Past and Future part one

The shadows swirled around his body and seemed to invade his head, touching the corners of his mind and soul.
At least I still have a soul, he thought to himself before he was ripped back into the cold night air just outside the office. Tibias scowled at his old friend, Kole.
“Was that really necessary?” He asked, smoothing out his deep red waistcoat.
“Yes. It would have taken longer Tibias,” Kole told him, the lack of emotion in his voice as familiar as the faded hallway. Tibias walked through the door after him. The door to the office was shut, a yellow light peaking out from the crack under it. Keera was still there, which was just as well. She had to be informed of Sherah’s recent retirement.
Kole opened the door and blinked at the bright light. For some reason Keera had all the desk lights turned on, along with the light in the ceiling and the small flashlight Tibias kept on his desk.
“Ms. Trean, whatever are you doing?” Tibias said, flipping off the light,leaving the desk lamps still lighting the room. The angel seemed to notice the men for the first time, opening her eyes quickly and ruffling her feathers. They had surprised her.
“What? Oh, you’re back, how’d it go? ” Keera asked turned to Tibias and asked quickly.
“Yes, we are indeed back, and it went as well as any other dreadfully boring yet important meeting held at headquarters. What were you doing Ms. Trean? And where is Ms. Faroth?” he walked up to her desk, cocking his head in a very Kole-like manner.
“I was,” she hesitated, “Carahya is in the kitchen, making tea,” she told him, standing and stretching.
“You were supposed to be watching her,” Kole said warningly, “If she-”
“Don’t worry Kole,” Keera said too calmly, “I can honestly say I don’t think she’ll run away or try anything,”
“What did you do?” Tibias asked, not sure what Keera was getting at.
“She’s attached to that man, Mr. McBride, so I just let her think we had him on our team, working for us,” she shrugged.
“Wow, Keera,” Kole said, not a hint of surprise in his voice, “It seems like you are becoming used to lying without my prodding,” Keera flinched.
“I should check on her,” she said softly, “She may not be used to our particular kitchen,” she walked out of the office and turned the corner sharply, and entered the door a few feet down.
The kitchen was a pleasant blue, with a brown trim. All of the appliances were covered in lacquered wood, even the refrigerator was a beautiful display of workmanship, scenes from a great battle between famori and humans was expertly burned into its surface, even carved with loving hands. Carahya sat at the large, round table, face buried in her arms, seemingly asleep. The tea kettle was on the counter behind her, the crimson ceramic object showing the signs of tea making, but there was no water in it. Keera sat down beside the sleeping girl and poked her lightly.
Kole peaked his head in to make sure the shape shifter was still in the building, then returned to the office and sat at his desk. Tibias cocked an eyebrow at him and sat behind his own desk. He took note that a desk was missing, Sherah’s. Of course that was to be expected. The office had it’s own magic, of sorts, and the number of desks was liable to change with the amount of Council members registered to be working in New England at any given time. He wasn’t sure where the unused desks went, although he liked to think they went to a dimension that was solely dedicated to holding unused desks, which was of course completely ridiculous. What really bothered him about the desks was where they came from. The laws of physics do not allow for matter to be created nor destroyed, which leaves one wondering about the flexible reality in which all of matter exists. It also leaves one aching for a cup of hot tea. Keera had yet to return, and Kole was as chilly was ever, flipping idly through a stack of paper, so Tibias stood up from his mysterious desk he had moments before had been all to happy to sit behind and walked into the kitchen to see about that cup of tea.
He caught sight of Keera and Carahya siting at the table, talking quietly to each other. They stopped short when they saw Tibias enter.
“By all means, continue, I am only here for the tea,” he said in a light tone, “I was informed that there was supposed to be some brewing?” he spotted the ill used tea pot on the counter.
“I wasn’t sure how to heat the water,” Carahya said sheepishly, “I can’t put the pot on the stove, it’s ceramic, and there seems to be a lack of a microwave here,” she pointed at a scorch mark on the wall and raised an eyebrow, “I think that may have been it,”
Tibias laughed, and picked up the ceramic pot and untwisted the bottom, much to a wide eyed Carahya’s surprise. He showed her a small switch and dial in the hidden bottom and winked.
“It was a gift from my mentor, one of the best and longest lasting,” he told the young, blue haired girl, “It is a self heating tea pot, and I love it as I would love a child,”
“One day Tibias, you will learn that coffee is just as good as your tea,” Keera said with a smile.
“Your mentor?” Carahya asked, watching the teapot steam in wonder.
“Oh, yes,” Tibias said, “I had a mentor when I entered the Council, I was younger then you, you see, only sixteen,” he narrowed his eyes at the teapot, willing it to heat up faster.
“You needed someone to teach you how to be a Reaper?”
“Oh, do not be so stupid, girl,” he said warmly to her, reaching into a cabinet and withdrawing three dark red mugs, “I am not a Reaper,” he laughed.
“Then what are you?” she asked, watching his as he waited for the kettle to sing.
“Kole’s babysitter,” Keera said before Tibias could reply, and Carahya snorted.
“You’re a nanny?” she asked, with all seriousness.
