Jeanne Bonheur's Story

It was a dark morning in Lutetia with the clouds hanging heavily in the skies. There was a light drizzle already, but no wind.

Sitting on her porch, rocking back and forth on her chair with a toothpick hanging out the side of her lip, Jeanne predicted a still and humid rain. There was no breeze even now, and the only movement of the trees was the occasional twitch beneath the fall of a raindrop. The detective pinched the toothpick between her fingers with a pensive narrow of her eyes.

She'd long since shrugged off her long jacket; these months were too warm without a breeze. Even her thin blouse and vest were mildly stifling. Perhaps it was the pants. Too long, too dark for this weather. I ought to pick up a pair of shorts, thought Jeanne. She chuckled; she'd been saying that all summer and forget the second she drove out. At least she'd kept the hair short, just at her earlobes, despite the protests of her colleagues. It was easier that way. Cooler with the breeze on her neck.

As the thoughtful detective twisted her toothpick between her teeth, an orange-haired young man dressed in a breezy button-down and a waistcoat. Jeanne chuckled as he walked up her steps, pointing to his leather breeches.

"Get that fruity shit off my porch," she chided with a grin. The young man raised his eyebrows in surprise, pausing with a slight jump to examine his clothing.

"Whaat?" he whined. "I thought you liked it when a man looked sharp, Jeanne!"

The detective took the toothpick out of her mouth and pointed it at him. "Yes, but sharp doesn't mean you wear leather pants that looked like they belonged to your grandpa."

Turning red in the cheeks, the young man answered, "They actually did belong... to..."

"Off," ordered Jeanne, waving him towards the steps. After a pause, they Exchanged glances and bobbled their shoulders in a laugh. "Why'd you come bother an old lady, Iago? You're too young. Should be partying in town. Don't you have a girlfriend? Selene bless, you've got too much time on your hands."

The young man took a seat on the swinging chair adjacent to Jeanne, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. "No one else is going to, ah? You don't take any calls unless it's work. Why are you even sitting here on the porch?"

Jeanne took her time to answer, letting the creak of her chair fill the silence between them. She took her gaze to the sky, letting out a small hum. "I feel like it's going to be a bad day."

Iago scoffed, "Isn't it always a bad day in Lutetia?"

Shaking her head, Jeanne mumbled, "Feel like something is off."

"Maybe it's the weather."

"Maybe it's a hunch."

The ginger rolled his eyes. "You spend so much time alone, Jeanne. You need more company. A man, a cat- something! You really are starting to sound like an old lady."

She couldn't help but snicker. "You know I don't have time," she said.

Iago sighed. "But you have time to sit on your porch. Speaking of which, I'm going to Sirene today for lunch. Do you want to come? There'll be some older folk there you can meet. Socialize."

The detective shook her head. "Busy. I'm going down to the Magic Shop today, then I'm going to the Society."

"Those assholes?"

"Useful assholes. This case is wringing my neck. I don't trust our officers to take care of me for this one."

Again, the young man sighed and shook his head. "Try not to get into too much trouble, okay? I can't do without an old hag calling me fruity every morning."

He got up and walked over to Jeanne, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek. "Good luck with the case," he said before running down the stairs of the porch. Jeanne took in a breath and hollered, "Go get a girlfriend!" to which Iago responded, "Go get a cat!"

The detective leaned far back in her chair, spinning the toothpick in her fingers. She eyed the clouds with a grumble. "Hmph," she huffed, tapping her chin with the toothpick. Her eyes became contemplative. "A cat..."

The door to the Magic Shop opened, dull light spilling through behind a damp-shouldered figure.

It was a rare sight to see Jeanne around town when she wasn't on the job, though the visit wasn't entirely casual. Something put a bad feeling in her gut when she walked out onto her porch that morning. She needed to cover her bases.

Dressed neatly in a blouse and vest combo, slacks, and an old duster that had seen nearly as many years as the detective herself, Jeanne thumped further into the store, taking a gander. "Huh. So it's the real thing. Ain't seen one like this before," she mumbled.

"Hello? Shopkeeper?"

"Be right with you!" Elmira called out from the indoor loft where some of the more restricted wares where stored. Course, the really dangerous stuff was locked up downstairs, or kept in the back room.

She put a few more books on a shelf that she was stocking before she headed down the steps to Jeanne.

"Hey, I don't think I've seen you in here before, and I don't usually forget a customer. I'm Elmira, and welcome to The Magic Shop. What can I do for you today?"

Elmira was a tall, young woman, though she looked a few years older than her age of twenty-eight. A loose fitted blouse hung over an almost scarecrow thin form, and her straw blonde hair added to the image. She was a pretty enough woman though, albeit a bit too far on the lean side.

