[DFM]

I take her by the wrists and push her arms away from me.

"Look, Heather, you can't stay here. You're in so far over your head I don't think you can imagine it. I didn't save you just to watch you get eaten by a basement dwelling cannibal or burned alive by some fuckoff ghost-"

"Then let me stay."

Her desperate tone begins to slowly shift, becoming almost coldly logical.



"Even if I leave... even if I never see you again, those things aren't going to go away. If there really are monsters under my bed and hiding in my closet, closing my eyes and pretending they aren't there isn't exactly the safest thing I could imagine."

"I don't-"

"But if I'm here with you, you can teach me what's out there. What to look for, how to defend myself, when I should run, when I should fight, and..." She blushes only slightly, glancing at the wall. "...I don't think many of them are going to want to go through you."

Oh god, is she right? If she were close by I could keep an eye on her, but... if someone ever wanted to come after me, they could go through her. But if they did that, it'd mean they couldn't come after me directly and if they're not strong enough to do that, I might be able to teach Heather enough about home defense to deal with them on her own. She's no super human, but ghouls aren't slouches either, fuck Mercurio survived being thrown through a meat grinder. But.. do I really want to do that? I don't want to deal with some creepy blood-drunk dyke fawning all over me and pulling her into a world where she HAS to defend herself might not be the right thing even if she can do it.

"Heather, I have to think about this. I've got a job I need to do tomorrow, I'll talk to you afterwards."



"Job? What kind of job?"

"Just something at the museum. You'd better go, it's getting late. Early."

"Alright... just... think about what I said. I'll see you tomorrow."



She leaves down the stairs without another word and for the first time, I'm not sure what the right thing really is.



Hell, for the first time I care.



I need to sleep on it. Rest. It's been a long day. Night, I mean.





I'm never going to see the sun again...





I wake up, still without any of the grogginess I'd come come to expect before all of... this. I still don't know what's going on, sometimes I think everyone's just playing some weird joke on me, sometimes I think I'm dreaming ,sometimes I think...

I don't know. If it was just this vampire thing, I could buy it as some kind of genetic condition or maybe even a transmittable virus, but there's so much more than just pale skin and sharp teeth. There's transmutations, regeneration, ghosts, werewolves, mummies, magic fucking super powers and a billion other things I've never seen hiding in some semi-mythological underworld. If all that's real... what else is? God? Satan? Beckett, Grout... probably others, they've spent so long trying to find a rational purpose or reason for all of this and they keep coming up empty handed.



Heather's waiting for me already. That's totally normal and not creepy at all.



"Helen! Listen, you said you were going to the museum, right?"

"Yes, is there-"

"I know a guy there who works day shift security, I talked to him and got a key to the rooftop access, none of the guards patrol that high up. Whatever you need in there, you'll be able to slip in right under their nose." She hands me a silver key, rolling her eyes slightly. "Well, over it."

I take the key and raise an eyebrow.

"Your kidding. Just like that? He must be a hell of a friend."



"Well, no. I don't know him all that well..." She runs her fingers through her hair. "I just... I don't know how I talked him into it, actually..." She's more confused than anything. I don't know if she's lying or there's some kind of Evil Voice trickle down from parent to ghoul.

"Thank you, Heather." I don't try very hard to hide the surprise in my voice, I hadn't expected her to actually be useful.



"I just wanted to give you something to think about before, you know... before you made a decision. I can help you. Even if you don't... I mean, I still want to be important to you."



She mumbles out a goodbye before leaving and I take a glance at the apartment before I follow suit. I know LaCroix said not to kill anybody, but there's a difference between looking for a fight and practicing self defense.



Not that I'd need it against a bunch of security guards, but you never know who else is after the sarcophagus.



I step out onto the street and it's just as cold as it always is, but at least it's not raining.



The walk to Larry's doesn't take long, but for some reason the city feels darker than I remember it being. I can't put my finger on why or even what but it feels... different.



Huh. CDC's still here. Figured they'd tone down their street presence now that the plague's starting to die off.



"Larry. I need some ordinance. .45 ACP and a pail of buckshot."



"Baby girl you an OG cop killa, ain't ya? I'm liable to run outta stock if you keep droppin' people."

"Have to make sure they stay dead, don't you?"

He laughs, taking the cash and hading over most of his visible supply of ammunition.

"Ain't it the truth? Good luck baby girl, come back when you need some more."

"Would your favorite customer do anything else?"



I should pick up the doll Pisha wanted while I'm there. Hrm. I hope there aren't too many Twilight Zone stars running around in real life, I don't know if I could put up with goblins on top of everything.



"Where to?"

"The Natural History Museum off of Hollywood. LaCroix-"

"-Wishes you to retrieve the sarcophagus, yes? Then we should hurry. There are a great many who would claim the casket for themselves."