“No, I am not a ‘nanny’” Tibias gave her a mock glare as the teapot began to whistle merrily, “I am Mr. Tarrent’s associate, I keep up with the Council goings on as well as provide background information about various supernaturals,” he poured the tea into the three cups and placed one in front of each girl.
He sat down across from Carahya and sipped his tea, grimaced and got up to find the ever illusive sugar.
“Ms. Trean, you must speak with Mr. Tarrant, I am sorry, but it is important,” he said, remembering that she must be informed of Sherah's departure. He did not wish to bring up the subject before the girl. It could cause unwanted questions that may lead to an eventual distrust of the Council, and those who distrust the Council keep secrets stashed away under some old dusty cloth, and those who kept secrets from the Council had a way of disappearing into the ether.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Keera asked, standing and putting a hand on her hip in a universal symbol of attitude.
“Why, I felt you may have needed a cup of tea,” he said with a smile the angel could not help but return. She waltzed out of the room, cup of tea in hand, ready to face what Kole had in store for her, suddenly almost, sort of, kind of happy with her world.
Once he had finished watching the swing of those hips just under the be-feathered back of Keera, Tibias turned to Carahya, who simply grinned at him.
“You have something going on with Wings over there?” she told him more than asked.
“That is none of your concern,” Tibias said, sugar finally in hand, “You and I need to discuss your current position, which I am afraid, like everything else in the world, you may find a bit to your distaste,” he poured the sugar into the tea, which was mercifully still relatively hot.
“I new you had something going on,” Carahya said, blatantly ignoring the rest of the information Tibias had just told her.
“I am absolutely serious Ms. Faroth,” Tibias said, pouring in a bit more sugar for good measure. He liked his tea sweet, one of his vices he hoped Royal never would find out about. The last thing he needed was salty tea. He swallowed, thinking about it. He noticed his mind was all over the place today, and he could not put his finger on why. He just couldn’t help his mind from wandering.
“I just need to know one thing,” Carahya leaned forward, all traces of her grin wiped away to be replaced by a look of concern, “The angel, Keera, she can lie?”
“Yes, she can, just like you, just like me, unfortunately Mr. Tarrant has yet to figure out when it is warranted, causes all sorts of problems in social situations,” he paused, aware that his mind was wondering yet again, something may well just be wrong, “sometimes one really must refrain from informing one of the High Council that she looks very similar ‘a morbidly obese whale with sideburns’,” Tibias grimaced at the girl, who looked taken aback.
“So, you’re telling me she can lie?” Carahya noticed that this man, Tibias seemed a bit more chatty than usual, from what she could tell, he could speak a lot, but he usually had something to say. He seemed to be talking an awful lot for someone not saying much at all.
“Yes,” Tibias furrowed his eyebrows, he had a long day, that could be it, he was also entrusted with keeping this little troublemaker in check, and he really did not want to tell her all that much. Not to say he wanted to hand her off to Kole, the man would break the girl down into a shadow of her former self, no, he did not want Kole breaking another soul. Keera would do well, but then again, she did not trust the Council. Royal was simply out of the question, too close to the girl’s age.
“Ms. Faroth-”
“McBride is dead, isn’t he?” Carahya yelled out of the blue, cutting him off, “He was just an old man!” she put her hands over her eyes, trying to stop the tears. Tibias placed his hands on her shoulders and steadied the girl.
“He is not dead, we can go visit him tomorrow in the hospital,” he said calmly. Carahya looked up, and sniffed. Tibias hoped she wasn’t going to be this unpredictable under his watch, he just could not stand it when women cried.
“We can?” he nodded, “I thought Keera was just telling me that to keep me here,”
“No, well yes,” the muddled thoughts in his mind came rushing in again and he paused to force them out. Once he was sure he was not going to spew out some arbitrarily detailed story, he opened his mouth to speak.
“Ms. Faroth, you are now under the Council of Draelin
control, you are to be trained by a member of the Council of Draelin, you are to be loyal to the Council of Draelin, as a member of the Supernatural World, you are subject to the rule of the Council of Draelin,” he said quickly, so as not to be interrupted. He hated that speech, and was glad to have only needed to recite it four times since it had been told to him all those years ago. The Scottish lilt still stuck in his mind to this day, followed by a much to large smile and pat on the head.
“What?” Carahya stood up forcefully, spilling her tea to spread across the tabletop in a caramel colored flood of stickiness and fragrance, “You can’t do this!” The girl was outraged, as was to be expected. Tibias sat in his chair, watching the girl storm about the room in mild interest. Sometimes he really didn’t try to mask his actual feelings, but after so many years of wearing a mask, it came naturally, much like breathing. Carahya stopped her frantic pacing about the room and snapped her head to see Tibias, who had not moved. “What sad excuse of a life am I to be bound to?” she snarled at him, “Which washed up Q-tip do I have to put up with until I’m deemed ‘safe’ by that fuckin’ Council? Well?” She stared him down.
“Me,” he said softly, matching her hate filled gaze with his look of sympathy and understanding. Carahya stood, fists balled and breathing heavily, staring at the man before her, mismatched eyes full of sadness.
“You?”
“Yes,”
“Well, at least it wasn’t Shadow Ass,”



