Editing Midnight Caller

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'''Thursday, 04 Aug 2011'''<br>
'''Devereaux-Shields House B&B'''<br>
'''Natchez MS'''<br>
'''0113hrs, local time'''<br><br>

''"You got wraiths calling for you, igrushka …"''<br><br>

''Renny's face melted into my Russian captor's on the last word. His jaw fell open, his mouth nothing but fangs, lunging for my throat—''<br><br><br>

&nbsp;***<br>

Midnight Johnson, the Sheriff of Vampiric Natchez, stood over the human's bed, looking down at her sleeping form. His long curved scimitar hung over as she tossed and turned, her sleep obviously troubled. Frowning, the vampire dipped the sword, and tapped her quietly on the hip. "Don' be makin' no screams, else I cut you up," he said. "You me, we's got to talk."<br><br>

&nbsp;***<br><br><br>

''He had me backed into a corner and my gun was out of reach. I put my fists up, knowing I was already as good as dead—''<br><br>

Irina jerked awake at the tap on her hip and the sight of someone impossibly large and dark looming over her when she should have been alone stilled her lungs. Her tongue prickling as her spittle dried, she could only lay frozen and stare.<br><br>

"Good 'nough," he growled. "Ou'side dis room, it seem real quiet, like da grave, ain't nobody hear nothing 'less you scream, but you ain't do dat, 'cause I'll cut ya," he said. "Now, white woman, you tell me why they's devil ghosts haintin' my shack thinkin' I's killin' you?"<br><br>

It took her a good five seconds to work past his accent and beat back the terror enough to think rationally again. ''Devil ghosts = Wraiths? Why would they go to the Sheriff? Why would they think he's killing me?  Look lively, DiSanti, before he kills you for real''. She managed to work up the spit to whisper, "Devil ghosts? Do you mean … wraiths, sir?"<br><br>

"They's lookin' for you," he said. "That what da prisoner say, anyhow." He shrugged. "I's had him for on fifty year, I's think he know better then to lie by now."<br><br>

"May I sit up?" Irina asked, making sure her hands remained in sight of the man the entire time. The sword looked wicked sharp by the glow from the night-lighted base of her lamp and she didn't want him to mistake any move she made as a hostile one.<br><br>

"'Scuse me, Missus," he said, and listed the sword away from her prostrate form. "I's got a secret in my basement, and it see the devil for me. He done seen devils that calls out you last name, likes they rescuing you." The hulking black man shifted his shoulders. "You's belong to one them suckas belong to Massah Cotton, I an't do nothing to you lessen Massah say. You calls off them devils now, ya hear?"<br><br>

Irina slowly sat up and fetched up against the headboard. ''He's got a devil in his basement?''<br><br> 

"Won't you please sit down, sir?" She motioned at the foot of her bed. "I have some explaining to do and I'd hate to make you stand for all of it."<br><br>

Midnight stepped away from the bed. "I's not tired, Missus. I wants some 'spainin', and I's tell you upfront, I's trade what I knows for what you knows. I ain't likin' devil ghosts, nosah, I don't like 'em." His eyes narrowed, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I's learned, these fifty year, I's know some magic and I's not studyin' to get hainted."<br><br>

"Then I will make this as short and succinct as I can, sir." Irina had a grasp on the situation now. ''Be calm. Be polite. But don't keep the man waiting''. "A little over three years ago, I was a cop in New York. Detective. Homicide. I was working a case involving murdered Russian thugs who we suspected had mob ties. We discovered a turf war was going on between the Italian and the Russian mobs. We needed more proof. We needed names and locations on the bosses involved. I got a little too close one night and they snatched me off the street, shackled me to some pipes in a basement beneath the subway, and beat me for three days before I was rescued. I was in a coma for three weeks. I had a head injury that left me with migraines so bad I had to retire on disability. They never caught the guys who did it. Our case pretty much went nowhere after that. I left the force, earned my PI license, and came here to start over fresh."<br><br>

She paused, wondering how to word the next bit without causing trouble. ''Renny went out on a limb for me. I can't burn him but if Midnight thinks I'm holding out on him, he'll kill me. '''Shit'''''.<br><br>

"I was woken up in the middle of the night on Tuesday the 2nd. One of the members of our team asked me if I knew wraiths were calling for me. My team member suspects that the Giovanni sent them and wanted to know why. I explained about the Russian case, the same as I told you. At the moment, we don't know what to do, sir, except maybe get me behind something magical that can hold off the wraiths. I'm basing that assumption on the wards we found at the Doc's house that keeps vampires from walking onto the property. I don't actually know if it's possible to do the same with wraiths. Even if it were, it doesn't solve the problem of the wraiths being ''here'' or what they’d do to others and that bothers me. I have friends in this city, sir, and I have job to do. I can't do that cooped up in a house somewhere and let my friends take on all the risks. That's not what any of us promised to do when you ordered us to find the rogue ghouls and put them down."<br><br>

