The Outcall
The following takes place following: Felicia
Two weeks had passed since their first appointment, and Fiona—now “Felicia” to those who paid—exhaled softly as she pulled herself up from her knees, the distant hum of traffic grounding her. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to her skin as she settled beside the little goblin on the couch. Leaning back against the worn cushions, she let the tension slip from her shoulders. Travers sprawled out beside her, satisfied and oblivious to her internal disquiet.
Travers: “Yes, ma'am… Best damn oil change in town…”
He grinned, adjusting his shirt and lighting a cigar, reclining into a cushion nearly his size.
Travers: “Believe me, I know…”
His laugh came as a soft chuckle, though the tone carried the self-satisfaction that always grated on her nerves.
Fiona forced a smile; it wasn’t the first time he’d made that compliment, and each time it felt just as dehumanising. Still, she’d learned to let it roll off her shoulders.
Travers: “You’re definitely my favourite. You’ve got that seasoned charm.”
He eyed her with a mix of admiration and condescension. “It’s that mix of desperation and regret that only comes with experience…”
Fiona said nothing, focusing on folding the money he’d left on the table—£150, neatly placed beside her phone. She felt a flicker of satisfaction. Travers had been a regular these past couple of weeks, and his frequent visits were paying off. Literally. Sure, there was a time when she would have found him repulsive; his arrogant swagger and god-complex had been unbearable. But now? She had to admit, his attention—while sleazy—came with financial stability she hadn’t seen in years. Given her age, most men preferred the younger escorts, leaving her with few regulars. Travers, though, didn’t care about that. In fact, he seemed to like it.
She had finally gotten on top of her bills and was no longer in trouble. It felt good to buy her daughter a few new things, and the relief on her mother’s face when they could afford groceries without pinching pennies was priceless. As much as she hated the transactional nature of it all, Travers was—unwittingly—her saviour.
Travers: “I gotta get going. Newsroom waits for no one. We’re working on a big story—people disappearing left and right. Could be connected… I’ve got my staff all over it.”
Fiona raised an eyebrow.
Fiona: “Disappearing? What do you mean?”
Travers: “Ah, you know how it is in this town… Folks going missing, some bodies turning up. Animal attacks, probably… Just the nature of things here. Still, it makes for good news… You can be sure to read all about it soon. I bet you’re already an avid reader of my paper…”
He grinned and winked before heading toward the door.
Travers: “Little help?”
He gestured up at the door lock that was out of reach.
Fiona wrapped herself in her robe and walked over, unlocking the door. Leaning down, she offered him an obligatory kiss goodbye.
Travers: “Take care of yourself, Felicia. I’ll be back soon.”
He flashed a smirk over his shoulder as he left, the door clicking softly behind him.
Fiona sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of his words settling in her mind. Animal attacks. Disappearances. She shook her head. This town had always been strange, but she had more pressing matters to worry about. After all, it wasn’t her problem. Not anymore…
She stood up, slipping her clothes back on and adjusting her hair in the mirror.
Fiona (muttering): “Felicia…”
She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Just weeks ago, she had been fighting to hold onto her dignity as a politician. Now, she was starting to thrive in a world she never thought she’d enter. She didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was clear: this was only temporary. And for now, it was enough.
****
Fiona sat on the couch, the warm glow of the television casting a soft light over the cozy living room. Tina nestled beside her, flipping through a magazine, while her parents chatted over cups of tea. Laughter bubbled up as they shared old family stories, and for the first time in a long while, Fiona felt a sense of peace. Things were finally looking up, especially with Tina, who seemed to be thriving.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the coffee table, slicing through the warmth of the evening. She glanced at the screen, her stomach dropping. It was the agency.
Fiona: “Excuse me.”
She rose from the couch, the casual atmosphere slipping away as she stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her for a semblance of privacy.
Receptionist: “Felicia?”
Fiona’s frustration bubbled over.
Fiona: “I’m not on tonight. You shouldn’t be calling me at home.”
Receptionist: “I know, but we have a special request. A particular client is asking for you specifically and is willing to pay extra. He’s offering £1,000 for you to stay the night.”
Her tone was urgent, almost insistent.
Fiona paused, torn. The allure of the money was palpable.
