We gathered little from 3-D2, though I do not think Elaine’s death is directly linked to Karma. Truth is, I am realizing what I have been missing this entire time is something my Mother explained to me a long time ago. Growing up, we often visited the Oratories and spoke with the Oracles. We were told of the other Realms. I learned of the other Realms and the Spirits that inhabitant them, my Father would tell me my Mother had a disorder that made her believe-

-this is insane to consider? I shouldn’t-

-going to-

-when someone goes to the superstitious and magical, my Father says, they are giving up on logical explanation. There has to be a logical explanation. Right? But ever since I have been a child, I couldn’t explain the things that I have witnessed, seen, felt, and encountered. And then to admit that I am hunted for-

-it couldn’t-

-could it? My Father will probably remove me from this case if he heard the things I am about to consider and open myself up to in this investigation. Of course, I can always keep him out of that conversation, but it makes things more complicated when there are several other people that I would have to do the same.

And what will she think when I tell her what I believe?

We’ve found a pleasant park in Oakside. The trees smell of wet leaves and the rest of the air smells of wet soil. You can smell the park benches and my right hand is currently aching with a dull pain. Wolf frowns, but places her hand in the brown bag, “One package of crackers and cheese, with the little almonds and cranberries.”

“Thank you,” I accept it with my left hand.

“And for me, what is this, an egg salad sandwich,” Wolf states.

“Can I trust you?” I ask her while removing the film covering off the paper tray.

“Depends on what is going to be said, if this is the part where you confess you’re the murder the entire time, probably not,” she laughs.

“I’m being serious,” I tell her.

“I was too,” she responds with a smile, “What is it? Have you finally trusted me with something? Are you going to confess your feelings now?”

Confess my feelings? What-

“-I don’t joke like that, please, I have to explain something and I - it’s something that you honestly could call my Father and have me suspended for-

-why would I do a thing like that?” she interjects, “I wouldn’t get paid then and have to find a new client. And I am sure they wouldn’t be as cute and awkward.”

“This case differs from other cases I have worked on before,” I tell her.

“Not sure how much different it can be,”

“I am going to say something, and I am going to sound crazy,”

She nods while unwrapping her sandwich from its baker’s paper.

“Sound crazy away,” she responds.

“I am not sure how familiar you are with the Oratories and Archives of the Oracles, but I am garnering the feeling that this case is no longer something with a rational explanation, in fact what I saw in the apartment, I am certain was something they call a Phantom,”

She’s chewing slowly, taking it in. I suppose I expected more of a reaction from her. She doesn’t seem surprised or angry. She doesn’t immediately put me down or deny what I am saying. Instead, she nods while listening, then processes what is being said, swallows. And continues to nod.

“I’ve always wanted to be involved in a magical investigation,” she jokes.

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“I am not the Agent here, now am I?” she asks with a smile on her face, “I am just the Ward. And if the investigator is saying that, the case involves the Realms and mystical ghost monsters. Then who am I to deny that the truth?”

She just believes me? She just accepts that is the truth? What if I am wrong? What if my Father is right about my Mother and I am leaping to conclusions? Have I met my match, am I just accepting the fact I cannot solve the Karma case without a rational explanation? My instinct tells me no. Something is telling me, driving me to trust my gut on this one. But how can I? My Father told me my Mother suffered from hallucinations, he told me she was manipulating me as a child. I never believed him because that’s not the memories I had of my Mother. But they are so shattered and so warped that maybe he’s right.

I attempt a dry laugh.

“I’m just joking,” I attempt to bury everything I just said.

“Oh, really, and I was inclined to believe you too, shame, I don’t joke with people with such a serious expression,”

“There’s no such thing as multiple Realms, or Phantoms, I am sure the Oracles are just-

-and who told you that? You wouldn’t tell me something with such seriousness if you didn’t believe it,”

“You believe the Oracles?”

“The Oracles have never once told me you have to believe what they are saying,” she says, “They took Oaths to record the lost history as I recall. And didn’t declare anything about the history being some sort of Spiritual belief. That’s just the interpretations of the Traditionalists.”

“You think so?”

“I know that there are people in this world who have experiences I cannot explain or fathom, some in my family,”

Fine.

“What if I told you I think there is someone out there who can control Phantoms to kill people?”

“I would say find the evidence if that’s what you think,” she smiles.

I nod. I know what I am looking for then. Tomorrow, when looking over the security footage, I knew that distortion wasn’t simply a camera distortion. It’s something else entirely.