Chapter 4 - A second can mean a lifetime
Huntress got there long before Cris. She looked around for a while before Cris slipped through the window in the living room. "Not too bad," Huntress remarked at Lynn's taste in style. Everything was almost a soft toned retro-style. The couch was bright red and the walls colored a pleasant green. There were dining room chairs in chrome with the seats covered with blue velvet.
"Doesn't like the TV much," Huntress said holding up a cut wire from the TV. Cris frowned and turned, she walked up to a table. It was filled with scrapes of paper. Things that didn't make much sense were written on them. She shuffled through them. Then she found a note pad. It had a poem written on it.
All things lost will one day be found. All things forgotten will one day be remembered. One day the deaf will hear, The blind will see and The lame will walk.
It is a new world about to dawn
Will you take my hand?
"Not bad," Cris said to herself. "Looks like someone liked poetry," Huntress said behind Cris. Cris turned around to see poetry magazines and a thick book in Huntress' hands. Huntress arches her eyebrow, "Ever heard of a poetic prostitute?" she asked. "Huntress," came Barbara's Voice over the comm. "Yeah," Huntress replied looking up. "A poet convention has begun at Gargoyle Hotel uptown, it started today, all the poets are staying at the hotel," Barbara replied. Huntress relayed the info to Cris. "That's where we going," Cris said as she dashed to the door.
As soon as they reached the hotel, Cris stopped at the entrance. She looked around, frowning. "What?" Huntress asked. "He's here," Cris said. "How do you know?" Helena asked leaning on her right leg and folding her arms. "I can sense his shadow," Cris replied. She ran to the side of the building. She then stopped and turned to face Huntress. She pulls out a flashlight and hands it over to her. "He hates bright light, go to the third floor, as soon as I point him out you blast him with the light," she said and then vanished. Helena took an involuntary step back, "Whoa," she said, "That would be great with blind dates."
Helena walked down the corridor of the third floor. She had no idea where Cris was. She fiddled with the flashlight. Suddenly the door she was nearing blew open and Cris landed against the wall with a grunt.
Huntress jumped into the doorway and switched on the flashlight. Nothing happened. The flashlight wasn't working. Helena watched as black mass swirled around a young man, it looked like he was being sucked into a vortex, kind of like a nightmare she had once when she was twelve. Then he disappeared and the mass floated away. Helena stood there for a moment stunned. Then she turned around. Cris was knocked out cold, blood trickled down the side of her mouth.
Huntress got there long before Cris. She looked around for a while before Cris slipped through the window in the living room. "Not too bad," Huntress remarked at Lynn's taste in style. Everything was almost a soft toned retro-style. The couch was bright red and the walls colored a pleasant green. There were dining room chairs in chrome with the seats covered with blue velvet.
"Doesn't like the TV much," Huntress said holding up a cut wire from the TV. Cris frowned and turned, she walked up to a table. It was filled with scrapes of paper. Things that didn't make much sense were written on them. She shuffled through them. Then she found a note pad. It had a poem written on it.
All things lost will one day be found. All things forgotten will one day be remembered. One day the deaf will hear, The blind will see and The lame will walk.
It is a new world about to dawn
Will you take my hand?
"Not bad," Cris said to herself. "Looks like someone liked poetry," Huntress said behind Cris. Cris turned around to see poetry magazines and a thick book in Huntress' hands. Huntress arches her eyebrow, "Ever heard of a poetic prostitute?" she asked. "Huntress," came Barbara's Voice over the comm. "Yeah," Huntress replied looking up. "A poet convention has begun at Gargoyle Hotel uptown, it started today, all the poets are staying at the hotel," Barbara replied. Huntress relayed the info to Cris. "That's where we going," Cris said as she dashed to the door.
As soon as they reached the hotel, Cris stopped at the entrance. She looked around, frowning. "What?" Huntress asked. "He's here," Cris said. "How do you know?" Helena asked leaning on her right leg and folding her arms. "I can sense his shadow," Cris replied. She ran to the side of the building. She then stopped and turned to face Huntress. She pulls out a flashlight and hands it over to her. "He hates bright light, go to the third floor, as soon as I point him out you blast him with the light," she said and then vanished. Helena took an involuntary step back, "Whoa," she said, "That would be great with blind dates."
Helena walked down the corridor of the third floor. She had no idea where Cris was. She fiddled with the flashlight. Suddenly the door she was nearing blew open and Cris landed against the wall with a grunt.
Huntress jumped into the doorway and switched on the flashlight. Nothing happened. The flashlight wasn't working. Helena watched as black mass swirled around a young man, it looked like he was being sucked into a vortex, kind of like a nightmare she had once when she was twelve. Then he disappeared and the mass floated away. Helena stood there for a moment stunned. Then she turned around. Cris was knocked out cold, blood trickled down the side of her mouth.