Geekomancy by Underwood Michael R

Author:Underwood, Michael R [Underwood, Michael R]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2012-07-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Downtown Dogfight

Drake looked back at the house. “I imagine that we’ll either want to extricate ourselves from the situation to avoid notice, or return to speak with the distraught woman inside and explain ourselves. Somewhat explain ourselves, that is. I don’t imagine she could handle the full truth at this moment, nor would I wish to inflict it upon her.”

Ree made a hrm sound, thinking. “Do you have some kind of ‘forget I was here’ mojo you can use? We should really just follow the Muse if we can.”

Drake nodded. “I should be able to push our visit out of her mind, but regardless, I’ll need to go back into the bedroom to reset the goggles and see if I can pick up the trail. Perhaps the shade lingered out of sight during our skirmish.”

Better you than me, Ree thought, shuddering.

Drake shouldered his rifle and walked back to the front door, leaving Ree with her thoughts. They were constant company, if not always the most pleasant. A wind curled across the alley, and she pulled her jacket tighter, wishing she could go home, make herself a latte, and snuggle up with her laptop for the rest of the day.

Writing was comfort and therapy both, and she needed either that or something to drink. She’d long ago chosen booze as her Writerly Vice of Choice, pretending that caffeine didn’t count. She occasionally subbed in media marathons and self-destructive behavior, just to mix things up.

If we find the Muse, we kill the hell out of it, with optional interrogation if said Aberrant Muse can talk, and assuming we can subdue it and convince it to spill its spectral beans. Just tracking it again won’t be fast enough. It was already the 30th, so there wasn’t much time left for Eastwood’s deadline.

Ree thought back to the last Halloween, when she and Jay had gone as Johnny and Lisa from The Room, which had displaced Manos: The Hands of Fate at the top of The Shithole’s official pantheon of Worst Movies Ever. They’d had to explain the costumes to almost everyone at the party, but after that, they’d won Best Duo and a gift card to the Illyrian Theatre, which played classics and foreign films.

She had taken Jay to the Illyrian on their second date, to see Black Orpheus. It was, in retrospect, a crap choice for a date movie, one that Jay teased her about for the entirety of their relationship. The old emotions came up like a looming exit sign that read MEMORY LANE—DEPRESSING RELATIONSHIP THOUGHTS, ½ MILE.

She stopped herself before taking the off-ramp. Not helping, kiddo.

Hell, I’d rather watch The Room again, without being able to make fun, than keep dealing with this shit.

Another voice answered in her head, sounding half like her father. Then why don’t you?

She could give up, technically. She wasn’t a cop, wasn’t a social worker. Why didn’t she go home and live her life? It wasn’t like she was made of free time, not like her imagination wasn’t already well trained enough for her to be a writer.

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