My mind goes from the story we've been assigned to read for class, back to the events of this morning. Thoughts of what those small little pieces meant in the whole scheme of things drift through my mind. The car looked like it was being lived in or something, now that I think about it. A large comforter was peeking out of the window, looking as if it'd been thrown back from someone sleeping there.

But, most of all, the condition was strange. It was rusted out, like to the point that it probably couldn't or shouldn't have been moved. But, it wasn't there before. Then again, it could have been a drifter. People have been getting laid off in some of the other cities around here.

"Miss Raven-Wing, please get back to work." Briefly I look up to the teacher as his eyes move back to the paper sitting in front of him. He takes a sip of coffee and I have to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. Maybe you should be working too.

When I try to look back at the story — which I hadn't even begun to read — I almost jump when my eyes land on the picture of a large black cat. My heart beat ticks up as the image of the cat from the alleyway comes into mind. It looked so raggedy and its trot was harsh, like it was running with a limp.

I shake my head and return my attention back to the story, "The Black Cat." At least it's better that other stuffy old novel that I could barely follow half the time.

Too bad I'd have to go back to reading that other book before the end of the hour. It would have been wonderful if we'd taken the time to discuss the Black Dog Murders. Not even my previous period — a history class — bothered to mention it. What is that about? Are they trying not to alarm us. They probably figure that none of us bothers to listen to the broadcasts anyways.

There is a harsh knock at the door.

My eyes trail up to the door for a moment before moving to the clock to my left.

It isn't even 11:15 and Ms. Johnson is already at the door.

Her features are set in her signature scowl and her arms crossed over her chest as she leans on her right leg. Yet, even though she looks almost the same as usual, there is a certain anger that seems to plume off of her. I wonder what managed to piss her off like that... well more than usual.

The teacher looks up and groans as he stands from his seat and opens the door. "Hello, Ms. Johnson. What can I do for you?"

Does everyone know the police around here. I only know her because she came to complain that night that the Poltergeist first showed up... She thought it was us wrecking the place that time. Until she got looped into the chaos with us.

She nods my way. "I'll be needing to see Morrigan."

In the words of my classmates, 'Dude's got zero chill'... He's not going to let me go without some kinda fight.

Yet, as he tries to protest, a sickly sweet smile curls its way onto Ms. Johnson's features. "Association business. I'd say you should listen or my colleague will have to come and demand to see her. You wouldn't want to be charged for hindering an investigation...would you?"

The brown-haired man turns my way. "Get going. I expect you in class as soon as you're done."

I almost laugh at the way he glowers at me when I stand up from my seat.

Slowly, I shuffle out of the room with Ms. Johnson. She rolls her eyes as soon as the teacher isn't there to glare at the two of us anymore. "I hate teachers like that. You can just see the judgment on their faces," she grumbles as we walk down the steps. "Glad I didn't have to go to this place when I was a kid."

I can't see why she says it like she's some middle-aged woman. She barely looks like she's much older than Sally. Maybe twenty-five tops.

"So, are you bringing us both down or just one at a time."

"I have Mel down right now. I was going to have you two go one at a time, but she doesn't seem too willing to speak right now. So you're both going to be talking to us at the same time." She muses.

She doesn't say much else as we walk through the empty lobby, into the office and then finally the conference room.

In front of Mel sits a tall, balky man in a dark coat, his harsh gaze making the girl squirm around in her chair. Or maybe it's that scowl that seems to reach both his green-ish eyes and his eyebrows. Giving the impression that he was always angry.

Either way, the man just has a look about him. Like he would and could kill someone with ease. And not with a weapon either. Just a single swat of his hand could probably mess a person up.

I wonder if all the people in the association look this scary.

The man's eyes shift up to us as Ms. Johnson pushes me into the room.

"Hello."

My ears perk up at the sound of his voice. It sounds like something from Europa, if I have to take a guess. Something that sounds harsher. Maybe Russian or German. Though, it's honestly hard to tell with just one word.

I give the man a small greeting as Ms. Johnson rounds the table and takes a seat in front of me where there is a notepad and pen. A slightly messy cursive faintly catches my attention as the woman settles into her spot.

The man gives her a nod and says something I can't quite make out.

Mel accidently kicks my foot as she shifts once more.

A small frown comes to my features as I look at the girl. Her body is stiff, any movements coming off as almost robotic at first. Her normally bright eyes are overcast with worry as she swallows and clasps her hands on her lap.

"How's your ankle?" I whisper.

"Better. It hurts a little bit, but I probably just twisted it." She barely looks away from the surface of the table. Her eyes occasionally darting over to the beaked mask sitting at the center of the table. The eye pieces almost staring at us. Now I know why so many people fear the association. They have this otherworldliness that just doesn't make them seem human.

"Andros Petrov. What are your names?" The man speaks after a few moments of conversing with Ms. Johnson. His eyes first move to Mel.

