Vic Owens snatched the notebook from the woman’s hand, then turned his attention to the crumpled cigarette on the pavement—twice in two days was too many times. He raised an eyebrow, then decided to humor her and studied the writing in the notebook.

“You need to work on toning down your approach,” Vic mumbled.

“S-sorry,” the girl responded, clearing her throat. “My therapist told me to be vocal when I'm passionate about something. And it seemed like the most impactful way to get your attention. She says I'm improving a lot … by the way.”

“That's real great,” Vic muttered.

“I’m Maya Fano,” the girl said, reaching out to shake hands, to which Vic ignored her and continued reading. She mumbled to herself and started again. “You’re Vic Owens, paranormal advisor for the town of Raven’s Hope.”

Vic flipped through page after endless page. “I’m gonna walk in three seconds if you don’t paraphrase this chicken scratch. I've got a lot of work to get done today and it doesn't involve deciphering whatever this is.”

“Right,” Maya replied, straightening herself out and pushing her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “This notebook contains all the info I have on a group that calls themselves “The Nines”, which is a group of nine people who I believe have been running this town for quite a few months. And not in a good way—as in they've been organizing the increase in monster attacks and murders against humans. I think they are cleansing Raven’s Hope of those they consider the undesirables … mainly humans. The organization must have members from the bottom of the barrel all the way to the upper echelon, to have such strong control of everything.”

You’ve got to be shitting me, Vic thought. What a nut job. I’m not gonna lower myself to this. He rolled his eyes, dropped the notebook, and started walking away, but not before adding, “I don’t dabble in conspiracy nonsense. Show it to someone with a lower IQ.”

A second later, a pair of hands latched tight to his arm and tugged. “Please help me,” Maya cried. “I need you to investigate this with me and put a stop to it.”

He turned back and stared into the pleading eyes of someone begging him to stay. Those wide eyes struck Vic in the worst way and he felt like he had been stabbed in the heart, reminding him of someone who had once looked to him for help—and he had failed that person in every way imaginable.

Vic slid his arm from her grasp and asked, “And who are you, exactly?”

Maya still pierced him with her big, watery eyes. “I-I’m a d-detective. Like you.”

Vic knew she was full of shit. This girl had no experience or skills whatsoever. “What agency do you work for?”

“Myself.” Maya scratched at her arm, likely a nervous tick. “But I have a podcast.” She pursed her lips, then blew air between them. “I don’t have any subscribers yet, but the listeners will come soon.”

“I don’t work with amateurs,” Vic said with a smirk. “Guess you’re out of luck.” He turned to leave again.

“But you’re barely above an amateur level.”

This statement stopped Vic in his tracks. He spun around and towered above her, watching her cower in his shadow. “You need to think before you throw reckless words around.”

Maya took a few steps back before stomping a foot down and filling herself with confidence. “It’s true. I dug through your files, which are accessible to the public, so you know … and you were the only supernatural being that applied for the paranormal advisor position. You were the worst candidate for the job, but you got it by default. It’s a miracle they gave it to you, even considering they had no other options. Let’s be honest, they must’ve been extremely desperate.”

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Resting his hand on his hips, Vic gave Maya a once-over. He wanted nothing more than to pull her head off and punt it down the street, and it took more effort than it should’ve to not act out the desire. He didn’t know what he hated more; that she had spoken down to him, or the fact that she was absolutely right. “Tell me the truth,” he started. “There’s a deeper story than just taking an interest in a vague, shadowy group. What, did they deal out some past trauma to you?"

Maya didn’t respond.

“Don’t be shy now, kid.” After he said it, Vic realized that something had happened to her. He could read it in the words she didn’t say. It was written on her slumped shoulders, her hanging head, her breath catching as her chest heaved. Something nagged at him to apologize, but he wasn’t ready to show mercy to a human. Not yet, anyway. He was still healing.

With a loud sniffle and a wiping of her cheek with the back of her hand, she finally answered. “My mom and dad were prominent witches in Raven’s Hope. The best of the best. Or, at least, they were until they were murdered.”

“Sorry,” Vic said quickly, cringing at the word leaving his mouth. He did feel bad for her, but he didn’t want her to know.

“They were found dead in their homes, with no signs of physical injury,” Maya said, taking a deep breath. “But they both had a symbol burned onto their arms; a triangle with the number nine inside of it. And they never had any brands, or tattoos, or anything like that before. I know it was a hit carried out by the Nines.”

“How did I never hear about this?” Vic asked, genuinely curious.

“Would you have paid attention—or cared—even if you did know?” Vic didn’t react to her question. “I don’t imagine you’re high enough up the food chain to be in the know. It was only six months ago and the media never said a peep about it. The police didn’t lift a finger to investigate any further, and the Aligned Monster Society doesn’t believe there’s any reason for them to get involved. It’s a collusion, if you ask me. I turned to the witch community, but they have their lips sealed, for fear of meeting the same fate. Here I am, alone, in front of my last hope begging for help.” Maya’s head hung low again. “So will you? Help me?”

Vic scratched the back of his neck, torn between doing the right thing and helping Maya, or doing what he wanted and walking away. He didn’t know this girl, didn’t owe her a thing. She was a human, and what had they ever done for him? On the other hand, he could feel the hurt radiating off her and it was a feeling he’d love to erase. Moral compass being cracked, Vic picked what others would call the “rat bastard” choice.

“Listen, kid,” Vic began. “What happened to your parents is unfortunate. But if the police and the Aligned Monster Society chose not to dig deeper, then there was nothing to search for—no conspiracy. It could’ve been a simple case of the wrong place at the wrong time, and your parents happened to be the unlucky ones targeted. Maybe they got mixed up with a bad crowd. Either way, there’s nothing you can do about it now. You’re going to have to accept it and turn your attention to mourning instead.”

Maya balled her fists and her face scrunched. “Bad crowd? Do you think my parents were stupid?”

“I’ve never met—”

“That’s right. You’ve never met them.” She pointed an accusatory finger at Vic. “So who gives you the right to judge? I’ve always heard the phrase ‘never meet your heroes.’ Well, the saying is right. I shouldn’t have come to you for help because you’re no hero.” Maya stormed off, without giving Vic a second glance.

“I never was and I never will be, kid,” Vic said, watching the girl power walk out of sight. He reached into his pocket for his smokes and noticed something on the ground. “Hey, you forgot your notebook,” he muttered to himself, kneeling to grab the weathered papers.

With a quick glance at the cover he saw, written in marker, “If found, please return to Maya Fano.” At the bottom she had her address and phone number listed. Of course she did. Leave it to an amateur to give away vital information, so anyone could stop by her house and see the loon in person for themselves. It was dangerous, but he shouldn’t have expected her to think logically. He didn’t feel fantastic about the way he had treated her, but a person like Maya needed to hear harsh reality and not have someone playing along with her fantasies.

Vic got in his car and started driving. At this point, nothing eventful was going to happen the rest of the day. Maybe he’d throw the notebook in her front yard on his way home, since the odds of them speaking to each other in public again landed low on events likely to happen in this lifetime. Bumping into her one more time would only add to his large list of headaches.