A Patch of Darkness

by Yolanda Sfetsos

  “Well, it was enough to draw you all out from the shadows of your lives.”

  “I don’t live in the shadows.” It slipped out, but it was true. A registered spook catcher didn’t need to hide in our society. “What I do for a living is perfectly legit, legal and out in the open.”

  He turned to look at me. “That may be so, but you are the only one in this group who can claim such a thing.”

  “And what do you do, anyway?” Vixen asked, turning her dark eyes on me.

  I opened my mouth to answer but the chubby man cut me off. “We’ll get to all of that in a minute. First, let me introduce myself. After all, it was I who rounded up all you fine specimens. I’m known as Burr Okell.”

  “Known as?” Conrad asked, snorting.

  “Yes, known. Obviously my real name is not Burr, but this is what I’m known as at the moment. My true name was lost a long time ago. I’m a Tailor, and for those few who deal in this business, the loss of a true name is one of the conditions we agree to, and is certainly not the most severe. We don’t really exist and hardly ever travel into this patch anymore. But sometimes the decision is made by outside forces, and now is such a time.”

  “This is bullshit,” Conrad said with another derisive snort. “So, you’re some dude who doesn’t really exist and doesn’t even live in this world. What kind of crap are you trying to drag us into—some sort of fictional scenario?”

  Burr sighed. “I know you’ve probably got more questions than I can answer at the moment, but trust that I know what I’m talking about. Is any of what I’ve said so far harder to believe than the existence of vampires, werewolves, witches, demons, ghosts and the like?”

  “Oops, am I late? Because I’m pretty sure it said midnight on the text message I got.”

  Everyone turned to find another female standing at the top of the stairs. She was the complete opposite to Vixen and seemed out of breath. She looked more like a girl than a woman, with uneven chopped red hair and no makeup. Her body was hidden under a dark dress and smudges colored her cheeks as she hugged a backpack with both arms, as if trying to hide behind it.

  “No, you’re not late,” Burr said, glancing around at each of us with glowing, excited eyes. “I guess we should move on to the introductions. I’m Burr, as I’ve just told you.” He motioned to the new participant in this game. “This latest addition is Lavie Grye, she’s a demon hunter. Conrad Hicks is a vampire hunter, Oren McKee a witch hunter, Vixen a werewolf hunter, and Sierra Fox a ghost hunter.” His chubby fingers pointed at each one of us in turn.

  I was still stuck on what he’d called himself. What the hell was a tailor? But I couldn’t stop myself from correcting him. “I’m not a ghost hunter, I’m a spook catcher. I find and contain ghosts, not hunt them down.” Hunter sounded so barbaric, like a dirty occupation. I work inside the strict guidelines of the Council. As biased as they are, the job of sentencing each and every misbehaving spirit is followed through with justice.

  Ghost hunting and ghost busting were pathetic terms I was forced to hide behind for several years before I had enough courage to start my own spook catcher business. I detested it and cringe at the reminder of the kinds of people who signed up for the cemetery and abandoned house tours I ran for a little while. They’d be wide-eyed and without a clue, but always left disappointed at the end of every tour because they never saw anything materialize.

  I saw plenty though. Too much if you ask me. Those days were so exhausting I felt tired just thinking about them. It was a time of transition in my life, after leaving the clutches of the Council and getting serious about starting my own catching business.

  “Isn’t that technically the same thing?” Conrad asked, managing to pull his gaze away from Vixen long enough to flash me an obnoxious glare.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not. What I do is legal, and until tonight I wasn’t even sure if any of these other creatures existed. Well, except for demons.”

  Lavie lifted a hand in a nervous wave.

  “These creatures and more exist in your world, Sierra,” Burr said.

  I turned my attention to Oren, who was leaning against one of the shabby walls, arms crossed over his chest. Cool, relaxed stare fixed on the mysterious man who’d managed to round us up like preternatural cattle.

  “Woohoo!” Vixen faked a cheer. “Is that why we’re here, to celebrate their existence?”

