The Boy With Black Eyes

Labyrinthine

Melissa.

Writing to you has become a pastime I pursue almost religiously, and as a man who isn't particularly drawn to the faith, I hope that doesn't put you off. I used to keep a journal, as a younger man, but have not done so for a long time, unless these letters count as some sort of record of my daily activities.

It makes me smile thinking that there is someone on the other side that is receiving my thoughts and has a chance to write back and reflect on them, or just hold onto them for later. I really hope Hyperion treats Vesper and Turul with respect when he is with you, as Vesper is very cordial here. Hangs around the apartment for a night or two, and then by the time I have drafted a reply, she takes it and flies off.

Please tell me, because if he is over there shredding things or leaving shit-stains on the carpet I'll make sure he gets the message when he gets home.

G.L.

**********

He had yet to adopt a dog of his own, but Gus enjoyed walking his neighbor's two fur-babies, two Rottweiler rescues that were sweet as chocolate pie, but with both dogs covered in scars from their dog-fighting past, Brutus, the larger, with both his ears chewed off, they kept some of the stares from his back.

And in his line of work, stares off his back were rather useful. Especially when he was walking two fairly large dogs right into the middle of what was agreed upon neutral ground. No magic here, no violence, no wars were permitted to break out in the middle of the street. This didn't keep Gus from tying back his hair and wearing as much clothing as possible, not wanting to give anybody a free way to track him back home. That last skinchanger had been trouble enough.

The dogs seemed to know where they were going, and strained in the opposite direction, trying to get away from the side alley he led them down. The smell was fowl, a mixture he knew that would be one of death, one of blood and shit and bodies ripped into tiny pieces.

He'd ducked under the yellow tape, both dogs sticking close to his legs, raising Melissa's scarf to cover his mouth and nose, hoping to stop the stench of the rotting body from entering his nose. There were cops crawling over the scene, the coroner collecting evidence around the shrivelled, almost mummified-looking corpse that was poorly concealed behind a dumpster, surrounded on all sides by heroin syringes and cardboard box houses. The corpse itself had yet to be moved surrounded on all sides by a white chalk outline. For the time being, he stood out of the way, frowning. No blood anywhere, and no apparent wounds on the victim. Granted, he was all the way over here with two scaredy-cat dogs, but he already had a fairly good guess what was responsible for this.

And sadly, there would be no advancements made against the vampires that had made odd advances into the Windy City. Also sadly, these vamps were the of the blood-drinking variety, not the pleasure-seeking or favour-giving type. He'd have to keep his new pet locked up a little bit longer.

When his co-worker in the CPD homicide division wasn't on site, he gave the lead officer his contact info, and turned to take the two dogs home. However, instead of just tracing his steps back to the mouth of the side alley, Gus diverted down an attaching one, barely three feet across, between two old housing projects that had grown upward into shabby little apartments with what he knew to have paper-thin walls.

There was the unmistakable feeling of being watched from above. Like two knives sticking into his shoulders had started being twisted by two giant hands attached to super long arms. Knowing what he might be dealing with, Gus continued on his journey down the side-alley, Brutus behind him, Rex in front, both dogs trying to get him to go faster. But Gus held his ground, and even started to whistle, in his off-tune, high-pitched manner. Some patter song from a play he'd seen forever ago. If his heartrate even escalated a little bit, she might decide that his blood was worth collecting.