Fan Fiction ❯ Netherland ❯ The crow and the rat. ( Chapter 1 )

The day was cold, windy. Clouds lay strewn like gray fairy floss against a tinged blue sky. For the city of Angels, this was an interesting day. What happened to the sun? It hadn't really been out in over a month. Everyday it had dimmed since Y2K. Five years now, and finally the sun hid behind a blanket of storms and stars. Who knew what was thought to be the apocalypse was really a new beginning. A new era.

 

The otherworld era they had called it. The age of the supernatural. We just appeared one day, it wasn't our fault. There was nowhere else to go, and when a red cross appeared out of nowhere with the promise of a new land, a new world, well—we all bought into it. Now here we are, on Earth of all places. I'm in Los Angeles, never one to stray far from where I'm placed, I even live on the street the cross appeared on this side of the worlds. Main street. How cliché.

 

My perch swayed slightly, as usual my balance was impeccable. I simply moved out of habit with the wire I sat atop with my legs tucked modestly under my flowing black dress. The long sleeves draped down my arms in folds to my hands where they reached black gloves. My arm was up as usual, black parasol clasped in my right hand, shadowing my near white face. My eyes were turned down, hidden anyway by black flowing hair, though it was up now, tucked and pinned around my head in a conservative style. I kept my arm still, not allowing my parasol to slip and let what was left of the sun to tarnish my frail skin. It was all part of the curse, as were the crows that surrounded me, one at the end of my parasol and the others either side of the telephone wires I seated.

 

Ah, the curse. Again something very cliché, given to me by a woman I never even spoke to, a woman who did nothing more but save my life, a kind gesture really. However, if these were the conditions for life, I would have rather died, eternity seems far too long for me to hang around. Then again, who wanted to die whilst boarded in a house with an "X" painted on the door, left to sleep with dust and other folks left to rot. These days I knew, locking the doors didn't stop an infection, we should have killed the rats, not the cats and the dogs.

 

Too bad—So sad.

 

I lived. Thanks to her, whoever she was. Now, like many others who inhabited the streets, I was an immortal. A supernatural, set to live out my days as grossly numbered as they were. I would speak of my abilities, but I'm far too modest, they remain my own until witnessed. The most common however—I rose to my feet, hidden by the hem of my dress, my rather short and yet extremely thin frame was nothing short of graceful. The crows around me didn't stir or flutter, they followed as I stepped lightly along my tightrope. A few people stopped to notice me, but none lingered too long. We were common sights these days, mortals were no longer so easily amused.

 

I leapt suddenly into the air, like paper caught in a swirling breeze, I sailed with my parasol gripped in my hand and drifted to the ground. From there I walked as normal, the crows followed. Lady Crow I was known by. Though I had a real name once, Juniper I believe it was. It was so hard to remember such trifle things I hadn't used since the 1600's.

 

The precinct was but a short walk away. Human police ran in and out of the glass doors, while I casually strode in, swept past the reception desk and made my way to my office. As I entered the room in which my office was located at the back, I noticed the smell of something burning, out of instinct I looked over to Fletcher. He sat as usual in his chair, arms folded, ankles in the same manner, his long brown hair billowing over that ratty red bandanna he wore everyday. He was a very lean man, we were perhaps the same age, both appearing in our twenties, when in fact, hundreds of years old. I closed my parasol and delicately rested it against my shoulder, one crow still at the end of it. Another of my talents, the control of such birds—such beautiful birds.

 

Fletch stared intently into a corner, I followed his gaze as it came to rest on a mangy rat which screeched and banged against the far wall with smoke burning from its ears, eyes already turned to ash.

 

"When are you going to stop tormenting that poor creature?" I said, a voice like a drop of water crawling across a velvet rose sang to my own ears. Seduction was yet another talent of mine.

 

"It's not torture, it's practice." He replied blankly before turning his gaze towards me, a crooked grin toying at the corner of his mouth. "Unless you'd like to volunteer in its place." He spoke with that constant malicious tone in his voice. I stared back at him non-chalantly and replied with ease.

