Courage: Chapter 2
* I do not own the BT series characters.They belong to a much-more talented individual.I am however, more than willing to take credit for characters/scenarios not featured in the books or television series. Not making any money. No copyright infringement intended*
Vicki stumbled bleary-eyed into her office, silently cursing the bright shaft of early-morning sun that poured in through the windows. She definitely had been hanging around with Henry too long; her internal clock was completely thrown out of whack from all the late-night stake outs and the seemingly endless barrage of ghoulies and ghosties capering about in the back alleyways of Toronto.
Ghoulies and ghosties that she had had to deal with personally.
She still couldn’t completely understand why that responsibility had fallen on her shoulders; maybe it did have everything to do with the marks that Astaroth and his misguided admirer Norman had leveled on her. Maybe, just maybe Henry’s observation that her being marked placed her squarely within the crosshairs of the supernatural was correct.
“Dammit.” She shielded her eyes with the back of one hand while dragging her over-stuffed bag through the door. She had gotten home close to dawn and hadn’t had time to unpack her “equipment,” let alone shower and sleep. Coreen looked up warily from her desk and got up to help her.
“Thanks,” Vicki grunted and hauled the duffel bag up onto the desk. “I’m returning your flamethrower, by the way. “ She unzipped the bag and looked around for a place to put it where it would be out of sight for her clients but within arm’s reach in case danger came knocking. She scoffed and shook her head. I really do need a decent night’s sleep, she thought. I’m starting to become as paranoid as everyone thinks I am.
Coreen reached out and plucked it from her arms. “I’ve got it.” It disappeared behind her desk and when the gothette straightened, there was a look of apprehension in her eyes. Vicki’s own eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Is something going on that I should know about?”
Coreen stood there nervously tapping the edge of her desk with her red-lacquered fingernails and shuffled her feet. Vicki leaned in closer. “Coreen?” That one word carried a multitude of meanings, and finally she spoke.
“Okay, so it’s impossible to keep anything from you when you’re looking at me like that!”
“Like what?” Vicki was confused but she was fairly sure that it had nothing to do with her lack of sleep or the fact that it was 7:46 in the morning, an ungodly hour in her opinion.
Coreen folded her arms across her chest. “Like that. Like the cops do.”
Vicki felt a slight twinge at the mention of the word “cop;” it was what she had been not too many years ago. What she would still be if her damn eyesight wasn’t deteriorating by the minute. She decided to let it go; she was too tired to argue so early in the day. Besides, her curiosity had been piqued-that in itself was an incentive to not lose her temper and alienate her assistant.
“Good to know I’ve still got it.” The corners of Coreen’s mouth twitched up in a grin and the tension eased out of the air.
Vicki went over to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. The rich, heady aroma began to stimulate her brain cells into action, and if anything could be said about her assistant, it was that she always had coffee ready in the morning.
Coreen picked up a file folder from her desk and removed a black and white photograph. Vicki couldn’t make out too much detail from her position by the counter, but from what she could see, it appeared to be professionally done with a white border around it and a name or caption done in bold, black letters across the bottom edge. She approached the desk and Coreen handed it to her.
“The Minions.” Vicki squinted at the lettering and frowned. “Rock band?”
Coreen nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Only the greatest rock band to hit the Toronto underground scene in the last decade!” She snatched the photo away and stared at it wistfully like an adolescent girl. The adoration in her eyes was unnerving.
“O-kay,” Vicki said taking the picture back. “What does this have to do with me?” She stared at it. Nothing but your average every-day garage band with stars in their eyes and dreams of fame and fortune. Hell, the clothes they wore and the way they painted themselves up wasn’t even all that original, not to mention the name. The Minions? She didn’t have words for that one.
Coreen motioned towards the closed door of Vicki’s office. “Marshall Langtry, The Minion’s manager, is in there and wants to hire you. Something about the lead singer, Dex.” She said his name almost dreamily and Vicki found herself floored for the second time in as many minutes. Coreen ga-ga over some local band? Surely she’d seen stranger things during her lifetime.
