I woke up to the sound of a crashing platter. I sat up immediately, and was upstairs in a few seconds. A petite Asian woman with messy red hair stood across from Roy, holding up a frying pan in a threatening manner. Roy had both hands up, expression innocent and nervous. A metal platter had fallen to the ground between the two of them, and was still rolling.
My name is Jenny Nishi. I apologize for intruding on Atina’s narrative, but she gets into a mood when she is preparing for a case. She is a kind person, but somewhat prone to obsessive behavior. I also apologize for not obscuring my true identity in some exciting way, but I am very new to all of this.
I had a long, difficult time figuring out what, exactly, fairies are. Undead are straightforward- When you die in a certain way, you may become an undead. The precise details of what decides who becomes undead are still a bit beyond me, but every Undead was once a human, and it’s not such a mystery where the first one came from. Demons, likewise, are a bit less of a mystery, now that I know a couple individuals. An animal who is the focus of attention for a human can become one of them. But fairies… a human can become a fairy, if, before they become an adult, they are raised by a fairy. So where the hell did the first fairy come from?
The stories that stand out to people tend to be the ones that are full of twists, turns, death, and pain. When you read a novel, it’s easy to start seeing a character’s life as one long, unending ride of pain, horror, and knowledge-steeped monologue. But life is more complicated than that. Life is full of interminable stretches of just getting by. Talking just to talk, boring walks, mindless activities, cases that don’t have any huge significance. Not every case I take ends with me getting threatened with a brutal and sudden death.
“Shibboleth,” I said, studying the letter. “Quixotic. Fustigate. Penicillin.”
“Dean Morton’s dead.”