The Lost Souls Dating Agency (4 page)

‘Well let's hope we only get attacked by giant mosquitoes then,' I replied cheekily. Neha giggled and Megan grimaced. I knew I was being facetious, but I was glad I was not doing this alone.

We moved the oak desk to the corner of the room and spread out blankets and pillows on the floor, ate pizza and chatted well into the night. I showed them a draft of the advertisement I had been working on. They both hesitantly approved. But how was I to send it to the newspaper? That was the one thing missing from it, no contact address, no phone number, and no email address or website. We thought once we had a better idea of how it was delivered we might be able to figure out how to contact them. Whoever “them” was.

We started to doze from around midnight. We left the lights on so we could see if anything happened. I would wake up from a mini sleep with a start. Nothing had appeared on the sofa. I was in one of my dozes when a loud
dong
noise startled me awake. Megan and Neha jumped from their slumber as well. I looked at the sofa and there it was, a newspaper. I was so annoyed I had fallen asleep.

‘The clock, I think the clock made that noise,' Neha whimpered and pointed to it. It showed the time as two a.m.

Megan was the first to reach it. I went to the sofa to look at the paper. Neha stayed put and clutched nervously at her blanket.

‘There seems to be nothing here,' Megan said tapping the clock and trying to move it to peer behind it.

‘Don't bother. I tried to do that ages ago. It won't budge. Come and have a look at this paper. Something's different.'

The newspaper seemed a little bulkier this time. There was a large manila envelope in between its pages. There was a printed note attached to it. It read:

Dear reader

Please enclose all articles for insertion into The Mythical Weekly in the envelope provided. Formatting is not necessary. You will need to provide two copies. Once completed, seal the envelope securely and place in the post office box outside Wellington Street, Flemington. Do not use any other post office box drop site. Articles posted by Tuesday will appear in The Mythical Weekly the following Saturday. If you have any further queries, please do not contact us.

Kind Regards,

TMW

‘Okay this is completely freaking me out.' Megan was the first to speak.

‘How did they know I wanted to place an ad?' I was elated and puzzled.

‘Do you think this office is bugged?' Neha's eyes looked around the room suspiciously.

‘Who would bother to do that? You have to admit this is more than a mere coincidence.' I looked at my two friends. Megan seemed to have become a shade paler in the last five minutes.

We examined the note again. The envelope had no address marked on it. In fact it was completely blank. I switched on my desk lamp and looked at it with the bulb glowing behind. There was definitely no secret writing on it. It made it hard to know where the papers placed in it would go.

Megan looked through the newspaper and Neha went to join her. My mind was buzzing. I felt this was it. The supernatural world had contacted me through the newspaper and now they wanted me to place my ad.

‘I don't understand…' Megan mumbled under her breath. She kept flipping through the newspaper.

‘You have to admit that this is pretty convincing.' I looked at Megan. I hoped my sceptical friend would agree.

‘I don't know how or why this is happening…but it seems to be happening just the same.'

‘Maybe we should go along with it and see what comes next?' I said gently. I really wanted my friend to be on my side.

‘You know I hate doing that,' she said sulkily.

I knew she did. I said nothing.

‘I think I'm going to go home,' Megan said after a considerable pause.

Neha looked at her with large eyes and I only managed a nod.

‘But it's the middle of the night,' Neha exclaimed.

‘That's okay, my car is parked outside. I can come get you in the morning if you want a ride home.' She looked pointedly at Neha.

Neha looked at me and then at Megan. I tried not to look disappointed.

‘No thanks, I can make my own way home,' Neha said frostily.

Megan shrugged and collected her insect repellent spray and walked silently out of the warehouse.

Neha and I did not get much sleep the rest of the night. The appearance of the newspaper was still a mystery, but we didn't talk further about it, or the envelope that was contained within. I knew we were both thinking a great deal about our friend who had just walked out on us.