Jeanne smiled as she approached the other woman, who was her junior by barely a few years. Though not as tall, Jeanne was certainly more robust than the shopkeeper.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Detective Jeanne Bonheur. Ashamed to say it is my first time in here, this charming little place." She held out her hand for a shake. "I've come here for some advice, as well as possibly buying something you might have. I was wondering how much you knew about demonic possession and the prevention of such an incident by those who aren't..." She pointed to herself, smiling tightly, "... magically inclined."

"Well... we don't really dabble in demonics here, but we have some generic protection talismans and fetishes..." Elmira replied as she gestured for Jeanne to follow her into the wards and protection spells section of the shop. "Demonology is a broad field though... and it can be difficult to ward against it effectively without something more precise to work with. Each demon is a little different than the next," she added with a smile by way of explanation. "Is there something specific you're looking for?"

Mathias had walked through the streets of a city that was familiar and foreign to him at the same time for at least three days. It was now that he found himself at a place he felt certain he'd been to before, or at least a place like it.

Mathias went through the door to the Magic Shop. He had on his favorite/only blue sweatshirt with the hood up, grey cargo pants, brown work boots, black shades, and white bandana on. Mathias cast his gaze across the shop. There was two ladies in the shop and a lot of wares.

Mathias was unsure of what to do, he was unsure if he was good at dealing with people. He just stood in the doorway awkwardly, unsure of what to do, or how to react to the situation he had been placed in.

"It's not like, ah... how do I put this? I didn't handle these kinds of things in the past. Not really. It's not flesh and blood and horns. It's not something you can see. It moves around things in the house, whispers, makes things go bump in the night. Makes shadows. Ordinarily this wouldn't be any of my business... but it's grown far more malevolent." She looked the shop owner dead in the eye, dropping her voice. "There's been a murder. Aren't ghosts and demons... not supposed to be able to do that?"

When she heard the patter of the rain outside as the door opened, Jeanne turned to observe their company. She lifted a thin brow, looking him over. Any snarky comments she had, she kept to herself. Hooligan and gangbanger weren't names she used for strangers out loud.

She passed a glance at Elmira that asked, "Are you seeing this?"

"A murder?" the shop keeper asked in surprise. "I can sell you some protection enchantments to ward against general malevolent spirits, but this sounds like something you should be talking to the police about..."

She trailed off as Jeanne was distracted by the arrival of another individual.

"We get customers of all sorts here," Elmira explained to Jeanna with a smile. "Excuse me, sir?" she called out. "If you need anything, I'll be with you in just a moment."

She turned back to Jeanna then and gestured to an assortment of objects on the shelf.

"This one here," she said as she picked up a small pentagram fetish with a feather tied to it. "If you hang this one at the head of your bed while you sleep, it will ward you against malevolent spirits entering your dreams.

"And this one," she continued as she picked up a talisman made from a tooth of some sort. "If worn, this one will provide you general protection from evil spirits."

"I can't promise you that they will help with this particular problem of yours though... I'm going to give you the number of a woman who might be able to assist you with identifying the source of your troubles. Once you know what you're dealing with, it'll be easier to identify a more specific means of warding against it."

Mathias stood dumbstruck as the women noticed him, and even spoke to him. Then the talk turned to talismans and demons. The talk made Mathias's brain tick. Something about the conversation made Mathias feel like he knew something about what they were talking about. Had he been a Demon Hunter before his memory had been taken from him. Then it struck him, he could of just been a superstitious person.

Mathias moved further into the shop and started looking through the shop's contents, still listening to the conversation. Something about a murder.

Mathias put his hands to his head as he was hit with a headache. Memories trying to surface, but failing.

"Curse this ailment!" Mathias shouted, his accent clearly marking him as a non-local.

"The police know well and fine, dear, well and fine. I'm part of Lutetia's Police Department. I think I'm going to need... quite a bit more than some small trinket that does some small deeds, but I'll leave you to take care of this... man for now."

She stood by with her hands clasped behind her back, watching the scene unfold. There was definitely a point where Jeanne's brow folded as she thought to herself, What is this bonehead up to?

"What you're asking for is something I can't simply sell you. We're a magic supply shop," Elmira explained. "We don't have demon hunters and exorcists on the shelves. I understand the Police Department has several specialists on retainer for this sort of thing?" she asked.

She moved to the counter and picked up a business card and used it to write a number down on the back.

"If the police department can't handle it, give this woman a call," she explained and offered it to Jeanna. "And buy the charms, they can't hurt can they?"

