"Thanks for today." My last client of the day gave a shallow bow before leaving.
"No worries. Just remember to take more rests."
"Will do." And the door shut behind him.
Finally, I'm off work, and the sun hasn't completely set yet. The orange light permeating the air was warm and cozy; I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time.
That's probably because I have been too tense the last two days. Now, even just a simple moment of lying bathed in the evening light felt like heaven.
But only my day job is completed; the recent surge in ghosts demands my attention as an exorcist.
So I scrolled through my email. Yuki had already assigned me three targets. I'll just take out whichever is the closest today. Then, the other two will be taken care of over the next two days.
Oh jeez, she assigned me one that's two hours away by car...
BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.
What the fuck. There shouldn't be any clients left.
Wait, no. The impatient, repeated doorbell smashing is probably—
"OPEN UP, ROOKIE!" Yeah, it's Jennifer.
I guess my rest is over now. It took all the strength in my body to rise from the chains of comfort; it took even more to walk over to the door and pull it open.
"How did you even find this place?" I asked.
"I... Uh... Doesn't matter."
"No, it very much matters."
"What matters more..." She talked over me with raised volume, "...is that I found something. The Jumping Ghost seems to have only ever targeted women."
"I'm pretty sure that's well known."
"Only attractive women, every single time. Only you are the outlier."
"You're still convinced I was haunted?"
"I'm 100%. And one more thing about her victims: they're all social rejects." Jennifer seemed proud of her findings; both her chin and her chest were up.
"What does that mean?"
"Working on that. But it's a lead."
"So that's why you're here? Just to..."
"Our independent investigation?" She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow with an exasperated expression.
"Can't it hold off?" I scratched my neck.
"No. I told you. I'm not giving you a choice."
"Don't you have work to do? I thought we all received more tasks from the association due to the recent surge in ghosts."
"I've done all four of mine."
"Four?! That quick?"
"Yeah." She said it so casually while my jaw dropped to the maximum.
"I thought you said you had work. Like, actual work."
"I do, I'm just good at juggling. We're going now, and you're driving." She turned to leave.
"Wait." I stopped her. "At least let me complete one of my tasks first."
"I'll help you." She shrugged, tossing a bubblegum into her mouth. "We'll be done by six in the morning."
"I... kinda need my sleep..."
"Well, we could still investigate the Jumping Ghost until twelve. No ghosts out prowling for you to exorcise before then."
"Yeah, but... preparation?"
"Preparation takes you from six to twelve?" She blew a bubble, which popped and stuck on her lips.
"I wanna go home to rest first."
Jennifer's eyelids drooped; she whipped her head away with her arms crossed. "Fine. Tomorrow. Must. Be. Tomorrow. No more excuses."
"Alright, alright."
Then she jabbed an index finger at my forehead, with quite a bit of strength, knocking me back.
"Ow." I held my hurting forehead.
"No. More. Excuses." She glared.
"Okay, okay."
Her glare lingered on me for quite a bit before she finally turned to descend the stairs, leaving me to my much-needed alone rest.
It's five o'clock; I might as well get home now, cook and have dinner early, then head to my task two hours away.
———
In a restaurant by the beach, Rick sat with two others at a table. He had a bandaged forehead and a bleeding lip, but no fear in his expression.
The two others were chatting lightly, while Rick kept quiet and enjoyed his meal in peace.
"Rick O'Neil." Matthew called his name as he approached, Vincent right behind him.
Rick didn't spare him a glance, but did put down his fork and knife. "Officer Connors. Is it fair to assume you're operating outside your time again?" he asked, then wiped his mouth gently with a tablecloth.
"I'm a hard worker." Matthew joked without a grin; his face was stern, even furious, while Vincent behind him was more relaxed.
Rick waved the two others at the table away, and they complied without hesitation.
"Take a seat," Rick offered.
"Nah, no need." Matthew crossed his arms; Vincent didn't take the offer either.
"Any chance you want to tell us what happened to your face? Was it your turn to get your face mushed to shit with a bat?" Vincent asked casually.
"Fell down some stairs."
