Amadeus

Chapter One: It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Amy woke up in a strange mood, bothered by the lights of passing cars flashing through her window and the strange emptiness of the spot where Miles used to lay. The sky that she could see through the gap in the blinds was laced with lightning and edged with thunder. Rain tapped arhythmically against the bedroom window, gusted about by an angry, howling wind. 

 He had been gone almost three months and the emptiness that left by his sudden disappearance was like an abscess in her soul. Amy felt it every time she came home to her big empty house, set herself a place for one at the expansive dining room table, played soft classical music to cover up the quiet. It grew in her, painful and raw, and time did nothing to ease the discomfort. At work she could lose herself in business, in the hustle and bustle of the office. She could smile, and joke, and for a pocket of time pretend everything was alright. At home (which she still thought of as their home, despite having given up hope of ever seeing Miles again) she was confronted, day in and day out, with absolutely she had depended on her former fiance for companionship. He had been the closest thing she had to family for fifteen years, and the only person she considered a friend. She had moved all the way from Manitoba to Bigsby to be with him, and while he had settled into the community like a missing puzzle piece she never really felt comfortable around the locals. She and they had a healthy distrust of each other.

Her and Miles' engagement photo jeered at her from the wall, her willowy silhouette looking so relaxed at it leaned into his sturdy frame. His chin rested on her head and his arms were wrapped protectively around her chest. They both looked so happy, back then.  She missed his crooked smile, the feel of his fingers tangled in her hair, the smell of him as he slept at night. She wanted to take it down but she couldn't bear to even touch it.

Amy's phone began to ring, nearly cacophonous in the late night hush. It vibrated harshly against the cluttered maple nightstand. She fumbled to answer it, mumbling a sleepy "Hello?" as she accidentally pulled the cell from the charger and sent a stack of books tumbling to the floor.

"Amy Grant," The voice on the other end of the line was no-nonsense, male, and sounded (although Amy might have been projecting her own feelings) slightly annoyed, "My boss has an offer for you. You're missing your fiance...Miles, was it? Well, my boss can help you find him- for a price."

"Wait, what?" Amy rubbed her eyes with one hand and stifled a yawn. She was too tired to feel anything beyond dull disbelief. "Am I still dreaming? Also, and I would like to repeat, what the hell?" 

"This is a limited time offer, Ms. Grant of 1421 St. Marks Way, Bigsby, British Columbia, Canada, North America," there was the slightest pause, "Earth. If you agree to our offer an agent will be sent to your house promptly."

Amy debated about hanging up the phone right then and there and going back to sleep. The night air was cold against her bare shoulders where the blankers had slid to her waist and she was exhausted all the way down to her bones. But there was a part of her who was morbidly curious about who was calling her at this god awful time, and how they knew so much about her. She'd had more than her fair share of psychics, charlatans and faith healers knocking down her doors since Miles' disappearance but something about this call felt different. 

"...You still there? I am being told I must remind you that this is a limited time offer."

"Still here," Amy let out an involuntary yawn, "I'm just... I'm not sure what you're offering, to be completely honest. If you know where Miles is then why haven't you contacted the police? And you haven't told me what you want for payment yet either. I think you should know that we don't have much money."

The man on the phone let out a sarcastic laugh, "I didn't say that the Organization knew where your fiance was, only that we would help you find him. As for cost, we don't want your money. Payment options will be discussed with the agent sent to you. All we need you to do is agree."

There was a pause, and then Amy responded: "Yeah, sure." She ran her fingers through her short blond hair, "I'm probably dreaming anyways. I agree to your offer. Send the agent over or whatever. He can't be more useless than the Police anyways." She couldn't stop the bitterness from slipping out.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Grant. The Organization will send over an agent right away. Thank you and have a lovely night." Amy could almost hear the smug grin of the mysterious caller through the phone.

"Thanks?" Amy replied before realizing that the call had already been disconnected. She plugged her phone back in, crawled back under her pile of blankets, and closed her eyes, determined to get a few more hours of sleep before her morning alarm went off. She was sure she would wake up in the morning and this would all be the slivers of a half-forgotten dream.

She was nearly asleep when there was a knock at the door. What now? Amy thought to herself, First the phone call and now this? Is the whole universe trying to stop me from sleeping? She rolled over and tried to ignore the pounding at her door, but whoever was on the other side was persistent. After several minutes she dragged herself out of bed, throwing an old housecoat over her thin nightgown and yelling out an angry "I'm coming, hold your horses," as she made the short trek down the stairs to the front door. Her oversized slippers slapped loudly against the walnut floor that Miles had installed last year as she hustled down the hallway. Worry began to replace her initial anger. Was it the police? Had they found something? She unlatched the deadbolt and flung open the door, "I'm here!"

The man standing on the front porch could have stepped out of a romance novel. He was easily six foot three, with warm amber eyes and full lips. Long wavy locks of caramel hair cascaded down his back and shoulders, which strained at the seams of his (almost) perfectly tailored navy suit. Beneath the jacket, a white shirt, now nearly transparent with rain, clung to every well-defined muscle. His beard was long but neatly trimmed, like a beautiful golden face topiary. Amy saw a hunger hiding in his eyes when he caught sight of her, and when the man spoke she nearly fell to her knees from the overwhelming energy of his voice.

"I was sent here from the Organization. I am to be your agent. My name is Amadeus."