by Chanel Smith
But what really had happened?
A report had come in just after midnight that an explosion had been heard in the vicinity of the hotel. It had taken hours to notify the fire department in the nearest town and get the men ready to move out. The town always had a few men on standby during the night, in case of house fires and incidents in the local industry, but for something like an explosion at the far out Pinewood Hotel, they needed to wait for more men to respond to their pagers. That had taken until three o’clock and by the time they were ready to move out the dawn was already well on its way. It had been closer to five o’clock when they reached the burning ruins of the hotel.
Jim Murphy had his men unroll their hoses and they began to spray the mixture of foam and water over the burning kitchen. Another hose was laid out on the other side of the truck and two men began to spray the nearest trees to stop them being ignited by any errand sparks.
Within half an hour, the fire was out and the men moved into the wreckage to put out any last remaining embers. Jim Murphy looked around and saw the woman looking at them in mild amusement. He could see her face now and her perfectly shaped figure. Her curves were perfect. Her breasts were perfectly shaped as was her perfect hourglass figure, emphasized by the corset she wore. Her bottom was shapely but not large and her thighs looked lean and muscular. She had perfectly shaped, red lips and bright eyes which stood out the more because of her pale skin. Very few women had skin like that. They might have had in the Victorian or Regency era when it was unseemly for women of distinction to have a tan, but no women now saw that as an ideal.
Still thinking those thoughts he came up to the woman. The glimpse of teeth behind her red lips was pearly white and from close by, she drove the very breath from his body. Suddenly he knew this woman should be the fourth Missus James Patrick Murphy. He opened his mouth, fully intending to make his rising affections known to her when she spoke instead. She extended a hand encased in a tight fitting black leather glove.
Finally, the ‘big brass.’
“Veronica Melbourne. Are you the fire chief?”
“Yea... yea... yes,” stammered Jim Murphy. “Chief... I am... fire... I mean... I am the fire chief. Pine... uhm... Pine... that town over there. Hour away.”
He shook her hand and tried to gesture towards his town with his other hand. It did not go well. When he recovered from slapping himself in the face, he blushed and stared down at his boots. The woman made him feel weak and almost dizzy. He knew he was making a fool of himself, but he did not care. For some reason he just wanted to be near her. He knew she could tell him to do nearly anything and he would do it.
“I am looking for evidence of foul play here, Chief. Would you and your men give me some space?”
Jim Murphy opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He tried again, but without any audible words. The third time he finally managed to say something. “You are welcome to search as much as you want, but I cannot leave you alone, miss.”
She came closer to him and ran her gloved fingers over his chest.
“Would you be so kind as to help me then? Having such a handsome and clever man as you by my side would be so much better than some young fireman’s boots trampling all over my evidence.”
“Of course, I can do that,” Murphy said eagerly. “My men can take care of business all on their own.”
“You trained them well then,” Veronica Melbourne said in a voice sweet as honey.
“They are fine men.” Murphy beamed.
“They have a fine example in their chief.”
Veronica Melbourne touched his cheek with the palm of her hand. Her face was inches away from his. Murphy could feel her breath kiss his skin and his mind was suddenly awash with all the things he would want to do with this woman. Out of all the things he would want this woman to do with him, Murphy suddenly had an image flash through his mind of her biting his neck as she drew him in, clawing at his back with sharp fingernails. His knees almost buckled at the thought. Her touch lingered and his entire body was aglow with excitement.
Men can be so pathetic!
She dropped her hand and flashed another pearly white smile. The tip of her tongue ran over her red lips and a tiny glimmer of fang shone through. Murphy’s dazzled eyes widened a little and she winked at him. Then she turned on her heels and started walking away.
“I need to get back to my investigation, Chief.”
She stepped over a piece of broken concrete and looked down. Murphy came forward to follow her and look a look at what she was staring at, but then she went to touch whatever it was that was on the ground. She did not crouch down; she bent over at the waist, showing him her perfectly shaped buttocks straining against the tight leather biker pants. He almost passed out.
***
She showed up out of nowhere about an hour after the creature that came out of Chelsea left me.
I was not sure whether she was an angel or a demon who had decided to show herself to me. She came out of the woods in a flash of black. It seemed she trailed a pair of black wings, but when she stopped I saw it was a long leather coat. She took one look at me and kneeled down by Chelsea. She looked carefully at the ripped hips and stomach of my love and then stood up again. She picked me up as though I was a feather and she took me to where our Jeep had been. She sat me down and looked at me again. I think there was something akin to pity in her eyes, but she seemed as cold as a fish. She looked down at my naked genitals and took off her coat wrapping it carefully around my lower parts and then she darted off back to my Chelsea.
I saw her pick Chelsea up and carry her into the woods. She left her there and then moved slowly through the rubble. She was looking at something.
I do not know how long it was before the fire crew arrived. They set about their business straight away, leaving me alone while they removed the bodies from the rubble and set about putting out what was left of the blaze. I saw their leader go up to the woman who had helped me. He stayed with her a while, talking to her, watching her go through the rubble. Finally, they both came to me. Not that I minded them staying away from me. I did not know what to feel. I was in shock, I suppose. I was mourning. I was reeling.
