Where in the world is Amazing Grace?

With the door open I saw out into the parking lot.  It didn’t look right.  I pushed past the man standing in the doorway.  Nothing I saw looked familiar to me.  I remember checking into a Red Roof Inn.  The sign I saw said Baymont Motel.   

He asked me again what was wrong with me.  I asked him again who the hell he was.  He claimed that I had invited him there.  I checked my phone and saw that he was right.  I have no memory that.  I saw a bunch of other texts and calls that I don’t remember either. 

I stammered an apology.  I don’t why.  What did I have to be sorry about?  I said that I was having some unspecified issues and that this wasn’t a good time to talk.  His response was to try to grab me.  What the fuck is wrong with people?  Why do they think they can manhandle me?  Don’t put your fucking hands on me.   

Whoever he is he can duck a punch with the best of them.  I’ll give him that.  Jumping back like a scared cat he said that he just wanted to look at me.  I told him he was looking at me.   Also not to fucking look at me.   That’s when I realized he wasn’t just looking, but assensing.  I need to get better at recognizing that.  I’m sure that’s what most wizards do as an opening move. 

He said his name is Huddie.  He’s the guy that Lance called.  Although he said thatLance’s real name is Kevin.   He’s a PI in the area that’s been hired to find some lost junkies.  He asked if he could look into my eyes, promising that he wouldn’t touch me.  I agreed and after a moment he shook his head like a drunk trying to sober up. 

“What did you do to yourself?  Try to cast a spell at the Amityville house?” 

I don’t know what that means.   

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