Grim Realities: Part 2

I sit down at my desk and flip open the file to find the victim's personal details. The first thing on my to do list was to find out as much about Micheal Blake as I could. Switching on my computer I'm met with my least favourite screen saver.

"Oh you have to be kidding me!" I exclaim as I read the PC's message of "Windows is preparing your PC for updates. Please do not turn off the computer." 

What did I tell you. Monday-est Tuesday ever. While I wait for Windows to be done with it's precious updates, I study the crime scene photos in more detail. Admittedly I avoid looking at the gaping hole where Mr Blake's heart use to be, instead choosing to focus on the other details that I can see. The grass around the body is battered, chunks of the earth exposed and churned up. At least he put up a good fight. His right shoe is off to one side.

"Jesus Christ, what are you do here so early?!" Remarks Franchesca 'Chess' Simons, making me leap out of my skin. I hadn't heard her come in, which was an achievement on her part, considering she was wearing her favourite pair of New Rock four inch stiletto heels.

"Noisy neighbors. Thought since I was awake I might as well come into work."

"Oh. It's the Milton family right? Yeah last night was the 10 anniversary of old Benjamin Milton's death, so I'm not surprised they kept you up." I stop going through the pages in front of me, so that I can turn to look at my friend.

"What in world are you talking about?" I stare at Chess in confusion.

"The Milton's are banshees. We cry when a family member dies, or on the anniversary of their death."
Chess explains, while getting things out of her bag like it's no big deal. I momentarily snap out of absorbing this information to catch the box of breakfast bars that she launches at my head and also because two things occur to me.

"Hang on a minute, you knew my neighbors were banshees and didn't tell me either? Am I the only one that wasn't informed of this detail? Also, what do you mean 'We cry...'" Annnd now I'm back in the world of confusion.

"Well I assumed that you already knew what they were, and by 'We' I mean that I was a banshee before I died and became a Harbinger. The Milton's were friends of my parents."

I sit staring agape at Chess in all her goth glory, unsure of how to react to all of this information. Chess stows her bag under her desk before throwing herself into her office chair and putting her feet up on the corner of the desk, legs crossed at the ankles.

"Nice goldfish impression Tayla" she adds, her black painted lips pulling up into a smirk before she takes a bite of the chocolate croissant retrieved from the plastic tray she had brought in.

Chess holds the tray out to me offering the remaining croissant. I take it. I tear a bite off with my teeth. With my mouth full of the most wonderful tasting pastry I say "I so need a cup of coffee." Although it came out sounding more like "I woe mead a wup of wovvy" Chess nodded in agreement, shifting her feet back to the floor as she licked melted chocolate from her fingertips. Together we get up and move to the Kitchen area, Chess gets the coffee maker going while I, still munching on the croissant, get our mugs from the cupboard; Chess's reading "Death Before Decaf " and "I can't Adult today " on mine.

As I finish up my pastry and lick the chocolate from my fingers, Chess checks her black lipstick in the gleaming surface of the coffee maker and once satisfied that no smudging has occurred, pours our coffees. "Guess I should go see if the Boss has any new cases for me."

"No need" I tell her "We are partnering up. Death gave me one of Duke's cases this morning, it's a murder, and you get to help me solve it."

"Get you girl!" She tells me, grinning from ear to ear.

I like this she understands this is a big deal for me. I've been a harbinger for a little over a year and so far have only worked on small cases, like overseeing divorces, mediating disagreements with the Werewolf pack, and arranging permits for the local witch covens. Before becoming a harbinger I had been human and worked at the Salem Public Library as a librarian, so naturally I had no idea (like the rest of humanity) that the supernatural world existed. This last year has been an adjustment period, a slow introduction to a new world was the way D put it. I started working at Grim realities two weeks after I died, and it was Chess that took me under her wing to teach me about this weird new world that I was to be a part off. She has since become my best friend. I'm glad she is working my first big case with me.

We sit back down, Chess scooting her chair over to my desk so that I can explain the case to her.

"So we don't know much," I begin, passing her a duplicate file that Death had left on my desk marked with a post-it-note reading "For Chess" I continue my explanation "But we do know that two nights ago Micheal Blake, a local Werewolf, was found murdered in Gallows Hill Park, his heart had been removed. It's taken us this long to get the case due to internal pack issues, but John Oakland managed to convince them all we should take the case. Oakland has also said that we are welcome to go and look round Mr. Blake's home to see if it gives us any clues."