The fire chief asked me some questions about what happened. I told him all I knew, which was not much. He seemed satisfied with my answers though, and he called another man over. The fireman gave me the once over and when he was satisfied he nodded. He seemed to think I was okay. He flashed a light in my eyes, but he did not see any sign of concussion either.
When they were done, they wanted to take me with them in the truck to bring me to a doctor, just to be safe. But the woman talked to them for a moment and they left me with her instead. As soon as the fire truck was gone, she picked up a rugged looking backpack from beneath a tree and walked over to the one car that was still in one piece. At that point, dawn was threatening to break. She put me in the back, got behind the wheel and started digging through the bag producing a large tub of what looked like stage makeup which she began to apply liberally to her face. Eventually she turned the rear view mirror towards her so she could get a look at what she was doing. My head spun and all I know is she smiled back at me, put the makeup back in her bag and pulled out of the parking lot. I must have passed out after that.
***
Heather Willows trotted up to the shop, carrying her favorite pink handbag.
She wore her much loved pink stiletto high heels and was smiling brightly. She’d had her hair done the day before and she would be going for a manicure later in the afternoon. She did not have to work really, not for money anyway, but her husband liked her doing something other than sitting around at home all day. He was away from home a lot too, and she reckoned he was probably just scared she would resort to adultery to cure her boredom. He was probably right, she thought.
She dug into her bag and opened the door. She stepped in and began setting about the business of the day. She went to the safe to take out the change for the register an
d then she began organizing the merchandise. She pushed the few racks out through the door that were meant to be outside and looked over the merchandise. She frowned; taking one shirt down that she thought was dirty. Then she made coffee and sat herself down on the stool by the register, checking her big blonde hair in the mirror on the back wall.
She was always one of the first to open up shop in the mornings at Incline Village. It was located just off the Tahoe Boulevard and she had worked there since it had opened. It was a pretty general shop. It sold nearly everything that someone would want in this area, when it came to clothes anyway. It had none of the high fashion Heather had once hoped she would work in, but she did not mind at all. She worked there mornings and the occasional afternoon and then went to make herself ready for her husband’s bed. It was a good life, she figured.
As she got to her feet to get a second cup of coffee, a brand new luxury edition Jeep Cherokee pulled up in the parking lot outside the shop. A woman got out of it, dressed completely in black. Heather snorted as she saw her. If the woman would dye her hair and wear some color, she would be gorgeous, she reckoned.
OMG… she could also really use a tan, desperately! Heather thought, horrified. She’s so white, she’s reflective!
The woman opened the back door of the car and Heather watched as she pulled a man out who was almost naked. He had a leather coat wrapped around his waist that must belong to the woman. Holding it nervously around himself, he followed the woman toward the shop.
Heather sat down again and waited for these potential customers to come in. The woman led the man in and marched him straight to the men’s clothes. She pushed him forward to the racks and then leaned back against the wall. Heather came over and smiled at the woman.
“Can I help you?”
I don’t know. CAN you?
The woman chuckled a little, then shook her head.
“No, ma’am! But you can help him.”
Heather laughed, recognizing a joke. She trotted over to the man. The woman rolled her eyes behind her back.
Please, could you dial back the dumb blonde routine just a touch?
The man was confused for some reason, but Heather managed to help him find some underwear, some jeans with a good fit and two lumberjack shirts. The man seemed to want to buy a suit at first, but the dark-haired woman snapped at her to give him some casual and durable gear instead. She found some boots for the man as well, and figured it was a shame she was not allowed to dress him properly. He had the body and the looks for fashion. She noticed the man’s hands were soft as well. He looked like he had never held a tool in his life. He didn’t speak much either, but she thought she recognized a New York accent.
When she was done, the woman took him by the arm and led him to the register. She paid for his purchases and then marched him out of the store. Heather blinked, frowned and wondered what was happening there, but then she shook the thought away again and got her second cup of coffee. She looked at her nails again and wondered what color she would have them polished that afternoon.
***
Jack Williams strolled along Tahoe Boulevard toward the Starbucks. He yawned as he went in and just winked at the barista. She knew what he wanted already; the same as always. The shop was usually empty when Jack Williams finished his night shift in the rehab center up the road, so she would come up to his table with the coffee. Often she would sit down with him for a moment, wanting to get all the gossip about the celebrities who checked in or out of the center.
That morning the coffee shop was not empty. The morning rush had not begun yet, and the two people there were strangers. Jack sat down at his usual table, the one next to the couple. He nodded to them.
The one was a dark-haired woman in a long leather coat; the other a man who wore a lumberjack shirt that seemed brand new. He heard her voice, which was the hardest female voice he had ever heard. His work required him to get to know a lot about people very quickly. He had developed a knack for it. Without even looking at her, just listening to her, he knew she was tough as nails. But she spoke with a voice as sweet as honey and as smooth as silk. He knew she could get any man to do exactly what she wanted them to do, even without resorting purely to feminine wiles, like so many of the women he had met.
