Esmeralda stood up leaving the cards as they are and walked over to me and I felt a cold jolt run down my spine as I realized what she said.

"Esmeralda," I say, locking eyes with her.

"What would an Angel want to do with me?"

She shakes her somberly, "I wish I knew Michael, they aren't like other Outlanders. It could just be interested in you, like how you might observe an animal in the zoo. Or… or they could be trying to make a contract with you."

I felt my heart drop hearing that; an Angel that wants to make a Warlock Pact? That sounds like the start of a bad joke.

The power of a warlock would be tantalizing to most, but many don't realize the payments they have to make to their contractor.

The door behind me suddenly opens as Serene falls flat beside my feet. She quickly jumps to her feet hiding an ever so slightly embarrassed smirk and says, "I don't know what you are so worried about Mera. Angels aren't inherently destructive, or two-faced like Demons, why should Bloom be worried?"

Esmeralda turns to her with a stern, serious face, "They are absolute in their being. Asking them to perform an action contrary to their nature is like telling fire to not burn or rain not to fall. Make no mistake, regardless of their absence of carnal violence and want of destruction, they feel nothing that lines up with mortal emotions."

Serene, baffled by Esmeralda's sharp tone steps out of the room, "I am sorry for eavesdropping, I'll be at the front door if you need anything."

Esmeralda nods her head and turns back to me, "Michael, keep me updated if the Angel contacts you again."

I sigh as I stand from my seat and pull out a small notepad and a pen," "Thank you for your time Esmeralda, now what would you like for payment?"

Her previously serious face begins to lighten as I see a goblinoid grin emerge.

Oh no.

She levitates upward and leans forward saying in a sing-song voice, "You know exactly what I want Michael."

Please no.

"Experiments?"

"Yep,"

God damn it.

"The date can be timed out later, I'll give you a ring Michael, be careful dear."

Before I ask if I could possibly offer an alternate compensation I feel the space around me warp and fold as everything becomes blurry, only to find myself standing outside her office in the alley.

I mount my motorcycle and drive out of Arkland and take a trip back home to take a shortcut to the Association's headquarters in Amalgam.

Arriving back home I redressed myself with my signature charcoal suit with a golden tie this time and picked up the suitcase I had thrown on my couch.

I crack open the briefcase with my gloves and check out the dagger once more before I sent it to be locked up in some concrete box in the middle of nowhere, and I must say I was surprised to see that the blade had stopped radiating malice.

Instead I felt something strange coming from the blade:

Guilt.

I pick up the blade gently and felt waves of guilt plunge into my body. I dash over to my fireplace and throw a special salt mixture inside my coat pocket into the ashes and stab the blade into the gray flames that had erupted from salt and ash.

And I am once more surprised to see that the flames had turned a turquoise color and the blade had not immediately melted to the flames properties.

Today is full of surprises.

I hate surprises.

I pull the blade out and with a sneer I glare at it watching its damascus pattern seem to dance in the light of the fire which had become gray once more.

"Truth Seeker's Fire never lies, and it showed that you were honest and mean no harm. Explain."

The dagger begins to hum weakly as a wispy, chime-like voice reaches out, "The body… made me do it. Please believe me. I beg of you."

I set the blade down once more in the case, its voice disappears but I can feel it trying to shackle itself gently to me, pleading not to be placed in the case.

I close the case and walk over to the painting of a stormy night by my fireplace.

The clouds begin to reinforce into properly defined words as I get closer.

'Who?' The clouds ask.

"Michael Bloom,"

'Where,' the clouds close in becoming more vivid.

"The Amalgam Association for Mystical Happenings headquarters, Mystical Artifacts Division,"

The clouds had rolled out of the paint surrounding me like the funnel of a tornado and I could hear a bassy voice call out, "Confirmed."

And the world began to spin and howl until I saw myself standing in a grand open room with ornate marble pillars and tiles near the front desk of a pudgy, older woman wearing a magenta sweater and purple skirt, "Mister Bloom it is nice to see you again, how can I help you sweetheart." She says with a nasally smokers rasp.

"Hello, Mrs. Sharon please excuse me for a moment,"

I pull out the case and open it up revealing the blade to her pushing through the plexiglass slot.

"Ah yes, your friend Little Bob told me about this wretched thing, let me get the V.A.O. disposal forms,"

She turns around reaching for a yellow folder before I stop her with a raised hand, "That won't be needed Mrs. Sharon, I'll be registering for it."

She drops the pen in her hand, eying me as if I have gone insane and I can feel a burst of confusion and excitement come from the blade laying open in front of both of us.

"Mr. Bloom, you do know that this weapon is thought to be a murderous, possessive anomaly?"

"Yes,"

"One that could have killed you in the process of capturing it?"

"Yes,"

She sighs, taking a drag from her cigarette next to her, "I am told I'm old for this."

She reluctantly retrieves a green file that allows me to authorize the use of this object as a Freelancer, and that I will be fully responsible for any murders or misuse of the object.

"Please don't get yourself killed Mr. Bloom."

I'll certainly try not to.

"Don't worry I won't," I say, picking up the blade gloves still on of course.

I can hear the wispy voice from before chime out in my head, "Why didn't you toss me?" It says with hope and cheer.

'Don't get cute with me, the moment you try to do some poltergeist bullshit you'll be teleported into the V.A.O. thanks to that contract I signed. Oh and if you do try to possess me I'll make sure the good folks who run the V.A.O feed you to a Scrap Hag.' I say through the link in my head.

The blade jolts a little bit in fear at my remark, but oddly enough I can still feel the hope burning through.

What a weird little blade.