Simon Berkley

Chapter 7 part 1

Guys! So sorry for taking like forever to post this. life has swallowed me up. But now it's here and I promise to publish more on the adventures of Simon Berkley and Co.

Chapter 7: Marcus Lee

Marcus Lee wasn't so hard to track down. Phil was sitting on the couch when we arrived at the house and he was in an extra good mood.
"Sure," he'd said to me when I asked if he could help me track Marcus.
I looked at him with suspicion, "Are you okay?" I said.
"Just happy," he answered and grinned exaggeratedly. "Can't I just be happy?"
"You're high, aren't you?"
"Higher than a kite," he pointed a finger up and made a popping sound with his mouth.
Alice sneered and mumbled something behind me.
"I'm surprised you're not immune to the stuff after all these centuries," I laughed and sat next to him on the couch.
"Nah. I magically induce every herb, bro."
"Never doubted it for a second."
He switched on my mini laptop and searched the name, turning it so I could see. This Marcus guy was more than just a regular joe. The site said he owned half the line of Sushi Express restaurants, residing on the lower west side of Cathedral.
A picture showed a smiling, suited, slim middle-aged man with an orange goatee and receding brown hair. There was always that something that gave away the supernatural to me. I didn't know if it was instinctual or what, it was a glimmer of something, an attitude almost in the look he gave back from the picture that told me he was something else—though to the naked eye he looked perfectly human.
I took my time and ran through the internet a few times and found most names on the list, like Mr. Lee, almost all of the individuals had a prominent position or ownership of some kind, in some way, shape, or form.
These were lawyers and business women, and some heirs to fortune—names with vast amounts of wealth and power. As I looked at the list, I wondered how many got their way by sticking to the natural laws—but who was I kidding?
No supernatural worked by the natural laws, all of us gained something from our abilities for the cause of our selfish needs, one way or another. It made me think I should use my powers to make more money, but then I tossed that thought away and thanked my mother for teaching me better.
With the selfish use of one's abilities, there was always a chance that karma would bite you in the ass at the end. I hoped that by helping people this would all balance itself out.
I began looking into this Marcus guy. The information given on these sites was vague and unhelpful. The real question was why the list existed in the first place and why these specific people?
I was beginning to get angry about the inconvenience of my ignorance to all of this.
Marcus Lee had graduated from San Antonio College, was born in a small town named Shreveport, and had married young, then divorced young. The rest of the information was useless: his promise to his company, a few pictures of him accepting awards, grinning at the cameras with a perfect smile.
If people only knew what he was hiding behind that smile, I thought.
We were freaks of nature and nothing except our outside shell was normal or ordinary. And I was the worst of my kind—a mix made by chance maybe, a rare condition in the supernatural body. I wondered what made Marcus a "freak" like me as I stared intently at his picture. Heck, I wasn't sure what made me a "freak".
I made myself some waffles and ate while searching.. I popped two aspirin (extra strength) into my mouth and pushed them down with some OJ.
Alice was around tonight. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her long pajamas with teddy bears on them gave her a child-like quality.
She quickly joined me on the table and I was left rubbing the cold chill off my arm. You would think that after so long I would get used to the fact that Alice was abysmally cold.
"So, I see you don't have your 'come here and take me now Tomas' clothes," I said, mocking his accent.
She fanned her hand over her face. "What happened, you jealous?"
"No."
"Ghosts have needs too, you know," she said and I have to admit it had caught me a little off guard.
"Like the need to constantly annoy me while doing research?"
"I don't care for hints," she said.
There was silence and then she brought her knee up to her chin. "I think you should keep away from this one."
My jaw almost fell to the floor, but I made a chocking sound instead and said, "Excuse moi?"
"I just...I feel like something really bad is coming," she said.
"Like a monster?"
"I don't know. I have never felt this tug in my gut before," she said and looked down to the ground. "I went to visit some...friends over the last few nights. They feel it, too."
That explained her disappearing on me the last few nights and her constant binging on my Pop-Tarts and Snacky Cakes.
"Well, at least you won't have to worry about dying and all."
"You only say things like that when you worry," she said and I buried my face on the laptop screen.
"I just need to find out what the hell this all means," I said, taking another chunk off the waffle. "The Harpy, the attack, the list, the supposed suicide—I just can't put it all together. And the cryptic way Felipe spoke to me about things to come—to get Francesca on my side."
"I wish I had the answers," she said. "Unfortunately my friends don't have them either."
Alice stood up straight and placed a cold hand on my shoulder.
"Just be careful," she smacked the back of my head. "If you die, who would I bother then?"
That night the Amelia dream happened again: the piercing cold rain on my skin, her warm lips touching mine, the man in the shadows, the crows, and her death.
I woke up feeling like the shadows clung to my eyelids, so I rubbed at them until I could see the table's overhead light and then the rest of the kitchen. I had fallen asleep on the laptop, which had lost battery power. My eyes were wet and my heart was pounding hard in my chest. I got up and went to my room and I opened the drawer on my night table and took out the black feather, rubbing it with two fingers. When it had floated to me, it was as wet and cold as the night inside my dream.