Irina dared look Midnight in the eye.<br><br>

"Sir, you say you know magic? We are neither of us looking to get haunted by these things. Do you know how to make them go away or to kill them?" ''And what happens if the Giovanni send another set of wraiths after me? What if they're more powerful?'' Irina kept those questions behind her teeth. She didn't want to give the Sheriff any ideas toward killing her as the expedient solution and if the thought had already occurred to him, mentioning it now would only be redundant and she would still be dead.<br><br>

Midnight nodded. "Well, my prisoner tol' me theys Italian ghosts. Theys all gone now. I thinks the prisoner done ATE 'em." The big man shivered despite the heat. "I's learnin', but takes time to beat them spells outta my basement prisoner. He done tol' me thems just huntin' dawg haints, them ain't killin' haints. You knows why they here," he shrugged. "That good 'nough fer now. You knows how we's can get in touch with them Gooliani? If'n theys just watchin' you, theys alright knowin' you here. If'n theys lookin' for trouble..." he stretched his arms, weaving the sword tip in intricate patterns. "Ol' Midnight knows how to deal wit' troubles."<br><br>

"I'm sorry, sir. I don’t know how to get in touch with the Giovanni. I didn't get the names and locations of the bosses in that turf war. I got snatched before I could uncover that information." Irina didn’t want to seem ineffectual but neither did she want to drag anyone else into this mess. If she could protect her friends and family, she would, because even though Midnight seemed well disposed toward her, she couldn't count on him extending that magnanimity toward others. "Had I gotten it, we might know better just who's behind this current problem and why. I'm sorry."<br><br>

Midnight scratched at the stubble on his chin.  "They suckas, an y'all jes' a blood bag," he said.  "Hmmm.  W'all, I been skinnin' cats since fer a coon's age, I's reckon me an' I's got sompan keep busied up wit'.   Who them ghouls y'all killin'?"<br><br>

"Doc Murphrey's ghouls. We took out the ringleaders of their gang, Martha Walsh and her husband.” Irina steeled herself for the next statement. ''It's just a report, DiSanti. Nothing more''. "We also delivered up the Walsh children as you ordered. The house fire took out the rest of the evidence."  That last statement was a calculated risk, skating close to criticism. Irina had hoped to find links to the rest of the rogue ghouls in that house. Cell phones, appointment books, desk calendars, even notes on the fridge could have held valuable information.  ''They’ve got to have some method of keeping in touch and organizing their hunts.  And now it’s all up in smoke, dammit''. "My team and I will have to find some other way to get the names of Martha Walsh's associates. The first logical place is to ask at the hospital. If there's a funeral, to see who shows up for it. It's down to legwork and asking a lot of questions of people for what they remember. We'll get it done, sir."<br><br> 

Midnight laughed, a dry rustling noise in the back of his throat.  "Dat ain't nuttin' but nuttin'!  Y'all wanna find them ghouls, well, check de bank.  Dat's how I find Doc Murphrey to begin wit'.  Ol' Joe Sampson done set up a pawtna 'rangement wit' seven peoples.  Six walk in de day.   Joe de manager of de second third bank downtown." He got a serious look on his face.  "Dem chillun hadda die, Missus.  Ain't no way dey lives and you lives.  You ain't da Police no moah.  Y'all one of de shephards of de flock; Gawd done set you to watch over 'em, and decide wat lives, what dies."  He shrugged.  "More time back den I can count, Massah took my dawta.  Et her right up in front o' whole messa slaves.  Midnight, he says, Massa, lemme spend de night with some them house women, Midnight make you another one."  His shoulders slumped.  "Yous got to larn, larn fast.  Suckas goan git what dey wants.  Y'all helpin', or deys hurtin' you, too."<br><br>  

It was moments like this that Irina seriously wondered if she'd gone insane and was actually dreaming everything up in a Thorazine-induced stupor. Case in point: she'd been woken in the middle of the night and held at sword point by a man who was pushing 200 years old. The same man who had burned a house to the ground and ordered the deaths of three innocent children, a man in service to a vampire who had killed his daughter in front of his eyes and had elicited a horrific bargain—that of breeding more daughters for the vampire to kill. And here she was, sitting upright in bed and carrying on a conversation as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It defied credulity and yet Irina didn't question it. In the space of seven days, her head had been turned upside down and inside out to accommodate the reality she was embroiled in. She had to learn an entire new world, map its boundaries, navigate the twists and turns of its politics, ''and'' protect her and those she cared about from the monsters that inhabited it. That she included several vampires in the cared-about camp no longer seemed odd. That circle of souls she felt responsible for kept her on walking the razor's edge and it served to shave the truth as she answered the monster in front of her, "I'm learning as fast as I can, sir. By all means, let's keep the hurting to the minimum. We'll catch them and put an end to this." <br><br> 
  
More than that she didn't dare say.<br><br>


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