1 (Chapter one.)

Alone inside Section Chief Howard's office, Sidney sat chewing on a pal cap. She stopped and scribbled a name on her note pad.

Mal Carson.

He had sent her several text over the past few weeks. They didn't say much. Greetings. Almost gibberish.

How are you?

Checking in.

Anything strange.

Be alert.

Sometimes she replied, sometimes she didn't. The office door popped open, and Ted's secretary, Jane, stepped inside. Refined in her appealing, and professional dress, she said, He just pulled in. Can I get you anything, Agent Shaw?

You could tell me where John Smoke is.

Jane offered a smile. I would mind knowing where he is myself. Are you sure I can't get you anything?

No, thank you, she said, turning away. She heard the door close behind her. A whif of Jane's perfume scented in the air. I wish I felt as together as she looks. She sketched an our glass on her notepad. And waited. Jane knew plenty more than she'd ever let on. That's what good secretaries do, and they are often privy to what is said and never documented. Jane eased out of Sid's inquiries. I hate that about her. But she respected it too. Buzz. A new message appeared on her phone from her mother. It read. Don't forget to check in on her. Allison and Meagan headed back to D.C. Her sister had convicted their parents that her head was better and she was ready to go back home. Supposedly she had a job lined up. Allison was educated and capable. She had a degree in nursing, but she really never applied herself to it. Instead, she enjoyed working in campaign offices with high- profile people, and it was election season.

Sidney texted back.

I will. Love U.

She turned the phone off and tucked it away. As if I don't have enough on my plate already. Hah!

Life had changed, but it hadn't. She went through the routine. Eat. Work. Sleep. Good sleep was hard to come by. Now she slept with restlessness, knowing that the monsters under her bed or in her closet was real. But no one wanted to talk about them. There wasn't anyone she could confide in. Instead, she came in once a month to meet with Ted. Otherwise, she was a shadow. Sometimes as she lay in bed she wondered if any of what happened had been real.

Werewolves. Deaders. Harpies. Gargoyles. Cage fights. Plenty of other agents had also witnessed what she had seen, but no one talked about it. In today's world of mass communication, that didn't seem possible. She'd been completely cut off from the investigation and interrogations at the Drumerville Bird Sanctuary. She scratched on her pad. Maybe they want me to think I'm crazy.

The door opened, and Ted entered. Sorry, Sid. He hung his coat and cap on the rack.

Got a late start with the grandkids in. Honestly, I'd forgotten about the meeting until Jane reminded me. I must be slipping. He walked over and patted her on the shoulder. I hope you'll forgive me. He glanced at her notepad. Is that a portrait of Mr. Smoke?

She glanced down at the paper. Lord, is it! No, just another person on the internet. She watched Ted take a seat behind his desk. Nice to know you've forgotten about me. I'd like to think the Black Slate carries more interest.

He held his hands up and waved them from side to side. It does, it does. Please don't go on the attack again. I just got here.

She leaned toward his desk. No, it doesn't. You don't even want to think about it, and know about it. I bet we wouldn't even be meeting if you didn't have an obligation to.

His eyes drifted a moment before they found her again. That's not true. You know how fond I am of you, Sid. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. But I am not now, nor have I ever been comfortable with the Black Slate stuff, not since day one. The fact that you are in on it is the worst part. You don't think I can handle it.

No. Well that's not entirely true. Five agents died last time, right? You were there. Not that I feel for those agents. I do, but you're just different. He locked his eyes on hers. I don't ever want to go to your funeral.

I'm touched, but it comes with the job you know.

Sure, all agents are at risk. We all know that. But a greater rate of mortality comes to those who deal with the Black Slate. He wiggled his mouth while he put on a pair of rectangular glasses. His monitor came to life. He logged in. And well, he sighed. I've lost a friend before to the peculiar circumstances that come with it.

Interesting. Sidney settled back into her chair. Ted might be a little grizzly on the outside, but he was all heart in the inside. When agents died, he felt it. So you were close to this person? How did thg die?

Disappeared is more like it. He rubbed his neck. It was two years out of the academy. She was my supervisor. Deanne, one of the few people in this world who ever intimidated me. He smiled and locked his fingers behind his neck. She was magnificent. Merciless in interrogation. The tougher they were, the harder they fell.

She'd have them crying for their mummies. Confessing everything. You'd once from the one- eyed glass, hear that penetrating squall that turned your guts out, and watch a man's entirety collapse.

Wow, she really made a impact on you.

She made a impact on everybody. One time, we were on a presidential detail, and I swear he saluted her. Ha. She was the Rambo of the interrogations unit. He got up and opened the small fridge and grabbed a water. Want one?

No, thanks. So, she really got you worked up, huh Chief.

Aw, he shooed her his hand. Not like that. Well, maybe I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it, but hell Sid, she did scare me.

Do I scare you?

No, no no, that's not what I'm getting at. But your toughness makes me think about her sometimes. Not many have that edge like you have. It's a gift in this profession.

Thanks. What happened?

Ted leaned his head back like he was looking for the answer on the ceiling.

Huh, good question. She called me into her office one day, sat me down, and told me she was leaving and that I would be her replacement. He rubbed his chin. All she had was a cardboard box. You know, the kind that hold reams of paper. Her possessions didn't fill half of it. Of course, back then you were lucky to have an office with a window air- conditioner in it. He glanced around his office. Look at all the shit I have. If she came back, well, I'd be embarrassed. His eyes grew sad. We're just so damn soft nowadays.

Sidney chuckled.

What?

Nothing. She shrugged. Just funny to hear my hard- nosed boss say that. I don't think your baubles are too much to be ashamed about.

He stuck out his chest. No, I guess not. Besides, Margie won't let me put them up at home, so it might as well be here. He eyed fish on the wall. A bass every bit over two feet long. Did I ever tell you-

Yes! Sidney widened her eyes. So that's it. She left, and you never heard from her again. How did you know it was the Black Slate she was involved with?

She left with a few words, but she said, You'll do well. I asked about her assignment, and all she said was if they wanted you to know, they'd tell you. And out the door she went. I never saw her again. She became a ghost.

So how do you know she was one of the Black Slate?

I got a postcard in mailbox at home years later. His voice became low and quiet. It was a picture of an eerie castle somewhere in Europe I guess. Like something one would see or imagine from a scene in Transylvania. It said, Ted, monsters are real. Avoid the Slate. She didn't sign it, but I knew it was her writing. I always thought it was a joke. A gag. It was almost two decades later that I learned it wasn't.

Do you still have the postcard?

Yeah. He opened up his drawer, reached down, and withdrew a small yellow envelope. He tossed it to the side of the desk. I've never shown it to anyone, aside from Margie.

Sidney bent back the clasp and took out the postcard. The edges were still cleaned and crisp. The picture of the castle nestled in the hills above the fog seemed almost as real as a view from a window. She read the message. All seven words.

Seven. Interesting choice. A small sketch in the bottom left corner shot a chill through her bones. It was a black sunrise.