“Coreen, I’m swamped with cases as it is! Not to mention the fact that I spend my nights chasing……suspects.” “Suspects” was their code word for all the creepy crawlies that inevitably found their way into her caseload.
“I know that Vicki, but this isn’t one of those cases, and he’s willing to pay you! A lot.”
Vicki considered. A nice, normal case for once and a guaranteed pay day? Her landlord and her sanity would be pleased. “How much?” She hated the greedy undertone in her voice, but hey the cost of living had gone up and she was beginning to feel the heat. It would be nice to not have to worry about scraping up enough each month to get by, or wondering if next month was when you would finally have to declare yourself bankrupt.
Coreen’s eyes glittered triumphantly. “He’s upped the price to $1,000 a day, plus expenses.” Vicki nearly choked on her coffee. “A thousand dollars? A day?” It just seemed too good to be true, and if experience had taught her anything, it usually was.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Just surveillance, that’s all.” Vicki didn’t look entirely convinced. Coreen stared at her hopefully, anticipation written all over her features. That was when it all clicked, and Vicki couldn’t resist the urge to smirk. “You want me to take this case so you can help me out with the surveillance, right?”
Coreen blushed so brilliantly that is shone through her pale makeup. She looked down at the floor and then back up at Vicki. “Is it that obvious?” Vicki nodded. “Open and shut case.”
“Please say that you’ll take it.” Coreen looked so desperately hopeful that it was almost endearing if not for the black vinyl corset and stiletto boots. Vicki shrugged, defeated. “Set up the account for me.”
Coreen squealed and flung herself at her boss, trapping her in a surprisingly firm embrace. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Vicki winced and gently peeled her away. “That’s the second time you’ve done that. No more warnings.”
Coreen was too thrilled to notice the threat laced with good humor and set about creating a new spreadsheet for the account. Vicki opened the door to her office and went in. It was definitely going to be one of those days, creepy crawlies or not.
Vicki stumbled bleary-eyed into her office, silently cursing the bright shaft of early-morning sun that poured in through the windows. She definitely had been hanging around with Henry too long; her internal clock was completely thrown out of whack from all the late-night stake outs and the seemingly endless barrage of ghoulies and ghosties capering about in the back alleyways of Toronto.
Ghoulies and ghosties that she had had to deal with personally.
She still couldn’t completely understand why that responsibility had fallen on her shoulders; maybe it did have everything to do with the marks that Astaroth and his misguided admirer Norman had leveled on her. Maybe, just maybe Henry’s observation that her being marked placed her squarely within the crosshairs of the supernatural was correct.
“Dammit.” She shielded her eyes with the back of one hand while dragging her over-stuffed bag through the door. She had gotten home close to dawn and hadn’t had time to unpack her “equipment,” let alone shower and sleep. Coreen looked up warily from her desk and got up to help her.
“Thanks,” Vicki grunted and hauled the duffel bag up onto the desk. “I’m returning your flamethrower, by the way. “ She unzipped the bag and looked around for a place to put it where it would be out of sight for her clients but within arm’s reach in case danger came knocking. She scoffed and shook her head. I really do need a decent night’s sleep, she thought. I’m starting to become as paranoid as everyone thinks I am.
Coreen reached out and plucked it from her arms. “I’ve got it.” It disappeared behind her desk and when the gothette straightened, there was a look of apprehension in her eyes. Vicki’s own eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Is something going on that I should know about?”
Coreen stood there nervously tapping the edge of her desk with her red-lacquered fingernails and shuffled her feet. Vicki leaned in closer. “Coreen?” That one word carried a multitude of meanings, and finally she spoke.
“Okay, so it’s impossible to keep anything from you when you’re looking at me like that!”
