When people say death is merely a gateway to the next life, they're not wrong. But neither are they right. The path you take in death is destined on how you spent your life. No, I'm not talking good people go to heaven and bad people to hell, sort of shit. I'm talking about the business you've put upon yourself. That's the important part.
Growing up in Chicago, I never really care about death and all that crap. I was more interested in what I was doing in my living life. Who was I hanging out with, what car did I drive? Those types of things. Well, one way or another, death becomes a pretty important thing in one's life. Sure wished I'd have known that earlier.
I was a simple man. Lived a simple life, had a nice run. No complaints. Sure, never settled down with anyone, but I was in my mid-twenties, so I wasn't too worried about marriage. If I wanted company then there was always the strip club down the way. Amazing what a couple wads of cash will get you, huh?
I never really got involved in criminal activities, mostly because my profession was the kind that wanted me to put those guys behind bars. No, no, no! I'm not the guys in the uniforms or suits! Nothing close to that! I was the guy who had disheveled hair, looked like he hadn't slept in three days and smelled worse than your old uncle Sam after a fishing trip.
In essence, I was the undercover guy. Go in, get some dirt on the dudes by getting just as dirty to get close, then boom, the real cops everyone sees on the news come in and handcuff em. Don't get me wrong, I loved my job. Nobody noticed me and it was real quiet. But... compared to the normal blue caps, my job was a hell of a lot more dangerous. One wrong move and I would eat it.
Which almost happened a few times, but my silver tongue, as my boss called it, saved my ass. Truthfully, I never really thought I was much of a smooth talker. But I guess now I can see why, working with this crazy woman... thing and releasing lost souls. Well, I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself, eh?
Alright, let's start with the necessities. Name's Brian Vilk. Weird name, I know, but when introducing myself it makes sure nobody will confuse me for their ex-boyfriend. Not funny? Alright, alright, back to the thing. So, most everyone has heard about how Chicago has a... mob problem. I call it an infestation, but Tomato, tomato. My job was close in on the big killers of the group, through the drug ring.
Now that may seem a weird way to enter, until you realize how the mafia works. It's all connected, like a big ring of criminals. If you can get your way through one part, and make sure things are secure and there's no problems, then you're golden. Problem is, almost no one has gotten there, because either the good guys get paid off, or threatened, or your material witness winds up 'tragically' dying from some car crash or gun shot. Or they just disappear entirely, take your pick.
So, my job was try to make an entrance through the drug part of the ring. Not the biggest part, but baby steps are pretty efficient. Usually. Things went well for a few weeks, seemed to be getting closer, when I started to get suspicious. Not of the criminals, but the people I was working with. So I did some digging, both literally and metaphorically, and found some skeletons.
Unfortunately, it wasn't long before I was caught. Pretty great right? So what's the best way to deal with a threat to your operations? Well, in my case, they decided a nice stabbing through my chest several times was efficient, plus a nice slash across the neck. Oh trust me, when they say people get an out of soul experience, they are not joking.
After the third stab I got the privilege of watching them stab my body and slash my neck from a foot and a half away. The weird part was, I was still barely alive through all the stabbings. But the moment that blade sliced across my neck, everything turned a pale blue, my colors fading into the same blue gray. I never thought I would know what it would feel like to die. Well, cross that off my bucket list. Ok, so it's not on my bucket list, it's still something to experience.
It was almost like being born again to be honest. The fear and adrenaline in my system as I fought for my life, as the pain increased and decreased with my consciousness. It was almost... holy. Now hear me out, if you've ever shared a bed with someone, things get weird near the end.
Same deal with death, just less euphoric pleasure, and more, I'm getting stabbed to death by a criminal in a warehouse. Now, the weird part about dying, is that I had always been told, not believing, that's different, that when you die, you either go to heaven or hell. So, my first thought was that I was going to Hell. A lot of the things I had done were... less than savory.
When nothing happened I thought I was actually going to heaven. Guess what? Nothing happened. Then I started to worry about what would happen. Then I realized something. I was dead, and had not gone anywhere. Why was that? Then I remembered to every cliché ghost movie I had ever seen.
