Luke wasn't embarrassed when Geralt refused the cigarette he offered. "I have a special team that handles Corrupted Property," he said. "They can deal with Floating Spirits and poltergeists, but for Wraiths like the ones in that villa, we have to seek outside help."
"The problem is, it takes time to post a job on the official website, find someone to accept it, and then get to the actual work. Some cases can't wait." Luke sighed. "Luckily, the Wraiths in the villa hadn't started killing people yet."
Luke had tried to stop people from exploring the haunted house, too, with little success. For one thing, the villa was too large, and his team lacked the staff and energy to cover it. For another, you couldn't talk sense into people determined to risk their lives. The more you forbade them, the more eager they became.
Put simply, Luke and his team weren't professional superheroes on duty twenty-four hours a day, year-round. They were willing to tell people that something was a pile of shit and they shouldn't eat it. But if someone insisted on having a taste, they weren't going to plead with them.
Good advice couldn't save someone bent on dying, and even great compassion couldn't rescue someone determined to destroy themselves.
Geralt understood what Luke meant. After a moment's thought, he introduced himself. "Geralt Winchester."
Luke visibly froze. "Winchester... that Winchester?"
"That Winchester." Geralt smiled.
If someone called the Winchesters the strongest family in the demon-hunting world, others would surely object. But add "one of," and who could argue?
A reputation cast a long shadow.
Luke shook Geralt's hand like an awestruck fan. "A pleasure. A real pleasure."
After chatting for a while, Geralt left his phone number and drove away.
Once his taillights disappeared, a van pulled up