It's fate that they found each other. Indigos are naturally drawn to one another through the threads of destiny. And for Hemlock Godfree, that's exactly what he is... an Indigo. Even if he doesn't know it yet. As a part time ghost hunter and full ti...
"So what happened last night?" Ange asked, after slurping down half of his beer. He sipped the beer foam from his golden scruff and stared tauntingly at Hemlock. Ange must've gone home since his visit with Hemlock. He had since changed into an evergreen and orange plaid jacket that was slightly unbuttoned, revealing a heather gray shirt underneath. His thick hair was down, gleaming like gold in the dim bar. Ange was one of two veterinarians in town, a passion that he had worked tooth and nail for. He ran his own office, paid his bills on time, and actually had a savings account. Something Hemlock was quite jealous of.
Shrugging and crossing his arms, Hemlock watched as the small carbonated bubbles rose to the surface through the golden liquid of his untouched ginger ale. His throat burned for its refreshing taste, and his stomach churned with hunger, yet he didn't touch the platter of fries between Ange and him. They had gone to a bar on the outskirts, it was the best in town. No western thrilled tourists would dare venture there. The Pronghorn Parlor & Grill was covered in taxidermy of all sorts and the historic saloon bar's mirror had a large bullet hole in it; left over from a white trash brawl that left a cheating husband dead and his brains splattered all over the glass. A bluesy ballad blared over the run-down jukebox in the corner, making every drunkard at the bar bob their head along with its beat. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, frying oil, and freshly poured beer.
"When is Jacoby getting here?" Hemlock breathed, annoyed with Ange's constant questioning about last night. He checked his phone but had forgotten to charge it and a red battery winked at him.
"Soon. Calm down, Hem. He'll be here, you know Mr. Punctuality. Now eat your damn fries before I do." Hemlock grabbed one and ate it carefully. The salt stung his cracked lips as he swallowed it in one gulp.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Hey!" A strong hand smacked Hemlock's back making the fry go down the wrong tube. After taking a long chug of his drink, Hemlock turned and scowled at his friend.
"Nice of you to show up," Hemlock uttered, playing with the condensation that had pooled on the wooden table's surface from his glass.
"I try to fit you guys into my busy schedule, but you know how popular I am these days..." Jacoby winked. His dark skin complimented his emerald green eyes, which sparkled mischievously in the bar's neon signs. Jacoby had recently moved to Half Moon to live with Hemlock and enjoy the mountain air while pursuing his freelance digital career. His schedule was so erratic that Hemlock had a hard time remembering when he was working or not.
"You just woke up, didn't you?" Ange asked, examining his friend's appearance. Jacoby winced and looked down at his wrinkled button-down shirt. Usually, it would be ironed to a crisp.
"Please... this is my new style," He said and stared off into the distance dramatically. Rubbing his prickly chin, he tried to be artistic. He must've been up all night, editing photos, Hemlock thought. Jacoby was an avid photographer, and he was usually seen with a camera looped around his neck.