She asked the man questions, which he duly answered and then she became extremely quiet.
They both sat there drinking. She had a bottle of water, he had a steaming cup of coffee, but the man alone seemed to be eating a spinach and feta wrap which he nibbled on like a girl. Something was odd about them. Just as Jack Williams finished his cup of coffee, another man entered. She looked up and for the first time, the woman’s tough attitude dropped and she seemed happy as she stood up to greet the man. She hugged him and planted a kiss on his lips. Her eyes were sparkling this time and there was lust and hunger in them.
The man seemed to go by the name Rand and he sat down next to her. The woman urged the man in the lumberjack shirt to tell his story again and Jack Williams looked sleepily into his empty cup, trying to listen. Rand listened too, and the story unfolded again. Jack still did not understand what they were talking about.
When the man in the lumberjack shirt stopped talking, Rand nodded and looked at the woman. He kissed her and got up. He walked out, but the moment he stepped out the woman ran after him. Jack saw her reach him and pull him around the corner.
Himself, he got up and paid for his coffee. He talked to the girl for another while, but then he felt his eyes growing painful. He knew he needed to go to sleep. He bid her good day and turned around, walking from the coffee shop. The woman pushed past him just as he opened the door. He thought he saw a trickle of red on her bottom lip and she was adjusting her skin-tight pants as she walked. She fascinated him, but he could not think about her anymore. His brain was just too tired and he needed to get some sleep.
Chapter Two
“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
― Stephen King
The woman brought me up to a chalet high up in the mountain range. She showed me to the bedroom and left me there. I fell asleep almost immediately. Everything was a blur. I did not even know the name of the woman who had taken me from the site of the hotel disaster.
I learned that when she came back and woke me up about an hour after the sun had set. She told me there was some food on the table. It was sparse, but I was grateful for it.
She sat down at the table with me, but did not eat anything herself. Then I asked her what her name was and she said that her name was Veronica Melbourne. She was a Watcher, whatever that meant. I must have given her a rather blank look because she tried to explain it to me. She said her work was similar to that of a bounty hunter or a marshal. She would keep me safe, as long as I did what she told me to.
Even then I already had the feeling that she would only protect me as long as I was useful to her. She did not ask anything, but I knew already she had only helped me because of what happened at the Pinewood Hotel.
The man Rand came to the chalet a few hours before dawn. Veronica escorted me to the bedroom I had slept in earlier and then spent the next forty-five minutes in the master bedroom with Rand. I cried at the sounds of their passion, remembering my Chelsea. My mind flashed back to that night and to what had happened, but I still could not make head nor tail of what actually had occurred.
Rand came into my room and told me he would be making some breakfast soon. I asked him whether Veronica was asleep, if she was not joining us, but he said she had gone out. I wondered at that, not having heard her boots on the floorboards, stairs, or even on the concrete outside. Passing the master bedroom though, I did not see her there.
Rand turned out to have brought everything needed for a full English breakfast, and together, we ate our fill of sausage, bacon, scrambled egg, black pudding, baked beans and toast. He made some strong coffee and having finished breakfast, I first noticed that I was warm now. I had not realized
I had been cold at all, but I must have been. I remarked upon it with Rand and he said I must have been in shock. He told me to lie down on the couch and rest a bit, maybe watch some television. Meanwhile, he pulled a gun from a holster and laid out a small case of accoutrements. He began cleaning the weapon. I noticed the weapon was unusual, but I did not know enough about firearms to know what it was. He worked in silence as well; not explaining at all what he was doing, or why he was guarding me instead of Veronica.
For some reason I missed the woman. It was strange to think it, but I did. But I missed my Chelsea more. And for some reason I thought she was still out there, because had I not seen her? Had I not seen my Chelsea burst forth from my Chelsea? She must be out there somewhere. But where? Where was my girl?
***
Emily walked home from the theater she had performed at in New York. Her apartment was in downtown Manhattan. She had been lucky enough to be able to stay at a friend´s place, while he was working in his bank´s office in Frankfurt, Germany. In fact, she reckoned she was lucky her show had been picked up to be staged in New York by a production company. She had developed the show in Berlin´s underground party scene and then taken it even further in some other places in Europe. Now she was on stage in New York. It was not Broadway, but it was a step closer to where she wanted to be.
Somehow, she never felt self-conscious as she danced around the stage in nothing but a thong, but she always felt self-conscious when she walked back home, a trench coat thrown over her scanty costume. But it was not far.
She walked through the lobby and took the elevator to the top floor. She fished the keys out of the pocket of her coat and unlocked the door. Then she noticed the door of the other apartment was open. She frowned. The Van Burens had been out for weeks. They had been on vacation. She had heard from the doorman that they had been travelling through the Sierra Nevada. But they were not supposed to be back yet. She grabbed a golf club from the bag by the front door and knocked on the doorframe of the other condo.