Jeanne took the paper and briefly looked over it. The number was sloppily memorized, perhaps something she would recall the last urgent second if she somehow lost the paper. She stuffed it in her pocket and nodded. "Thank you. As for the charms..." Jeanne let out a heavy sigh, then, drawing her lips into a thin line, she opened up her wallet and pulled out a bill. "Can't be more than this, yeah? As a thanks. The tooth necklace."

She glanced up from between them at the man again, then eyed the shopkeeper. "You're going to be okay with him...?"

The doors opened again, and walking in came yet another detective. She laid a hand on Leon's cheek and pushed him to the side in a rude and unprofessional greeting. "Morning, mouthbreather," Jeanne joked, flashing her badge. She nudged Richard. "Gave the little speech?"

Richard arched a brow. "Yes."

"Not very responsive, mm? You did it wrong."

The scar-faced man scoffed at his senior. How did he get in a department with a bunch of morons?

"I'm going to question Baron. You ain't the one for 'im, Choncey" said Jeanne, walking ahead of him over to Baron's table. She threw out the ends of her long coat behind her before sitting herself down. "Hallo, there. I don't think we've actually formally met, but you've got quite the reputation around the office. I'm Jeanne Bonheur. I'm happy to finally meet you, Baron. So, now." Jeanne gave him a tight smile, raising up her eyebrows. "Is there anything you can tell me about last night? Some strange murder you got in your alley, huh?"

Leon pushed his cheek against her hand, smiling lightly. "Finally, someone shows up without a broom up their ass". His eyes flicked towards the door as a small white rat trailed in behind the officer.

He spectated it for a moment longer, watching it sneak behind the counter top. He looked back towards the officer as she began speaking. He let out a quiet laugh; Looked like his nickname for Dick would catch on quicker than he thought. He made his way towards her, remaining silent. For the first time in a long time, the childish look left his face as he gazed upon Baron.

He didn't dare to speak. He had done enough to hurt his cause the last time he encountered the man.

"I don't know anything about it," Baron replied simply. "Other than you've been running my business off all night."

A dead body in an alley wasn't too unusual of an occurrence in Vargeras, but the presence of the the police all over the street outside his bar was deterring some of his more unsavory patrons. They had a fraction of their usual crowd tonight.

"Are you going to be in here long? Or should I just close up for the night, because I'm not going to have any customers left soon."

"I'll say. What with a murderer killing people right at your doorstep. What a red welcoming mat you'll have," Jeanne said to Baron, gazing at him intently. "We'll be here a while. At least, until we get the information we want. I just want to know if any of you saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. Or, maybe, if you knew anyone who had a good reason to leave a murder on your territory. I saw the body, Baron. Whoever did that looked like they wanted to make a statement."

Jeanne leaned back in her chair, propping back an elbow. She never broke her eyes away from Baron's face. "I have nothing against werekind. If you help me, I can help you. I imagine you don't want to land yourself back in jail for something like this, eh? I know none of your boys did this." She leaned forward, her hands on the table. Her smile faded.

"I need to know if you can help me figure out who did."

"If you know it wasn't us, then why do I need to worry about prison?" Baron asked pointedly. "I told you I don't know anything about it, so do you have anymore questions, or are you just going to bother me and my customers for the fun of it?"

Meanwhile Elodie wasn't fairing any better. Julienne didn't even look up from her drink as the officer approached her.

"Piss off," she said over her drink.

Jeanne tapped her fingers on the table. Her jaw moved like she was chewing. "I don't have any evidence, but I know. So you heard nothing last night? No screaming? Are you sure there's no packs that rival yours that would do this? Here."

From a pocket, Jeanne brought out a small digital camera. It was a bit old, had scuffs and small indents here and there, but it was functioning. She turned it on and flipped through the pictures. In a moment she stopped, turning the camera to Baron. A crisp face shot, used with the flash. The torn out throat was gruesomely included in the picture, all but the spine gone.

"Do you recognize this man? His name was Emeric Michael."

"Nothing," Baron answered.

As she presented the picture for him, he leaned forward to get a look at the camera before sitting back in his chair again.

"I know who he is. He's a regular here," he answered. "And that doesn't look like a wolf attack to me. Too precise. There's only so many ways you can bite someone. I should know something about it."

He was clearly not amused at the police's presence in his bar, but for the sake of Jesse and the woman in the cellar he didn't want to give them an excuse to go poking around the place.

As Ivan stepped into the bar, he frowned at the fact that the cop had evidently beat him to it. Giving Baron a wave and an apologetic shrug aimed in the woman's direction, Ivan slid into a booth, close enough to eavesdrop but far enough away to - hopefully - seem not suspicious.

His brooding worsened.