A Woman of Letters

by Gwendolyn Inman

Audrey Fitzgerald, an 18 year old girl in DC, finds out her dad was a hunter and the descendant of a man of letters only after he has been killed by a demon. She leaves DC and drives to Lebanon, Kansas to find the Men of Letters Bunker and begin her training as A Woman of Letters

1. Chapter 1

May 15th 2013

"Audrey, can you re-fill the bins of blessed thistle, catnip, and dragon's blood powder." My father called from the front of the shop. I picked up the wholesale bags and went to re-fill the small jars of lose botanicals in the front of the shop. Then I went to the front window and flipped a little hand carved sign from "Closed" to "Open". My father owned and operated a new age store in Washington DC, where we lived.

I went to the back and settled in to finish my final paper. I was supposed to graduate in less than a week from a prep-school that doesn't matter anymore. I finished the last sentence on that 10 page bitch of an assignment just as a woman in a floral, vintage style dress walked in. She walked up to my father and started talking in hushed tones. I walked up to the desk to listen and the woman gave me a glare that made my blood freeze. I did catch the last few sentences of their conversation though.

"His eyes have gone black; I'm trying to track him down now." She said. My father nodded solemnly. I was confused but just assumed it was a code for something else. My dad occasionally had conversations like these with men and women who looked like backwater hillbillies. This woman seemed different.

"He came through two days ago, said he was hunting an upper level demon. Poor soul. Put him to rest when you find him." My father admitted. They must have been talking about the man who stopped by on Sunday to talk.

"Thank you." The woman stated before she left. Once the door had closed behind her my father turned to me.

"Lock up shop. Don't leave for any reason. Don't open the door for anyone. If I don't call before dark, call the police." He said hurriedly. He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door. He must have been heading after the woman, but that is merely speculation. He could have gone anywhere because I didn't see him until the next day.

At nightfall I called the police. I knew how missing person's reports worked for my personal law class, so I knew to say I hadn't seen him since Sunday. Hopefully he was safe, but my gut told me he was in trouble.

I fell asleep on the couch in the little loft space above the shop. I looked up at the sky and saw 1,000s of shooting stars. I wished on every single one that my father was alright.