Update
It was a relatively short update, today. This third short, Dark Angel, is the story of Morgana Lugus defending a supernatural neutral zone, working with the bar's owner, lest Arkham erupt into bloodshed and chaos.
Current Word Count: 19,447
Scene of the Day
When I was walking into my office in the morning, I
already felt like there was something big on the way.
From the moment I’d woken up, I’d been filled from head
to toe with a disturbing amount of tension, as though my body were already
gearing up for a fight.
Playing hide and seek with monsters from a young age had
taught me to listen to those instincts.
My usually repressed brogue, I was sure, would be in
full force from the stress.
So when there came a knock on my door, I was resigned
already.
“Morgana, someone’s here to see you,” a soft, wispy
voice announced from the other side.
“Bring’m in,” I sighed.
The door slipped open, and my stomach gave a little flip
as he stepped through.
The man was only about one or two inches taller than my
somewhat miniscule height, and just like me, heavy black leather had a way of
making up for the difference.
He, too, looked ready for a fight, seeming like walking
stress from the second he passed the threshold.
No words passed as he sat in the chair across from me,
his shaggy, rust-red hair seeming to absorb the florescent light around us and
glow like a crown of fire around his skull.
His eyes flickered between grey and red, which didn’t
instill me with confidence.
The fact that he was analyzing me silently, in an exact
mirror to my own stare, caused me to straighten fully in my chair.
“Do I meet yer expectations, mister…?”
“Maxwell. Collin Maxwell. And honestly, ya’ seem a bit
on the… fluffy bunny… side, for the reputation I’ve heard, Miz Lugus,” he
stated, eyes still taking me in.
I had the distinct impression that he was looking
through me as much as at me.
“I’d hope so. People might get a bit edgy, otherwise.
Helps get clients when they don’t know what they’re hirin’. Speakin’ of, what
kin I do fer you?”
“I’d rather not have any help, if I could help it. But
there’s things happening that’re a bit too much for just me and my friend to
handle. Mikhail insisted that I come to you,” he sighed. “Said you were my best
option.”
“Erm… okay… I don’t know any Mikhail. No Russians,
actually, now that I’m thinkin’ on it. What kinda’ trouble, exactly, are ya’
in?”
“Nothing illegal on our end, assuming that’d concern
you, miss ex-APD,” he retorted flippantly.
I smirked at that, letting a little bit of my magic
shine through my eyes.
“Focus more on the ex
in that, Mr. Maxwell. And since yer that defensive, I’ll go ahead an’ assume
the trouble is less ‘n clandestine.”
“You could say that. I suppose if Mick vouches for you,
I should at least give you a heads up for what’s comin’, if nothing else,” he
sighed. “I run a club for Umbramundus clients only, up by MU-”
“You’re the
owner of the Black Zodiac?” I cut in, unable to hide the surprise.
Only one club that I knew of existed like that, at least
that side of the equator.
“You know it, then?”
“Ya’ could say that. Had ta’ chase a few idiots that
thought they could get away in there. What the hell kinda’ trouble could a
neutral zone have? No, better question, who’d be suicidal enough ta’ bring that
kinder heat down on ‘emselves?”
Neutral zones were places where supernaturals of all
varieties could go to settle disputes with much less chance of explosive, gory
violence breaking out.
They weren’t a common thing, by any means, since most
that would need them preferred to just go at each other until someone’s dead,
but the carnage was always much smaller where one of the zones existed.
Having one in Arkham, the biggest epicenter of
supernatural population in the entire U.S., made sense.
Especially given the three large-scale gangs that ran
most of the show.
Thinking about the implications made me shiver.
Ugly wouldn’t
cover it if the neutral zone wasn’t here.
If it was in any kind of danger, I’d go in pro bono, if
necessary, just so the streets didn’t get covered in possibly literal rivers of
blood.
I hated it when my instincts were right, and they’d been
right on the nose that day.
“Looks like Mick wasn’t totally off the mark. You’re
pretty well-informed, aren’t you?” he mused.
“What’s happening?”
“Some thugs’ve been showing up ‘round the Zodiac lately.
At first, it wasn’t really a problem. They scared easy. But then, whoever’s
footin’ the bill started sending bigger problems our way, an’ they can’t get it
through their skulls to back the hell off. We’ve had fires, food poisoning, and
a few other things happening, but again, not really a huge issue.”
“But…?”
“But the other day, we had a slew of customers
hospitalized because someone slipped bloody silver
nitrate into the mixing pot.”
Silver being one of the few things in existence that
could injure, and even kill, all things supernatural, I couldn’t contain the
wince that horrific thought caused.
Anyone in the Zodiac that had actually ingested the shite and lived had
something watching over them.
“That’s nasty.”
“Yeah, no joke. And the bastards’ve been gettin’ even
bolder, lately. Coming with more people to back them, and makin’ bigger messes.
