Return to the land

The old vacant building had been abandoned and left to wither away with time. Half forgotten by the town's people. It sat in the middle of town, down a less desirable street that none dared visited, as the location sat right in the middle of rival gangs. The side of the building was covered in graffiti and vines snaked up from the sides to the towering street light. It was two stories tall, a stand alone building off the main road of town. One door at the front, and one on the side next to the stairs that led to the exit door of the second floor.

That was until an unknown buyer bought the place.

Blue neon lights, illuminated the "Open" sign as it flickered below the name painted on the window, "Private Investigator of the Tri-Cities" and below that, the hours of operation, Nights Only. The second floor she turned into her own home, with a large bathroom and bedroom, dark specially made curtains hung up to block the sun as she rested during the day, and a fully stocked kitchen, state of the art fridge to keep her vials of blood fresh and cold, and an arrange of instruments for her to either cook or make positions.
She had had to clean up the rift raft of course. The local human gangs did not like that she had bought the place. It had started with the vandalism, broken windows, threatening letters, all of which just pissed Desi off. She was the baddest thing out there and they would soon learn. After cleaning up the damages and repairing her sign, the fun began.

Casting illusions inside illusions, she waited, watching on her monitors. Sure enough they returned, and the screams began. The humans ran away screaming, pissed pants and all. After a few months, rumors began that the building was haunted. She played to their beliefs and superstitions. Her stomach hurt so much from laughing, but it had paid off. She had spooked the gang members and so far they had left her building, her territory, alone.

She left her business cards in random places of work, coffee shops, local businesses, bars. The cards themselves, looked plain; ordinary. Just the name, the location, and the hours of operation; but the underlining allure was for those of the supernatural.

Business had been slow at first, but the pull to this town had been strong. Her first few cases had been surprisingly of the supernatural sort. A witch losing her familiar, a lover's triangle between succubi; was the male cheating on her with her sister? It all had been trivial and half amusing, but she did the work with pleasure, enjoying the hunt and finding the answers; however, this was not all she was looking for. She had followed an elite hunter, murderer, but had lost his trail. He was much better than she was, she hated to admit, but he had unraveled her illusions with barely any resistance.
Crumpling up the piece of paper, she angrily tossed it across the room and into the wire trash bin. The makeshift ball bounced, then rolled, shifting on top of many other rolled up pieces of paper, before settling. It had been three days since the Martinez family had walked through her doors. Shifting, she leaned back to ease the tension from her shoulders.
...............
The bell chimed as the door opened, alerting Desi 'Andrea that she had customers. The waiting room was a bit small, a few chairs lined the wall on either side. She had a magazine rack and a water cooler for refreshments.

Dressed in soft grey slacks, and a white buttoned top, and black heels, she greeted the couple and extended her hand to the male, her expression one of sympathy. The male, tall and lean, an aristocrat was holding his composure as his arms held his wife to his side. She, much smaller than her husband, was sobbing quietly, but it was difficult to make out what she was saying. Behind them stood a tall no nonsense male. He wore a black suite and white shirt. He carried a brief case, but other than that he did not speak. A body guard.

Andrea, the name she used, ushered them in to sit in the chairs in front of her desk as she closed the door. Sat, she extended a box of Cleanex toward the wife. She could smell the fear and sorrow coming off of them in waves, but underneath; was something she hadn't come across in millennia.
The husband took charge. Snapped his fingers, and only then the body guard stepped forward. The briefcase was sat gently but firmly on her desk. The husband, Estabon, entered the code on the dial pad. With a soft click, the briefcase opened, and inside was full of money. Rows of green.
His piercing gold brown eyes looked directly in Andrea's, he smirked as his hand left his right pocket, and pushed her own card towards her.

Estabon: You left this at the bank. I am glad your investment seems to be working out. I had a feeling you'd be useful in this town, and now we need your help.

Pushing her fingers into her throbbing temple, messaging, she mustered a silent prayer to the Goddess. Could she find it in time?

Weary, she closed up early. She could not take on any other cases. This was priority. As the wind picked up, it tossed a flyer her way. Bending down, she plucked the paper as it curled around her heel. She read the contents and smiled. A new tavern. Seemed like a good as place as any. Her leads into the local gangs possibly being involved where being monitor, so far nothing seemed out of place. She could use a drink, but first a change of clothes as she headed upstairs to her loft and a sip of blood. Her first in a months time.
.............

She headed inside and made her way to the bar, her eyes swept over the place discretely. She didn't sit immediately, the place having so many scents. "Dragon's Blood cocktail."