She shook her head, "Nothing...it's nothing."
"Ok...goodnight, then, Miss Renardine,” he said as he eased the passenger door closed.
Just then a car turned at an intersection nearby and as its headlights swept over them, Sara saw something that should not have been.
In the years before she finally escaped the burg where she had grown up, where most residents were only one credit card payment ahead of being white trash, Sara had seen any number of times what lights at night did to animals' eyes. Hunters would scout the deer herds in harvested cornfields with spotlights, looking for that season's big buck...others were predator hunters out searching for those animals that stalked the shadows, revealing themselves only when their eyes betrayed them under unnatural light.
The car's headlights slipped over them and for a split second, Flair's eyes flashed in unnatural argent. But, just as quickly as the headlights had disappeared, so did that silver gleam.
His smile wavered as he saw her not just looking at him, but looking at his eyes. Flair slipped his sunglasses on and tipped her a salute which would have been ridiculous in any other situation.
But this day, and now this evening, had taught Sara that she should expect nearly anything, no matter how outlandish.
Her mind was racing as she walked down the sidewalk, past shoddy buildings, some with windowpanes broken out, others with hedges overgrown and paint peeling in dun colored strips from their walls. The impossible day was impossible for her to believe, and that was when she saw him.
Leaning against a derelict building's wall as he had been earlier that day, in a way that might have seemed nonchalant for anyone else, Sara recognized the homeless man from outside the restaurant.
Remembering his wild eyes and the bizarre way that he had looked at her in the alley outside the restaurant, Sara plunged her hand into her purse.
Whether it was to search for pepper spray or for a dollar she could not spare, Sara could not have said.
But the man did not try to advance upon her, only following her with his eyes as she walked by, the pace of her steps then as rapid as she could manage without actually running.
Sara only realized she had been holding her breath until after she had got well beyond the homeless man, releasing it in one long sigh. Then, believing herself foolish for thinking that the poor man meant her any harm, she heard a voice in the darkness.
"Danger...she walks the paths of monsters...she must heed the warning and turn aside...danger...."
He said it quietly, as if he meant it only for Sara's ears, but the sound carried to her in the still night air. Despite herself, she had come to a stop as his words reached her, then jolted by what he said, Sara burst forward again, hurrying as quickly as she could to the relative safety of her shoddy hotel.
She remembered the strange look he had given her earlier that day. A look of manic zeal in an otherwise handsome face. And now, here he was again, miles across town.
This is not a coincidence.
She hurried down the shadowy street and entered the relative safety of the seedy hotel.
With a sigh of relief, Sara skirted past the front desk. A cigarette burned in an ashtray, but no one was seated on the worn leather chair. As far as she was concerned, that was just fine. The proprietor was a greasy haired, leering fiend, who took more than his fair share of time staring after Sara as she walked away. Further, rent was due and money was more than tight for her just then.
Creaking steps did their best to betray her as she went upstairs, but in a lucky turn of events, the front desk remained unattended until Sara passed out of sight of it and on up to the next floor.
The door to her room did its best to not be outdone by the creaking steps, but once shut, silence reigned.
She fumbled for the light switch and as she did, Sara’s foot brushed against something lying on the stained linoleum floor.
The light stuttered into being, threatening to pass into the next life before taking hold one last time. And on the floor lay a brown paper wrapped packet.
She stooped to pick it up and as her hand touched the wrapping...
Who ties things with string these days?
...she felt a chill and gooseflesh prickled along her arms. The door had been locked. There was no sign of anyone forcing their way in.
The packet did not weigh much and as she undid what appeared to be butcher’s twine, Sara saw that it contained two envelopes, one blank on its exterior, the other with a handwritten “Sara Renardine” scrawled in a looping, old fashioned sort of script.
She opened the one with her name.
Dearest Sara,
It is with great pleasure this evening that I have learned contact has been made.
Bravo...well done.
As agreed upon, please find enclosed your first advance payment.
This sum shall be followed by other, similar payments as you continue in your assignment.