Savannah Paranormal Detective Agency
Savannah Paranormal Detective Agency 2: Chapter One
Savannah Paranormal Detective Agency 2: Chapter Two
Savannah Paranormal Detective Agency 2: Chapter Three
Savannah Paranormal Detective Agency 2: Chapter Four (Coming Soon)
Savannah Paranormal Detective Agency 2: Chapter Five (Coming Soon)
Savannah Paranormal Detective Agency 2: The Tybee Uranium Killer
Chapter Three: The Mission Brief
Max had seen a lot of the monster world: vodou, hoodoo, vampires, a ghost, even a portal to another world with a demon. But while the demon remained his number one most frightening sight, Police Chief Malcolm Washington was a close runner up. The man was built like a tank, with his muscles he could charge admission to a gun show when he showed them off. The arms looked like they could punch through walls, and his face looked like he wanted to.
“Multiple drained victims found near the cemetery you were squatting in, a whole restaurant with community leaders missing, a bed and breakfast you seemingly just happened to take over right before multiple guests went missing.” Malcom walked up to the handcuffed and chained to the chair Max. “And you, reported missing in Ohio after work fired you.”
“Fired?”
The police chief roared, “Do not get cute with me, boy!”
Max shook in his chair. Debra yawned. Malcom didn’t like that, not one bit.
“Getting pretty cute there, Ms. Violating a Restraining Order.”
Debra rolled her eyes.
The beast of a man put his massive hands on the metal desk and chucked it to the side of the room. The rattling was loud. Max looked about, Debra stared in another direction and shrugged, the veins on Malcolm’s neck became visible, and a cop in the room's corner went up to the camera and touched it, causing the red light to go off. That last bit caused Max’s heart to clench.
“Hey,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “I’d like to get a lawyer right now.”
Malcolm gave three slow claps. He then grabbed Max by the shirt. “Monsters don’t get lawyers in this state.”
“That’s a South Carolina thing,” Debra chimed in with a nonchalant voice.
“You’re lucky someone sent us to grab you two,” Malcolm said before releasing Max.
With that, the police chief picked up the desk phone. He didn’t dial, which meant to Max that it was one of those red line-type phones. Finally, he uttered, “It will be done.”
Max cowered in his seat as the behemoth of a man grabbed him and Debra by the shoulder. The beast yanked Max off the chair and then flung him through the door. Chunks of wood and splinters flew every which way.
“This is police brutality!” Max yelled before being grabbed again.
No one in the police lobby moved or even raised their heads to look at him. Instead, they all seemed to be buried in their own affairs such as reading the newspaper, talking shop, or taking witness statements. Even Debra appeared disinterested as Malcolm yanked her around.
Everyone’s lack of interest surprised the lawyer. Whenever he made a scene in a police station before, cops would inquire what was going on while alleged criminals would make a ruckus as a plea for legal aide. However, for whatever reason, not this time.
Max hoped for someone to get involved. Within seconds he regretted his wish. Malcolm pulled them past double doors and into a hallway that served as a ramp leading down onto a lower level. Adorning each side were police officers in uniform and others in brown robes. Each held a candle and chanted something Latin-y. Max was torn between wishing he had paid attention in Catholic school and wanting to scream.
Further and further down they descended. Upon reaching a stone door, Malcolm said something in a dead tongue that Max couldn’t place which caused the stone to slide, revealing a dim, torch-lit chamber with two stone chairs looking towards a dark pool of water. Again, the police chief dragged the two paranormal detectives and then forced both of them into the seats. The chief’s large hands crunched Max’s shoulders.
Max cried out in pain.
Water in the pool then began bubbling up. The bubbles' sudden appearance and rapid speed startled Max. When he looked over to see Debra, instead of a similar concern, he saw her yawn and look away. Again he shifted views, this time to see the pool appear as it was boiling. His eyes grew wide as he watched the water fly onto the cold floor, resulting in a steam rising off the stone.
First a tentacle, then another, and then a third emerged from the pool, all connected to what rose next: a bubble of flesh with two dark beady eyes. The mouth, or what Max assumed was the mouth, made a gargling sound as it rose above the water. As it continued to emerge, it became clear that the creature had an octopus’ head, a fish scale-covered neck, and a human-like body, but Max wasn’t sure of the last bit as it was wearing a dripping wet, crimson robe.
The lawyer’s jaw dropped and he turned to Debra. Sitting in her chair, Debra still looked bored and had her head turned away from the creature. So he turned back to the monster.
A spittle of water came out of the creature's mouth. “He-lllllll-oooo there.”
Perfectly still in his chair, Max gazed at the monster.
“I k-noooooo-w what you are thinking.”
Max gasped and feared the creature was in his head.