“Like what?” Vicki was confused but she was fairly sure that it had nothing to do with her lack of sleep or the fact that it was 7:46 in the morning, an ungodly hour in her opinion.
Coreen folded her arms across her chest. “Like that. Like the cops do.”
Vicki felt a slight twinge at the mention of the word “cop;” it was what she had been not too many years ago. What she would still be if her damn eyesight wasn’t deteriorating by the minute. She decided to let it go; she was too tired to argue so early in the day. Besides, her curiosity had been piqued-that in itself was an incentive to not lose her temper and alienate her assistant.
“Good to know I’ve still got it.” The corners of Coreen’s mouth twitched up in a grin and the tension eased out of the air.
Vicki went over to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. The rich, heady aroma began to stimulate her brain cells into action, and if anything could be said about her assistant, it was that she always had coffee ready in the morning.
Coreen picked up a file folder from her desk and removed a black and white photograph. Vicki couldn’t make out too much detail from her position by the counter, but from what she could see, it appeared to be professionally done with a white border around it and a name or caption done in bold, black letters across the bottom edge. She approached the desk and Coreen handed it to her.
“The Minions.” Vicki squinted at the lettering and frowned. “Rock band?”
Coreen nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Only the greatest rock band to hit the Toronto underground scene in the last decade!” She snatched the photo away and stared at it wistfully like an adolescent girl. The adoration in her eyes was unnerving.
“O-kay,” Vicki said taking the picture back. “What does this have to do with me?” She stared at it. Nothing but your average every-day garage band with stars in their eyes and dreams of fame and fortune. Hell, the clothes they wore and the way they painted themselves up wasn’t even all that original, not to mention the name. The Minions? She didn’t have words for that one.
Coreen motioned towards the closed door of Vicki’s office. “Marshall Langtry, The Minion’s manager, is in there and wants to hire you. Something about the lead singer, Dex.” She said his name almost dreamily and Vicki found herself floored for the second time in as many minutes. Coreen ga-ga over some local band? Surely she’d seen stranger things during her lifetime.
“Coreen, I’m swamped with cases as it is! Not to mention the fact that I spend my nights chasing……suspects.” “Suspects” was their code word for all the creepy crawlies that inevitably found their way into her caseload.
“I know that Vicki, but this isn’t one of those cases, and he’s willing to pay you! A lot.”
Vicki considered. A nice, normal case for once and a guaranteed pay day? Her landlord and her sanity would be pleased. “How much?” She hated the greedy undertone in her voice, but hey the cost of living had gone up and she was beginning to feel the heat. It would be nice to not have to worry about scraping up enough each month to get by, or wondering if next month was when you would finally have to declare yourself bankrupt.
Coreen’s eyes glittered triumphantly. “He’s upped the price to $1,000 a day, plus expenses.” Vicki nearly choked on her coffee. “A thousand dollars? A day?” It just seemed too good to be true, and if experience had taught her anything, it usually was.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Just surveillance, that’s all.” Vicki didn’t look entirely convinced. Coreen stared at her hopefully, anticipation written all over her features. That was when it all clicked, and Vicki couldn’t resist the urge to smirk. “You want me to take this case so you can help me out with the surveillance, right?”
Coreen blushed so brilliantly that is shone through her pale makeup. She looked down at the floor and then back up at Vicki. “Is it that obvious?” Vicki nodded. “Open and shut case.”
“Please say that you’ll take it.” Coreen looked so desperately hopeful that it was almost endearing if not for the black vinyl corset and stiletto boots. Vicki shrugged, defeated. “Set up the account for me.”
Coreen squealed and flung herself at her boss, trapping her in a surprisingly firm embrace. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Vicki winced and gently peeled her away. “That’s the second time you’ve done that. No more warnings.”
Coreen was too thrilled to notice the threat laced with good humor and set about creating a new spreadsheet for the account. Vicki opened the door to her office and went in. It was definitely going to be one of those days, creepy crawlies or not.