Succubi Unplugged - #2

It was a suit, with a guy in it; just a guy for gods' sakes. I was expecting something juicy, interesting, like my brimstone buddy Sal from 'Down Under', maybe a mage, at the least someone with better curves than this fish. He looked like a portly version of Alan Cumming in his 40's. He'd aged about as well as milk. He was pure-bred city bureaucrat, from his fetching pubic hair toupee and square glasses down to his shoddy dress shoes. His clothing vomited airport cologne and sweat.

"Mr. Daniel Leister?" The guy asked.
"Yeah, that's me," I said while rubbing my face, "Have a chair, couch, the floor if you're so inclined."

The bureaucrat wrinkled his forehead and frowned, sitting on the high-back wooden thing we had for guests. He leaned and squirmed in a depressing attempt to relax, all the while inching away from the window behind me. He introduced himself with a business card. I forgot the name. I did hold onto the card, though, so I could drop it off later at the Ebola Awareness dinner raffle cube in the lobby.

He just twitched like a fish, trying to get comfortable. I didn't have the heart to say that it wouldn't happen in this office. Something sputtered on the guy's lips, crashed and then took off again. I smiled. I guessed even old dogs could learn Civil Service tricks.

"Ahh, Mr. Leister," he stumbled, "Let me express my concerns plainly: I've been authorized by a third party to contract your services."
"Yeah," I said in a deadpan. I was waiting for the complimentary colonoscopy pampering. I had all my ducks in a row, after all; no need to bother with taxpayer money I'd see in a few years, in installments, teeny tiny taxed installments.

The guy looked lost again, pulling at his collar until he broke the silence. "Well, I myself represent a few concerned parties, including the local chapter of LEATI."

I hadn't heard that quite right. I blithely asked, "So, you work for a Yeti? I know chimps have been in office for years, but I didn't think they'd elect something with balls like that." He didn't even flinch.

"No, Mr. Leister," the bureaucrat continued in a perfunctory monotone, "LEATI, the League for Environmental Advocacy and Technological Integration, is a non-profit organization which raises awareness of the cost-effectiveness of arboreal, or tree, power, which is the spearhead for programs of tolerance and education for-"
"So you're a bunch of New Age lobbyists trying to make sure Capitol Hill and industry don't scrap trees and nature stuff. You had me at non-profit."

The guy's face clenched as his eyes followed suit, just for a second. He then grunted out a laugh like a polyester hairball.

"You see, Sir," he said raising the bar a few pegs, "I am to deliver to you, in cash, five hundred USD, as well as a binding non-disclosure agreement for the offer I will make on behalf of said 3rd party." He took out a discrete manila envelope and flashed me. I guess the other party involved wasn't non-profit. I thought what the hell, I'm getting paid for story-time with a Jerry's kid. I took the envelope, skimmed the contract and signed it.

The mundane man nodded to himself and started talking while filing through his briefcase. "As I'm sure you are well aware of, several sections of the city have experienced blackouts, both with conventional fluorescent lamps and especially the wisps that CODU introduced some years ago. While I am not at liberty to disclose the details of the formal investigation being currently conducted, let's say that our mutual benefactor believes only someone of your, ah, background is sufficient to ascertain whether foul play is involved. We believe there is."

I blinked a few times, nodding to myself. Was I reading this guy wrong? Did he actually know what I was? Most of America still thought people like me should be running psychic hotlines. Hell, I advertised myself in the Yellow pages as a 'Paranormal Consultant'. People had accepted freak occurrences of nature like The Grove, even the Druids (or "scientists") who got to use their power (or "technological innovations") practically out in the open. Even so, Magick, demons and extra-dimensional planes were still fodder for skeptics and talk-show spoofs, which suited myself and other magi just fine.

"So, in essence," I said after a pause, "You want me to investigate what's going on and report on it?"
"That's correct," The man replied.

     So I finally have the chance to play detective, I thought. I had to admit the prospect sounded kinda entertaining.

"Any leads I'm allowed to know about?" I asked.

Mr. Bureaucrat scrunched his nose and removed a sealed culture dish from his briefcase, breathing through his mouth as he said, "Yes, just this sample of fungus that's been found on top of some of the wisp lampposts. I have a copy of a chemical analysis report here also. Basically, it's just a non-toxic bit of vegetation that's uncommon for around here, even more uncommon on top of lampposts. It is something, though."

The witticism didn't occur to me at the time as I nodded and smiled. We went through the paperwork, shook hands and saw him off down the elevator. I scrunched my face up, eyes dancing with a curious smile as I walked back to the office to check out the fungus. I didn't recognize it as a reagent. Still, it had a faintly familiar aura to it. If my hunch figured right, it was about time to pay my old friend Sal a visit, straight to Hell with a cherry on top.