The Story of Miss. Turner
The boy sat at the desk like some sort of corporate business man. He had a long, roguish face that was framed by a curtain of wavy, dark brown hair. It was shaggy and unkempt but it suited him well. His face was emphasized by arched eyebrows that were quite obviously used very often; a playful smile that never seemed to go away; and narrow, slightly tilted stormy grey eyes. A small plaque at the front of the desk read Jacobson.
As the brunette neared the desk, he grinned, "Don't look so nervous, Miss. Turner. I won't bite."
The woman raised an eyebrow, "Nervous? Whatever would give you that idea?" she scoffed, feeling her heart rate quicken at the bold statement. This kid was dangerous; what was she doing pushing his buttons?
"Oh, I don't know; perhaps the way your hands shake at your sides, or perhaps how you can't meet my eyes. The man who used to sit behind this desk could never meet my eyes."
Miss. Turner scowled, her heart rate quickening for different reasons now, "Is that why you killed him?"
The boy laughed. Miss. Turner fought down her disgust. He was laughing at murder.
The boy calmed himself and said, sniffing slightly, "Oh no, Abigail, I killed him because he stole from me."
"And his brother?"
"Ah, well, I have a strict no witness policy. The brother had to go. He knew too much."
Miss. Turner nearly lunged at him right then and there. Instead, she gritted her teeth and said very slowly, "Is that why you ordered your two idiot henchmen to follow those two girls, and have them killed?"
The boy's smile disappeared. Instead, he snarled, "My men made a critical error in following those girls."
"Is that because they lost? To women?" Abigail laughed.
Jacobson's killer looked positively murderous, "Trevor and Michael made a grave error in underestimating those two girls. It won't happen again."
Abigail sobered, "So, you killed them too? And you're going to go after the girls again?"
The boy stood, and walked around the table to where Abigail Turner stood, "Tell me, Miss. Turner; why are you so interested in my affairs?"
Abigail scowled, "Because I want to stop monsters like you from murdering."
"I prefer the term demon. Monster is so overused, don't you think?" the boy said, tilting his head proudly.
Abigail smirked, "I had heard of a Mr. Daemon. But surely," she said, looking him up and down, "Surely, you cannot be the Daemon himself. In the…" she paused, still smirking, "tender, youthful flesh?"
"Listen, Miss. Abigail Turner, I know where you live. I can have men kill you in your sleep." Daemon threatened.
"I'm not scared of you, or your men." The brunette said nonchalantly.
Daemon gaped slightly, "You really aren't," he mused. "Am I right in assuming that you are not a newcomer to the grisly business of gang life?"
"I could tell you. But I need to meet my friend and – it's kind of a long story."
Thank you to the person who reviewed. You didn't put a name, so I'll call you anonymous. Thank you! I'm glad you think these stories are good.
So, once again I attempted to link the stories together. I'm hoping I succeeded. Please tell me if I'm doing otherwise.