Keera gave Kole an incredulous look, Sherah had left? This was unheard of, Kole had not only had a supernatural in his charge leave her post, he had also not attempted to recall her.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Keera, I don’t lie,” Kole said, looking up from his paper work momentarily to meet her eyes before ignoring the angel. Keera huffed and sat down behind her desk. No wonder Tibias didn’t want to tell her in front of Carahya.
Muffled voices could be herd in the next room and then silence. The office door opened to show the form of Royal, which surprised Keera, she had been expecting Tibias and thought Royal would have gone home by then.
“The Watchforce are all over Sherah’s apartment, Kole if you don’t want them finding anything they shouldn’t I think you’d better get over there now,” he said, entering and siting behind his desk, putting his feet up. Kole stood and melted into the shadows.
“So, Sherah really left?” Keera asked before Tibias and Carahya appeared in the doorway.
“I am taking my leave, goodnight Ms. Trean, good night Mr. Holligan,” he said. Carahya gave them a half hearted wave.
“You’re taking her with you?” Keera asked, confused, she should stay at the Council headquarters or with the Watchforce, which was usual for prisoners or new supernaturals.
“She is my charge,” Tibias told her, “I am to be her mentor,”
“Oh,” Keera furrowed her eyebrows as Royal raised one and smiled, “I thought she was going to be evaluated,”
“She already has been, I have been able to evaluate supernaturals for three years now, Ms. Trean,” he informed her, walking to his desk, “Now the only thing you must do, Ms. Faroth, is sign this,” he rummaged through this desk, ignoring a rubber snake that popped out when he opened one of his drawers, and pulled out a piece of paper, “Unfortunately, you must sign with your blood,”
“What?” Keera, Royal and Carahya asked all at once, each one surprised. Tibias chuckled.
“Just a joke,” he said, and handed the paper and a pen to Carahya, who leaned on Kole’s desk to sign it.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” she said icily.
“I am afraid not,” Tibias whispered, and stretched. The phone on his desk rang, shattering the moment of silence in the office. He picked it up and held it to his ear, “Yes?” he asked and nodded, “Well, I will tell her, good night,” he hung up the receiver, “Ms. Faroth, I am so very sorry, but i seems that the Council has frozen your bank accounts and assets,”
“They an’t do that,” she growled, it was not like she used her money all that much, but it was still hers and she needed it to live!
“I am afraid they can, they own all your possessions and abilities now, for at least five years,” Tibias said, gesturing to the simple piece of paper the blue haired girl held, “They do not want you trying to fly out of the country, I would hazard a guess,”
Carahya simply handed Tibias the paper, who filed it in his desk.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said walking out of the office with a stony face covering her disgust.
“Goody bye, and behave yourselves!” he said to his subordinates.