On Monday I took two printouts of the advertisement I had written and placed them in the blank envelope and sealed it. I walked to Wellington Street and dropped the envelope in the box outside the post office with the exquisitely carved Victorian facade. I stood around for about half an hour not knowing what to expect. Then I felt silly and walked home. I sent a text message to Neha: ‘the deed is done.'

On Saturday morning, I walked to the warehouse to meet with Neha at the agreed time of eight. Megan was standing next to her when I got there. I looked at her with surprise. I had not heard from her the entire week.

‘I'm sorry about the other night,' she said. Before I could reply she continued, ‘I was convinced by this young lady here,' she looked at Neha who smiled at me, ‘that sometimes belief in your friends is more important than reason.'

I looked at Neha gratefully.

‘That is not to say that I am going to be a complete push-over now,' Megan said quickly. ‘I'm still going to question everything.'

‘I wouldn't expect anything less from you.' I smiled. It was good to have her back.

‘Plus I really want to know if they published your advertisement!' Meagan said laughing congenially.

Megan and Neha chatted as I opened the warehouse door with trepidation. We scuttled into the back room. There, as I was now starting to expect, lay a fresh copy of The Mythical Weekly.

We laid it out on the table and looked anxiously through its pages for my advertisement. Neha was the first to spot it. ‘There it is! There it is!' she squealed.

Lost Souls, the Dating Agency with a Deadly Twist

Do you feel unlucky in love?

Have you been looking through eternity for that right match?

Look no further!

Let us help you find your lost soul mate, whomever or whatever they may be.

We specialise in strictly confidential cases. Imposters need not apply.

It was on the fifth page on the bottom right hand corner, right below an article on “Five Ways to Domesticate African Abada”. I was happy with its formatting. It looked very prim and professional. But my contact address and phone number were missing from it. I was sure I had included my address in the original printouts. I went to my laptop and checked, and yes, I had.

‘This is unbelievable! How will potential clients contact me?' I was beyond annoyed.

‘Maybe they don't want your address to become common knowledge in the supernatural world,' Neha said hopefully.

‘That's ridiculous! Who's ever heard of a business you can't contact?'

‘Maybe they'll just forward your contact details to interested clients,' Megan said.

‘Hmm maybe,' I said a little irritably, ‘but they should just be able to come to me directly. That seems most logical.'

Megan laughed ‘Think about it. Nothing about this newspaper or this whole situation seems logical to me! Let's just wait and see.'

So I did.

***

In the weeks that I waited I received a copy of The Mythical Weekly every Saturday. My advertisement appeared for three weeks and then it was gone. I heard nothing, and no one contacted me. Megan and Neha remained dubiously supportive, though I knew there was a limit to even their belief in me. I started to doubt myself all over again.

Then one February evening, Victor arrived and scared the living daylights out of me.

After Victor's entrance in the office, I gawked at him and his fangs for a full minute, though it felt like hours. When I conceived this plan, I had only half expected success in attracting this particular kind of clientele, if such a clientele existed at all. Yet here was one of them standing right in front of me.

‘W-would you like some t-tea?' I managed to stutter. So this was my master plan, making tea. Perfect.

Victor's lips slowly slid back as his fangs retracted into his mouth. ‘No thank you, I am not thirsty.' As an afterthought he added, ‘For tea.'

I looked stealthily at his mouth, if his fangs were not real, it was a mighty clever make-up job. ‘Well I always like to have some tea at this time of day otherwise I get a caffeine headache.' Why was I babbling? ‘P-please make yourself comfortable.' I pointed to the sofa in the middle of the room.

Victor sat down gracefully on the old sofa, and I noticed, or rather did not notice, his movements. I gave him a nervous smile.

‘I did not mean to scare you with my display of teeth,' he meant fangs, ‘but I wanted to make sure you understood who I was and what I am here for.'

‘I hope it's not dinner?' I blurted.

He disregarded my feeble attempt at humour. ‘In your advertisement in The Mythical Weekly it said, “imposters need not apply”, so I assumed you would like me to show you I was not.'