I had unfinished business. You've probably got the impression that I'm a laid back, non-caring guy. Well, that's only partly true. Ya, I'm laid back, I can also be lazy, but when someone is hurting innocents... then I have a problem. Not sure why, but I've always been that way. Like the knight in shiny armor. Well, less than shiny armor, since I hated shiny things. Especially suits and ties, don't even get me started on those damned things.
Ever since third grade when I saved the strange girl who always talked to nothing, I had saved people. Sure, I mostly got my ass handed to me, then got bullied, but I could care less. Ma always told me I never gave two shits what anyone else thought. Getting off track again.
Alright, to sum it up, I'm dead and trying to finish my unfinished business, which is to take down this crime ring ran by some crazy ass gangster who has a grip on almost every cop and civilian in the city. As a ghost. Did I forget to mention we have stupid rules to follow? Oh I did? Well, they're pretty simple.
We cannot enter houses or other establishments unless let in, either intentionally or unintentionally. When our business is done, whether we want to or not, we move on. Where to, I don't know. Maybe Mexico? People can't see us, unless they're something called a Medium. Basically the funny goth girl in the ghost movies who sees the ghosts and loves dark broody things. Like mascara. And voodoo dolls. Why a girl would want one, I don't know.
We can go through anything that isn't a house with ease. Car in your way? Walk through him and give him the bird. He won't know any different, and it'll give you a good laugh. The weird part is, some of the really important things from the past still linger. So if some dead lady really loved a certain wall that was really important, then it would stay there in the spirit world, meaning you have to walk around.
It's easy to tell the difference seeing as the things we can't walk through let off a blue glow. With me so far? Good. Now, the thing is, some people are really lost. Not like without a map in a big city. No, no, I'm talking so far lost in what they have to do that they go loopy. They lose their sanity and everything that made them human. They change.
The best way to talk about them after that would be demons. Large black creatures that are ugly as a bald cat that floats and lets off a red glow, shrieking its ass off the whole time, looking for souls of people to eat. Not nice bastards, but they only hang around dark places. So those creepy haunted houses that scared you when you were a kid and everyone dared the other to go there. If you're dead, don't go there.
They also form these black tar looking spots on the ground and claw at your feet. They can't get out, but damn is it kinda creepy to look at. I've been grabbed a few times, and it's hard to escape. When you get out everything is shaking and you feel like you can't breathe. Not a pleasant experience.
Another thing, ghosts look the same as when they died. You died in a shirt that said I'm pathetic, guess what you're wearing until you finish your business. Yup. That shirt. Trust me when I say, I've seen some... colorfully dressed ghosts. At least, that's how I would put it.
Ok, did I miss anything... Demons, ghosts, doors, mafia, stabbings and sex... Oh ya... one more thing. You know that person everyone associates with death? The guy with the scythe who wears the large black cloak and looks like a skeleton. Heh! Totally wrong. Except the fondness of black. And I haven't seen a scythe, yet. For some reason this person has decided it would be fun to follow me around and 'help me' investigate, since I have no ties to the living world anymore.
And trust me... She's annoying. Oh ya, that's the other thing. Death is not a dude. And she has a serious problem with her social skills. But I need a tie to the living world, so unfortunately, she's the way. I guess death can be quite cruel. I just make due with what I got. I always have, and will continue to do so.
"Attention all officers, we have a murder at tenth street in the Lelston Apartments. All available units please converge and set up a crime scene." She couldn't help but giggle happily at the noise. She turned to the back of her car from the front seat, throwing a French fry at the man, the salted food going right through him.
"Psst. Brian. Hey. Wake up." The man groaned, rolling to his side.
"Five more minutes, mom. It's Saturday." She was curious and looked at her watch, noting it was actually Saturday.
"Oh he's good. Brian!" Brian sat up, reaching for his holster that was hidden under his hoodie.
"I didn't do it!" He looked around, eyeing the woman before groaning.
"What, Death?" She smirked at him, pointing to the radio.
"We've got a murder. Right in the middle of mafia territory!" Brian jumped into the front seat, instinctively reaching for the seat belt, only to have his hand phase through it.