I slip into the backseat and slam the door as the cab pulls away from the curb.

"How'd you know about that?"

"A cab driver hears many things. Not every client is content with idle chatter."

"Makes me glad I had a chauffeur."

"I am sure the cab drivers are as well."

The cabbie doesn't say much else for the rest of the drive and I don't have any urge to break the silence. He drops me off a few blocks from the museum and I manage to make my way up the fire escape to the roof access without much trouble. If you'd asked me a week ago what I'd be doing today...



I use Heather's key to unlock the access door. No sign of any security, probably not expecting anyone from the top. Heather might actually be useful. And staying is what she really wants, right?

I take the stairs down, dress shoes clicking on the stone. There's a musty scent in the air, but it seems... artificial. Not sure if that makes it worse or better. Still can't hear anybody, must not even patrol the top stories. I open the door at the bottom of the stairs and ta-




OH JESUS FUCK




I lie on the ground where I'd fallen backwards, pistol hastily raised at the stoic predator. It isn't until a few moments later that I realize I'm not about to have my shoulder torn from chest.



I'm such a fucking idiot.



I leave the hilarious prank behind and move down the hallway, closing in on the museum's main entrance. If what LaCroix said is right, the basement to the storage should be just off the front offices.



There, just past this door. I should be on the second story.



Great.



Ten to one at least some of these displays are going to spring to life and eat me alive.


Dead.


Jesus fuck I hate undead limbo.



The floor I'm on acts like a balcony that runs the entirety of the museum's two story grand entrance. I should be able to find some stairs down and then it's just a matter of evading security patrols while I make my way to the basement.



Yeah right, I had a Sega.



I pass just underneath the mounted head when the roar almost knocks me off my feet, more from shock than from volume. What the fuck? I glance up at the immobile head. Oh shit motion triggered tourist gag. I glance around, the click-clack of hard shoes growing louder.



I duck behind a waste bin in the main entry, eying the guard's approach. He's still a ways away, I've got time to duck into an adjoining room before he sees me.



This is of course when I choose the bathroom. The slow trickle of water coming from one of the stalls doesn't do much to boost my confidence in my choice of hideaway.



Shit.

I creep as quickly as I can through the bathroom's far door.



This is hardly ideal.



Nevermind.





I'll admit that I never thought of crawling vents as a viable means to accomplish anything besides getting killed in some manner or another.





As much as this makes me feel like some kind of vermin, I sincerely hope I never have to do it again.



I keep going down the vent until I reach another grate that looks like it can be forced open.



If I've learned anything by now it's that falling haphazardly into an unknown and probably dangerous situation is apparently the best solution to any problem.

I drop from the ventilation shaft, half landing on an office desk and half landing on nothing.



Thank god nobody on security detail thinks the offices might need checking up on.



Bingo, stairs to the basement. Shouldn't be too much trouble now.

...You know, LaCroix never said how exactly I'm supposed to lug the thing out of here. Maybe I could mind-fuck some maintenance guys to haul it out for me? I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.





Well... that's not quite as straight forward as I would have hoped.



Complete with security cameras. Wonderful.



I dart around a labyrinth of color coded hallways, dodging cameras and patrolling guards while following the helpful guidelines painted onto the floor, each one conveniently failing to mention what I'm supposed to follow it to.



I duck into one of the miscellaneous rooms dotting the utility maze to avoid a passing patrol when I feel something watching me. Like Ocean House, but... concentrated. Like a single set of eyes instead of a pantheon. I turn around and search where it seems to be coming from, the feeling growing more intense as I get nearer. I slip the gun from the back of my waistline.





Well how about that.



I can still feel it watching me from my pocket, worse, I can hear it now, but it's just... making silence. I don't mean it's not making noise, It's making noise but it's silent noise. I don't know if that makes any sense, but this little thing is fucking creepy and I want it as far away from me as possible.



I follow the hallway awhile more before swinging down another story, following a storage sign that I hope to god is where they're keeping the stupid thing because I can't deal with all this Mission Impossible shit much longer.



Fuck you.


The lights flicker for a moment, and when they come back on half the lasers are out, the other half shorting out at random intervals. The thing in my pocket screams silently a little louder.



I don't care if it's helping, fuck that little guy.



I clear the security field and turn the corner that leads to the storehouse door. Got to be in there somewhere.



Suitably dark and eerie.



Must be the door at the end of the hall, I don't see it anywhere here. My footsteps creak on the wooden floor, dust filling the air around me. That musky smell is stronger now, less artificial, too.



Fingers crossed there's not some unholy god sitting in an open casket around a bunch of ash and bodies.



Phew. Just-



Oh you're shitting me.