talien
Community Supporter
Welcome to the Show: Part 5b – Joe’s Story
When Joe checked on Theresa Kent, she was nowhere to be found. She left with a man, not an unusual sight in New Orleans, and certainly not during Mardi Gras.
Joe got a call on his cell phone. He picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Joe? It's Rob."
Joe sighed inwardly. "Yeah?"
"So did the guy comp you?"
"Volk? He's a kook. Or he was one...then something ate him."
"Ate him? What kind of thing ate him?"
"A Mardis Gras float...look, it's complicated. We’re crossing some serious occult territory. I’ll explain when I get back…"
"No, we've got something else. This one's big."
"So is Volk. Did you not hear the part about something eating him?"
"We can argue about that later. We've got a serial killer on the prowl in New Orleans. One Elijah Jackson, a vagrant in Nashville, Tennessee, fled the St. Bartholomew's Shelter for the Homeless. The man who ran the shelter, Father Willard Franklin, was found disemboweled. It was ruled a suicide."
"Who disembowels themselves as a suicide?" asked Joe.
"Not unless they have a katana. The police are considering classifying it as homicide now that more info came to light."
"What kind of info?"
"People have been picked off in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Jackson was spotted there. Since you're in the neighborhood, I want you to find him. Get to him first. I've cast some stones on this one," that was Rob's way of saying he cast a spell, "and something's not right about Jackson. It's important you find him first."
"Okay, but what about Volk?"
"Volk can wait. I'll do some divinations and see if I can pick up on anything. Someone using magic that powerful is a real badass, not someone you want to tangle with."
Joe sighed, out loud this time, and clicked his cell phone shut. He was really beginning to hate New Orleans.
When Joe checked on Theresa Kent, she was nowhere to be found. She left with a man, not an unusual sight in New Orleans, and certainly not during Mardi Gras.
Joe got a call on his cell phone. He picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Joe? It's Rob."
Joe sighed inwardly. "Yeah?"
"So did the guy comp you?"
"Volk? He's a kook. Or he was one...then something ate him."
"Ate him? What kind of thing ate him?"
"A Mardis Gras float...look, it's complicated. We’re crossing some serious occult territory. I’ll explain when I get back…"
"No, we've got something else. This one's big."
"So is Volk. Did you not hear the part about something eating him?"
"We can argue about that later. We've got a serial killer on the prowl in New Orleans. One Elijah Jackson, a vagrant in Nashville, Tennessee, fled the St. Bartholomew's Shelter for the Homeless. The man who ran the shelter, Father Willard Franklin, was found disemboweled. It was ruled a suicide."
"Who disembowels themselves as a suicide?" asked Joe.
"Not unless they have a katana. The police are considering classifying it as homicide now that more info came to light."
"What kind of info?"
"People have been picked off in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Jackson was spotted there. Since you're in the neighborhood, I want you to find him. Get to him first. I've cast some stones on this one," that was Rob's way of saying he cast a spell, "and something's not right about Jackson. It's important you find him first."
"Okay, but what about Volk?"
"Volk can wait. I'll do some divinations and see if I can pick up on anything. Someone using magic that powerful is a real badass, not someone you want to tangle with."
Joe sighed, out loud this time, and clicked his cell phone shut. He was really beginning to hate New Orleans.