Update
I went a bit into the story of Morgana's time with the APD today. I find I'm struggling with show vs. tell, and how much exposition to give, with this story more than the other shorts thus far. Tomorrow, I'm getting into the short's main premise.
Current Word Count: 39,220
Scene of the Day
He’d been a tall, lithe man, appearing no older than 25,
when he’d been alive.
Black hair was cut in a tight crop around his skull, yet
despite the lack of hair, it was still matted heavily with blood.
Worse, though, were his eyes.
They were frozen staring glassily forward, forever
etching the horror of his death into his face.
What caught my attention next was the connection between
his body and head.
Which simply wasn’t there, at least not completely.
The skin was covered with jagged tears and cuts, several
of which connected together.
Whatever had killed him had done it fast, painfully, and
with a purpose.
Beheading was usually a special kind of show, saved for
some supernatural that’d pissed another off in spectacular fashion.
Had death not been so common a sight in Arkham, it would
probably have made me heave on the spot.
Whistling, I pushed back to a stand and took a calming
breath.
The violence of his death had poisoned the air,
apparently, and that poison hit me the second I took a gasp.
Gagging, I thumped my chest and pulled my psychic
defenses a little bit tighter, until the sensation was gone.
“Well that’s interestin’.”
“Vic’s name is Jason Coldwell. Age 22, according to his
license,” an officer read off from their notebook.
“He pissed someone
off bad. Enemies?”
“Nothing’s turned up yet. With all due respect, ma’am,
this club’s a freakshow. Liking him probably didn’t factor in much,” the same
officer retorted.
“That kind of thinking’ll get ya’ on a fast track
through the gates, kid,” Collin laughed.
“Sir?”
“Just get on with it,” Marshall spat. “I didn’t call you
here to draw things out, Lugus.”
“I know,” I sighed.
Multitudes of cracks
and pops left as I stretched, slowly
working the kinks out.
“Alright, let’s get the party started, ladies an’ gents.
Collin, could ya’-”
“Be right back,” he interrupted, already on his way.
“Hey! Where the hell-”
“Ease up. He’s gettin’ me supplies,” I cut in, waving
her tirade off.
I had no doubt he already knew exactly what the plan
was, and what to grab for me.
Not just because we had a weird synergy, either.
On top of being a Nephilim, the more-than-decent psychic
child of a demon, Collin had a lot of witch in him.
Possibly even stronger blood than my own, which was
considerable, though I’d yet to pull out of him exactly what kind of powers he
really held.
In less than a minute, he was back with a small grocery
bag in tow.
As soon as I grabbed it, energy sparked against my skin
with a visible flash.
For me, it was an interesting reaction, which drew a
gasp before I could choke it down.
For the officers, it caused all but Marshall to startle,
even the more jaded vets of the force.
“Well, now, ya’ certainly know how ta’ please,” I laughed.
“Only the best for you,” he responded with a grin.
“So I take it you two know each other?” Marshall huffed.
Her glare would’ve melted lesser mortals.
“Ya’ could say that,” I agreed with a shrug.
Turning back to the body, I let the magic in the room rush
over me.
Aside from my flat, the Zodiac was my favorite place in
the depressing hellhole of a city.
The club was the reason I’d met Collin in the first
place, after all.
He’d been forced to hire me to help him get rid of a
demon planning to shit him down and throw Arkham into chaos.
Saving the club from being firebombed had, by all
accounts, ingratiated myself to the club itself.
While not sentient, it had a lot of magical power stored
in its ancient foundation, and being inside always made me feel like I had
something looking out for me.
That feeling was doubled as the magic in the air coursed
through my lungs and spread.
“Well you’d better get motivated, then, Lugus. I’m not
nearly awake or drunk enough to deal with two smart-asses, and I’m about a twitch
away from arresting him for criminal negligence,” Marshall threatened, breaking
me from my musings.
“Can she do that?” he asked, seeming mildly concerned.
“She can detain, but you’d get out in a few hours tops,”
I responded flippantly.
The growl from my former Captain was enough to make me
almost okay with being awake so damned early.
Setting the bag down on a table, I looked through what I
had at my disposal.
“Alright. Serious time, now. We’re getting started.”
Several officers shuffled on their feet when I brought
out a medium-sized bag of salt.
I’d left a few impressions during my time on the force,
apparently.
“You’re in for a treat, I think. Might want ta’ be
steppin’ back,” Collin mused.