I nodded silently as my eyes darted to the front door. If only Megan and Neha burst through at this very moment and rescued me.

Nothing happened, instead this stranger in my office remained. I had nowhere to go. ‘That's correct. Thank you for confirming that.' I was painfully polite, and smiled nervously at him again. Could he really be a vampire?

I walked to my desk and sat down carefully. I felt slightly more secure behind the large expanse of the oak desk. I felt Victor's eyes on me the entire time.

‘I can see from your expression that you are unsure of my…authenticity.'

That was either a good guess or…my eyes widened. ‘Can you read my mind?'

‘No I cannot.'

Of course I had read about vampires who could read minds. But they only existed in Forks, Washington right? Not right here in Melbourne.

‘I am, what you might call, perceptive.' A wry smile sprung on his face. ‘It helps in my line of trade.'

‘I see.' I tried not to think too much about his “trade”. I opened a rusty desk drawer and took out a paper notepad and a pencil. It might be a good idea to take notes to maintain a semblance of professionalism. I cleared my throat uncomfortably.

‘So, Victor, tell me a little about yourself.' It sounded a reasonable way to start.

He looked blankly at me. ‘I don't know how to answer that question.'

‘Well, you're here to use my services, and I like to get to know my clients before I choose to help them.' It was like talking to a five year old.

Victor's lips curled into a snarl. ‘I did not say anything about giving you a choice. I expect you to provide me with the services you advertised and find me a wife. That is all.' His tone was that of someone used to getting his own way.

Well not with me, buddy! ‘Look, Victor, I run a matchmaking agency.' It was one of the few times I had said this aloud and I liked the sound of it. ‘If you want me to arrange a date for you, you have to give me something to work with, okay?' Where was this new found courage coming from? ‘Anyway, I have to establish what kind of person…ah thing…you are first.'

Victor leaned forward on the sofa with a distinct glint in his eyes. ‘And how would you like to do that?'

‘A test,' I said without thinking. ‘You have to prove to me, right here and now, that you are a genuine vamp…ire,' I faltered. ‘But you are not allowed to hurt me or destroy anything in this office,' I added quickly.

Victor gave me a luminous smile and rose from the sofa and glided across the floor towards me. Before I could blink he picked me up, and threw me high in the air as if I weighed no more than a tennis ball. Oh Cr-aap! He somersaulted, and I briefly saw his feet touch the ceiling. He flew down, just in time to catch me before I fell splat on the floor. Everything in those two or three seconds moved in slow motion. He deposited me gently into my chair. My heart raced a thousand miles per second. Actually I felt completely nauseous.

‘Please don't ever do that again,' I managed to say weakly.

‘Then don't ask me to prove who or what I am ever again.' He seemed unruffled from his exertion. He sat nonplussed on the sofa. ‘Next time I won't be so gentle.'

This was beyond comprehension. I had believed so utterly in the existence of a supernatural world that now, when I was faced with it, my belief turned into stunned silence. I had no idea what to do next.

Victor, perhaps sensing my trepidation, spoke. ‘Ms Gooptah, when I read your advertisement, I assumed you were familiar with my kind. The newspaper shows itself very rarely in the human realm.' This made me feel a tad better. He continued in his formal tone, ‘I have come across other services that offer what yours proposes to do, but they lack the middleman, which is I mean, yourself.' He looked at me intently and I found it hard to look away. ‘I grow weary of dating.' He spat this out as if it was the most detestable word he could think of. ‘Human women and going through the dull routines of their every day existence. My mind rebels at their stagnation and incoherent thoughts. I am here to employ your services to sift through these women and find me one that suits my purpose.'

Right.

‘Why are you interested in human women? Why not date a female vampire?' This had been nagging me right from the start.

He answered after a considerable pause. There was a marked change in his tone. ‘Vampire women are too attached to their makers. They eventually leave.'