“Well, at least you have a nice car,” Carahya said, sitting in the passenger’s side seat, arms folded across her chest.
“It is not a Ninja, that is one thing,” Tibias stared the engine, and buckled his seat belt, and gestured to Carahya to do the same.
“What’s wrong with my bike?” Carahya glared at him, she loved her bike, it allowed her freedom. No doubt they’d be taking it, that horrid Council.
“Oh, nothing, if you like plastic buzzing gnats,” he smiled at the girl and winked, and was instantly reminded of his own mentor, Patrick James Smyth-Kenton. The little Scottish man with an easy smile and amazing wit. He would often wink, just to throw young Tibias off his game for the shear enjoyment of it. The man had loved life, loved his car, the one Tibias was driving to the home Patrick had loved, had loved Tibias like his own son he had lost along his long road of life. Tibias still felt a pang of sadness mixed with the fond memories of the man who had taught him everything he knew.
“It is not a gnat!” Carahya protested.
“Well then, what is it exactly?”
“A bike,”
“A little plastic bike,”
“You are impossible!”
“You do get used to it after a while,” Tibias said, “After all you will have a few years,”
“Do I really have to stay for five years?” Carahya asked seriously.
“Well, I can try to shorten it, but as it looks from here, you may be stuck with my dry humor for the whole five years,” he said, “After that, you may be given the choice to stay and work for the Council, killing demons or something trivial like that, or go off on your way. They will always be able to find you though, they have your name,”
“I get to kill demons?” Carahya asked, disregarding everything else he had said, she could grow to like the job if it meant killing demons.
The highway was almost clear of all traffic, the trees and brush that lined it where dark, and after a few minutes of silence Carahya finally realized she had no idea where they were going.
“Where do you live?” she asked, turning to the man driving.
“Newton,” Tibias switched off the high beams as a car came from the opposite direction, not wanting to blind the poor man who was out at midnight, “My mentor, Patrick, left it to me,” Tibias noticed the fogginess in his mind had returned, he couldn’t stop his mouth or his thoughts, “After he died, I was given the house, the car, his money, but I would much rather have the man himself. His spirit is in the house though, I can feel his life,”
“How did he die?” Carahya asked through a yawn.
“Like any man, he grew old and eventually his mind went,” Tibias remembered waking up one morning to find Patrick sitting on the floor of the living room with a bowl of cereal, talking to the armchair, calling it his wife. In all the time Tibias had lived with him, he had never had a wife. He learned later that she had been killed when his mentor was young in an unfortunate accident. “I found him out back, on the bench he and his wife had painted the colors of the sunset,” He had taught Tibias to respect elders; to keep his tongue in check even when his superiors where doing something utterly useless; to speak properly at all times, for one never knows who might be listening; to stand behind someone to the last, for you may need someone to back you up one day, “He was cold and I brought him to the hospital,” he had carried the small Scotsman who had been gibbering incoherently and asking for his blanket and his tea to be on the sweet side, that his wife was to be home and she made the best scones and that he should stay a while, “He had phenomena,” the doctor who stood just outside the door shook his head sadly, Tibias had stayed with him throughout the week, hardly ever leaving this side, even though Patrick no longer remembered his name or his face, even when it wasn’t twisted up with sadness and pain, “There was nothing we could do for him, he was in his seventies and he just was not up to fighting off the infection,”
Carahya stared at Tibias, shocked that he had spoken so plainly, when his eyes spoke of the pain he still felt, she regretted asking him, but she figured it would have come up at one time or another.
“So,” she said after a minute of silence, “How did you come to the Council?” thinking that may be a better subject.
“I can see a person’s soul just before death,” he said with a shrug, “And I have a mean left hook,” Carahya couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious, she hoped that wouldn’t happen too often, “I was born with the ability to see the soul just before death, and my mother thought I was developing schizophrenia, like herself. She thought she was helping me the night she drunkenly held me down and took a razor to my eye and my ear. She thought if I was blinded and deafened she could save me from her unfortunate fate. I was eleven, they took me away from my mother and put me in a home for children,” he took a breath, he had not spoken this much about himself since he was a teenager, telling Patrick his left and that was after months and months of trust building, but he couldn’t help himself from speaking, his mouth had a life of it’s own, it seemed, “I tried to kill myself when I was sixteen. I told the psychiatrist what I saw, and he informed the Council. After an evaluation, I found myself face to face, or rather face to chest with my mentor, Patrick,” he had been a great deal taller than Patrick when he was sixteen, Patrick being in the five foot four range, and Tibias being just shy of six feet fully grown, “The little Scottish man,” Tibias smiled at the memory, “He never asked me how I tried to do it, he just said that it was better to remember why it didn’t work and know it was the work of God that I lived,” Carahya and Tibias stayed silent for the rest of the trip, thoughts from long ago rushing though Tibias’s head and thoughts of the future through Carahya’s. They stopped in front of a small house and Tibias opened his door and stepped out of his car.
“Some life,” Carahya whispered to the night, stepping out of the car.
“Some life indeed,” Tibias replied.

