The Coffee Chronicles

The Midnight Fish and Chips part four,

Part one, Part two, Part three,

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. The ‘Skin Grimoire’ had given us nothing, despite pouring through it for hours, it would be helpful if the authors had thought about organizing their thoughts before writing. Whoever they were, it seemed that most authors of occult books went out of their way to be unhelpful when it came to writing about the occult, like they wanted to be mysterious. There were so many disjointed thoughts that would be finished on different pages, or there would be notes in the margin, and they would ramble for page after page offering nothing valuable.
Regardless, it all added up to, we knew no more than when we started. Just that the thing that had killed the rich couple was similar to a thing from ancient Greece.
“If I could I would go back and straggle the authors,” I lamented out loud.
“I would join you, however I don’t know if it would do us any good,” Horace remarked picking up the empty pot of coffee.
I glared at him as he shook it, then shrugged, nodding in agreement.
“Horace, I don’t think we can kill this thing,” I stated.
“Why Ms. Valentine, already admitting defeat?” He asked.
“I don’t think I care for you tone,” I answered glaring across the table at him.
His sly smile appeared, and he snapped the ‘Skin Grimoire’ close with a flourish. He then slipped it into his coat pocket.
“It doesn’t have any weaknesses, but I find that the supernatural doesn’t fair well against heavy firepower,” he remarked.
“Really? Do you have military firepower in your pocket? Besides, even if we chew it apart with guns, more than likely it will just regenerate. And instead of one monster, we’d have multiple little ones,” I rambled off in frustration.
“We could shred it with shotguns, you and I both have silver pellets blessed in virgin blood, then drop the pieces into acid?” He asked.
I opened my mouth, then closed it thinking, he may have a point. I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. It was a bit dusty, and a couple of spiders had made a couple of webs. I would have to take the time to dust up there soon. I pushed that thought aside however, knowing that it was just my brain trying to focus on anything else other than the monster we would soon have to destroy.
“We would have to get every part of it,” I murmured as some of my internal thoughts leaked out.
“Yeah,” Horace agreed.
Tearing my glance away from the ceiling, my eyes swept to the empty coffee pot, and I felt a powerful urge for a cup of coffee. My brain was to slow at the moment, I needed to wake it up, and I had nothing to do that.
“Should’ve bought more coffee,” I murmured out loud again.
“You already drink to much to begin with,” he remarked.
I shrugged, feeling myself slipping into agreement with Horace’s plan, mainly because, “I don’t have a better plan,” I admitted.
“I know, because I don’t either,” he admitted.
“Sometimes I wished I was still blind to the paranormal,” I remarked.
“Ditto,” he agreed.
“Alright, let’s hit up the coffee shop before hand,” I ordered standing up.
“Might as well, don’t want to die tired,” he agreed leaning back.
I stared down at him, and he raised an eyebrow at me.
“Well, should we go?” I asked.
“Go where?” He asked back.
I opened my mouth, then closed it frustrated, “Back to the manner,” I said through my frown.
“You think it’s still out there?” He asked.
Without answering him I walked to my living room, grabbed my laptop, walked back into the kitchen, and opened it turning it on.
“Let’s see,” I remarked.
As soon as it booted up, I opened the web browser, and typed in the address of the victims into the search bar. Horace stood up and looked over my shoulder as the map popped up. Clicking the map I did a quick scan around the house, nothing there, but I wasn’t surprised by that. Zooming out I studied the area around the house, noticing the deep forest around it, then I saw them by the river, perfect place for a water monster.
“There,” I pointed at the few caves peaking through the canopy.
“I wager your right,” he remarked.
“I wouldn’t, you already owe me ten,” I countered with a smile.
He smiled back, then stood straight, stretching his back. He then slapped my shoulder and headed towards my front door.
“Alright, lets go get loaded up, we got some hunting to do before the sun sets,” he stated over his shoulder.
I nodded, and followed, pausing to grab my key ring. On it was my apartment and car keys, but it also the storage shed where I kept my arsenal of monster hunting gear. The good thing was that it was on the way, on the outskirts of town, so we could hit the coffee store before picking the gear up.
Which I was glad of by the time we reached the storage sheds, because I had let Horace drive, and I didn’t know what I was scared of more. The monster we were going to face or Horace’s driving. Bat out of hell was an understatement for the way he drove. And it was with much relief when he parked outside of my unit. Glaring at him, which the smug jerk just smirked off, I took a sip of my fancy coffee before slipping out of his truck. Of course I slammed the door, had to let him know I was displeased with his driving.
“Hey, please, I already had to repair the truck,” he yelled at me as he unrolled his window.
I threw my hand up in the air, not even looking at him, then came to a stop by the door of the shed. My body tensed as I bent down to see the silvery scales littered across the ground. Horace reacted immediately, and had surged out of his truck, his police revolver in his hand.
“What it is?” He asked rushing to my side.
I pointed at the scales on the ground, then slowly scanned the area, catching sight of the slime on the handle of the garage door of my storage shed. I swallowed and pointed at the door as well.
“Isn’t that ominous,” he remarked thumbing the hammer back on his revolver.
“It’s looking for me,” I remarked calmer than I felt.
“I would say that’s a fair deduction,” he agreed moving to the storage shed.
With his foot he tried lifting the door of my storage shed, but it stayed firmly in place.
“At least he didn’t break in and destroy your supplies,” he remarked.
“Small miracles,” I agreed.
Walking forwards, I took my keys out, unlocked the door, and pulled it open. Inside was littered with guns along the wall, various paranormal gear, ammunition, and various acids. Part of my wished that Horace’s suggestion to burn the creature with acid had been spurned from desperation, and not something that we’d tried before. Acid was a surprisingly effective way of dealing with paranormal monsters, and yet it always felt like cheating.
Not this time however, when the monster started to stalk you, especially during the day, it was time for win at any cost. The idea of my body torn apart being a good motivator. My mind, being cruel, flashed back to the two dead stiffs. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.
Horace nudged me with his hand, and I turned to look at him, then down at the extended flask. Irritation flared across my face, and I stomped to the gun rack pulling down a shot gun. I heard him chuckle, and glancing over my shoulder I saw him slip his flask away, and start pulling out the box of silver filled shells.
Oh I would pay Horace back for worrying about me, the man had just dug his own grave with that gesture. Though, I swallowed at my poor choice of thoughts, perhaps not grave, but I couldn’t think of anything else that fit with the saying. Giving up I pulled down another shot gun before checking them over. They needed to be usable, I wasn’t going to leave anything to luck. However, they were in pristine condition, I was methodical in the care of my gear. For good reason, I lamented, as I glanced out and saw the scales shimmering in the light.