"Oh, right. Just drive." She wasted no time, slamming on the gas pedal and driving them to their destination. Brian watched the people outside, but saw more than just the living ones. Those who had died, some recently, some from long ago. Then he felt intense dread. He watched as the ghosts scattered, red coming up from a sewage drain. The woman motioned him down.
"Down. Now." He nodded, lowering himself in the car, the shrieking hissing noise could be heard even inside the car and dozens of feet away. She drove faster, trying to make sure they got away from it and quickly.
"What the hell is one doing out here in the middle of the day, in the open like this!?" Was all Brian could shout and think. She shook her head.
"There must be some majorly wrong shit over at the crime scene." After a few minutes they saw the sirens of the police, the women pulling her car to the side. She got out, flipping her white hair behind her back. It was long, cascading down her back in straight lines. Her eyes were a dead silver, which would have been weird, except the living didn't see that. They saw a woman with blonde hair a blue eyes, lively skin. Not like her pale dead skin.
Brian had almost thought she was dead like him too, except she could pick up and move things, unlike him in his death. She had explained who she was, proving it by using powers to move things, and create utter darkness that had scared Brian. The way she tricked people into believing her was almost terrifying. They walked up to the yellow tape, Brian looking around for any other demons. He had learned that they loved to travel in packs of two to five.
He kept his hands in his white and red hoodie pocket. It was not red on purpose. It was his blood that coated the hoodie, along with multiple red knife marks that let off a dim glow. Almost like the dying embers of a fire. On his neck ran a line, but it was blue, and brighter than the stabs. He looked behind him, still wary of Demons. Out in the open, he had nowhere to hide should one see him.
He sucked in a breath, looking back to Death as she sweet talked the officer into letting her in. Everyone knew of her, but not the truth. She was a psychic, looking into all murders to see if they held supernatural properties. Ok, so it wasn't a complete lie. Neither was she perfectly honest. Last Brian knew, her name was not Alice.
They entered, climbing the stairs to the second floor where more police were crowded around the hallway, only one door open. Brian walked past them all, the men shuddering from the cold he gave off as he went down the hall. He slowly entered, taking note of the small single room apartment. Kitchen and living room were joined, with a small table in the back right corner for eating. Living room on the left side while the kitchen was to the right.
Upon entering there was a small hallway with a bathroom door to the left, and a closet door on the right, eventually leading to the small bedroom. A single bed, pushed against the far wall with a window by it, lay soaked in the owners blood, her dead body lying face down on top. Brian couldn't tell what the original color of the bed had been, seeing as almost every ounce of blood had been drained from her and spilled on the bed.
"Jesus Christ." He looked around, noticing that the lamp that should have been on the night stand next to the bed was shattered and laid on the floor. He saw blood, probably the woman's, on the base of the lamp in a bloody hand print. Some of the glass had blood on it, and there was a good chance it belonged to the killer. He kneeled next to the shattered glass, making note of it before standing and moving about the room.
He looked out of the corner of his eye to see Death asking the officers in the living room what they had so far. Brian kept his eyes around, seeing if he could find anything else useful. He saw bloody shoe prints leading to the window where the fire escape was. Brian made a note of that, deciding he would follow that on foot later. He returned to Death, listening to what the officers were saying.
"... We already moved it, but the guy left some anti-Christ bible on the bed, using blood to write, 'Lambs to be slaughtered. Seek truth in your death.' We sent it off to get those smart lab guys to analyze it. If you want more info on it then go see them." Death nodded, giving a side glance to Brian. The ghost looked around, wondering if anyone around the apartment knew anything. He walked through the wall, heading to the neighbor's apartment.
"Excuse me you two." He ignored the couple who were currently silently arguing. He looked around their house, not seeing anything, deciding to move to the couple. He possessed the man, listening to their conversation.
"I know what I saw Bill!"
"I know, but if anyone knows than something bad could happen to you. They say people who help in murders can get murdered back." She walked away, waving her arms angrily.
