Moments; singular, siphoned, like grains of sand which fall restlessly, and build without limits...growing with increasing momentum, each step, beat, a steady staccato , marking down the minutes until the cold inevitability of the ...end ...death.
M...
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I touch my neck gingerly and wince. The cut has long since scabbed over, and yet it's like I can still feel it...feel him...feel his mouth sucking from the vein. I want to scream, shout, break something—preferably his oh-so-smugly handsome face, but a deals a deal, and I hadn't had much choice in the matter. And God, yes, he'd been so smug about the whole ordeal. I'd wanted to knee him in the balls when I'd taken his blood and felt just how excited he'd been. Shit! Just what have I gotten myself into? Walker is his own special brand of crazy and here I was getting ensnared in his web once again. I really was losing my mind. That was the only possible explanation for this total insanity. A blood binding. God. Walker was probably hulu-hooping naked while drinking a bottle of gin, and here I was wanting to stab myself with a dull blade. There was no getting out of this now. Very nearly sacred, the ritual of binding one another through blood was an unbreakable seal, a wholly unbreakable way of tying two people together in essence...yup...he had me—and not in any way that I wanted him to. My cell phone rings and I answer briskly, "Parks here." "My, such a warm welcome, darling." I bang my phone against my forehead and curse. "Darling girl...you there?" I sigh, bringing the phone to my ear and nodding as if he can see me. Knowing the crazy bastard he probably can. "Yup, yeah, I'm here Walker. Listen, what do you want now? Frankly I think you got your fair share of what—" "—There's been another one." WHAT? What the fuck!? "Another one?" "Murder, dearheart, another murder," and he sounds entirely too chipper about it for my liking. "How in the ever loving hell do YOU know about a murder before me?" Seriously!! How in the world did Walker get this news before me? "I told you, darling, I have my sources." I narrow my eyes and a sly smile crosses my lips. "Your mommy told you, didn't she?" I hear a splattering of muttering and know that I hit the nail on the head. "My mother had nothing—" "—Oh now," and I throw his words back at him, "do you think me stupid, Walker?" "Ugh, fine, fine, mother may have informed me, but it was entirely accidental, she and the coven were—" "—No, no, nope, la, la, la...I don't hear anything." Walker laughs and I frown, "...so sue me. I don't want to know about anything that your mother's Coven may or may not be doing...as ninety-nine percent of what they do is more than likely completely illegal." "You're so judgmental, darling." Now I laugh. "Hardly, Walker. That is the least appropriate word to describe me...I mean...you DO KNOW what I do for a living, correct? No, no room for judgment in my little world. But I work in an official capacity for the city, and I can't be listening to you spill things about your mom's Coven, which I KNOW, again, don't insult my intelligence, I KNOW practices black magic. And honestly, I like your mom. As long as she and her merry band of witches aren't murdering or maiming people, I don't really give two fucks what they do...as long as I don't have to hear it." "How much maiming?" "What?" "I mean, just how much maiming would you consider too much for your delicate sensibilities...in your oh-so-official police officer capacity." "Do you even hear yourself, Walker? Do you even realize how nuts you sound. And you know I'm not a police officer...well, not exactly a police officer." "Potato, potaaahto...you're basically a police officer. Supernatural cop, city cop, whatever, it's all the same right?" Soooooo not the same, but again, I wasn't about to engage with this nutcase any further on the subject. "God Walker, you could drive an angel to drink." "Oh but they do, darling, or didn't you know that?" "Know about angels drinking?" Huh? "You said I could drive an angel to drink, but I wouldn't have to, cause you see, they already drink my dear. Well, the fallen ones certainly do. I'm not one hundred percent sure about the Heavenly Host, or Choir, but hell, it's heaven and you get whatever the hell you want in heaven right? So I'm sure they have some whiskey stashed away somewhere up there." And Jesus wept. He was going to drive ME crazy. "Walker, please..." "Oh darling," and his voice goes soft, "...you just said please to me." "Yes, I'm capable of it, sometimes." "Did it feel like battery acid, saying it to me, that is?" "Just enough, Walker, enough already. I'm assuming since you know that there's a murder you've contacted the correct people, and that you want to meet me at the scene." "How do you know I've contacted anyone but you, dear one?" "Because you have an official badge. God knows how you got it. But have it you do. So yeah, I think you cleared your presence. Tell me where I'm meeting you or I'm hanging up right now, calling my Captain and saying the fuck to all of this, and you." Walker laughs. "You're precious. You know I adore you, right, darling?" "Walker..." I say menacingly. "All right, all right, three hundred Hoffner Place." "Three hundred Hoffner..." I cock my head to one side, "...that's a..." "Oh yes, it is, a whore-house, or brothel if you want to be slightly more polite." "You're telling me that a murder has occurred at The Paladin, the largest brothel in the city..." "Yup." "Okay, I'll meet you there in twenty minutes...and...Walker, if you're fucking with me I'm going to cut off your balls and hand them to you." Walker chuckles. "Delightful, darling. Ta ta, for now. See you in twenty." And he hangs up. Crazy motherfucker.
