Stir
“Okay, let’s debrief. On February 21st, 2026, we went to the Spalding Cafe, to meet the client.” Nicks said, flicking through photos on a small tablet placed between her and her companion, a woman with long red hair, seated across from her. The dirty lightbulb above them illuminated the battered wooden table. Besides the chairs, and their occupants, the table was the only piece of furniture present in the massive warehouse.
“Yep, we were supposed to meet them at 11 a.m. but they were several minutes late. I ordered a latte.” Ginger replied.
“What kind of latte?”
“Peppermint, I decided to branch out that day.”
“Like I remember it, yes.”
“Then the client arrived. She was the tallest woman I’d ever seen. Wearing flats.”
Nicks grabbed a pen and scribbled on a small notepad she’d placed beside the tablet and flicked to the next photo. It was a shadow, vaguely in the shape of a person, superimposed upon a photo of an ordinary hallway.
“First discrepancy. I remember a man. Also tall, yes, but not unusually so. Maybe 6’1” or so.”
Ginger nodded.
“He ordered a gin and tonic, I thought it an unusual time for brunch.”
“Mimosa, perfectly appropriate for the time, but it was… grapefruit, I think.”
Nicks scribbled some more.
“Two so far, and we’re only a few minutes into the debrief. That’s not good. This might be an Omicron class.”
“Could be, let’s keep going.” Ginger rubbed her eye. “Wish I had some coffee”
“You know Protocol, can’t have too many objects in the debrief room.”
“Why is that, anyway?”
“If, by some chance, an Entity managed to hitch a ride, a minimal environment increases the odds we’ll be able to catch them.”
“Less things for them to use as weapons, that’s right.”
Nicks scrunched her nose and started to say something, but thought better of it.
“Okay, the ‘client’ asked us to look into a ‘haunting’ at an abandoned restaurant.”
“Mansion.” Nicks said, and scribbled something down. She flipped to the next photo on the tablet. It was a woman, with shoulder-length red hair, standing outside of a dilapidated mansion.
“Okay, that’s three?”
“Five, actually.”
“What are the other two?”
“I’ll get there in a second. What happened once we got on site?”
“We posed as ghost hunters, which we do on a shocking number of jobs, and set up our equipment around the place.”
Nicks hummed in agreement.
“Then… nothing. We didn’t find anything, and came straight here to debrief.”
Nicks scribbled on the notepad once more.
“Okay, got it.”
Nicks pulled a pistol from under her jacket and pointed it at Ginger. A pentacle was carved into the barrel; it glowed with an unsettling green light.
“Whoh what are you doing??” Ginger said, holding her hands up.
“The two other discrepancies. Ginger has shoulder-length hair. Yours is far too long.”
The Entity smiled, far too wide, showing two rows of teeth.
“You got me.” Its voice sounded like it was being smothered by a pillow. “Mind if I ask what the last error was?”
“Ginger is an experienced agent, she would not need to ask about protocol unless her memory were severely fragmented.”
“Very astute, I can see why they fear you.” Not-Ginger licked her teeth, leaving a red film where her tongue passed.
“Are you going to come quietly, or am I going to have to bind you?”
“Oh, I’ll escape this place, Agent Nictitia Crux, but first I need to deliver a message.”
“… I’m listening.”
“We are not the only things that feast on thought. There are others out there, far worse, and they are the ones pulling your strings, puppet. If you seek liberation, you’d do well to seek us out.”
“That all?”
Not-Ginger nodded.
Nicks fired three rounds, but they met only air. She looked around the empty warehouse and saw that she was now alone, nothing left but a single chair, table, and a notepad covered in ink that formed no words.