"I saw the guy's car as he sped away! I saw about where he went! I have to tell the police!" Brian got curious, hopping to the women's body and sending influential thoughts to her, getting a memory flash from the women's point of view. It was a small while earlier, and she heard a crash, causing her to get curious. She went to the window, hearing the dead women's open. She saw the man climbing down the fire escape. He had a leather jacket that was dark blue, black jeans and large boots. He had a mask, but Brian could make out his red hair.
The man ran down the alley, getting into a white Toyota Corolla. Brian smirked to himself, reading the license plate.
"Gotcha." He exited the women and returned to Death. She was at the body, observing it with a passive expression. Brian approached, kneeling down and looking closely to see the slashed throat. Along with multiple other stab points. Just like how he died. Maybe this person was connected to his death? The way she died was strikingly similar. She had been an important witness in the case against the mafia that killed him. Just like him, eight stab wounds and a slashed throat. Everything else was relatively untouched.
Death turned to him after rubbing her chin. She gave a quick glance to see if they were relatively alone first.
"Find anything useful from the neighbors?" Brian nodded, sending the memory to Death. He had found out that she was the best of both worlds. Able to move things like a living person, but interact heavily in the spirit world of Dusk like a ghost. Unable to be attacked by demons, but as for fighting them, Brian was unsure. When she was finished with the memory she nodded.
"I'll talk to my little pet in the police department. Good work. You think this has to do with your killer?" Brian nodded, standing and walking towards the exit with her.
"The way she was killed, and how she was part of the case against the mafia is too big a similarity to not be connected. We need to follow up on this before we lose our trail, or that women talks to the police and they do something they're gonna regret. How long will your 'pet' be?" Death shrugged, waving goodbye to the officers out front as she loaded into her car.
"Not sure. Technically, he's not supposed to do this kind of stuff, but he does owe me. So hopefully by tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest. Man, I'm starving!" Brian shook his head, no longer having to worry about such simple things.
"Than get food. I'll just tag along, but make sure to talk to your friend." Death playfully shooed him off, moving her right hand to her Bluetooth in her left ear. She tapped it, a very faint click coming from it. After a few seconds she spoke.
"Dane! Hey there! It's me, Death!" Dane was one of the few who knew who she truly was, seeing as he should have died a few days ago in a car crash, but made a deal with Death that he would work for her in exchange for living longer.
"Listen, we need you to run a plate on a white Toyota Corolla. Can you handle that?" Silence for a few seconds before she smirked.
"Great! Keeping you alive was definitely one of my better plans." Brian shook his head. It had actually been his plan, but he knew arguing with Death was like arguing with a small child.
"Keep me posted, Dane. Peace!" She loved using that, seeing as according to her, one of her favorite times in history was the 60's and 70's. Drugs and hippies, and lots of death. She had picked up on using the word peace in quite a bit of her sentences. She started to drive back to their 'shared' apartment, since technically she lived alone. Don't have to pay rent for a ghost. Brian had wanted to go towards where the man drove, but knew they wouldn't get very far, deciding the best option was to return and prepare to go out later.
"What are you in the mood to do, Brian? Poker, Chess?" Brian rolled his eyes in slight annoyance, and amusement.
"I'm dead, chick. Remember?"
"Oh, totally. That's one of your most defining traits. I can just move for you, or place your bets for you in poker." Brian just looked over at her, trying to hide his smirk.
"That doesn't even work. You'd see my cards." She playfully stuck her tongue out at him.
"I wouldn't peek. That's cheating!" Brian shook his head, letting out a groan.
"Right. Just focus on the road. Don't want you joining me anytime soon, eh?" She laughed loudly, startling Brian.
"I can't die, Brian! I'm Death! Literally!" Brian leaned against the car door, sighing.
"So I've heard. And seen." He hadn't seen too may of her 'deathly' powers, but had seen some that most certainly did make him believe her. They pulled into their parking spot at their apartments, a small end place, not unlike where they came from, but just a smaller step up. They exited the car, Brian just fazing through the door, still amazed at how she made her car do that.
She had basically used her powers to allow him to enter or exit it whenever he wanted, meaning he wouldn't always faze through it like a normal car, but still could if he wanted to. They entered the front door, the women at the front desk was a gothic teenage girl who only really worked there because it was family owned, and not many placed would hire someone of her... attitude.
"Hey, Ms. Grim." Death, or 'Alice' as the living knew her, waved happily.
"Hello, Margret! How are you?" She shrugged, going back to her phone and texting like her life depended on it. The girl then quickly looked at Brain, giving a slight nod. Was certainly weird at time, Margret being a Medium. She was one of the other few who knew Alice was really Death. But for everyone's sake she used the name Alice, or her favorite, Ms. Grim. She only gave slight nods to Brian, which was more than most people gave him, other than shivering when he walked through them.
Brian waved back, keeping next to Death, his hands in his hoodie pocket as he casually walked forward. The loaded onto the elevator, riding it to the second floor and walking down the hall, third door on the right. Death slipped the keys in, letting Brian go first, saying, "Ghosties first." Brian shook his head, immediately sitting on the couch. Another one of Death's tricks. The house was one that worked for both of them, moderately well. Brian still fazed through some things, like walls, and couldn't work appliances. But he could sit on the couches and at the table, even if he never ate.
Death immediately set to making herself dinner, which consisted of the same meal every night. A simple bowl of chicken noodle. She didn't exactly have a very high paying job, being a psychic and all. Probably helped that the people who owned the place was a family of Mediums, and gave her a discount seeing as she was just like them. Once she placed it in the microwave she settled down on the couch, throwing her feet on the coffee table.
"That's much better!" Brian merely sat silent, going over the evidence from the crime scene. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure it was the same killer as his own. He leaned his head back, sighing silently. He stood, walking to the window and looking out. He saw there weren't any ghosts outside, meaning there was probably another demon roaming around. But it was almost night time now, meaning they were going to get much more active.
Death's apartment was one of the only safe places, seeing as she placed barriers around it that kept the demons out. Which certainly helped for allowing things to calm down. He walked back to the main part of the living room, rubbing his chin. He really hoped Dane would hurry up, but knew the dead cop liked to take him time. He thought that since Death had spared him once, he was all good. He didn't even know that Brian had been the one who told Death to spare him.
Death hummed some tune to herself, watching Brian with entertained eyes. She always found him different from the other ghosts, which was probably why she was trying to help him get his peace. She was Death, so it was her job to actually help people find their peaceful end, not steal their souls like people thought. She had people who had been waiting for a long time, but she skipped them to help him, all because he was so Hell bent on finding his killer. She had only seen one other person with that much fire, and he had actually reached the other side by himself.
She was thinking about helping him, but at the time she was much more preoccupied. She tried to remember that man's name. Ronan, maybe? Ya, that sounds about right. Who would name their kid that? She was brought back to her senses when the microwave started to beep. She shot up, laughing proudly.
"Yay! Food!" Brian completely ignored her, continuing his pacing. She grabbed the food, putting a spoon in the broth and sitting back on the couch. She continued to watch him pace back and forth, making her feel like she was at a tennis match. He was mumbling to himself, like he always did when deep in thought. She snickered lightly, the dead man not even noticing. She ate her food, never taking her eyes off him.
His hair was originally brown from what he had told her, and usually very short, but for his task he had grown it out longer. Not that much, but enough to where his hair rested on his forehead, and he had a small amount of facial hair growing, giving him a five o'clock shadow. She finished her food, going to the sink and washing it. She only gave small glances back to Brian now, mostly focusing on her task.
She sat back on the couch when she finished, Brian now standing by the window with his hands in his hoodie pocket. Then her phone rang, Brian turning to her quickly. She still had her Bluetooth in, so she gave it a tap.
"Yello!" She was silent for a little bit.
"Good job, Dane! Go to bed, I'll likely kill you tomorrow." She often told him this, and Brian was sure she was getting it from somewhere. Where? He wasn't sure. Brian headed towards the door.
"Come on, let's go." Death groaned, falling back on the couch and throwing her arms to her side in an exasperated manner.
"Do we gotta?" Brian wanted to rip her to her feet, but knew it wouldn't work. Still dead.
