We Find What Is Lost: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 1)

Chapter Eight: Rachel, Wednesday

"So?" she asked Sam, after they'd come home.

"So?" he said.

"Neither Allison nor Al noticed you standing next to me. On the walk home, other pedestrians were walking through you. And the smelly guy took the chair you were sitting in!"

He shrugged. "It's better for me if I'm not here in the full, solid sense. That way no one raises questions you're not able to answer."

"There's another, simpler explanation."

"What's that?"

"You're a figment of my imagination."

He snorted laughter. "Would it be easier for you to believe that?"

"No, honestly. I might need to check myself into an institution. Maybe the stress of everything I've been through has made me have a psychotic break."

"A fair assessment." He paused as he considered it. "If I'm a figment of your imagination, why did you need to look up who I was?"

"Oh, you saw that, did you?"

"I glanced over. You were so engrossed in what you were reading that you didn't notice. I'm not offended, by the way. Anyway, a figment of your imagination erupts from something you already have in your head. If so, you'd already have known something about me, wouldn't you?"

Rachel shrugged. "Maybe I came across your name years ago and just don't remember. I did a lot of role-playing when I was a teenager. Demons were part of the vernacular."

He nodded thoughtfully. "So, I could be something hidden in your subconscious," he murmured. "But then again, I didn't look at all like what you pictured a demon to be."

"Yeah, but you did look like a character in the online fantasy game I used to play, the one from which the trolls chased me away. And very soon you turned into Mister Rogers, and you've stayed like that ever since, and I know he's deep in my subconscious."

"Wait!" he said, snapping his fingers. "You'll have proof I'm not imaginary after you see what I've done! The trolls! The underwear man!"

"Oh, yeah, there's that. What did you do?"

"Ah, if I told you, and then you saw it, you'd think that was all in your imagination too. Better to be surprised. And like I said, plausible deniability."

She sighed. "Okay, for now I will suspend questioning my sanity and believe you can appear to me and not to others."

"I can appear to others; I just choose not to. It doesn't mean I won't in the future."

"I'm making dinner," she said, heading to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"No, thanks. I don't do food."

"You'll do blood, though. I saw the empty bowl this morning."

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"Do you need more? I can prick my finger every now and then." She looked at her hands and wondered why she didn't have a band-aid around any of her fingers; had she even put one on? She didn't remember.

He cleared his throat and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, as if she'd offered to give him a rectal exam. "Uh, that's okay, Rachel. It doesn't really work like that. It's more like a deposit on a job. A deposit that, had I completed the job, would be fulfilled by my eating you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, and we're not doing that. Although, my CEO was one part of the job, and you did something about that."

"True, but because I wanted to, not because you ordered me to. That guy needs bringing down a peg or two."