Search and Rescue
Disclaimer: Angel and Veronica Mars belong to respective creators. I’m just borrowing them.
Veronica hefted her bag onto her shoulder and stalked toward the karaoke bar, Caritas. She just hoped this informant panned out. So far, her search for the missing Logan Echolls had led her up against a series of increasingly frustrating brick walls.
“Something I can help you with, Goldilocks?” a guy who she guessed was the owner, Lorne, asked pleasantly. He was either dressed up very elaborately for a day that wasn’t October 31st or he was exactly what he appeared to be. She didn’t know which was worse-that some guy dressed up like a demon just for kicks or that demons were actually real. If she believed her informant, they were. Which kind of put into doubt all those fatherly reassurances about the thing under the bed. She reminded herself that the reality of demons wasn’t the issue right now-finding Logan was.
She pasted a megwatt smile on her face. “Actually,” she began, ready to lay on the charm.
“You’re Veronica, aren’t you?” Lorne interrupted with a sigh, suddenly looking very weary. It usually took a lot longer for someone to get that look around her; say ten minutes.
“How’d you guess?” she asked. “Did someone come here before me?” She couldn’t think of who-certainly not Duncan, her erstwhile boyfriend. Maybe her dad?
“Oh, yeah. Cute little thing. Big attitude, though, and a message for you.”
“A message?” she asked, mentally going over all the people she knew who fit that description.
He nodded. “She said to tell you to stay away from her boyfriend.”
The air suddenly left her lungs. Lily! But that was impossible; Lily was dead.
“Did this girl say anything else?” Veronica asked.
Lorne shook his horned head. “Nope. Sorry, buttercup. If you want you can sing me a song and I can help you find what you’re looking for.”
“Who says I’m looking for something?” Veronica asked suspiciously, tensing.
“Everybody’s looking for something, kid,” Lorne said, that world-weary wisdom in his red eyes.
“Say you can help me,” she said cautiously, “how does singing help?”
“Don’t you know? I thought, coming into my club, you knew the drill. You sing, I tell you your destiny. Just ask anybody.”
She looked around the crowded bar, full of extremely strange and goosebump-worthy customers. Currently, a guy in gray pinstripe suit was on stage performing a painful rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go On.’ She winced and looked back at Lorne. “What’s his destiny?”
Lorne shook his head. “I can’t you tell you that; it’s his business. I can tell you that he’s in for a lot of pain tomorrow, though.”
She sighed, not knowing whether to believe him and stay or doubt him and leave. Leave Logan, wherever he might be. What did she have to lose? She’d come smack up against another brick wall in her search. This was her last shot. “Fine. Do you have a song list?”