  “No, we’re here because we need to start working together if we want the fibers of the worlds as we know them to stay stitched together.” Burr’s face clouded over. All the cheer and his sideshow attitude seemed to wash away. “And we’ll need the help of every single one of you.”

  “It feels like there may be a split somewhere in the fibers between your world and mine.” Grandpa’s words rang inside my ears again. This stranger was essentially saying the same thing.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Oren said, breaking his silence.

  Burr rubbed his plump hands together. “I work for a secret organization called the Patch Watchdog. We filter through the separate fibers that exist between the different patches of existence. We keep every patch away from each other, firmly stitched in place. The world we’re in right now is not the only patch. I’m not talking about other planets and galaxies, I’m referring to different places, dimensions if you will. All which have been around since the beginning of time. The problem we now face is the rip in one of these fibers.”

  “Can’t you just pull out a big ball of yarn, a needle and repair it?” Lavie called from her spot at the top of the staircase.

  “If only it were that easy.” Burr released a heavy breath. “We haven’t even found its exact location yet.”

  “But aren’t you telling us this is your job? You monitor the fibers between the worlds to keep them from splitting, right?” I hated to point out the obvious, but he’d just told us his organization took care of this. What did any of us have to do with this situation?

  “Yes, that’s what we do, but it’s all very intricate and controlled by magic. We don’t have cameras monitoring portals or gateways. Such things simply do not exist where we reside. A stitch can come undone anywhere, at anytime and although it’s our job to try keep one place away from the other, sometimes the activity becomes too heavy. Even for us,” he answered.

  “Is that why I just sent a succubus working as a prostitute in the red district straight back to hell?” Lavie asked nervously. “Those types of demons only leak into our world through dreams. Even then, it can take centuries to break into the material world. Yet, this chick was walking around in a mini skirt, bra and six-inch heels on a human street. She was taking men’s money as well as their souls.”

  “Yes, Lavie, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. There are many beings willing to use this as a means to squeeze through. Others will work it out sooner or later and waltz in and out of this world as they please. Free to roam the streets of the skeptical human and destroy everything standing in their way.” Sweat beads dotted Burr’s shiny head, dripping down his waxy skin.

  Vixen placed both hands on her hips. She looked frustrated and bored. “Okay, so I understand ghosts and demons can break through, but why should I give a crap? Werewolves only exist here, so none of this affects my way of life.”

  “Yeah, same goes for vamps.” Conrad winked at her but she ignored him.

  Burr shook his head so vigorously it looked as if it were in danger of rolling off his shoulders. Drops of sweat whipped against the walls. “No, no, no, no, no! Don’t you people understand this affects every single living soul? Sure, demons and ghosts can filter through and you two wouldn’t care, but would you like to come face-to-face with vampires and werewolves you obliterated years ago, or even last week, last night or tonight?

  “That’s exactly what will happen if the fibers come completely undone and leave a gaping hole. Every creature you thought to be banished or dead could filter back in.” He paused to pat his big face with a hanky he pulled out
from the inside of his suit jacket. “Surely you can all imagine what an angry were-animal, vampire or ghost trapped in another patch would do if they returned to this patch.”

  Vixen’s eyes widened. She looked as if she was about to say something, but thought better of it. Conrad’s gaze fell to the floor, concentrating too hard on the filth.

  “So, how do you propose we tackle this problem?” Oren asked, pushing off the wall. “Because I for one don’t wish to face any of the witches I’ve damned to death.”

  Burr’s flustered face softened. “Okay, now that we’re all on the same page, what I would appreciate each of you doing is to keep an eye out. Monitor any changes in the numbers you’re hunting, especially with demons. Other than that, why don’t we meet again to discuss this further at the end of the week? So we can compare notes and hopefully solve this problem together.”

  “Sure,” I said with a shrug.

  “I agree,” Oren spoke right after me.

  Conrad kept his eyes glued to the floor when he said, “Count me in.”

