Thursday, January 23

Quiet night, all things considered.

I got a phone call from Chunk at the junkyard. Apparently, last night had been rough at the place. Agnes arrived, then she, Greyson, and I made our way there.

Chunk gave us a tour of the place, showing off the damages. Throughout the trip, Agnes seemed very agitated. It looked like things had been ripped apart, as if someone was looking for something.

We were nearly crushed by a landslide of junk, but all of us had made it out of the way.

Chunk then took us to the safehouse, and it was in shambles. The door ripped was ripped off the hinges and everything in the house that could be disrupted was. Chairs everywhere, hangings off the walls...it had been torn apart.

Agnes freaked out and cast so much magic that she passed out on the floor. Greyson mentioned something about an "other worldly being" or some random thing like that. There was a discussion about death, interacting with ghosts, having died once before...just more overwhelming piled on overwhelming.

Oh, received another phone message, somehow....

"Someone is looking for you. A friend of yours. I wanted to facilitate the introduction, but it seems they are very excited. Probably for the best they haven't met you yet. These things take time. We are still on for tomorrow?"

I responded, and got a response to it:

 "Yes. Who's this friend?"
"Someone who we share as a mutual acquaintance. Someone who knows you from a long time ago. We'll talk it over at lunch. Remember...come alone."

That's not creepy at all. If I had thought I'd get a decent answer, I'd have asked the person's name...but seeing what I've seen and dealing with things I've dealt...I'm more likely to get my dogs to dance and sing "Yellow Rose of Texas."

So after Greyson left and I dropped Agnes off at her hotel, she told me that I shouldn't go back there alone...and that I shouldn't count Chunk as "someone else" for safety...

So my safehouse is haunted or some shit like that, I probably have a bunch of vampires looking for me, there are giant gears that cause people to pass out, and that Birkin guy's still in the wind...

Nevermind the human concerns (police, rival gangs, etc)...

Depending on how this "lunch" goes, I could be jolly well fucked instead of just right screwed.