"Yeah, some stairs." Matthew nodded. "Gordon Hill fell down some too."
"Am I supposed to know who that is?"
"No," Vincent shook his head. "We wouldn't want you knowing that one of your men spilled."
"So arrest me." Rick didn't even flinch at the bluff.
"There was a bar fight of a... larger than usual scale," Matthew continued.
"Shit was nasty, almost comparable to your last kill at the bowling alley," Vincent followed.
"Your new injuries wouldn't have come from it, would they?" Matthew asked directly, leaning closer to Rick.
Rick still wasn't impressed as he sipped on red wine calmly. The evening's orange glow illuminated the wrinkles on his face and reflected in his menacing hunter eyes.
"Is that all the reason you're here, Officer?" Rick asked, completely unbothered.
Then Matthew lost his temper. He snatched the glass of wine out of Rick's hand and smashed it on the ground.
Yet, no one in the restaurant reacted except Vincent.
Matthew leaned in even closer, his palm slapping on Rick's table; his saliva sprayed on Rick as he spoke. "I know for a fucking fact that it's you. For once in my life, I'm glad violence occurred. I'm glad Janitor got to you. He didn't blow your brains out because you don't deserve such a quick death. You deserve the cruelest, slowest, most painful end."
Matthew had to gasp for breath after.
Rick finally turned slowly to face Matthew. There wasn't a sign of him being intimidated by Matthew's stunt. "Is that all?" he asked simply.
A palm landed on Matthew's shoulder. "Come on, man, let's go," Vincent suggested.
Matthew glared at Rick for the longest time before he was pulled away, while Rick was gazing at an ant.
"Asshole," Matthew muttered as he left, with Vincent slapping his shoulder, calming him down.
———
Finally, I'm back home. Maybe I can sneak in a power nap before having to deal with the ghost two hours away.
I didn't sleep well yesterday, and I straight-up didn't sleep Saturday night. I'm drained. Now I just need to sink deep into my soft, warm bed, eyes fluttering shut slowly, and drift...
Then my phone rang. Tch.
"Chen Mo." I picked up in case it was the association.
But it wasn't. "Hi, um, it's Caitlyn again."
"Oh. Uh... Why'd you call?"
"Just sort of wanted to hear your voice again. I know it's only been a day, but..."
"Oh wow, that's... flattering."
"I don't mean to come off as a creep, but I want to let you know that you have a really soothing voice." I could hear quivers in her voice, both nervous and excited.
"Thanks a lot. You too."
"Um... Thanks... Can we push the movie up the calendar?" she asked, stuttering, but I could still hear her wide and bright smile a screen away.
"When do you have in mind?"
"Tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night's very packed for me." Friday night would've been optimal. I have one ghost every night until Wednesday, not to mention Jennifer. Then Thursday could've been a needed break.
"Wednesday then?"
"Um..." My bottle on my desk shuffled slightly. I lit my sinfully mesmerizing lighter, and there Sophie was. "Can it stay Friday night?"
"Oh, um... Okay. Sure. Sorry for asking."
"Don't be. I'm flattered. Thank you. Bye." So much for moving on. "What are you doing here? Wrong address?"
"I have ten minutes." She meant before six, when ghosts become dormant.
"And?"
"She's not gonna work. She's a drug addict, for starters." Sophie explained, her face concerned and strict.
"You won't inherit that as a ghost."
"She's also just... generally a lunatic. Even her family knows she's the killer. I don't want to..."
"I'm sorry. But you're a ghost, I'm an exorcist. This is the best I can allow." I sat up, rubbing my groggy face all over.
She was hesitant; she looked down and back up before asking, "Who was on the phone?"
"My... date."
She smiled, but I could tell it was bitter. "Moving on. Good for you."
"It's been 26 years. It would be really unhealthy for me to still cling after 6."
"True." She nodded lightly.
"Lila or nothing, Soph." I reconfirmed. "You're only haunting her, no one else."
She nodded again. "Okay." Then vanished.
I dropped my head back down into my pillow, then breathed a heavy, heavy sigh. "I'm beat..."