As soon as I pulled the bag open, a faint light waved
through the air.
I quickly and carefully poured the salt in a ring around
the body, giving him, and his blood, a wide berth.
“She’s contaminating the crime scene!” the fresh-faced
officer cried in alarm.
“I gotta’ say, I’m kinda’ surprised ya’ called me,
Marshall,” I said conversationally, ignoring the newbie entirely. “Isn’t this
the whole reason we don’ get along in the first place? Other than my sparklin’ personality, of course.”
“Someone still likes you. Wasn’t really my call,” she
grumbled.
“Ah. Now tha’ makes
sense. Are you gonna’ need ta’ leave, or-”
“Just get it over with, witch,” she snarled. “I don’t
like your methods. You get me results, though, so I can get home and get some
damn sleep, and we’re square,” she added, fingering the silver crucifix hidden under
her shirt collar.
I never really had been able to understand how Irene
Marshall’d lasted in the field of Arkham, clinging to her bible like it was
armor against the great beyond and its many evils as she did.
Even with her blatant dislike for me, though, she was
still staring at a brutal murder without blinking, and letting me handle it if
it meant catching the monster responsible.
Which is why, when it came down to it, I respected her
for being good at her job, love lost or not.
“An’ that,
boys an’ girls, is why she’s still yer captain after this long,” I called to
the officers, just as I finished the circle.
“Cut the theatrics.”
“Will do. Anyone that scares easy, leave now.”
With a twitch of my foot, I indicated the salt circle.
“Nobody but Collin crosses this line. His salt, his aura
touching it, his line ta’ move through without breakin’ the damn bubble. An’ if
I start actin’… strange… nobody touches
me. Are we clear, people?”
Nobody moved, though a few of the officers paled.
The ones who hadn’t been around when I was with the APD
were the ones who didn’t, but they still took a cue from their partners, for
the most part.
Collin moved to stand at the very edge of the circle,
looking the picture of utter calm.
But there were very slight muscular tics, showing me
that he was more than ready to move if things went wrong once the action
started.
Taking a deep breath, I let my body relax in waves of
sensation.
Tension slowly bled away as the world brightened around
me.
In my mind’s eye, I let a small film start unrolling.
An infinite, total darkness slowly filled my vision, and
my mind emptied the more it grew.
A spark went off right before my eyes, then, and a
thick, black candle ignited in white fire.
As the flames grew taller, my body started to feel like
it was floating.
The darkness and fire expanded more and more, until my
world was a perfect split of black and white, my body in the center of the
divide.
With my every pulse, the colors faded into each other
more, until everything around me was a grey blur.
Finally, a click that
may have been entirely imagined sounded.
My senses expanded back in a rush, and I felt connected
to the universe as a whole, tethered to the world only by my beating heart.
With a finger, I carved a line into the air until it
formed a star.
In my sight, the pentagram lit with silver fire,
crackling against my skin with no warmth.
In a more violent scenario, a thought could turn it from
psychic impression to real, living holy fire, but there wasn’t any need for
that then.
To the officers without any form of ESP, it probably
seemed a weird gesture, but everyone else would see me glowing.
“Power of the divine, come to me in this time and at
this place, to sanctify this sacred space,” I intoned.
The air stirred around me, feeling very much like some
creature’s awareness settling on me.
“I call on the great beyond. Barrier of realities, of
all things and all times, let this mortal gaze through your cracks. Knowledge
of all past, present, and yet to come, allow me a glimpse of your eternity.”
“Well ain’t she poetic?” an officer asked with a
nervous, girlish laugh.
Ignoring them, I took a step towards Mr. Coldwell.
Magic is seen, by most, as an extremely personal thing.
Which is why what I was about to do would make many
witches squeamish.
Luckily, I’d never been what you’d call the norm, and I
became determined where others would’ve gotten extremely nervous.
Though, I admit, not without good reason.
“Spirits, hear me! I offer this mortal vessel as a
channel. Allow me passage, through time and through space. Show me the final
moments of this mortal, Jason Coldwell!”
With that, I traced another pentagram, this one a breath
away from his forehead.
It wasn’t my most eloquent work, but the sudden warmth
that rushed through me assured that it would work just fine.
“Hold down the fort, Collin,” I called over my shoulder.
He gave some sarcastic reply, but I didn’t hear it.
Darkness had already consumed my entire being…
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