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Of course, filling out reports is a bit different than doing accounting stuff. Maybe I should just offload this crap to a CPA. It’s not like my business finances will reveal my paranormal nature, which, admittedly, I fear it somehow will. Yes, sometimes my investigations turn weird, but according to my receipts, they are just another investigation. An accountant shouldn’t suspect anything paranormal. The most risk of me outsourcing my bookkeeping would be working with someone who starts to notice that I’m not getting any older year to year. Could sidestep that problem if I went to a larger firm where it’s not the same person I deal with all the time.
Or… I could just do it myself.
I rest my chin on my palm, elbow on the table, and stare at the laptop screen for a bit.
Even the most dedicated paper pusher has moments of procrastination. It doesn’t help matters that I really could just say ‘to hell with this all’ at any time and go live on a remote beach somewhere in the Bahamas and do nothing. I could command a hotel manager to give me free room and board for months, if not years. As far as money, I could hang around an ATM and command people to pull out a few hundred here and there.
Yeah, no.
Can’t really do that. I mean, I could in a pinch, but feeling lazy doesn’t qualify. Besides, I don’t want to pull Paxton away from all of her friends. Also, I’d miss this house far too much. And, honestly, I’m not cut out for living the life of the idle rich. I’d get bored after two weeks. Suppose I could do the Lara Croft thing and run around the world searching for lost treasures. Then again, there can’t be that much left to find anymore. Besides, I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.
Ishmael might have an idea or two. And wasn’t Angel City, located in the middle of the sun, jam-packed with gold? According to Ishmael, it was. Also, according to Ishmael, I had trained in Angel City years ago, back when I had been given the Devil Killer sword. Weirdly, I have a vague memory of having been back to the interior of the sun, but the memory is fleeting at best.
Methinks my time travel ring might have something to do with that. But who knows? Whatever memory I have of the sun is vague at best, though I do feel like I might have gone through considerable pain for some reason. But, yeah, who knows?
Back to the sun and gold... yeah, methinks a pick ax might be in my near future. I might need to pick Ishmael’s brain about that a little more. I was on good terms with the Archangel Azrael, the Angel of Death. Would he give me permission to, ah, mine a little of the gold? Who knows?
Samantha Moon: mom, private investigator, vampire—prospector!
Yes, that cracked me up.
Speaking of which… crap. In another few decades, I’m going to need to do something weird like fake my death, change my name and pretend to be my own granddaughter who’s inherited all of my stuff. Meh. I can worry about that in twenty years.
As I sit here staring blankly at the computer screen, it occurs to me the house is beyond quiet. No sooner does my brain process the unusual silence, a strange sense of unease washes over me. It’s not my alarm sense, nor is it even a building dread warning me that something bad is imminent. That said, all the hairs on my neck are standing on end.
I shift my gaze off the laptop to the archway on the right, the hall leading to our bedrooms. No sound at all, not even breathing. That’s weird. I get up and hurry into the hall, peeking into each room. Anthony’s at his computer, playing a video game with headphones on. Strange that I didn’t hear him, or perhaps I subconsciously did and filtered it out while worrying about the other two.
Pax isn’t in her room. The giant unicorn plush sits in its place of honor on her bed, staring innocently at me. It’s not giving off any strange sense of oddness other than being bizarrely positioned so it happened to stare right at me when I poked my nose into the room.
Tammy’s also missing.
I don’t remember seeing them go anywhere. Either they disappeared straight out of their bedrooms or I was so wrapped up in bookkeeping, I didn’t notice them walk right on by. Before I allow myself to leap straight to worrying, I hurry back to the dining room and grab my cell phone, sending a text to each of them.
After two minutes and no reply, I call Tammy. It rings right to voicemail. Grr. I try calling Paxton. Some bright and cheerful music starts playing from her bedroom. It’s the theme music from some Japanese cartoon she loves.
Dammit. Her phone is in her bedroom and Tammy’s is dumping straight to VM.
Okay, I am a PI. I have tools. I’m also a parent.
I minimize the bookkeeping stuff on the laptop and go to the Apple page. A few seconds later, I’ve got the tracking app open and have located Tammy’s phone. At first it, too, appears to be here in the house. I zoom in a bit more on the map, which makes it look offset from the house… probably in the backyard. What the heck?
Though she’s eighteen, I don’t think she minds if I track her. Given all the craziness going on in our family, the idea she might be abducted by demons, aliens, or something in-between is all too real. She’d want me to find her as fast as possible. One small problem, however. I’m not sure if Apple’s system can track phones across alternate dimensions.
Anyway, the sense of otherworldliness still hanging over everything motivates me to my feet again. I hurry left to the kitchen and out the back door into the yard. Our yard is pretty large… so big, in fact, that Paxton once asked if we could get some horses and build a stable. Not sure the city would give me the permits for that. Besides, horses are a lot of work. If she brings that up again, I’m going to relent on the pets thing and suggest she settle for a cat. They’re much easier to take care of than a horse… and a bit easier to snuggle with than a hamster.
My supernatural eyes pierce the veil of darkness with ease, allowing me to spot the girls off in the distance, sitting on the ground, their faces lit by an eerie blue-white glow. For a moment, I stand there being relieved they’re okay. Of course, it’s almost midnight… Paxton should not be out of bed now. Yeah, she’s fourteen, and it is a Friday night, but that’s still a bit too young to stay up this late. I didn’t let Tammy stay up to midnight until she was sixteen.
Though, they say the firstborn has the strictest rules and the littlest gets away with everything.
Oh well. I can at least try to enforce bedtime.
I walk across the yard to where the girls are sitting.
The strange blue glow turns out to be Tammy’s cell phone, set on the ground between them. She’s got a bunch of tiny candles lit in a ring around them. Bundles of various flowers and herbs dot the area as well. What the heck? Is her phone not working right and she’s trying to use magic to fix it instead of calling tech support? This makes me briefly imagine some crazy version of ‘tech support’ for witches, one that the magic provider companies would probably offshore to faeries with strong accents who are impossible to understand over the phone.
Pax looks up at me, smiles, then shifts her attention back to Tammy.
My eldest is doing this ‘meditating’ thing. Or at least she looks like it. Eyes closed, sitting cross-legged, hands on her knees, seemingly lost in deep concentration. As much as I want to ask them what’s going on, I keep quiet. While I am far from an expert on witchy matters, I know enough to be concerned that disrupting a ritual or spell might have wild consequences.