  Vixen sighed dramatically. “Sure. Sure, I’m in too.”

  We turned to look at the only person who hadn’t agreed to jump on the bandwagon of this insane crusade consisting of a bunch of strangers connected by their bizarre professions. We were basically taking the word of another complete stranger, although I had my grandfather’s words to back up Burr’s claims.

  “Oh, sorry…yeah sure, me too. But maybe next time we could bring some snacks, takeout or something. I always get hungry when I bag a demonic disturbance,” Lavie said.

  Conrad and Vixen laughed.

  Lavie shrugged, but all I could do was watch Oren. If any of us would know a little more about this Burr guy, it would have to be him.

  He met my gaze, held it and then said, “Now that we know there’s a problem, it shouldn’t be too hard to connect the dots.”

  Burr, now sweating profusely, nodded. “Time is of the essence. We may not have reached critical urgency yet, but we’d like to get this sorted out sooner than later. All we know for certain is that the split is somewhere on this human patch. Hopefully, the next time we meet, we’ll have an actual location.”

  “I’m curious, why did you contact us now?” Conrad asked, rubbing his chin.

  “To contact you sooner would have been a waste of time. Even now, I wasn’t sure if any of you would respond.” Burr took a step back. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go. My body doesn’t agree with this patch. I’ll see you all back here just before midnight on Friday. Good night.”

  And with that, he was gone…leaving behind a confused bunch of strangers with heads full of unanswered questions.

  Lavie Grye certainly was a strange one—odd, clumsy-looking and absentminded. Even her choppy haircut seemed to reflect her character. She hadn’t bothered to wash the black marks away from her cheeks, even though the restroom was only a few feet away from our booth.

  She looked like she’d stepped out of a battlefield, with scorch marks on the lower half of her dress. And she could easily be mistaken for a homeless person stopping in for a quick bite at the closest diner after scrounging enough change on the streets.

  This probably explained the strange looks we were getting from the only waitress working the graveyard shift at Monster Coffee Break.

  The bleak, fluorescent lighting provided more details than the building on Wallace Street had. Like, that Lavie’s hazel eyes matched her dress, which turned out to be made of dark denim. Her hair was sprinkled with flecks of something that looked suspiciously like soot, and her hands were small with bitten fingernails, each black with filth.

  I cringed as she fumbled with the chocolate muffin on the small plate before her. She was also acting a little possessive about the backpack. She’d set it beside her and snuck glances in its direction almost every minute. As if to make sure it was still there.

  “Are you lugging a dead body in there?” I said with a chuckle.

  “Actually”—Lavie leaned forward, and her eyes scanned the area before turning back to meet mine—“it’s a demon’s head.”

  My eyes narrowed, searching for amusement in hers, but she seemed dead serious. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She shook her head, soot bouncing off her hair and onto her shoulders like black dandruff. “No, I’m not kidding. I need to deliver this demon’s head before receiving payment.”

  “Sounds like a charming job.” My mind suddenly filled with images of the slimy entity I’d faced in the Prevette kitchen. Having to deal with something so grotesque on a day-to-day basis might be enough to make me go insane—or force me to become as absentminded as the woman sitting across from me.

  “This place is great for people who pull an all-nighter on a regular basis,” Lavie said with her mouth full of crumbs, something she seemed oblivious to.

  “Yeah, I know.” I forced a smile. I wondered how I could approach the subject I wanted to ask her about. She was a demon hunter and I needed some demonic questions answered, so it made sense to ask her. She was probably an expert in the field, right? Yet staring at her, spilling crumbs and milkshake all over the tabletop, it didn’t seem like she could be much of an expert in anything.

  Still, I found her intriguing. And out of the strange group of people I’d met inside the abandoned building on Wallace, she seemed like the nicest.

  “What about that Burr fella, uh? He looks kinda creepy, don’t you think? Did you fall for that fibers-coming-apart stuff?” she asked, flicking muffin crumbs off the front of her dress.

