Dillan Blight: Paranormal Detective

September 10, 2008

The fax machine started Dillan awake, nearly sending him sprawling from the chair. It manage to cough out several pages of strange symbols with carefully typed notes. Dillan scanned through the pages. He was more interested in the high level of this, but the Bookworm insisted on being thorough. Thankfully, this was obscure enough that there wasn’t an entire tome of information being faxed down the line at him.

The details weren’t great, but they gave Dillan a place to start. Very dark magic, as he expected. Standard amount of consorting with demons and blood. Heavy on the necromancy and particularly good at it. Aparently the demon involved specialized in hoards of undead and was destined to rise and lay wast to the earth durring an eclipse. The language was prettier and more round-about then all that in places, but that was the gist.

Dillan folded the notes and tucked them in a pocket, dropped $100 on the register to help cover damages and the fax, and stepped back out into the darkness. His sense of time was completely thrown by the endless eclipse. Hopefully this was one of those exceptionally long, very delicate sorts of ceremonies. Otherwise, it was really going to be a problem that he didn’t have a proper amount of gear. Dillan took an extra moment to check his revolver and resumed his journey north, since that was the best lead he had.

As he walked, the silence really started to gnaw at him. Finally he stopped and pounded on the door of an apartment complex. “Hey, anyone in there?”

He waited, pounded and shouted again, but got no more response then the echo of his own voice. He only saw a few likely scenarios and none of them seemed good. The town could be in on it, very bad. The town could be the sacrifice for the demon, very bad. The town could mostly be dead from the earlier attacks, again very bad.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” muttered Dillan to himself, resuming his travel up the road.

The smell hit him first. Death and rotting flesh. His human instinct told him to turn and run. The detective in him new better, he slowed down, drew his gun and started creeping forward more carefully now. He rounded a larger complex of building and was met with the site of a wall of dead, standing and waiting. He quickly ducked back and cursed softly. Yep, this deffinetly was looking to be the right direction.

%d bloggers like this: