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Submerged in Murder

Submerged Part 1

By Ada ZubaPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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It was a cold night. The streets were shining silver from the rain that had not stopped for a while, but it was normal for New York. A tall man stood by the window, he held a crystal glass containing whiskey and glanced down at the world below him. He wore a grey suit; his hair looked black under the dim light, and he took a sip of his whiskey.

Martin should be here by now, he thought to himself. Just then, a cab pulled up and a black umbrella emerged from the cab. He recognized the shoes that stuck out and the red coat. He slowly put down his glass on a coaster to not ruin the mahogany surface of the study desk. The doorbell rang; his two Doberman dogs perked their ears and followed him soundlessly out of the room and down the hall to the door. He opened it and behind the black umbrella was a woman. She was in her early thirties with dark caramel hair that curved to her body. She held out a document.

"It's about time you got here, Ms. Martin," said the man.

"Come on, Harold, how many times do I have to tell you that I hate that name? And please, call me Blair."

"What is it?" Asked Harold as he took the document she held out to him.

"It's bad. It's really bad," she replied with her arms crossed, waiting for Harold to check the photos. He glanced at them, flipping through without talking, and Blair watched him.

"You don't have any more photos, do you?" he asked her as he sat down on the couch. She shook her head in response.

"And the crime scene? I imagine that's long gone?" Harold asked.

"Yes, it is. There weren't any more victims, in case you were curious," said Blair, and she leaned over the couch to look over his shoulder.

"If this what I think it is, then we are in big trouble," he said, and before Blair could ask why, Harold was already by the bookshelf pulling out books one by one and piling them under his arm. He carried the stack to his coffee table and his Doberman dogs followed him, ensuring he did not drop anything. He flipped through the pages of each of the books and then stopped and showed Blair the page.

"The star stone?" she asked, looking up at him. She looked up at him expectantly.

"Right, sorry, forgot you don't read Latin," he said quickly and he took the book from her extended hand. "So pretty much, the star stone can wipe out an entire race. Based on the photos it looks like werewolves and witches had banded together, which ultimately is very bad," he concluded.

"But then that leaves..." she trailed off, realizing what Harold had told her.

"That's right, it leaves out vampires, warlocks, ghosts, and sirens, and my guess is they want to wipe out the vampire race because we are in charge of the supernatural underworld and something went wrong down there," Harold mused out loud.

"And Ghosts can't be demolished. When was the last time you heard from the family court?" asked Blair.

"It's been about fifty years," said Harold, and just then the doorbell rang and the dogs went to the door and sat down. Harold and Blair exchanged worried glances at each other. Harold was not one to have many friends; if the doorbell was ringing, something was on the other side. Harold carefully opened the door. A tall man stood in the frame of the door; he was chewing on a toothpick and had his head lowered. His baseball cap covered his eyes. He wore cowboy boots and black jeans; he wore a leather jacket and a navy blue shirt underneath. His hands were pale like death and he smelled of a very faint but familiar cologne. The man lifted his head, revealing a five o'clock shadow and bright green eyes that gave his identity away.

"Ezra," said Harold.

"Hey, I was in the neighborhood thought I would drop by, little half-brother," he said nonchalantly. "Oh, and who is your little friend? Tonight's supper?" he drawled.

"She's untouchable; she's got Gold Thyme and lemongrass in her blood," explained Harold.

"Ah, so she knows you are a half vampire," said Ezra.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Harold, and the dogs reacted to Harold's tone of voice.

"Whoa. Hellhounds? Really?"asked Ezra.

"Really," responded Harold."What are you doing here?" asked Harold again.

"I'm here to warn you, little brother," he drawled.

"About what?"

"The twins are coming to get you. I bet you've heard about the stone being found," Ezra said and he waited.

"Yes, to wipe us out," said Harold.

"No... they're creating hybrids of werewolves and witches because of your existence." Harold stared at Ezra. "You are a halfling they want to create more with the star stone and then wipe us vampires out. There's a war coming, and you're the cause..."

"Fine. Ezra Van Jones, I invite you into my home and nothing more," said Harold slowly, and his big brother stepped into Harold's safe space, making him feel more uncomfortable than ever.

To be continued...

fantasy
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About the Creator

Ada Zuba

Hello fellow interweb explorers! I am Ada Zuba. I binge the Netflix shows and just recently Disney plus has been my happy place. I am a creative person with a big love for Disney movies. I hope to one day write and publish a fantasy novel.

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