I got a voicemail from a number I don’t recognize. I don’t recognize the voice either. It starts off nice. Whoever it is says that saw me on TV and that I’m looking good these days. Must be some old PPW footage? Am I entitled to residuals on that?
Then they yell about how I ruined their life. Before they met me their life was meaningless and shallow and they loved it. Then I dragged them into a nightmare. They said “fuck you” a lot and it must be nice that I’m doing so good because they’re not. They’ve never going to be okay again and I’m “doing great”.
I wish they said who they were because I can’t place them. Must be someone I told about magic. I only do that when magic shit is already happening to people though. They’re blaming the messenger.
I’ve been thinking about how to find out more about the Assyrian Monster. How do the police solve crimes without resorting to violence? They have training and tools and technology to help them? Or maybe they don’t and that’s why the ACLU is so mad.
The Detective is dead and her husband is dead and Royale is dead so I thought the only person who might know anything about the stone is Miju Kim, the Mistress of Miracles. Which was a thin straw to grasp at anyway because all I know about her is that Royale had tried to teach her real magic and she didn’t take to it.
Kelly and Bora have been reluctant to put me in touch with her. I haven’t asked why. I’m sure they have their reasons. I explained the situation to them, more or less, and they said they’d speak to her on my behalf.
While I was waiting for them to get back to me I talked to Huddie and Milham just in case but they had nothing. Kelly called back to say that the Crimean caper was before Miju was even born and knew nothing about it.
I didn’t want to call Andrea but I didn’t see anything else I could do. I keep in touch with her and Cassie but I never bring up magic shit. Maybe that’s not healthy. Maybe the rules of recovery are different from mind-bending magic trauma. I don’t know. I wish I did.
It was another longshot, I asked Andrea if she knew anyone that her brother-in-law had worked with when he infiltrated the cult that led to a bunch of people’s lives being fucked up beyond belief. She gave me the number of the police chaplain. She said that he was nice to her when her sister died.
Law enforcement and religion? Should go great for me.