a leaky drainpipe. "Thank you. But- I mean, what if he's-" She lost the ability to form a coherent sentence and settled for dissolving into tears.

"I'm sure he's not," Holly said, trying to sound confident. "But if he is, I have a few genital disfigurement spells I've been working on."

Mrs. Connelly made a sound Ingleseid imagined a large, wounded animal would make.

Holly bit her lip. "Maybe not." She waved at Ingleseid, gave him a come-here-right-now gesture.

He wandered over, gave what he hoped was a comforting smile.

"Mrs. Connelly, this is my business partner, Abner Ingleseid," she said. "He'll be working the field side of this investigation." Which was her subtle way of saying he'd be spying for them.

Mrs. Connelly nodded, not trusting herself to speak without dissolving into a fresh set of tears, which, Ingleseid thought, was a very good call.

"We'll inform you of the results of the investigation in four to seven days," Holly said.

"Thank you," Mrs. Connelly sniffled. "Thank you so much."

She sniffled all the way to the door as Holly guided her, and Ingleseid was fairly certain he could still hear her after it chimed shut.

"So," Holly said, coming back into the room. "That went well."  

Ingleseid wondered if they had been attending the same meeting. There were a lot of words he could use to describe what had just happened, and 'well' was not one of them.