The clock on the boardroom wall says 9:52 pm. It's hard to believe that a little over an hour ago I was standing in a library talking to a merman and a demon wearing nothing more than a couple of hospital gowns. I've finally got something to eat. It has been more than twelve hours since the French toast I had for breakfast. I'm also now showered and dressed in something a little bit warmer. The overalls they gave me are a few sizes to big, but it's better than the gowns.
It seems that when they brought me into the medical wing of this place, they did what hospitals normally do with an unconscious patient. They cut off the clothes that cannot be easily slipped off. I'm still barefoot, but the thought of putting on my dirty socks from earlier was a bit more than I could stomach. And walking around in riding boots without socks on is just asking for blisters.
I also know that Magick is all right. It seems the man who tried to get me to stop earlier actually knows a little something about horses. He said his name was John Myers. Nice enough guy, even if he does seem a bit naïve about some things. I take another bite of my salad as Myers comes into the room.
"Miss Cavendish, Dr. Manning will be in a minute," he says. "Is there anything else you need?"
I finish chewing and swallowing what's in my mouth before answering him.
"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Myers," I answer, pushing my hair back over my shoulder again.
"You can call me John," he says, smiling shyly.
"I'm sorry, I don't tend to call people by their first name unless they're an employee, a relative, or I know them very well."
"Oh," he says, looking a bit crest fallen.
"But since you took such good care of Magick," I continue, smiling, "I'll make an exception for you."
"Thanks," he says looking much happier. He turns and leaves me to finish my salad.
As I take the last bite, an older, balding gentleman wearing a rather expensive suit comes in. He's carrying a coffee mug in one hand and manila folder and video tape in the other. Ignoring me, he sits at the other end of the table and starts going through the file, occasionally taking a sip of coffee.
Abe comes in a moment later wearing a very strange outfit. He walks past me and takes a seat a few chairs away from me. He smiles at me and says hello. I return his greeting. At the sight of him, my stomach starts doing flip flops. I try desperately to maintain my composure, at least on the outside. I can feel my heart starting to race, I suddenly start having trouble breathing and my stomach now seems to be doing the Tango. Fortunately, before all my internal organs can start doing the Limbo, Hellboy walks in, distracting me from this incredible male near me.
He's smoking a cigar. He takes a long drag off of it, and then lets out a huge cloud of odorous smoke. As he attempts to take another drag off of the foul thing, he discovers that it's no longer lit. He takes it out of his mouth and stares at the end that is supposed to be lit. I can hear Abe trying to contain a chuckle.
"You find something funny?" Hellboy growls at Abe, taking a seat across from the merman.
"Why?" asks Abe tilting his head to the side looking totally innocent. "Should I?"
"If you two are through," the man at the other end of the table interrupts. He flips to the first page of the papers in the folder and starts reading. "Margaret Susan Cavendish, born April 8th, 1974 in San Francisco, California…"
"I'm sorry," I interrupt, "But I'm afraid we haven't been introduced. I am Margaret Cavendish. And you are…?"
The man looks up, startled that someone would dare to interrupt him. He looks at me briefly, clears his throat and shuffles some of his papers. He seems flustered. I can see Hellboy out of the corner of my eye. He's looking at me and appears to be smiling. Will wonders never cease? I was beginning to think he could only scowl.
"I'm Tom Manning," the man says briskly. "Dr. Tom Manning."
"How do you do, Dr. Manning," I reply. "Please continue."
"Right," he says. "Let's see…California. Lived in Mill Valley, California until age nine with parents until their deaths. Went to private school during this time. Had a private tutor as well. After parents deaths, went to live with paternal grandmother, Susan Cavendish in Atlanta, Georgia. Was home schooled until age 16 at which point received a high school diploma equivalent. Went to Harvard. Studied a double major in business and biology. Graduated at age 21 with master degrees in both. A year later, purchased a large expanse of land in New Jersey. Set up a ranch called "The Last Chance Ranch" taking in abused and neglected animals, including, but not limited to dogs, cats and horses. The ranch is also used as a place for minors who must serve a community service to perform said same. Current net worth approximately 89 million dollars."
"Very nice," I say, unimpressed. I stare at him with a blank look on my face. "My entire life summed up in less then 200 words. Was there a reason for this litany, Dr. Manning? Or are you trying to make some sort of point?"
"My point, Miss Cavendish," he says, finally looking me in the eye, "is that for someone who seems to have a fairly mundane life you also seem to also have some extraordinary abilities."
"Everyone can be extraordinary, if he or she puts his or her mind to it," I reply. "Just because I've inherited a fortune doesn't mean I'm any more extraordinary than the next person."
Manning gets up and walks over to a TV set in the corner of the room. He puts the video tape into the VCR on top of the TV and turns the TV on. A grainy black and white picture taken through a wrought iron fence appears on the screen. It appears to be a surveillance tape. Shortly after I register that, I watch in fascinated horror, my escape from those creatures caught completely on video tape. Oops. Fortunately for my ego, the tape ends before my horrible dismount from Magick.
"Please tell me again, Miss Cavendish," says Manning as he turns off the TV and then turns and looks at me, "how unextrodenary you are."