Cat Scratch Fever
“Skeeter, did I ever tell you I hate graveyards?” I whispered into my headset as I crept through another cemetery.
“You did, which I’ll admit makes about as much sense as a politician saying he hates money. You’re a monster hunter, Bubba. Monsters live in cemeteries. Ergo, you spend a lot of time in cemeteries.”
“That don’t mean I gotta like it. And I especially don’t like foggy cemeteries.” This cemetery was Lon Chaney movie foggy, too. It was almost like somebody was walking fifty feet ahead of me carrying a dry ice fog machine just to give the place the right atmosphere. As if it wasn’t bad enough I was chasing a monster I didn’t know crap about, I had to do it a dark, foggy cemetery. “Tell me again what I’m looking for.”
“The monster we’re chasing is a rakshasha.
