Disclaimer: Abby isn't mine, Henry and Rita are.
The funeral was somber. Rain was falling down, and the deceased’s friends and family – but mainly friends – stood around the carefully lowered coffin with flowers and wreaths all around.
On the other side – on the inside - of the coffin Abby Sciuto could not help but think over that moment when it went so wrong.* * *
It all started about two weeks ago when the bad dreams began. They were not nightmares per se; rather, Abby began to dream of something stalking through her apartment, something shapeless but annoying and potentially dangerous. Though a Goth, Abby was a rationalist (and a scientist) and so she tried to ignore them, preferring to think that dreams were just dreams.
Yet even the strongest patience has its breaking point, and the sheer annoyance - and partial insomnia – of those repeated dreams were enough for Abby to decide to call some paranormal specialists. Not religious specialists, paranormal ones: after all, Abby was a Goth, and she doubted that any religious exorcist (or whoever else) would take the Gothic look of her apartment in stride, so paranormal specialists (with a scientific bend, hopefully) it was.* * *
Within several hours of placing the call found on the ad, the paranormal specialist (and his assistant) knocked on the door of Abby’s apartment. “Hello,” he spoke as he cautiously ventured in-side, looking around. “I’m Henry. You’re the client?”
“Yes, I’m Abby,” the Goth scientist nodded. “I, uh, seem to have a haunting problem?”
“You do, do you?” Henry muttered, sticking something into Abby’s doorway. “Rita, come in, this one might have potential!”
“Really? This one?” Abby frowned: for some reason she did not like the sound of that. “This one what?”
“Sorry, personal matters,” Henry replied with a somewhat sheepish smile as his assistant tentatively entered Abby’s home. “So you think that you have a haunting problem?”
“Yes,” Abby winced, “or no, or sort of. There is a presence in my home – possibly. I mean, I am not sure at all, but I need to be sure.”
“Well, what appear to be symptoms?” Henry asked brightly, as his assistant began to walk around the apartment looking busy with something that looked vaguely like a Geiger counter.
Abby was beginning to regret calling them, but she decided to tell them about her situation all the same. Well, Henry was listening to her attentively at any case; his assistant was busy clocking away somewhere to Abby’s left, and Abby rather ignored her.
“I see,” Henry said thoughtfully with a rather deadpan delivery. “This is all very exciting and I’m very pleased to have answered your call when I did. Rita – that’s your cue!”
Immediately Rita reached over and grabbed Abby with a grip that had belied her actually rather fragile appearance and bit Abby in the neck, hard. (And her damn counter was busy clicking away in the left corner, blocking all the sounds.)
Abby was a part of an NCIS team, and she did resist, but Rita seemed to be supernaturally strong, and so the last thing she heard for a while was Henry saying:
“One may think that going for the neck is traditional, but really, it’s just a matter of preference...”* * *Now...
Now Abby Sciuto was apparently dead no longer, when she was aware, she was hungry, and she was alive (sort of). She also was at a loss of what to do next – or rather, where to go to assuage her hunger...TBC