Rogue (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {1}

20. Springdale, Washington

20. Springdale, Washington

"I scrubbed for hours," says Mrs. Miles, the victim's mother. "I'll have to rip up the carpet. My daughter, Casey...She picked out the color herself."

Dean, Sam, and I are in Springdale, Washington. Mrs. Miles is very distraught, and I can't blame her. She lost her little girl. No parent should outlive their child, it's just one of those things you accept as a rule.

We're in Casey's room, where there's the blood stain that Mrs. Miles can't seem to scrub out of the carpet. What it must be like for her, I can't even imagine. I can't even try to put myself into a mother's shoes. I can't relate by any means.

"We're...very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Miles," I say sincerely, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind my ear. "You mentioned Casey had no known enemies. What about at home? Anything unusual you may have noticed? Uh...Electricity acting up or lights...flickering, TV on the fritz?"

"No, no fritzing. No cold spots, either."

"Sorry," Dean cuts in. "Out of curiosity, uh...Why do you mention cold spots?" He speaks the question that I've got in my head. Nothing from what I remember involves cold spots with any supernatural being.

"I'm sorry," says Mrs. Miles. "That must sound strange, but...it's been three days since...And the police have found nothing. I'd h—I'd have to sell my house to afford a private investigator, so when the Supernaturalists called—"

"Whoa, sorry, the...Um...Supernaturalists?"

"I know to the FBI it's not exactly orthodox. But these men had answers that no one else had, and I—I owe it to Casey...to listen."

"Now," says Sam, "they—they brought up cold spots in relation to...?"

"Signs of the paranormal, I suppose. They're coming by today to take a look."

"And did these Supernaturalists give you a name?" asks Dean.

"Yes. They called themselves the Ghostfacers."

Dean's subtle change in posture tells me that whoever these "Ghostfacers" are, my brothers have met them before.

"Ghostfacers," I say slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Are they—are they on the FBI's Most Wanted List or something?"

"No, no," I assure her. "I just wanted to make sure that I...I heard you right. Um, thank you, Mrs. Miles, for talking to us. And, please, if anything else important comes up, contact us." I squeeze her shoulder as I see a wave of tears about to fall.

As we leave the Miles house, I can hear Dean muttering things under his breath.

"Um, so, who're these Ghostfacers?" I have to ask once we're outside, heading for the Impala.

"A bunch of people who think they know everything that there is to know about what we do. We've run into them a few times before. They're not a threat to us, just more of an annoyance."

"Well, I guess when you have a name like theirs, it sounds like a nuisance."

We all climb into the Impala, and Dean kicks the car into gear.

Our drive is in silence, with low rock music playing in the car. I'm curious about these Ghostfacers. They sound immature, completely uneducated. If they're really hunters, they wouldn't just use their abilities to gain publicity. That's what their name feels like to me: a publicity stunt. Even though I've never met these people before, I already don't like them.