Chapter Seven
3RD PERSON's Point of View
"We'll see what she has to say for herself when she gets back. Let's see if we can find anything else around here that might link to the six-feet-under couple or the hit and run victim."
SUZE's Point of View
I had just gotten back from my date with Jesse when I discovered them in my room, my Post-Jesse good mood flying out the bay window.
Two men. One extremely tall, as tall, if not taller, than Jesse, with brown shaggy hair down to his shoulders and the other shorter with an army-styled buzz cut and green eyes. Not emerald like mine, but a softer colour. Though, I'm sure I saw the same hardness lurking in them as I have in mine. I couldn't say the same for the other guy as of yet I haven't see his face, but I assumed they both must have seen some serious shit in their life, whoever they were.
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. Despite this, and the both of them being good looking (Jesse was better), I didn't let it distract me from the fact that they were in my room. But before saying anything I had to make sure of something, so I lifted my sunglasses and rested them on top of my head. No glow. Not ghosts then. I'm now free to yell at them without getting into trouble by Father D. Bloody saint that he is. Still doesn't believe in letting you fist do the talking. Or your high-heeled thigh-high boot.
"What the Hell are you doing in my room?" Only I didn't say Hell.
I glare at them as they walk forward and each flash their badges at me. Huh, FBI agents, my mini-skirted ass. They looked confident, but as a good liar I know confidence is the key to any lie. Though, at least I now know who was asking Cee-Cee about Jesse.
Before I can comment, or even repeat my question, I see my box – the one I keep all my mediator/shifting stuff in – sitting open on my bed, despite having it hidden under the four-posted catastrophe my mother bought for me. Not the most secure place, but everyone knows not to even go in my room without permission or they'd have their ass handed to them. So far, reputation alone had worked brilliantly. I mean, how dare they?
Now I was really ready to kick them out. Literally.
"Look, I don't care who you say you are, but you need to leave –" I'm interrupted.
"Can you tell us Miss Simon, why you have a copy of the Book of the Dead under you bed? Perhaps while including an explanation for the candles and stained paint brushes at the same time?" The blonde one…Agent…Whatever says smiling like Spike does whenever he manages to catch some poor smaller animal that he is about to torment for the rest of its – soon to be cut short - life. It's funny, but I actually miss the stupid feline. Though I also feel incredibly jealous – lucky thing gets to live with Jesse.
"No. I don't think I will." I say, taking my mind of that stupid (but lucky) cat. "Now I see I have to ask again, and unless you have a warrant – Leave."
"Very well. I believe got all we wanted from here anyway." The tall one rushes to say as the other opens his mouth again. "But we'd still like to ask you a few questions – perhaps in the living room."
I eye them suspiciously but at the same time realize that it would be better for me to answer the questions alone then them suggesting to get my mother who will investigate into the reasons for my reluctance to answer, especially if it involved something to do with my un-paid job.
"You know what? Fine, we'll do it here." I didn't want my mother – or anyone else – overhearing. "Be quick though, I've got shi-stuff to do."
I roll my eyes and sit down on the edge of my bed before glaring at my box. I don't offer them a seat as they won't be staying long.
"We heard that you the one that made Miss Web…aware of the circumstances of the body found in your backyard for her article in the Carmel Pine Cone."
"Yes. I was the one…what of it?"
"Have you always been interested in history?" Agent…Smith (Who has the name Smith anymore? I'm giving up, I was always horrible with names) asks.
"Yep, but I don't know what these questions are for and what it has to do with anything though – I simply knew who the man was and thought he served some kind of justice. As for distributing the info? I know that's not a crime as Clive was the one to get all the credit anyway. Besides, don't you fight for justice as well?" I smile innocently. Take that fake FBI douches.
They both look at each other at that and I know they know something that I don't, but what? I also get a sense that they're something more than partners…brothers, maybe. I can see some similarities…
"Of course it's not Miss Simon – "
"Suze," I interrupt.
"Suze…we are simply wondering…if you maybe have been experiencing anything weird since you came to the house or since the body was discovered. Or maybe there is something you should tell us about this." He gestures to the box next to me.
"Don't forget to ask to ask about the victims." The blonde one leans into the other whispering as if I can't hear.
"You mean the hit and run vic and the couple who kicked the bucket a while ago?"
"You know them?" The same Detective asks as if he finds it hard to believe I'm not denying all.
"Yep, my mother's a news reporter and in a small place such as our little Carmel, news gets around fast." That and all three of the victims had approached me. However, if I was allowed to kick ass the death count would have only been one. Yeah Father D, I can 'talk' someone out of murdering his murderers when they're extremely pissed.
"You didn't know them personally?"
"Nope. Never heard of em' before. Sad though." Well, before they died.
"Ok…so…well…" I cocked my head as the taller one stumbles, clearly not knowing how to put forward the desired question.
"What my partner is trying to ask," the other continues harshly, "is how long you have been practicing dark magic."
"Dark magic?" Ok, what the hell? I might of believed in vampires for a split second (entirely Father D's fault) and could see, punch and, well…kiss ghosts (not that I doing that now Jesse's alive), but magic? These guys are nuts, completely bonkers. Then again, if I can travel through time….nope. Psychos.
"Look, don't play stupid. You've obviously got some sick mojo going on if you've been using that book – so cut the crap. The only reason I'm not aiming a gun at your pretty little head is because you're under eighteen. So, I suggest you confess and then quit before you end up dead. Or worse. Oh, and send back whatever spirit you've raised from the grave."
"Dean!"
"What?"
"Both of you get out. I've never used black magic, whatever the Hell it is, and have no idea what you're talking about and I don't appreciate being threatened – "
"Cut the crap! Where is his body buried?"
"Whose? What body?"
"De Silva's"
"Why would I know?" Shit. I can't get Jesse involved.
"Is that who the paintings of?"
"Piss off!"
Just then I notice the tall, brunet using our…discussion as a distraction to reach for my book. Luckily I don't have to worry about discretion as I reach for the leather bound volume (given by Paul as an I-hope-I'm-forgiven-for-almost-getting-rid-of-the love-of-your-life present) and hug it to my chest.
"I know you're not FBI agents and I suggest you leave and never harass me or my family again. I can scream really loud. Or kick both your asses form here back to my home town in Brooklyn."
The brunet takes over again, clearly being the most level headed of the two. "We're leaving, sorry to bother you Miss Simon…Suze. We're only trying to stop people from dying."
They both look unhappy, the blond more livid however, but they leave.
"So do I…so do I."
AN: Hope you liked it. I plan on having them visit Father D and then Paul (in regards to the buckle). Any suggestions or comments will be great! Thanks for reading!
