Freefall (Jaspar)

Chapter Eight

"What do you mean, put it down? We have to do something!" Caspar argued, yet following through and actually lowering his mobile. Dan was in a right fit, carelessly tossing two mugs on the kitchen bench. Caspar silently reached out and stopped the second from sliding off, squirming slightly in the bar stool as it threatened to unbalance.

"In the sense of, put it down," Dan hissed, turning the water tap to full blast and beginning to fill a kettle.

"But why," Caspar huffed, trying to discover Dan's manner of thought. There had to be good reason for his resistance to calling the police force. Neither Joe nor Phil had been seen at all that day, and it was already turning into a dreary afternoon with no further information on the mysterious vanishing.

Dan sighed, almost like the answer should be obvious. "They can't do shit, Caspar. All they'll do is tell us to sit still and stay silent while they continue to blame Joe, and now Phil, for all the minor crimes they're too lazy to solve themselves!"

"Dan..." Caspar began, unsure where to go from there. He wasn't exactly against Dan's point, but it wasn't right to refuse to do anything at all to further the case. They needed both men back alive, and the police department were the only one's who had that kind of power.

"Look, we're not going to fight demons with weak-ass men and guns," Dan stated pointedly, turning his back to Caspar and fetching a small box from a lower cupboard. "We need actual help, or none at all."

Caspar ran a hand through his limp hair, sighing. Dan was right, and they both knew it, but that didn't change the way Caspar felt about blatantly ignoring the obvious choice. Letting his head sink into in hands, he groaned. "What do you propose then?"

Dan didn't respond immediately, although Caspar could still hear him clunking around the kitchen ungracefully, all concern for the welfare of the flat having left with Phil.

This was it. Joe was probably never coming back as a whole, he'd always be the 'demon'. And who knows where Phil is right now? As far as Dan and Caspar were concerned, Phil wasn't even in this dimension; maybe even returning to wherever Joe's guest resided during it's down hours.

That was presuming Phil was alive in the first place. There was no evidence telling of foul play, but who's to say the man isn't bleeding out in an alleyway, like all the other unfortunates to meet the darkness before him. A quick jab to chest with a knife was enough to kill, although if what Joe said was true, then it would really only take a simple scream to finish it all.

A light tap near Caspar woke him from the growing desolation, and he lifted his head slightly, staring at Dan through his fringe. Dan nodded to the colourful mug placed within reach of Caspar, his mouth twisted into a frown.

Caspar raised his head completely, swiping the steaming mug into his hands in one swift movement, sighing softly at the warmth it radiated. Tea never was his favourite choice of drink, but in this moment, it felt more than appropriate.

He stared warily as Dan slid a small business card across the bench, his frown never shifting. Caspar dragged it closer, glancing over the details before whipping his head up in surprise.

"Where'd you get this?" he demanded, picking up the card and waving it in the air, his mug precariously sloshing around in his other hand. Dan shrugged, lifting his own drink to his lips.

"Picked it up a few days ago, thought it might be useful," he said, his voice echoing into the ceramic.

Caspar frowned. "Those dabbling in spirits and possession don't usually hand out their business cards on busy corners."

Dan smiled weakly, setting his mug down. "Okay, fine, I went to their office intentionally, happy?"

"Did you tell them everything?"