Page 41 of Sypher

Time flew by so quickly that the days blurred together, and before I realized it, Valentine’s Day was rapidly approaching. Following the solemn act of paying my respects to Sunny and after I assisted Scribe and the Sons of Hell in their pursuit and apprehension of the individual who had been terrorizing Henley, I finally made my way back to the city and to Dante.

Although he was unhappy about the way I left, he was understanding, and we quickly rekindled our loving relationship, returning to our blissful state of happiness. As his work with the Soulless Sinners progressed, I concurrently devoted my efforts to cultivating my list of clients, all while diligently upholding the security protocols that protected the interests of my established clientele. I was finding it more and more challenging to concentrate in school, leading me to contemplate the genuine possibility of withdrawing completely and abandoning my studies. Recognizing that my education had reached its peak and feeling frustrated by the unproductive use of my time, I yearned for more stimulating pursuits, which led me to the daunting yet alluring challenge of breaching the Trick Pony’s servers.

With great difficulty, I accessed certain files, the contents of which were deeply disturbing and graphically detailed by the depravity and moral decay which characterized that place. The mere contemplation of Dante’s presence in that dreadfullocation ignited within me an intense and overwhelming urge to eliminate every single person connected to it. To my surprise, the number of members on my list increased dramatically, expanding with each passing hour. Despite my best efforts, the one person I had hoped to find remained frustratingly elusive and out of reach. Eventually, I would track down the individual who tormented Dante, and once I did, I would ensure that she faced the ultimate price for her actions—with her life.

Staring aimlessly at my computer, willing it to reveal the information I needed, an alert popped up from one of my professors, who also just happened to be my guidance counselor, requesting a video conference.

Groaning, I clicked on the live feed.

“Mr. Franks. It’s nice to see your face.”

“Kind of busy here. What do you want?”

“Your presence in my classroom has been sorely lacking. Care to explain your absence?”

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice, young man. Your attendance is forty percent of your grade. You miss another class and you will fail my course.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, and I’ve already informed the dean of the school. You miss anymore classes and you will be expelled from the University. The school has sent a letter to your home address informing your family of your current situation. Now, I suggest you hurry because my class starts in ten minutes.”

I was about to tell the annoying fuck to kiss my ass when my phone rang. Seeing the caller, I quickly ended the video conference and answered the call when I heard, “Goddammit, Sypher. Pick up the fucking phone!”

“I was in class, asshole. What the hell is so damn important?” I lied. I really wasn’t in the fucking mood for anymore drama. I had enough to last me a fucking lifetime.

“Need you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Who doesn’t?” I snarked, swiveling in my seat, bringing up a new search bar, knowing damn well I was going to have to do some digging for whatever it was Storm wanted.

“You okay, Sypher?”

“Does it matter? Just tell me what you want?”

“Look, if you’re busy, I can find someone else to help.”

“Got nothing better else to do. Speak.”

“You sure, man?”

“Just start talking, Storm. I ain’t got all day.”

“Can you to look into a man by the name of David Campbell? Former NYC firefighter that transferred to Arizona after 9/11. Need everything on the man before and after his transfer.”

Typing into my computer, I set the parameters for the search and hit enter, watching my computer do most of my work for me.

“That’s not gonna be easy. First responder information is sealed, particularly those from the city who survived 9/11. You come from a family of firefighters. Why not ask them?”

“‘Cause the ones who would know are dead.”

“Shit. Sorry, man,” I muttered, remembering Storm’s own father died in one of the towers. “Not promising you anything, but I will see what I can find. Alright?”

“I understand. And, Sypher, send me the bill. I will pay.”

“No problem,” I said before disconnecting the call and leaning back in my chair. God, I felt horrible for snapping at Storm. He wasn’t the cause of my problems. He just happened to call at the wrong fucking time. Running my hands down my face, the familiar ping of an alert had me looking at my computer.

Frowning, I sat back up and groaned when the information Storm requested started filling my computer screen.

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