 

"Would you really like to try that game?" and as if by cue, the crow now seated on my shoulder let out a soft squawk and turned beady red eyes towards Fletch. He huffed and turned back to his rat, I turned into my office. The man was far too easy. A fey or fairy as humans preferred. Not hardly one you might find flittering around your garden, small as a butterfly and as sweet as sugar. Fey were something else, especially Fletch. For he, was a Sidhe. All Sidhe sported the same identifying characterizations. Tall and lean with a strong highly defined bone structure, often snide and certainly intelligent. All had a very sadistic nature, though they were often suave and as cunning as a fox. Fletch was our resident thief, to be blunt. Being Fey, he was genetically nimble and as graceful as myself, but also fast, very fast. On top of which, he was a good detective. He and I were but two of our supernatural group of five.

 

My self you might ask? What was I in this small task force of the supernatural which inhabited the desk littered room just outside my office doors. I was the psychiatric investigator, also the profiler, though when the occasion arose I went undercover and often participated in field work. Sometimes a woman's touch was needed in an operation, I was the perfect candidate, for I—was perfect. The curse again.

 

Now you also might wonder why I of all people had my own office, obviously not being the leader of our operation. Simple really, I needed the night. Now this, was a set back to my talents, medically, I was allergic to sunlight. It caused my skin to fester and rash, dehydrated me easily to the point of fainting and bluntly, it made me shrivel up, much like a prune. Though there was no pain involved, over exposure to the sun could easily kill me, hence my parasol. Only at night time did I dare go anywhere without it.

 

Upon entering my office doorway, darkness thicker than midnight greeted me into its embrace. The door absently drifted closed behind me, the darkness engulfed me now, but I knew my way. Yet another talent which accompanied my dark gift—night vision.. For much like vampires and werewolves, I was a creature of the night, unable to venture into the sunlight I was as accustomed to the night as others were to the day. I moved in soft sways across my office, rocking past my desk towards a lamp, I didn't like the electronic contraptions humans tended to rely on, I owned an oil lamp. I lit the wick with a match and followed by lighting a couple more candles either side of my lamp to illuminate my dwellings. White suede paint decorated the walls with trims of silver in an attempt to lighten my dark disposition. Though it did nothing.

 

I seated myself into the high back leather chair in front of a few files, recent cases which may or may not need our teams specific talents, something I was also in charge of—managing cases. An easily tiring job. I leisurely sifted through some of the folders. It wasn't often we took up a case, most proposed to us were simply stuff the police department could easily take care of on their own. We just happened to be the only supernatural squadron in Los Angeles, so anything immortal related came our way. Today, the pile was considerably small. I allowed my eyes to skim over the contents of each file, opening paragraphs to letters and requests, case reports and a few random photographs. Then something caught my eye. Slowly, my hand reached for the photo and I lifted it to my view.

 

It was a picture of a room, blood was strewn all about the walls, the carpet and the ceiling even. My eyes thinned slightly, catching something from the corner of the room. It was a mark, a small satanic cross, next to what appeared to be a doll, strung up with a noose around its neck to the ceiling. I leant back in my chair, studying the picture, when suddenly the door burst open and light filled my office. My hand snapped towards my parasol, hands clenched over it to protect myself from the light.

 

“Hey, Crow, we got any cases yet? We're running low on rats and I'm getting bored.” It was Fletcher. I peered at him over my desk, letting my hand fall from the handle of my parasol. His eyes moved from me and over to the crow perched on my shoulder. He licked his lips and then looked back to me. I beckoned him towards me with a finger and handed him the photo.

 

“Recognize anything?” I asked simply, leaning forwards a bit in my chair. He stared at the photo, turning it this way and that, studying it closely.

 

“Apart from the strung dolly and the demonic crucifix?” he said, his eyes moving towards mine once more. I stared at him blankly, waiting for the wheels to turn in his head. “Didn't we get offered a case a while back with something similar?”

 

I nodded.

 

He smirked at me, a cruel malicious turning of his thin lips.

”I'll get right on it.”

With that, he left my office and closed the door. I sighed and sunk into my chair. Something about this didn't sit right with me.

 

“Never mind.” I said softly and reached towards a cupboard in my desk, I pulled out a jug of water and poured myself a glass. “Just another problem with Netherland.” I mused as I sipped my water delicately.

 

Still…something just wasn't right about this.

There was something more sinister at work here.