Crowley’s Ongoing Saga
It had been one of those days when Drake woke up, as usual, in a pile of manila folders, papers, and photographs of his most recent excursion.
All he remembers was taking a drag from last night’s cigarette and heating up yesterday’s gas station coffee in the motel microwave - even though he knew he was up before 10, he checked his phone.
20+ unread texts
34 missed calls
and worse, it was closing in on 3 pm.
“Shit.” he groaned as he stood up, downed the last of the dregs of cold coffee, grabbed his hat and jacket, put on his boots and headed toward his car.
———-
Upon reaching the Impala, I took a deep breath and opened the trunk. While rummaging through its contents, I noticed the initials carved into the bottom of the trunk. - M.C. & D.C. - I ran my fingers over the grooves of the engravings, and wished my big brother were here to tell me what to do. Morgan always knew what to do.
I thought about the conversations I had with Ash a few weeks ago at the bar after the vampire attack. I never open up to anyone about Morgan and Me losing Mom and Dad going half crazy.
It must have been her unyielding curiosity, her concern, her interest. You can’t talk about the shit dad taught us and what the eff happened in that cave with that beastly bitch and the sisters, her pets, or captives, whatever the eff they are.
Ash stayed with me, all the conversation, like she too had somehow sensed all her life that there was something more to this world.
I told her about the organization…
———
“A few years after that, Morgan and I joined an organization of hunters from all over the country. We got training, supplies, contacts, and even regular paychecks. We were able
to travel the country, putting these abominations down, and saving others the pain we had to experience."
———-
“Shit".” Drake groaned again under his breath as he patted his jacket down looking for a cigarette. He crunched his pack in the pocket, pulling it out.
“Shit.” he groaned again as he threw the empty pack into the trunk.
He threw his jacket and hat in the trunk, slammed it shut, and walked around to the driver’s seat.
after sitting down, he reached over to open the glove box where he had a stash opf roll your own Inner Spirit tobacco.
He grabbed a rolling paper, rolled up a cig, started the Impala, lit the cigarette, and then put the car in gear to drive to the nearest place with something resembling decent coffee.
“I can’t believe I told her all that,” he thought. Dad, the hunters, Morgan… What’s worse is he wasn’t worried about being under the effect of a spell, potion, hex, or illusion. With everything he’s been through he would’ve known. And if Drake couldn’t sense it, he knew that one of his protection charms or defense aura spells would’ve triggered.
I didn’t tell her it was a Wendigo that killed Morgan and turned those poor little girls.
“Good.” He half chuckled. “Gotta keep some things up my sleeve.” he thought.
