Nobody was picking up.

Three long excruciating dial tones. Loud ringings that'll always abruptly cease after the third. Each time the sudden silence came I'd hold in a breath, each time I'd feel a balloon filled with trepidation swell up inside of me. Then it'll deflate, and I'll find myself staring once more at the prompt on screen to disconnect.

Please leave your message after the beep.

Three times, man… for three minutes. I sat there on the steps, muttering furiously under my breath for the incessant ringing pressed firmly against my ears to finally stop blaring my eardrums and for the voice of an ever stoic detective to answer my silent cries.

Yet in spite of all my pleas and mutters, as much as I tried to will the reality into whatever I want to be… could continue hoping against hope itself, but the fact of the matter was -

Irene just wasn't going to pick up.

Just like that, any and all fervor I felt for the plan was sent spiraling far into the planes of non-existence, where it laid still side by side together with confidence and boldness.

May those three rest in pieces peacefully in peace.

Luckily tenacity was still hanging in there, and by good fortune resolve still stood strong. The whole motivation squad hasn't yet to wipe out so I wasn't about to throw in the towel just yet… If we can't get into a call with her, then I suppose it's time for us to give her an actual social call.

Only problem was, we were kinda missing a mode of transportation. I suppose Adalia would be fine on her own, I on other hand would have to go placing one foot over the other all the way to Irene's humble abode.

Plus, I could fret and insist all I want, and I already have… Adalia wasn't budging when it came to seeing this through. Conscious and aware, that's the way she wanted herself to stay just until everybody else snapped out of their slumber.

Then, and only then, would she feed again.

"But when push comes to shove," I said to her as I continued fiddling around with my phone. "You're going to have to feed. You know you can't frenzy."

"We'll resolve this… before that ever… happens…" Adalia assured me.

I wasn't assured though. "But say if we can't fix this before then… you're just going to have to trust me with this myself. You'll have to sleep, understand?"

My eyes peeked over the edge of the phone to a silent, unmoving figure. Just the sight of her alone… there wasn't a more palpable sense of hesitation in the air than just then.

But this wasn't something I was going to budge on either, my decision on the matter was just as firm as hers.

"Adalia…" I called out to her, watching as her head slowly raised to look my way. "You trust me, don't you?"

I distinctly recall the last time I asked a Matriarch to place some of her trust in me. Took a lot of coaxing and convincing, and almost dying, before she would even give me an inch of her trust…

From my impression of that, I just assumed that Matriarchs just weren't the trusting sort.

So glad to see Adalia shatter that impression there - slowly and reluctantly, albeit, yet the nod of her towards me wasn't something you can mistake for any other gesture.

"Yes…" A breath, a shaky breath. "I… trust… you…"

I returned her compliance with the warmest smile I could muster right then before directing my attention back to the issue at hand - Can't contact Irene, so we have to go and see Irene, but how are we going to GET to Irene?

Together, we tried to brainstorm a solution that was perfect for the both of us. A minute of intermission where none of us said anything.

First one to speak out a suggestion was Adalia. Her grand idea involved taking another bus into town again… completely overlooking the fact that Blight was my Kryptonite. Don't think the buses are operating after that whole fiasco either…

She remained silent after that. Already depleted of any more epiphanies.

I thought of booking a ride, perhaps… or if worst comes to worst, hail a cab. But there were no cars available on any of the apps I got installed - and also taxis aren't a thing in the outskirts of the city… so yeah… shit outta luck.

Last but not least, there was still the option of going solo. That one only took a second's consideration before being booted off the table completely. Having Adalia go off on her own again was completely and irrefutably a terrible idea, even she herself suggested against it - that's how terrible of an idea it really was.

"This is… troublesome…" Adalia said in a moment of shared frustration. "Whatever could she… be doing… at this moment… in time…?"

"Maybe she's asleep too?" I said, grasping the empty air for explanations. "If she took in a bit of Blight herself, that'll explain it."

Adalia immediately shook her at that. "Succubi… Demons… they don't… the Blight only affects them upon contact… the Void does not call for them… She's awake… I'm sure..."

Can't be it then. Guess the only we'll know the reason is when we actually get to see it with our own eyes. Till then - a solution to our plight has still yet to present itself before us.

I decided to chance another call to her number, because why not. Only to be greeted once more by the sound of her ringtone and the ever-vexing automated message on the other end of the line.

Y'know for a policewoman, Irene sure sucks at answering calls for aid. The heck am I supposed to do now, call the actual police department and ask for her there? Was she even fit for work yet?

It was with this line of fruitless thinking that I finally came up with an idea. It was like there were distance dots in my head being connected by a single thread of thought woven from random ideas to form an outline of the greatest eureka moment I could possibly have then.

First, it was just me wondering if Irene had any presence in the cyber realm, an account or two in any part of the internet. From there I was lead back to checking social media websites looking for one thing but ultimately… finding something else.

My one and only follower.

Amanda had recently updated her feed. Still posting, still tweeting… still awake.

Got a car, doesn't she? Knew where I lived, doesn't she? Let's just hope she won't be staring out my window anytime soon…

I swiped open to our chat-box and umm… whoops. There was a little red dot there atop the messages icon. A red dot that indicated unread messages by the dozen.

Precisely 32 unread messages sent between the course of yesterday evening all the way up till midnight. I have completely forgotten that I promised her a chat back at the bus - forget my parents, I'm a chip off the old block. I'm as much of a ghost as they were.

But hey, considering my circumstances… I plead not guilty, alright? It ain't my fault she was sending me texts of sad faces and gifs of cats looking glum… it was completely out of my control, okay?

Scrolling down, as the 32 unreads whittled down to a 20 and then to a measly 10, the messages sent went from being mildly let-down by my absence to growing an enormous concern over my well-being… there were a few missed voice calls strewn between the lines as well, all culminating up to her last and final message for me thus far.

>

The most recent update on her feed was barely two minutes ago - a simple picture she drew of a little girl in a dress hugging her knees on her bed with the caption - >

Three guesses on who that little girl there is supposed to be.

Didn't even know she draws. She's quite the artist too.

I supposed it was high time I placated her worries.

Flicked back to our messages, and immediately brought out the keyboard. Shifting my fingers into your standard typing position, I began constructing and fabricating the best reply to answer her cries.

>

Well said. Well said. I know.

Clearly, Amanda must have thought the same as well. Just barely got my thumb hovering inches away from the send button before a familiar blurb of three-dotted lines surfaced at her end of the conversation.

>

Before being preceded by an onslaught of shocked face emojis and many, many more messages to the point that I couldn't even get a word in edge-wise or risked getting lost in a tidal wave of inquiries.

>

>

>

>

>

W>

>

>

>

>

Oh, I guess this is the chance to finally send my message I've been holding hostage in the text box this whole time - just a little edit here and there, and there goes my reply with another tap of the finger.

>

Looking back at it, re-reading it with the lenses of hindsight, perhaps a little bit more context was needed here, so I began typing away another message.

But before my fingers even hit any of the letters, another small blurb appeared on her side, so fast and so fleeting, you'd think perhaps I was talking to a chatbot.

But I wasn't.

Not with that reaction.

>

Yeah, let's get some context into this conversation.