And danged if I know where it’s supposed to go next.
Helen Gilfillen-Branigan had a grin that showed the skeleton underneath. I admired her cigarette holder; it looked like regular ivory, the old and extra-expensive kind, but judging from those teeth, easy to see and ready to gnaw, it’d have to be granite to hold up under the pressure. I wasn’t sure why my new client bothered with a holder, though. Surely no cigarette smoke would dare risk her wrath by trying to leave behind any stains.
If you could remember only two things about Ms. Gilfillen-Branigan, it’d be a tie between those teeth, and her two last names. Either ‘Gilfillen’ or ‘Branigan’ would open doors in this town; the two combined would just knock ‘em down if you didn’t answer the doorbell fast enough. And from the smug smile coming above and below those teeth, she knew and was ready to use that fact, nice and hard. So why was she in my office?
Why, indeed?
Well, she’s in his office because she needs a patsy, a stooge, a fall guy. But she’s not going to tell him that. No way. She’s going to turn on the charm. Tell him how much she admires his work. And then, she’ll spin a tale, something with heartbreak, and betrayal. She’ll tell him how she’s backed into a corner, and she only trusts one man to get her out. She gains his confidence, and he agrees to do the thing she asks.
And that’s where things go sideways.
Because she was not, in fact, interested in using those facts: people just assumed she was at first glance and she’s grown bored of it. Sometimes the Big People of Town desire to not stomp on everything in a public manner, ya know. Oh, she still plans to get her way but discretion is, to date, an unexplored novelty for her.
You been readin’ “Detroit Christmas” again, Moe?
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(from Larry Correia’s “urban magic” Grimnoir series)
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Mew
She’s actually a cannibal.
I was thinking some sort of seriously dangerous undead, but .. not mutually exclusive …
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Mew