Their persistence is admirable, but it’s startin’ to piss me off.”
“Okay… If they’re that replaceable, I’m not sure how much
of a help I could be at gettin’ rid of these guys.”
“I know. I told Mikhail that, too,” he grumbled.
“Patchin’ this won’t fix the problem, and someone’s paying for these guys to
run me out.”
“So yer here… why?”
I pressed.
“I don’t know who’s behind it. Mick thinks you can find
out. Probably some fekin’ demon,” he
growled.
That piqued my curiosity.
“And why would demons
be out for you?”
He tensed, and I wondered just how off my suspicion was.
“If yer playin’ with those, runnin’ a neutral zone might
not be the best job fer ya’.”
The sudden bark of laughter, and the air turning bitter
with his resentment, were both surprising.
“Not a chance! C’mon, now, that’s pretty dim. Why on
Earth would demons want to bring the
chaos of gettin’ rid of a neutral zone,” he mocked.
“No need to be an asshole. Not every demon’s out for
world domination,” I scoffed. “Some are the more personal, rip yer heart out
from your chest kinder monster. If ya’ want my help, it’d be nice if ya’ had
somethin’ other than guesswork ta’ go on.”
That shut him up, and his eyes narrowed as he
reevaluated me.
After several silent moments, he gave a nod, as if he’d
just confirmed something I wasn’t privy to.
“Well, then, you do
have a bit of a spark, don’t ya’? Demons are as good a guess as any, and if
ya’ need a reason why they’d be comin’ for me, specifically, it’d be because my
bastard of a da’ was one of ‘em, and they think I killed ‘im.”
“I feel like we should be talkin’ this all over a pint,
we’ve got so much brogue in here,” I quipped.
He seemed unimpressed with the observation, though the
muscles around his mouth ticked for just a second to suggest otherwise.
“If I’m gettin’ this all right, you’re a Nephilim?”
“Unfortunately. Will that be a problem?” he asked,
seeming to tense for a fight.
Considering a very recent near-death I’d had with a
demonic soul trader, the question was one I had to stop and really consider.
Even before the supernatural and natural universes had
merged, and the humans had come to know of the unspeakable monsters from the
Lower Realms they knew as demons, they’d been a vicious virus.
They’d gotten really hot and bothered by the idea of
expanding their territory as soon as the realities crashed together, and mating
with the humans had been one of their many tactics.
Except, thankfully, it’d taken the demons a few dozen
centuries to piece together that they couldn’t get more full-blooded demons,
and sired the Nephilim, instead.
I hadn’t met a Nephilim borne from fallen angels that
could stand their father, to date, so the plan had clearly not worked out so
well for them.
Much like demigods and other half-humans with magic in
the blood, they usually had a lot of
power to throw around, too.
If Mr. Maxwell was having trouble, I wasn’t entirely
sure how much my half-Fae self could do for him.
“Long as yer not an idiot an’ try ta’ stick a knife in
my back, yer golden by me,” I finally answered. “The Zodiac’s important, an’
I’ll help ya’ keep it goin’. Danu knows, I don’t need the APD comin’ ta’ me
askin’ fer help even more than they already do.”
“Sounds fair. So, I’ve showed you mine, now tell me
something. You’re not just a witch. What’m I dealing with here?” he asked with
a strange light behind his gaze.
Apparently, the concept of personal questions wasn’t one
he understood.
“Been a witch since I was little. Pa’s side was one of
the first to go through when we had the Crash. My ma’ is… well, let’s just say
I’m a Fae, but not entirely, an’ leave it at tha’, fer now, yeah?”
“Alright. How much is your consultation fee?”
His eyes bugged out of his skull at the number I gave.
“That’s a hefty as hell price. I looked into you, a bit,
after he pointed me your way, and you’d need to meet every bit of your
reputation to earn that. Do you?”
“That depends. Where’d you hear about me? I try to keep
a low profile, in my line of work, when possible, Mr. Maxwell, so you shouldn’t
know much.”
“People in this town talk, especially among the
full-bloods. Worse than old biddies,” he scoffed.
Leaning back, he let his aura expand until my whole room
was coated in a very pale gold light.
As soon as he noticed it, he winced and reined it back
in.
Evidently, he wasn’t as contained as I would’ve thought.
“Word has it you recently took on a bloody Ifrit, in an asylum no less! And ya’
came out with a freed vessel, to boot.”
I had, until that point, thought I was more subtle, and
intimidating where it counted.
Having every monster on either side of the divide
knowing my name, and what I could do, would be way too bad for my health to
revel in the infamy.
Going by the complete lack of question in his statement,
I’d also been holding less of my energy in than I should’ve been.
“Word does travel,
doesn’t it? It wasn’t as fun as it sounds, I assure ya’.”
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