The creature continued. “Yo-uuuuuuu are thinking: Wha-aaaaaa-t is this? A-aaaaaa Deep One Catholic bishop?! A-rrrrrrrr-en’t you all supposed to be H-ooooooo-llllly roller Pentecostals?”
Debra rolled her eyes. Max screamed.
“O-oooooooooh, you are like my younger parishioners. Theeee-yyyyyy dislike jokes in my homilies.”
Max screamed again, though this time a sharp elbow from Debra silenced him.
The vampiress readjusted herself and faced the ancient horror in a red robe. “It isn’t just your mermaids and crabmen who don’t appreciate your games, Bishop Kitulu. While you are there gargling, we’re losing time. A ghost has cursed me to be a human again, and those stuck up debutants at the Junior Club of Savannahian Vampires won’t help me fix my current unpleasantness.” She nodded confidently but then did a double take at Max. “And look at this poor zombie! Decaying away while ‘Savannah’s finest’ let him rot. Time is a cruel mistress to him!”
The bishop took one look at her and then shifted his gaze toward Max.
“You-ou-ou-ou two are the answers to my prayers. There-re-re-re-re is a new creature in Savannah, and he is killing monsters. He-he-he-he may even target humans, too, once he is done with all of Savannah’s monsters.”
Max leaned forward in his chair, though two brutish hands on his shoulders kept him from going too far. This must be why Fred had sent them to Savannah. “What is going on?”
“There-re-re-re-re was a man named Oglethorpe Bonaventure who lived on Tybee Island. One-un-un day, he noticed that the crabs in the swamp near his shack were unusually large. Ass-ss-ss-ss he went deeper into the swamp, the crabs became humongous. In-in-in-in his greed for low country boils, he kept going further until he found the source of the gigantic but harmless and mindless crustaceans: a long lost nuclear bomb that was leaking radiation.”
Max's breath stopped in anticipation of what would come next.
The bishop continued. “He-he-he-he began slaying the mindless mutations of God’s good creation. Ea-ea-ea-eating the changed crab began to affect him, not only in body but mind and soul as well. Soon-un-un-un he realized his skin was starting to form bullous and begin melting. E-e-e-e-e-it was then he saw one of our local Altamaha-ha.”
Max made a huh noise.
Debra rolled her eyes at him and said in a voice with a tinge of disgust, “Basically they’re the Savannah version of Nessie; however, instead of working for the Scottish tourism agency, they run a couple of overhyped tourist traps for monsters. I’m sure I already told you that, but with your rotting brain, you know.” With that, she turned away from him and the bishop.
One of the bishop’s tentacles wiped its- no, his own- face. “Ogle-ogle-oglethorpe’s nuclear-altered mind gave him the idea that he could murder poor Pedro de Corpa Altie and graft his skin to replace Oglethorpe’s decaying corpus. This-s-s-s-s worked for a while, but Oglethorpe’s transformation into what we call the Uranium Killer required newer and newer skin to survive. The-he-he-he man became a monster, and he has to be stopped.”
Silence, except for the gentle lapping of water in the bishop’s pool and drops of water from his soaked robe, dominated the chamber.
Max knew this was why Fred had sent him back to Savannah. His life finally started making sense. Going to law school wasn’t because he was chasing a good looking woman way out of his league, the trip to Haiti wasn’t a fluke of randomly drawing his business card out of the gas station bowl, and Debra’s semi-captivity of him wasn’t a cruel twist of fate. He was meant to be the hero he dreamed about being when he was a kid. Yes, he was Max, Savior of the Innocent- monsters sure- but innocent monsters.
His lungs powered up, forcing his torso to rise. He imagined Fred’s golden glow filling his soul, about to emerge from his lips as words of courage and truth.
Debra beat him to it.
“I want a mansion to be my headquarters, five hundred thousand dollars for incidentals, and a cover feature in Monsters Monthly about how I saved the day.” She snapped her fingers and showed a toothy smile that was somehow just as terrifying as it was when she had fangs. “And I want a party where that loser Junior Club must show up, tell me I saved the day, and make me a vampire again- and I want to be fashion chair!”
Every bit of the imagined golden, holy glow in his soul faded as Max screamed, “Debra! Now is not the time for pride!”
“I-I-I-I can arrange for everything but the fashion chair. As-ss-ss-ss a man, I can have no say in the affairs of female secular groups.”
Max turned his shock towards the bishop. “Sir, I don’t think making this woman a nosferatu again is in the best interests of humanity- and monstrosity.” He gave a half shrug as he said the last word, feeling kind of dumb for having said that word.
A punch to the head from Debra reinforced his embarrassment. “Oh, shut up, you mush brain. And it’s Creatures of Cryptidkind, bigot.”
A ringing head made the next few back and forths between the bishop and Debra hard to follow, but he could make out the vampiress’ final words: “You have yourself a Paranormal Detective Agency, your eminence.”
All he could do was moan.
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