Suspicion

I clean my blade using a special chemical. I check it with the blue light, before putting the stuff away. There’s a knock on my door. I feel a presence behind me.

“Who is it?” I ask the veiled man cloaked in shadow despite the bright kitchen lights. He wears a long black cloak. Has long claws, and two branches come from his head like antlers. When he speaks I can make out four sharp teeth, but the shadows, and cloak’s hood stops me from seeing any other details. He has his veil pulled back. It’s always pulled back when it’s just me.

“The psychic.” He says, and I sigh. That means Rachel. To him, and other monsters that’s what she’s known as. The physic.

“Let’s go see what she wants brother.” He’ll always be brother to me. He hides himself in the shadows. Think you see a shadow moving in the corner of your eye. It may very well be him. He feeds off fear, but also death. Sacrifices to be more precise. I can tell he’s more powerful now. I can sense it. He’s also not having as much trouble interacting with the physical world. As I moved towards the door, something crashes upstairs. That would be Charlotte. My resident ghost. Rachel still thinks I killed her.

“What?” I snap when I opened the door. I can’t believe we were ever friends.

“I know it was you. I could see you, and those weird new friends of yours. The hyper energy girl with glasses, the geeky boy, and the tall one who’s always breaking trespassing, and vandalism laws. I saw you kill Jonny. I saw you do it. There’s missing posters all over town you know.”

“So you can see all that, but still can’t tell the police how, and we’re exactly Rachel died.” I can see her seething.

“I can’t see it. I’ve tried. It must be because she’s my friend. Because subconsciously I don’t want to see her death, but I know you saw it in person. You were with her, but you won’t say anything. Did you leave her to die, or sacrifice her yourself?” I’m cool and calm as I lean on the door frame. When she doesn’t get a reaction she takes a calming breath. I smirk. I can’t help it. She’s so easy to get riled up.

“You can’t really think you can keep going like this? When are you going to stop?” She thinks I’ll get myself caught. When I think about what I’m going to say next I let my voice change to something inhuman. A little deeper than my normal voice, just as feminine. More melodic. With a hint of static, and something wild like a grow to it. I speak the words;

“When I want too.” With that she she half-runs from the porch. Not in fear, in frustration, and in un-satisfaction. She could never handle not being in the know. Having the mystery left un-solved. I guess being able to tap into that kind of thing all the time does that to you. You don’t like unanswered questions. And I enjoy being a vague and mysterious, and pissing her off. She stomps down my stone pathway. A few flyers had flown from from her hands, and scattered over my porch. It’s white paper and the words are black ink. Words like ‘Jonny’, and ‘have you seen him, and ‘missing’.