Fiona: “Where?”
Receptionist: “Waldobury Heights. Apparently it’s a mansion! It’s your decision, but Gary would really like you to consider it…”
Fiona protested, her heart racing as she considered the offer.
Fiona: “Gary’s not the one who has to get the bus to Waldobury… Fine, text me the address.”
She felt herself succumbing to temptation.
After hanging up, Fiona took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling on her shoulders. She stepped back into the living room, forcing a smile.
Fiona: “I have to go out.”
Her mother looked up, frown knitting her brow.
Kathy: “What? But it’s family night!”
Fiona tried to sound casual, her guilt gnawing at her.
Fiona: “The restaurant called. One of the other hostesses is sick, and they need me to cover a shift.”
Tina glanced up from her magazine, excitement for family night visibly dampened.
Tina: “Oh… fine, whatever.”
She hid her disappointment with feigned apathy.
Fiona: “I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you all.”
She hurried upstairs, the familiar pang of regret twisting in her stomach. Once in her room, she changed quickly, slipping into the smart black dress that had become her second skin. She applied her makeup with practiced ease, trying to ignore the conflicting feelings surging within her.
****
As Fiona settled onto the bus, the steady hum of the engine stirred a mix of excitement and anxiety within her. She gazed out the window as the city lights gradually faded into the distance, replaced by the quaint charm of Waldobury. The large, old buildings and lush green spaces unfolded against the backdrop of rolling hills, casting a serene yet surreal atmosphere. Meeting someone new always made her jittery, but the enticing prospect of a substantial payday for spending a night in a mansion was too tempting to ignore.
Halfway through her ride, Fiona noticed a fellow passenger had left behind a folded copy of The Waldopolis Chronicle. Curiosity piqued, she reached over to grab it, smirking at the eccentric grin of the cartoon caricature of Travers on the top banner. But her amusement quickly faded as her eyes landed on the headline: “Animal Attack?: Body Found in Waldobury Heights. Throat Ripped Out.” A chill crawled up her spine, the gravity of the words settling heavily in her gut.
Yet she tried to dismiss the discomfort. This was just the nature of the town—after all, there had been dinosaurs running amok just a few months ago. It was bizarre, but that was life; they just had to get on with it while they could.
The bus finally pulled into the stop in Waldomere, just beside the Masters Council grounds. Fiona had never set foot here before; this was the same council she had campaigned against during her run for MP. Memories surged back, tinged with resentment—especially recalling the day her father had attended a protest outside these very grounds, where chaos erupted, leaving him injured and irrevocably changed. The shadows of the past loomed over her, heightening her unease as she stepped off the bus.
With a sigh, she checked Woogle Maps. It was about a fifteen minute walk up the hill to the mansion and she could probably make it, but the idea of arriving sweaty didn’t sit well with her. Feeling the anxiety knotting in her stomach, she hired a rickshaw at the bus stop. The Chinese fellow pedalled her up the hill, the cold wind whipping through her hair. He dropped her off at the mansion, barely glancing back before heading down the hill, leaving her alone under the full moon.
The mansion loomed before her, its old stones bathed in silver light, surrounded by gnarled trees that swayed ominously in the wind. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, and a chill ran through her. She hesitated, feeling small and vulnerable in the expansive darkness. The branches whispered as the wind howled, almost as if warning her to turn back.
Taking a deep breath, she approached the large, ornate doors and knocked urgently. The sound echoed, swallowed by the night. Anxiety twisted in her gut as she waited, feeling the weight of every moment. Each second stretched, amplifying her sense of vulnerability in the darkness. A distant howl pierced the night, sending a shiver down her spine, and she glanced nervously over her shoulder, half-expecting something to emerge from the shadows.
After what felt like an eternity, the door finally creaked open, revealing a tall, imposing man with greying hair and handsome features, though his expression was stony.
Fiona: “Oh, thank Ed.”
Relief washed over her as she forced a smile, though unease still lingered in her chest.
Fiona:“I was beginning to think I’d have to set up camp out here… Oh, um, I’m Felicia…”
The man returned her smile, stepping aside to allow her into the welcoming warmth of the candlelit interior. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, momentarily soothing her frayed nerves.
The Waldoverse continues in Missing