Breaking Darkness

Chapter 4: Sunflower

Sammy looked down in abject embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have cursed. It's just—"

"Hold on, sweetheart, you're hunting your father's murderers?"

She nodded, red curls swaying and still refusing to make eye contact with me. Now, to be honest, there were very few moments in my long life which left me speechless. This was definitely one of those few fucking moments. I tried to form words, though. I really did.

"H-how... w-what..."

She looked at me, concern coloring her expression as she stood and put the back of her hand to my forehead while asking, "Are you alright, Tim."

Her small hand was so warm, and I fought the need to lean involuntarily into that tender and sweet caress. No, I wasn't alright. I was not alright at all. This was not normal. To stop myself from giving into my urges, I pulled away gently from her hand.

"Yes, I'm alright, Sammy. Now, what's this about your father being murdered?"

She looked down at her lands folded delicately in her lap as emotion swiftly overcame her. I could feel the sadness coming off her in waves as she recollected whatever memories she wanted to share with me. I'd never seen her look so... dark, so sad and brooding.

"I found daddy. He had been... eviscerated." Samantha sniffled and wiped away a tear before continuing. "I only knew it was him because of his belt buckle."

The haunted look in her eyes nearly stopped me because I didn't want this poor human soul to relive her memories. But she didn't seem to be the type to go out on a revenge mission. So I needed to know more.

"And, how do you know he was murdered?"

Her head snapped up, and she glowered at me as if already expecting me to not believe her explanation. "He was murdered. Everyone says it was a cougar attack, but I know he was murdered." She looked away, still angry, and spoke, almost to herself, "I know it." Rage. I felt her rage.

"Sammy," I said gently, "I believe you, but maybe you could start from the top. You found your father..." she nodded.

My frown deepening, I continued, "And, specifically, how do you know he was murdered?"

She looked at me defiantly, daring me to question her next words. "I have a feeling."

It was all I could do to keep from laughing, not at her situation of course, but because the conviction in her voice was just so at odds with the words she spoke.

"A feeling?" I asked incredulously, raising my eyebrows in disbelief.

She nodded seriously, squinting her eyes almost like she was challenging me to question her conviction. "Yes, a feeling."

I shrugged, letting go of my skepticism and taking a sip of my blood. "Ok, so you have a feeling-"

"Not just any feeling." She interrupted me passionately, "I had a deep feeling."

"A deep feeling, right..." I trailed off.

She was insane. Certifiably insane. I'd brought a poor crazy woman to my house and let her feed me strange pancakes. Maybe I should look into getting her help. Knight Corp ran several state-of-the-art medical and mental health facilities. I could-

Sammy's soft voice drew me from my musings, and I watched as she stuck out her quivering bottom lip and spoke. "Promise not to laugh if I tell you about it?"

I nodded. Of course I wouldn't laugh at her. Whatever had happened, she believed in her version of events. She didn't deserve my scorn. "I promise not to laugh, Sammy."

Her rage was fading, replaced by a fresh scent and an expression of... sincerity? Or maybe it was guarded hope. Was that it?

She began speaking. "I sometimes get these feelings, Tim. I call them 'deep' feelings. I've always gotten them. It's like something whispering in your ear and telling you something really important..."

Nuts. This chick was nuts. Adorable, achingly innocent, but entirely crazy. "Go on." I said gently, hiding my true thoughts from her and encouraging her to continue her story. Maybe it was the damn pancakes that were making me want to hear more.

"The deep feelings warn me about things sometimes. Once when I was little, I had a deep feeling that told me not to walk on the bridge on my way home from school, so I went the long way. And do you know what happened, Tim?" She leaned across the table, pleading with her wide eyes for me to believe her.

"What happened, Sammy?" I asked as I shrank from the intensity of that gaze.

"The bridge collapsed!" She exclaimed before plopping back into her chair.

"Are you sure it wasn't a coincidence?" Her eyes cut back to me and revealed an unfathomable sense of betrayal. Apparently, my words had struck a nerve, so I quickly added, "Ok, ok, maybe it wasn't a coincidence. What else?"

"I-I, one time I was out eating dinner with daddy. I got a deep feeling about momma. It told me she had died in a car accident. I was about to tell daddy when his cell phone rang. He picked it up and..." Sammy trailed off before working up the courage to finish, "She was gone."

The sorrow in the woman's eyes made my heart ache as I spoke carefully. "So, you get these feelings a lot?" She nodded. "And you got one of these feelings about your father?"

She agreed again, nodding her head vigorously up and down. "It told me daddy had been murdered by monsters and that I needed to go to New Orleans. I sold everything and spent it on my plane ticket to get here."

I balked, jerking back and looking at her in surprise. "You have no more money?"

She smiled brilliantly. "Of course not, silly. I have $56 after buying the stuff to make breakfast."

I sat back and gawked at her. She... she... Samantha was an enigma. For her part, Sammy just smiled a little sadly as she looked down and took another bite of pancakes. I was still baffled as I watched a little syrup escape the corner of her mouth and slowly run down her chin. The woman then gingerly grabbed a napkin and dabbed her face using an anachronistic grace. She was also using one of my old cloth napkins. I hadn't pulled the cloth napkins out of my linen closet since New Year's 1933.

I felt as if I were about to open a messy can of worms with my next question, but I asked anyway. "And what are you gonna do when you find the killers, Sammy?"

She shrugged, looking down sadly and twirling her fork in the syrup. "I-I don't know, Tim..."

As I watched her, playing with her food and wearing an expression that told me she was bracing for my negative reaction, I felt a conviction settle deep within me. That was it. Hell, I had enough free time on my hands and was desperate to figure out the mystery that was Samantha Calhoun. I was going to figure out just what the hell she was even if it killed me.

However, I couldn't do this on my own. I needed help, and luckily I knew just who to ask.

"Sammy?" I said her name like a question.

She looked up and gave me a small, hopeful grin. "Yes, Tim?"

"Would you like to go visit one of my friends with me tonight?"

She smiled brilliantly, joy washing over her features and wiping away her lingering sadness. "Sure! What should I wear?"

Why? Why was that the first question she thought to ask? Not 'where are we going'? Or 'who are we seeing?' No, Samantha's first instinct was to ask what she should wear. I snorted in amusement at her. This human was literally going to kill me... well, re-kill me, I guessed.