Rarity: Part 9

I don't wake up; I simply become aware that my eyes seem to be open, and I'm looking up at the cobweb-laden beams of the basement's ceiling. There's a bare light bulb just out of my immediate vision, which causes me to squeeze my eyes shut again as they painfully adjust.

I'm on the floor. Why am I on the floor?

I slowly remember, and a cold rush grips me. I must've been shot. Was I shot?

I take a few deep breaths. No, the only pain is in my shoulders, particularly the cut one; I seem to have landed on that side, my head on my outstretched arm, and then flopped onto my back. That would explain the outstretched arm part, anyway. ...I wonder if he wound is bleeding.

I carefully open my eyes again, remembering the darkness. I fainted. Cripes. I'm lucky I didn't bash my head on the cement floor.

"Ms. Crouse?"

I turn my head to my left, toward the velvet voice. Alucard is towering above me, his eyes hidden by the glare of his glasses.

My mouth feels dry, my throat scratchy. I wonder if I'd been screaming. "Did -" I cough. "Did you get him?"

The vampire's mouth slides into that thin, far-too-wide grin. "Yes. I 'got him', as you put it."

"Ah," I say, turning back to regard the ceiling again, as it's much less disturbing. I tense, then pull my sore body into a sitting position, resting a hand on the shelves on my right for balance. I seem to be all right. "I..." I look back at the last place I saw Sir Skeffinton, and frown. All I see is my revolver lying on the floor, and a mess that smells like ash and laundry detergent. "There's no body."

"No, there isn't," Alucard responds agreeably, extending a gloved hand to help me to my feet.

For the second time in as many days, I say the very first thing that pops into my head. "Well, good. That's one less I have to explain to the police."

Alucard's face goes slack - then he laughs. Unlike before, I don't find it frightening at all this time.

"You, Ms. Crouse, are a rarity."

I am awakened the next day by, of all things, my doorbell.

I startle awake, swiftly kicking my way out of the afghans draped over me. The cats lazily jump away from my flurry of motion, further freeing me, as they'd been pinning down my chest and feet. I never had made it up to bed; instead, I spent the night on the couch with the cats, who had seen fit to hide upstairs after being shot at in the basement.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" I call, running fingers through my tangled hair in an attempt to make myself presentable.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror next to the door as my hand reaches and instinctively turns the doorknob. I'm still in my pajamas, and I'm smudged with basement grime, particularly on my cheek. My hair still has cobwebs in it. Oh well... too late to worry about that now.

I open the door.

It's grey and cool and raining outside. There's a bedraggled-looking courier standing at the door, his bike leaning against the porch post. He sneezes violently, and manages "Package, sign," between snuffles, shoving a large, bulging brown envelope and clipboard of paperwork at me.

I sign for the envelope and am tempted to offer the courier something warm to drink, but he's on the bike and riding away with barely another glance at me. I shrug and close the door, studying the package.

It's addressed to me, but it has no return address.

I remember the events of the night before. Alucard had carried me up from the basement. I think I was more than a little in shock at the time, because I was babbling again.

"I suppose I'll have to call up Jacob and tell him what happened. He'll be worried, after he sees the news." I'd sighed then. "I suppose I should date him or something."

"Hn." Alucard had laid me on the couch and helped me to pull the afghans over myself. The cats - who had been attempting to trip him since we'd reached the first floor - quickly bedded down on me.

I remember that Seras had arrived with two other men at about that time, and Alucard had directed them to clean up what little was left in the basement. He'd then bid me good night; I don't know where he went after that.

The other two men left within an hour; there really wasn't much for them to clean. Seras had come over to me then, just before leaving. "I've been instructed to offer you a job," she'd said. "We could use the help right now..."

I remember feeling how sore I was, and how tired. "I don't think I can do this for a living," I told her. "Not all the time, anyway. I think I should stick to humans."

And she'd responded with, "Contract work, then?"

The papers in the envelope seem to be a police file. A yellow post-it note on the top page says, "Please investigate. Expect to be contacted."

I scowl. "What, already?" I say aloud, dropping the papers on the couch.

The next case can wait. There's a box of donuts in the kitchen calling my name.

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