  I took a small sip of coffee. Ugh, it tasted like dishwater. Ebony sure spoiled me with her coffee-making skills.

  I shrugged before speaking. Lavie’s eyes were boring into mine. “Sure. I mean, why would he go to all that trouble rounding us up only to tell us a lie?”

  “Beats me, but people—especially ones who claim not to exist—can be motivated by the stupidest thing. Lying to get to others isn’t an impossible concept. Trust me, I’ve seen many people, or at least I thought they were people, lie through their teeth, claiming to be human, when all along I knew they were demonic things who’d taken over someone’s body.”

  “But Burr’s not a demon. Well, at least I don’t think he is.” I still had no idea what a Tailor working for a Patch Watchdog actually was.

  Lavie shook her head and sucked a little more milkshake through the straw. “Nah, he’s not a demon.”

  “Then what’s your point?”

  It was her turn to shrug. “I just don’t think you have to be a demon to conjure up some BS story to draw out those who dedicate their lives to destroying the supernatural.”

  “I don’t destroy the supernatural.”

  “Sure you do. Aren’t you that well-known ghost hunter responsible for sending more spirits to the ghostly patch than anyone in the history since ghosts became legal in this country?” Every word escaped her mouth without a pause. Lavie was starting to remind me of Ebony.

  I sat back against the uncomfortable vinyl booth and tried to remain calm. “I’m not well known, and I save spooks from themselves. I don’t hunt them down on a hunch like the rest of you seem to do.”

  “Okay, okay.” Lavie held up both of her dirty hands in surrender. “A hunter, catcher, however you like to refer to it, it’s essentially the same thing. We remove threats to this world. You’re just lucky the existence of the creatures you deal with have been accepted by the general population. The rest of us are still working in the dark. Do you know how hard it is to stay out of the limelight, or keep dodging the cops’ attention?” She lowered her voice and shook her head to prove how annoyed she was. “It’s damn hard. Sometimes I wish demons would just be granted the same attention ghosts have.”

  “But wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

  “No more dangerous than it is now. Know what the most common job I get called in for happens to be?”

  I shook my head. My stomach was knotting up.

  “Stupid morons messing arou
nd with conjuring spells, or ouija boards, but instead of contacting Aunty Joan who died two years ago after she slipped on the bathroom floor, they wind up summoning demons. Everyone wants to contact spirits, but what they don’t realize is that spirits don’t answer pathetic, desperate calls. Demons wait in the wings for these idiots to open pathways and then bam—they’re out there.”

  I could understand what she was saying. Ouija boards were dangerous in the wrong hands. There’d been too many accidents and possessions as a result. That’s why they were illegal. If someone got busted with one, the penalties were huge and could even land the person in jail. Yet, this hadn’t stopped these board games from circulating. Ouija boards were so sought after they’d become a black-market hot seller. Anyone with a template and enough skill to make one from scratch could reap the rewards.

  I own one, but hardly use it. It’s just another perk of being a registered spook catcher. I have access to tools no longer allowed by law to the common folk. Things like rune stones, crystal balls and the like.

  “I can only imagine what the demonic gets up to.” I turned my attention to the redhead finishing up her muffin. “Which reminds me, I wanted to ask you a question about demons, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure, I charge by the hour.”

  “Uh, okay…”

  She laughed and smacked the table with her hand. “Hey, I’m only joking. Of course, I do charge by the hour but I’m not going to charge you. We’re colleagues now.”

  “O-kay.” This woman had a quirky sense of humor. I like her. “Have you ever known demons to act like poltergeists?”

  Lavie looked thoughtful for a few seconds, staring out into space. “No, I can’t say I have. Demons and poltergeists are very different, from what I understand. Well, they’re both mischievous and all that jazz, but demons are harder to figure out. Always harder to make them come around, which makes sense when you consider most poltergeists are juvenile and demons are older than time itself.”

  “So, you don’t think one could be mistaken for the other?”