Given my abilities, one might think I have it easy. Granted, sentience has its usefulness. I can convince or steal– although it’s not really stealing since people insist on giving things to me – my way into almost any given situation. Except marriage proposal and jerk I can’t read trying to do me. Barely a week in the city and I’ve ran into Jeremy five times already. Someone somewhere is trying to tell me something. It might be my friend Anton’s fault. She’s the one who donated two of my paintings for the auction, she’s the one who dragged me to Max’s barbecue, she’s the one with the damn white car. Tingling when being kissed should be outlawed. Jeremy Mac is a menace to my peace of mine. And he’s not the only one. I’ve met the strangest soul at City Hall. A sentient like me who refers to himself as the disciple. I am therefore I can. Not if I can stop you Sicko. Plane rides excluded, nothing and nobody scare me but scared I am now. Amongst all those at the auction I hunt the sicko. The plan is simple : bring him to the cops or bring the cops to him.
His life is full enough, a day job, night hunting with Tom, whores killer on the agenda these days, he has no time to run after women, be they damn pixies. And yet. He can’t find Trica when he wants to but keeps bumping into her in the oddest places. Side of the highway, who the hell buys a television in the middle of the night?! Fender bender near her hotel, she’s intent on saving an invisible cat, he suspects she’s drunk, not that it stops her from taking off again; City Hall’s benefit, after touring the art pieces on auction, she tries to snick out without him. I was expecting it Pixie Darling; at Max’s barbecue party, there’s more paintings for her to admire but he manages to spend some quality time with her in a closet. The smell of you Angel. Then the bar, another rescue mission, not that she lingers around long enough for him to reap the rewards of his good deed.
Dead whores found without signs of struggles, a killer who fancies blood outlines and leaves souvenirs for the cops to find, his job is so fucking great! He has no leads and Jeremy can’t get a fix on the killer, can’t even tell if he’s sentient or not. And what’s with Je’s shitty mood anyway?
|Publisher:||Trica C. Line|
|File size:||418 KB|
|Age Range:||18 Years|
About the Author
About twenty-five years ago, I had to decide on a career path. My choices? Engineering or literature. I’ve been an engineer since then, thinking writing could keep until I retire. Obviously it couldn’t. Lately my days are (very) unevenly occupied by family life with my three lovely girls, regular day-job, writing, reading, going to the gym and as of late, traveling.