Gone

“I suggest we share our findings with Ms. Kinsley before returning to the office,” Tibias said as the pair left the Council headquarters.  “I have a feeling that Mr. Holligan did a less than adequate job with that particular assignment.”

Kole nodded his assent.  “I assume that you would prefer to drive to the apartment.”

“I would prefer that,” Tibias replied with a slight grimace.  “However, your method of transportation would be much faster.”  As the two men walked into the shadow of a building, Kole grabbed Tibias’ arm and melted the pair into the darkness.  They rematerialized outside of the apartment.

“Dear Lord, man, you could give a fellow some warning.”  Tibias removed his glasses and cleaned them on his handkerchief.  He despised shadowporting at the best of times, but, when he was taken by surprise, it was intolerable.  Returning his glasses to their proper place, he gazed up at the ivy-covered building.  His eyes stopped on a window with the glass blasted out.  Tapping the reaper on the arm, he pointed to the window.  “Isn’t that Ms. Kinsley’s apartment?”  Kole immediately melted into the nearest shadow, leaving the older man standing on the sidewalk.  Tibias dashed into the building, took the stairs two at a time, and, finally, a bit out of breath, kicked in the apartment door.  He found Kole standing placidly in the middle of the room.

“She’s gone.”  The reaper turned to face his partner.  “The broken window was her own doing and there are no other signs of struggle.  This was on the table.”  Tibias took the object that Kole held out towards him.  It was Sherah’s badge, identifying her as a reaper of the Draelin Council.  It was roughly hewn in two, assumedly by a dragon claw.

“It would appear that Ms. Kinsley has resigned.”  Tibias tossed the destroyed badge onto a nearby table.

“I’ll send out some shadows to search for her.”  Sharpe stopped the reaper before he could begin.

“Do not be impractical, Mr. Tarrent.  There is no evidence to suggest that Ms. Kinsley left under duress and she is perfectly in her rights to resign.”

“But, what of Mammon?”

