Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me through their long process! I apologize for taking such a long time to post this story but I promise I'll be cranking out the chapters within the next few weeks! Enjoy and don't forget to review!
Logan climbed from his bike. Well, technically it was Scott's bike but he'd borrowed it for a little while. He stared at the dilapidated bar for a moment, wondering if it was worth getting his hopes up. He knew this latest clue wouldn't lead anywhere. He sighed and walked inside. The interior was dim, with lights hanging above each booth that lined the wall. The bar itself was vacant, except for the lone bartender, who was stereotypically cleaning glasses with a white rag. Logan walked over to the man and dropped down on one of the wooden stools.
"Whiskey," he ordered. The bartender nodded without a word, and poured him a shot. Logan threw it back. He was trying to figure out the best way to approach this situation. He knew the person he was looking for was in a back room. And he didn't like walking into corners. "Where's Cassandra?" he questioned the bartender. The man pointed an arthritic finger towards a closed door at the end of the row of booths. Figures, Logan thought. He got up, dropped his money on the counter and headed for whatever waited behind that door. He reached it and with apprehension, opened it.
Cassandra was a curvy woman, with jet black hair that reached to her thigh. She had long hands that reminded Logan of a skeleton. Her nails were pointed and painted black. Her plump lips were accented with fire-engine-red lipstick. Her eyes, Logan finally looked long enough to appreciate, were completely black. There was no white, no iris, no pupil. It was all black. She was lying sensuously on a leatherback sofa and smoking a cigarette.
"Welcome," she crooned. "Have a seat." Logan walked over to the nearest cushy chair and sat down. Cassandra gestured to the table lined with spirits. "Help yourself."
"No thanks. Look, I'm—"
"Looking for someone, yes, I know," she muttered calmly. Logan was getting pissed. She was so calm and relaxed about the whole thing. Was this worth staying? He thought about it. Yes, if it meant finding Aya. "Her name is Aya. You lost her years ago and now you want her back. You've been searching for a long time. Finding her will cost you."
"Cost me what?" Logan said. He knew she'd want payment but there was something in the way she said that that he didn't like.
"A touch."
"A touch? Why the hell would I touch you?" he asked. She smiled coyly. She rubbed her hands together slowly, the cigarette's ash burning longer and longer.
"My life lasts longer the longer I touch people. I see the future but every time I look into the future, I lose time off my life. I need a touch, just one touch, to continue living," she explained softly. Logan, without hesitation, stuck his hand out. If it meant getting Aya back, he would give up his immortality. Cassandra reached her slender hand forward and their skin collided. It was like a shock of electricity had passed through him. Logan felt dizzy and lightheaded but Cassandra quickly let go. "I have seen your memories. You really love her. Go to Bellevue. You will find her there."
"Where in Bellevue? That's a big hospital," Logan replied. Cassandra closed her eyes.
"I can't see any more than that. My fortune telling is limited when the person is lifeless," she replied gently. Logan's anger flared. She was dead? They'd killed his precious mate. He stood up and left, without thanking her. He heard Cassandra chuckle quietly to herself. He stormed from the bar and climbed back on his bike, determined to go to Bellevue and find his lover, even if it meant a trip to the morgue.