"Yes. We can't let the cops get there and ruin the place. That women knew and she was pretty bent on telling the police. We need to get there first." Death groaned, standing up and grabbing her purse and phone. She walked to the car, Brian by her side, worried they might be too late. The got into the car and drove to the address Dane had given Death. To say it was a house was an understatement. Brian was sure it was more of a shack. They were about to enter when Brian stopped her.
"Let me see if anyone's home. There's an open window. He climbed in, looking around briefly and seeing nothing. He sighed in relief, but slightly hoping he could have seen someone. He entered, seeing the jacket from the women' memory, realizing the killer must be here. He didn't see a car out front, so the man must not have been home. But better safe than sorry. He poked his head out the window, waving at Death.
She crawled in the window, holding her nose and waving her free hand.
"Ew! Smells like something died in here." Brian entered the bathroom and frowned at the sight.
"Because something did die in here." Death entered, seeing the tub filled with blood red water, a dead man with his throat slit and eight stab wounds in it.
"Awesome." Brian growled in annoyance. His killer had struck again. But who was this man.
"Death, do you have any idea who he is?" She shook her head. She called Dane, standing in silence before speaking into the Bluetooth.
"Dane, who did you say owned the car?"
"Mitch Byrd, a florist who is a key witness against the mafia. Why?" Death chuckled uneasily.
"Well, looks like he won't be testifying against anyone here soon."
"Why's that?"
"Mr. Byrd here got his throat slashed open, Dane. He's dead. Send some officers in a half an hour. We're going to have our own little investigation, cop free."
"You got it, Death." She hung up, looking around the house, curious what was in the place. Brian observed the body, knowing that this was not suicide at all. Nobody would think that, but why was the victim in the tub like he had committed suicide? Maybe he was bathing and the killer came in? He doubted that since there was not any signs that the killer had gotten water anywhere. Then he saw a blue string against the man's shoulder.
"Death, check this out." She entered the bathroom, getting close to the body. She looked at the fiber, letting out a hum of interest. She wasn't worried about leaving anything behind, since she wore gloves.
"Looks like a similar material to the jacket in the main room. I see some small traces of blood on it. It may have belonged to our dead guy here, and killer took it for his slaughter quest." Brian nodded, seeing the man looked to be in good condition, other than the obvious.
"The jacket and clothes are high end, and the car is pretty nice. What's someone like him doing in a dump like this?" Death shrugged.
"Down on his luck maybe?" Brian shook his head.
"Not likely. Maybe, he was killed elsewhere, but to keep people off his trail her placed the guy here?" Death shook her head.
"But the car's registered to him, and this is his place." Brian rubbed him chin. Then something clicked.
"Hypothetical situation. Mr. Byrd here was down on his luck, and needs money to survive. Gets involved with less than savory people doing bad stuff. Gets money for the car and clothes, but hasn't got a new house yet. Eventually decides he wants out, but Mafia doesn't like that and sends knife guy after him." Death nodded, seeing something in the living room from where she was kneeled.
"Hold that thought, Brian." She walked into the living room, not seeing it anymore.
"Hey, Brian." He walked over to her, nodding calmly.
"Yup?" She pointed near the back of an old cloth couch that looked poorly made.
"Stand half way in the couch by the back of it for me." Brian did, but when he stepped there, his foot sank into the floor.
"What the hell?" Death moved the couch, seeing a small hole in the floor, just big enough for her finger. She put her index finger in and grabbed the floorboard. She pulled up and the board slid back, showing stairs. They exchanged glances before Death smirked.
"And the plot thickens." Brian nodded, stepping down.
"Something like that." When they reached the bottom it was pitch black, though Death saw a small light hanging above them. She gave the string attached to it a tug, and the light gave a dim yellow glow. Both of them stared wide eyed at what was in front of them.
"Death, I hate it when you're right." In front of them was what looked like hundreds of flats of both money and what looked to be drugs of varying kinds.
Hope this was a good first chapter and set a good tone for you all. I'm sure there won't be too many people reading this story, but to those who will and plan on staying with it, thanks! Anywho, keep calm and may the Aura be with you!