“That is what I was getting at.”  Tibias shifted his weight in growing impatience.  “All of our efforts should be focused on finding the demon and uncovering whatever group was responsible for Cathburn’s death.”  He raised an eyebrow at the reaper.  “Now, shall we return to the office, Mr. Tarrent?”  In a flash, Kole had grabbed his arms and they were shadowporting once again.  Tibias made a mental note to be more careful about standing in shadows.

Report

                Kole and Tibias were back in council headquarters talking about the reading that was performed last night. Kole had no idea why he was here, except for the fact that Tibias made him come along. His reason being that since Celia was his contact, then Kole should come and suffer through the meeting as well.  Across the room from them sat a man who had an air of power around him. He looked physically fit and sat confidently in the leather upholstered seat in front of his neatly organized desk. His hair was graying a bit, his only sign of aging. This was the current leader of the council: Aimery Eartha, currently the most powerful mage in existence. He leaned forward in his seat a bit. “So, you are saying that your associate Celia Ramana, also known as Madam Gkika, performed the reading?” He gestured over to Tibias.

                “Indeed.” Tibias replied calmly.

                “And what was it that you discovered?” He asked

                “Well, the reading was somewhat enlightening.” Tibias said. “Apparently, Ms. Ramana is very good at performing these. She not only managed to preserve the little residual energy that was left in the body for a long duration of time, but she could reconstruct the scene of Mr. Cathburnes death incredibly vividly for such a delayed reading.”

                “And?” Aimery pressed.

                 “Yes, anyways,” Tibias continued. “The scene was pretty hazy and we only managed to make out a few snippets of dialogue, but the person who killed Cathburne was a woman with a dark red cloak. It was obvious that she and Cathburne knew each other. The only sentence we managed to make out completely was the sentence: ‘You’ve made the Council of Draelin suspicious. A few seconds later he was stabbed by the woman with a dagger.”

                “Interesting…” Aimery trailed off. “So, obviously Cathburne must have been a pawn for someone or some group.”

                Kole took this opportunity to speak. “I have also noticed a rise in demonic activity in the New England area. More demons have been summoned over the past couple of months, although, the most recent one, Mammon, has been the most dangerous so far.”

                “So you suspect there is a connection between the two?”

                “Yes.” Kale said.

                Aimery sighed. “This does not bode well. A Lord of Sin is more powerful than even an elemental lord and even I would be mildly challenged.” 

                Kole sat there listening. Aimery continued. “In addition to this, Mammon, and this woman in red are probably big threats to the council. The council now needs to act quicker than ever. We are now in the public eye and we must be shown to be effective and strong.”

                Tibias spoke. “Mr.  Eartha, what would you like us to do then?”

                “Now that we know that there are people behind this, we can organize a search and destroy.” Aimery said casually. “Kole, I want you to scour the Boston area and all surrounding locales for anything that seems out of the ordinary.” He turned to Tibias. “I want you to speak to the lesser supernaturals in the area. They might know something.”

                Kole readied himself to get up and leave the office after receiving his orders. Unfortunately, Aimery was still speaking. “Now, what of this prisoner you seemed to have picked up? This Carahya Faroth?”

                “She is a shifter of some talent. She somehow was in possession of an original copy of The Art of Demon Whispering. We apprehended her yesterday, although she seems to just be an unfortunate innocent in all of this.” Tibias calmly said.

                “She also seems to be incredibly foolhardy and ignorant of the council dynamics and laws for the most part.” Kole added. “She is very brash as well.”

                “Hmm.” Aimery pondered. “You were right in recruiting her to the council. Shifters need to be registered with us due to their very deceptive abilities.” He rifled through his desk and gave Tibias a sheet of paper. “I am putting her as your responsibility Tibias. Although, I want you to be very strict with her and try to break this brash spirit. Shifters in general are impulsive and need to be broken of this habit, lest they endanger themselves or others. That contract you have will have her name be put in the codex and the council will be able to observe her movements as well. Have her sign it.” He paused. “Out of curiosity, where might she be right now?”

                “She’s with my underling Keera.” Kole replied.

                “Good.  Also, keep an eye on Shera, I don’t want her roaming the city while Mammon inhabits it.  You need to stick together.”

