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Siegfried's Notepad

Writing this on the notepad since some asshole took all my hardware. Things are coming to a head real quick. Florida just keeps getting more dangerous, and I think it’s because somebody’s working against me- us. This duel coming up, the creatures attacking us lately, and the stuff before that like Alex’s Black Court secret admirer, it can’t all be coincidence. Somebody is working the angles to a razor-thin edge and then trying to cut us apart with them.

Thing is, I’m just a mercenary, and not even a serious player in the family or Winter. Alex is a stripper, and she gets along with her family about as well as I do. Murdock, well, he’s a goddamn nightmare for anything nasty hunting in his territory, but he’s no supernatural heavy hitter and he has no connections to anybody who is as far as I know. The only one who it makes sense to mess with is Harper, a member in good standing with his precious White Council, but who purposely goes looking for trouble with the cops of anything, much less the magical Gestapo?

The only way this makes sense is if they’re after the same three spirits I’m after, and they’ve clearly been picking a fight with us since before I even knew about the three. Maybe they knew Mab and Suki would ask me, so they tried to kill me before I took the job. The duel with the Vulsung guy’s probably just the latest attempt to kill me, but it doesn’t explain the supposed fallen angel that showed up. Shit is about to hit the fan, and the only thing I can think about that actually makes sense to me is gutting Vulsung and getting that axe to work.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to get better acquainted. I think like a viking, she thinks like a hero.

Alex's Diary
Music: Enigma

I was burned today. By a client. I always kinda figured that it may happen someday. The guy was different than my usual costumers. I can’t remember his face for some reason. I remember he had nice shoes. He asked some odd questions, said that he was trying to get to know me. I try not to get very personal with any of my clients, so I tried to just distract him with my services. But somehow he knew. He knows what I am! I don’t know what gave it away. Maybe he’s clued in. How much he knows about me, I have no idea. He offered me something, a white handkerchief. Said it was just a simple gift. I believed him, but when I took it from him, it burned my hand. I dropped it, but before I could question him about it, he took off, ran out of the club. I only know of one thing that could burn me like that and prevent me from healing myself. I don’t think it was his handkerchief because if it was touching him would have probably hurt me also. So who’s was it? And who is this mysterious guy?

Well, after he left the club [the owner] noticed my burned hand, and sent me home early. He doesn’t like it when his girls are hurt by clients, so he called the police. I met up with Siegfried and Cannach at my place. I explained to them what had happened to me, trying to play it off like it was no big deal, but I’m still kinda freaked out by it. Siegfried insisted that we go back to the club for the handkerchief, and I remembered that the guy had also forgotten his jacket when he left. Even knowing that I wasn’t supposed to go back to the club until my hand is healed, I joined Siegfried and Cannach to obtain the handkerchief and jacket. The police were still there when we arrived, but Siegfried created a distraction involving the girls and free drinks. Cannach obtained the mysterious guy’s credit card info and I slipped into the VIP room where I was with the man. I snagged the jacket and white handkerchief, making sure I didn’t touch the latter, of course. We managed to leave without further incident, and as we headed back to my place I couldn’t help thinking about this guy and our exchange in the VIP room. Never mind that the night before, after the beach incident, we were attacked by a crazy hairless cat-like beast. And that it was killed with an arrow by a mysterious sniper. That kind of stuff I’ve almost come to expect, especially while running with my new friends. But this strange guy and his white handkerchief really bother me. My hand still burns as I write this. As much as I want to know what’s going on, I left the guy’s things in the living room for Siegfried and Cannach to examine, and locked myself in my bedroom to write this. I feel the need to reflect on what happened alone. Maybe I’ll find out more soon.

“Loneliness, I feel loneliness in my room. . . .”


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