Mostly Dead Girls

to talk of many things

The phone rang just as Alec stepped out of the shower. Trying to keep his sodden hair away from it, he answered it awkwardly while toweling off.

Within two minutes of taking it, he dropped the towel and started getting into his clothes as fast as he could.

"Her name is Lavina Renari," Shantay told him, her voice growing louder and softer as he fumbled the phone around. In a thin-walled motel room, putting her on speaker felt too risky. "I know you and her didn't exactly hit it off, but we need another DSAC contact badly. Try to make a good impression."

"I'm just surprised she called us on this."

"Well, she really does seem to think Faye will open up more to a Safehouse member than a DSAC agent. Also—" Shantay hesitated, for the briefest moment but he heard it, and his blood went a little colder. "One of the people who heard the broadcast got a clip of the man's voice. She says it sounds familiar, but for the life of her she can't place it. She thinks you might be able to help with that."

Alec struggled to keep his voice level. "Right."

"Alec," Shantay said. "If you weren't the only one within reach of Dyer Brook, I would have sent someone else to accompany you. Don't overestimate how much you can handle."

"I won't. It's been ten years, Shantay."

Shantay's voice took on a tinge of pain. "You're a good agent, Alec. Don't think I doubt that. I just can't forget..." She paused, then sighed. "I'm sorry. It's late, and I get maudlin when I'm tired."

Alec managed to pull together a cheerfully uncaring tone. "It's fine, Shantay. I know I was pretty fucked up when we first met. But ten years is ten years, all right? I'll be fine." He kept talking quickly, not willing to let her respond. "I might not have much charm, but I'll make sure Agent Renari sees the full extent of it, and I'll call you when I've finished there. Get some sleep."

He hung up.

*****

He regretted not toweling off more thoroughly by the time he'd reached Pine House, as his binder pinched at his damp skin and made the ache of his chest worse. Usually he kept it off at night, but he couldn't bring himself to go out without it—especially not to meet new people. It wasn't that it made a huge difference in being called 'miss' sometimes, but it made him feel worlds better. He adjusted it, fighting down the discomfort, and headed to the front door.

A grand total of four cars were parked out front—one DSAC, one that he guessed belonged to the local police, and two that he had noticed out front when he'd come to the house before. That was the eternal problem of small towns; they attracted killers and phenomena, but you couldn't solve the issue by increasing the watch over them. The ghosts and evildoers would simply move on to the next town that lacked a proper police force or DSAC presence—rinse and repeat, like playing a long, stressful and deadly game of Whack-a-mole. There was never enough help where you needed it most.

It was exactly situations like these where Safehouse tried to move in. The members, from survivors of ghostly murder sprees to long-suffering relatives of Nasties and more minor killers, fit in with the small towns and isolated communities that killers like to frequent in ways that DSAC agents simply couldn't. They wouldn't scare a Nasty into running, and in some cases—a ghost that simply needed to be appeased, or a killer that could be bargained with—they could reach a more peaceful resolution than the DSAC was willing to consider.

Or course, if Caine was behind this Alec was going to get along just fine with the DSAC policy of 'shoot first, ask questions never'.

Lavina Renari answered the door, with the Harding family's mother—Julia?—hovering nervously behind her shoulder. She looked even angrier than before, but her expression actually cleared up a little when she saw him. Nice change from the usual.