She looks up to him, her head held high and a small, forced smile on her lips like she's trying to play the part of a regal lion when she's nothing but a meek lamb. But, no matter how fake it seems, she keeps her prideful facade. "I'm Melinda Leighton."

I shake my head at the girl. "Morrigan Raven-Wing. Nice to meet you, sir."

For the smallest moment, Andros smiles. "Yes, very nice to meet you."

Ms. Johnson clears her throat, trying to get to the topic of the meeting. "Start from last night; what was it that you experienced?"

"Well, yesterday we had come into the bar and were helping clean things up. And while we were doing that, a glass sitting on a table — a ways away from us — flew off. Like..." Mel stopped herself. In front of Andros is a slightly dented can of off brand soda. "May I use this."

The man nods his head and allows her to continue.

Instead of doing so, she elbows me in the side and gestures towards the can. "You watched it. Show them." When I don't do anything, she digs her elbow into my side again. Then when that doesn't work she starts poking me. She's not going to give up...

I sigh, standing up as Mel pushes the desk chair back to avoid being hit.

I draw my hand back and hit the can hard. The object goes flying across the table, hitting the wall with a loud thunk. Though as the can bounces off the wall and lands on the floor, there isn't another sound of the can hitting the ground, rather, that familiar sound of glass breaking echoes through my mind.

As I look at the can, I notice that the aluminum frame was practically caved in. "It didn't hit the wall, but it went flying pretty quickly. Shattered on impact with the ground just before the television turned on for the broadcast about the murder."

The man hums as he looks over to Ms. Johnson. The woman is writing things down at a speed that almost seems impossible, her eyes briefly flicking upwards to look at one of us before returning to her notepad. She's writing more than we've said. It's almost like she was noting down everything from our body language to how we've said something. It's a little frightening or maybe it was just worrying.

Does she believe us or does she think we're crazy? The thought worries me a bit because she isn't scowling for once. Her face is completely neutral.

"And what about this morning?" She briefly looks up, eyes flicking between us.

Me and Mel frown. We probably aren't supposed to tell the cops Rodger gave us a key to the bar, but it's Ms. Johnson. She knows that we help out and that Robbie works there alone most of the time, even though none of us should be. If she hadn't said anything before, would she say anything now?

I scratch the back of my neck and let out a small breath. "Rodger gave us keys to watch the bar a couple times when he left town because a few times people or other things came in and wrecked the place.. And since him and Robbie were busy he asked us to take a peek at the bar before we went to school. So, we got up early and walked over. When we got close we saw all the lights on. They were off at closing. But, all the doors were locked."

Mel nods. "Yup, even the back door."

"What else did you see?" Andros questions.

Mel shifts again as the man looks between us. "Well, the place was a mess."

"What she means is that everything in the garbages were thrown across the room. All the freshly cleaned glasses were shattered and some liquor bottles were thrown off the shelf."

"Not exactly strange thing. Could just be prank."

You'd have to have the keys though. Or some way of locking the doors again after you completely wreck the place and the only ones with keys are Robbie, Rodger, and me... Why would we trash the bar?

"I don't think so. It was a really odd time for something like this to happen. Intense ghost activity is pretty regular in our area. So, it wouldn't have been a surprise. But, we thought to ask Ms. Johnson about it because usually the whole neighborhood gets hit." Mel pushes herself back towards the table.

The plague doctor looks to the woman with a curious gaze. "Did you?"

"No, I haven't had any odd activity in weeks. Not since the Poltergeist in the bar got exorcised. And, I would know, I was home most of the night after the investigation ended. But, I remember hearing you kids leave, but that was it. Whatever happened must have been after I went to bed."

"Broadcast was two hours after investigation's end, yes?"

"Correct."

The man hums. He takes a card and pen out of his coat, writing something down before locking eyes with Mel. "Anna said you saw cat after you and Morrigan split up?"

She gives a curt nod but doesn't say anything else. Which seems to make the two stare at her a little harder.

I elbow her in the stomach this time. "Come on, Mel, what did you see. It could be related. You know that."

She grumbles at me and then turns back to the two adults. "It was just a rabid feral cat. A black one with a little white patch on its forehead and chest. Nothing special. Not unnatural either." With that, Mel stands up from her spot and walks out of the room. She doesn't bother to look back at any of us.

Ms. Johnson watches her go and then leans back in her chair with a small huff. "I think the apartments have a camera in the alley. And I'm pretty sure the bar does too. I'll take a look at them and see if this was just that cat. She's keeping something to herself." The woman crosses her arms and shakes her head.

"I'll try and see if I can get something out of her," I muse.

The man slides the card in front of her.

Ms. Johnson sighs as I take the card.

"Call if something else happens. Anything. Small. Big. You see a black dog. Or a cat. Anything like that."