                Kole nodded.

                “Alright, you are dismissed.” He said as one of Aimery’s assistants came into the room carrying a stack full of papers.

                Kole and Tibias left the office and made their way back to Boston through the portal. Kole felt an old predatory energy fill him up on the way back. They had a lead, and soon, he and his shadows would be on the hunt.

CHARACTER USE UPDATE

ALL OF ALISON LENO'S CHARACTERS ARE OFF LIMITS. USE OF CHARACTERS WILL RESULT IN ANGER AND RETALIATION FROM SYMPATHETIC PARTIES.

Another Reaper Gone - written by (smirks) all your base are belong to us

As the door closed she turned back to the Forest God. His muddy green eyes sparkled with internalized rage.

“It took all I had not to rip his head off.” The spirit growled.

She swiftly closed the gap between them and buried her face in his coarse fur. The scent of earth dampened by rain water filled her lungs as she nuzzled into him. “I need to get out of here.”  She fisted large clumps of his fur. “I can’t sit around waiting for something to happen. For them to give an indication they want me dead.”

The god lowered his muzzle to be flush with the top of her head. “I think that would be best.”

She snarled. “I’m never coming back to this place. Fuck this city and its people.” Pushing away from the god, she crossed the room quickly. Hefting her pre-prepared bag over her shoulder she turned to the window. The tortured sound of saxophone was muffled by the stark layer of glass. The dragoness smiled knowing exactly how to silence the noise.

She stood on the only bed she had ever owned summoning all the energy she could into pulsing balls of bright light over her palms. Letting loose a loud battle shriek before launching the two balls of energy at the glass smashing it on contact. Using the bed as a springboard she dove form the building and landed on the sidewalk opposing her former home.

                She was inches from the mediocre minstrel, whose wide eyes and gaping mouth indicated that his heart had stopped. Snatching up his paper bag covered bottle and brought it to her lips. The acrid liquid burned her throat causing her to nearly retch. She lowered her head watching the pavement as saliva flooded her mouth, precursor to vomit. One of her hands clutched at the man’s rank person as she regained her footing.  Lifting her head to look into his eyes, Sherah grinned roguishly before kissing him passionately. She pulled away from him with a growl.

“Wanna go to Russia?”

Reapers hate Mondays

Like a bad kidney stone, Sunday finally passed after much stress and exertion. The Council's Boston Team had their share of crummy days, but never before had one of these days been after a funeral. Now it was Monday: another day that was notorious for being universally stressful to both man and supernatural. An ominous fog hung over Boston that morning, seeming to fit appropriately with everyone's emotional state and Kole's lack theroef.

For a while now, Kole and Shera's apartment building had been getting an unusual wake-up call. Rest assured, there was no rooster crowing on the rooftop and it was doubtful that one would even survive in the city. It's supernatural cousin, the cockatrice, might have been able to survive but there wasn't a single one in all of Massachusetts. Cockatrices had a nasty habit of petrifying things and eating them, so the council got rid of them all ten years ago. Kole took care of the Massachusetts portion personally, mainly motivated by annoyance at the noises they made. There's no telling what he would do if he became fed up with the saxophone player across the street.

The bombastic melody that jolted the reapers awake every morning wasn't all that bad though. Shera was the only one who had problem with the street performer's presence. Shera didn't care for the man's sketchy mannerisms or the music itself after a while, and when it jolted her awake this morning she pulled herself out of bed and into the shower where rushing water could drown out the sound.

Meanwhile, the oriental man on the street played his song with great enthusiasm. Passerby greatly rewarded him with applause and tips. Usually the generous ones didn't show up until later in the afternoon, but on this foggy monday morning a green paper airplane came sailing out of the gloom and hit the saxophone player in the head. The startled musician unwrapped it to see that the airplane was actually a ten dollar bill.

"I need to go to my boss' house more often." Said a certain blonde, freckled man as he stepped out from the fog. "You've got talent, buddy."

