The Church of Minos #6

The following takes place after The Walrus of Death, which you can purchase HERE

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Part One

-This is a first draft-

“I WANT DIANA ON this with you,” Pat said.

We stood before a window surrounded by thick, wire mesh. At the bottom of the window was a counter top and Officer John Singer stood on the other side. Behind him were lockers of various sizes where the Eudora Police Department stored the belongings of anyone in lockup.

“Diana?” I asked.

“Officer King.”

“Come on, Pat,” I said, signing the paperwork required to get back my stuff. “This will all go much faster if I do it alone.”

“Look, I’m not above just standing back and letting you do your thing, especially when it comes with your kinds of cases. But this was a police matter first, and we’ll see it finished.”

“Fine,” I said. John took my paperwork and grabbed up a large ring of keys, taking them to a locker behind him. “How’s she going to handle it?”

“She’s a professional.”

“You don’t think she’s gonna freak out a bit when she learns what we’re after? Maybe try and redirect the investigation here and there because she thinks I’m crazy or something?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Pat said.

Pat and I go back a ways. It was in ‘86 and I’d been hunting a pack of werewolves. They’d been attacking and killing families out in the country for two weeks. It was a bad time.

Pat had been in her mid-twenties at the time, a fresh face on the force, and she’d clued in right away that the attacks were more than a pack of stray dogs like the press had been making it out to be. In fact, I never would have discovered the pack leader had it not been for Pat. And when I say ‘never’ I just mean I would have figured it out eventually, Pat just got to it quicker than I did. Of course, she always did have a leg up on me when it comes to the brains department.

When someone discovers that the world they thought was one way turns out to be something entirely different, they usually don’t handle it well.

Some go through a period of adjustment. They freak out, which is expected, but then they gradually get used to the idea.

Some enter a state of denial so deep that they try and rationalize everything they see that’s not what they would consider normal. That’s not a vampire, they would say to themselves. That’s just some psycho with a blood fetish.

Unicorn? I don’t think so. That’s a horse with a skull deformity, probably caused by global warming.

That can’t be a mermaid. Must have been one of them manatees. I had the sun in my eyes after all.

Pat? She’s not like other people. She had no issue believing in a world outside of our own. She took to it like a battle-hardened professional. I could only hope that this Officer Diana King could do the same.

John returned with a large cardboard box containing all of my belongings. My fedora lay on top of my trench coat which had been folded up to fit in the box.

Under the coat was my gun belt and twin .45 Colt Peacemakers made back in the 1800’s.

Pat went off to have her talk with Officer King as I strapped on my gun belt. The two Peacemakers rested in a pair of holsters that hung low on each hip. Then I pulled on the coat and placed the hat on my head.

I’ve often been told that I look like someone who would have run with Elliot Ness back in the day, what with the suit, the hat, and the coat. That is despite the guns. And I suppose that’s true. I mean, that was when I started dressing the way I dress. I only still do because nothing new has come a long that’s inspired me enough to want to make the change.

See, I’m much older than I look, by about a hundred years. I’ve been walking the earth since a man named Quantrill tried to burn Lawrence, Kansas to the ground. I’ve been around longer still, but that’s where my memories begin. Fire and blood, not a good way to wake up to the world.

In the bottom of the box was a plastic bag containing my keys, cigarettes, lighter, and a dollar thirty in change. I dropped all this into a pocket, thanked John for the night’s rest, and headed outside.

I met Officer Diana King out front of the police station. She waited with her arms crossed, leaning back against the driver’s side door of a police cruiser.

Everything had been saturated with rain that must have fallen over night. Puddles threatened to take over the sidewalk at the end of the steps and I stood and looked down on them in disdain. I hated to get wet.

The Police Department in Eudora was located on the Northeast corner of 10th and Main, and as I made my way down the front steps, cars passed by in both directions, turning left on to 10th or right on to Main, the tires spraying water as they went. The sounds of the tires running through the thin layer of moisture on the pavement made a distinctive sound that made eyes twitch.

“I’m Officer Di—” she started as I neared.

I cut her off. “I know who you are. You’re my babysitter on this little adventure.”

“And I know who you are. You’re the guy that believes in fairies and goblins and stuff,” she smiled that crooked smile I’d seen in the interrogation room.

“You’d best believe too, darling. Otherwise you’re just going to slow me down. Maggie’s depending on the two of us to get her back.”

“If she’s not already dead.”

“She ain’t dead.”

“Sure about that, are ya?”

“Goblins don’t kill people unless they’re backed into a corner. There’s more than a fair chance that she’s alive.”


“That’s what I said.”

“Okay, so let’s say for the moment that there is such a thing as a goblin. Why would they abduct a woman?”

“They wouldn’t,” I said. “Not on their own, anyways. Someone or something must have put them up to it. Goblins are vile little creatures, sure, but they don’t care much for us humans. Except for those that own cats.”


“Goblins eat cats.”

“Nice,” she said. “Okay, so, you’re the expert here. Where do we start?”

“Where would you start?”

“At the scene.”

“You’re driving,” I said.

To be continued . . .

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