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.