Throughout my brief explanation, a vast array of expressions, had crossed Chess's face finally setting into a slight frown that I had come to recognize as her concentration face.

"So we basically have nothing to go on?" she states, her frown deepening. She starts to sift through the photos in the file.

"Basically." matter of fact, that was me. My computer chooses that moment to chime at me, "Finally! Stupid updates." I exclaim, making Chess chuckle. "I was going to look up Micheal Blake to see what I could find out about him from the Veils Database but -"

"Updates" Chess and I say together. 

"Okay, so why don't you research our vic like you planned, and I'll - Is the body with Nico?" I nod, "Then I'll call Nico Veil side, and see if he can tell us if he has read anything from the body."

"It's a plan" I agree and we both set to our respective tasks.

Nico is a Necromancer, and stays on the other side of the Veil that separates the human world from the supernatural one. Humans are unaware of the Veil and the world that lies beyond it. There are weak spots were you can cross from one world to the other, such as the court room at the top of our building, and the club Nine Circles for example. These spots are also why human believe in ghosts. The veil is so thin in some places you can see things on the other side. Nico is the supernatural equal to a coroner, and the one that we send our dead to. As a Necromancer he can read the dead as it were and tell us things that no human coroner could ever discover. Unfortunately he won't be able to tell us who the killer is. God forbid things were ever that easy.

Grim Realities : Part 1

Today was going to be the Monday-est Tuesday ever, I thought as I stomped into the open plan office of Grim Realities. Only the boss was in this close to sunrise. My boss being Death himself, who glanced up momentarily from making his coffee to see who had interrupted the silence.

"You're early." he says, adding a third teaspoon of sugar to the mug in front of him.

"Yeah, well, " I start, letting out a long sigh before continuing, "You know my new neighbors I mentioned moved in over the weekend? Well they spent the whole night screaming bloody murder. If I didn't know any better, I'd say a family of Banshees had moved in." I explain rummaging through my desk draw for a breakfast bar.

"Banshees have moved in," Death replied off hand, putting the spoon in the kitchen area sink, "What you couldn't tell?" he leaned back against the counter top to take a sip of his coffee. 

"Hang on a minute, you knew?" Where is that breakfast bar?

"Of course I knew. I always know when a new supe family moves into town. Chess stole your last breakfast bar by the way"

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"It's just a breakfast bar, she's bringing you a new box today."

"About the banshees!! Why didn't you tell me about the banshees?!"

"Well I thought that you knew! You know Tayla, sometimes I forget that you have only been doing this a year." There's a compliment in there somewhere....I think.

"There should really be a handbook for all this." I collapse back in my desk chair, absentmindedly swiveling from side to side. 

At that, Death stands and walks across the room, drinking another mouthful of coffee as he goes, to the book shelves that run the length of the offices below the old industrial looking windows. After a moment of scanning the titles on the book spines he pulls one from the shelf.  He takes another sip of his coffee as he studies the book cover for a second, before handing the book to me.

"The Harbinger's Guide To The Supernatural" While I stare in disbelief, Death slips another title onto my desk to sit beside the first one. 

"How To Live With Banshees: The Step By Step Guide"  I look up at my boss standing over me, my mouth hanging open at a complete loss for words. He looks back down at me from his 6'3" height, early morning sunlight shining off his short, spiked inky black hair, an amused gleam in his light grey eyes. At least he hid the smirk behind the coffee cup. After a moment he turns to leave me slouched at my desk, swiveling like a child.

"Since you're here," he calls back as he saunters off to his office, "you might as well start working. Duke has taken the week off so I'm giving you one of his cases."

Bolting upright and onto my feet, I do a little jog to catch up to Death as he reaches his office. Unlike the rest of us, D's office is enclosed and separate from the rest of the office space, were we all sit in the wide open plan area. We have cubicles but they are big, and the modern design of the building means that they're not boxy and cramped. Grim Realities is the equivalent of the human legal system in the supernatural world. Death, yes one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, runs everything. He is the judge, jury and quite literally the executioner. Then there are people like me that work for him. We are called Harbingers. People or beings that have died before we were suppose to. Harbinger's are not dead, but we're not alive either. We both exist and don't exist. To humans we are like something you see out of the corner of your eye; you see it but pay no attention to it. To the supernatural community, we are police officers. Or lawyers. Or marriage counselors. Or their worst nightmare, but only when I haven't had any coffee. Anyway, what was I saying?...Oh, that's right.... My name is Tayla LeVane, and I am the first person to become a harbinger in 150 years. (Okaaay, Oliver Queen moment over...)