The sax player just stared for a moment, probably confused about why his tip had to be a plane. "Uh.. Thanks." He said finally.

"No problem, Mr. Sax. Or is it Saxy?" The customer responded.

"It's-"

"Nevermind. I'm not interested." The expression on the blonde customer's face was a hideous toothy grin. He shoved his hands into his pockets and strode back into the fog, vanishing from sight. "I'll see ya later, Saxbomb."

"Ok..." Said the exceedingly confused musician.

Some time after that, Shera stepped out of the shower and didn't hear any more saxophone music. I bet he went to buy booze. She thought. Somebody must have paid him a big tip.

The Forest God handed her a towel and she dried herself off. As she did, the Forest God flew to her wardrobe and grabbed the dragoness an outfit. He returned to Shera with the clothes as soon as she was done drying and quickly dressed her for the day. That's when the doorbell rang.

That better not be... Shera walked to the door and opened it. Standing in the hall was not the musician as she had expected. Rather, it was her obnoxious coworker holding a clipboard.

"Shera Kinsley! Good Morning!"

"Royal?" Shera asked.

"Obviously." The Terrow teased.

Shera suddenly remembered a possible reason for Royal's intrusion. "Are you here to tell me about the Cathburn reading?

"Oh... that." Royal scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "It was alright. That Celia chick is an odd one. I don't see why Kole seems to find her more reliable than his real subordinates..."

"Cut the crap, Royal." The dragoness said bluntly. "What information did you get from the reading?"

The freckled terrow ignored her comment and swaggered inside her apartment. He started to look around, spinning around in a circle like a child. "You've got a niiice place here, Shera. I'm jealous..."

Shera turned to face Royal. "Yeah, it's nice. I didn't invite you in though."

The terrow was still running his motor mouth. "My 'apartment' is just a treehouse in the common. It's embarrassing, and that's why I try to go to the woman's house when I-"

The Forest God picked Royal by the throat and threw him against a bookcase. Shera crossed her arms and shook her head.

"I may have deserved that." Royal rasped as the wind returned to his lungs. The terrow got up and was now facing two quite annoyed supernaturals. Shera and the Forest God were both far more powerful than Royal and he knew he had to choose his next move wisely to avoid a confrontation.

"So... you want to know about Cathburn?" Royal stuttered. "I'll tell you."

For the next ten minutes, Royal told Shera about the visions that Celia had described to him during the reading. The details were blurry, as dead readings often were but there were a few notes that were memorable about the identity of Cathburne's killer. The person had been wearing red, used a dagger, and was likely a female with dark hair. Her face could not be seen by Celia during the reading. After listening to this, Shera forgave Royal for his slight idiocy and showed him the door. The terrow didn't leave immediately, but he had his reasons.

He handed Shera his clipboard. "Can you please sign this?"

"What is it?" Shera said, skimming the document that was attached.

"Just the authorization for a new spell I've created. I need a reaper's signature before I bring it to the council." Royal grinned.

"Can't Kole do this?"

"He's at headquarters with Tibias and Faroth." Royal explained.

"What's he doing there?"

Royal shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they're recruiting her?"

Shera sighed. "If I sign this, will you leave."

"But of course." Royal replied with smile.

Shera's signature was on the page in an instant, she hadn't even read the spell. She handed back Royal his clipboard and went to the door. The Forest God watched Royal carefully until he back outside the apartment. At the door, Shera realized that there was no cold energy coming from the next apartment.

Shera looked at Royal. "Is Kole really gone for the day?"

"Yes." Royal nodded, then he added. "You should be careful."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shera replied, almost insulted.

"Mammon is still on the loose and he ain't even the baddest thing in this city." Then Royal seemed to frown. "During the reading I felt that the woman who killed Cathburn had some pretty twisted magic about her. All I'm saying is, don't get reckless. I'd hate to see a fellow Irelander get hurt."

"Thanks, Royal." Shera said, thinking about the vacant room next door and it's lack of a grim reaper. "That really helps."

"See ya round!" Royal waved and disappeared down the hall, finally leaving Shera and the Forest God alone in their apartment.