Death sits at his desk, scooting the chair a little closer and starts rummaging through a bunch of manilla case files. I however, at hearing I'm being given one of Dukes cases, have stopped in the doorway, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Err... Did err...Did you say one of Duke's cases?" Duke NoLastName has been a harbinger for over 6000 years and only gets the big, and I mean ginormous cases. I pretty certain that if I still had a beating heart, it would have stopped.

"Yeah, Duke says he needed the week off to move house or something, I don't know. But anyway, I think you can handle this case." 

Tentatively I step further into the office. I remember the first time, I sat in this room after I died. I couldn't and still can't, get my head around the fact that Death likes modern minimalist Swedish design. Dark hardwood floors meet the exposed brick of the back wall wall, along which is a row of vintage metal lockers finished in a dark petrol blue; the peeling paint in keeping with that shabby chic look that's popular. On top of the lockers, tucked in the corner is a potted cactus. I take all this in, trying to calm my persisting case of nerves. I decide I better sit down so perch on the edge of one of the two visitors chairs in front of D's desk. I note that it would look great in an Ikea catalog. Pine top and spindly iron legs. D clears a space on the desk and spreads out the pages from the manilla file for me to see. One of the A4 photos shows a body.

I jump when D starts to explain the details to me. "Two nights a ago this guy, Micheal Blake, Werewolf, wad found dead. His heart was missing."

"What do you mean his heart was missing?"

"I mean it was cut out."

"Oh." What more can you say to that? The more D explains, the more I feel my nerves slipping away to be replaced by curiosity. Solving a murder was going to be a new thing for me, and was certainly going to put me to the test. 

Once D is done outlining the scant details of the case, he sits back in his chair and starts unconsciously swiveling as I was earlier. If my mind wasn't distracted with the prospect of having to solve a gruesome murder, I may have found it funny; the big scary horseman of the apocalypse swiveling on a spinney office chair. Neither of us say anything for a few moments. Death sits there utterly still, watching me with an intense stare. Just as things start to get awkward, a question occurs to me. 

"D, how comes this dude died two days ago and we are only just hearing about it now to investigate?"

"Pack politics. John Oakland wanted to call us in as soon as the body was found, but there were a few members of the pack that wanted to keep everything in the pack as an internal matter, so he had to convince them to let Grim realities handle it." John Oakland was the local werewolf pack's Alpha. "Johns phone number and address is in the file, and he said that you can go look round the victim's home whenever you're ready. Take Chess with you, she can help you with the case." 

Death's desk phone rings at that moment, and I take that as my cue to leave. I gather the papers together on the desk and slide them back into the manilla file, which I tuck under one arm as I get up and head back to to my own desk in the main office.   

A Note From the Author...

Oh look!! A shinny new blog! 

Some of you may know me (in one way or another) enough to know that this isn't my only blog.  I'm one of those people who's brain doesn't switch off from things very easily. This would ordinarily be fine, except now that I am working full time, it meant that I was finding it very hard to switch off from work at the end of each day. I had booked some time off over the Christmas period, but still found myself dealing with work emails. So I gave myself a bit of a talking to, put my foot down and decided that when I'm not at work, I'm NOT at work. 

I come to the conclusion that I needed to use the hour and a half commute that I have to actively switch off from work. So I decided that I would try my hand at writing. So without further ado...    

Welcome to my new blog 

Sugar and Cyanide: Tall Tales.  


Disclaimer:

Anything that I post here is done for selfish purposes; When I committed to doing this my number one rule was that it serve no purpose. Therefore anything I write doesn't have to be good, or consistent, it certainly doesn't have to be perfect. There is no schedule or pressure to write and post things; I'll post as and when I have time or can be bothered. 

So read it, or don't read it. Like it or hate it. Share it or don't share it. I'm not fussed, this isn't done for any other reason than to distract myself while commuting.


Now for the part that you have to read like the guy that does the terms and conditions at a million miles an hour on adverts.

All tall tale that follow are a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Blah blah blah..... 

That's enough of that. Stay tuned, for my attempts at authoring.