Unedited version
The full moon graced the night sky with the stars twinkling around it, the garden sat under its glow. Flowers and branches danced to the rhythm of the breeze.
Muffled behind the glass doors of the balcony, the band was upbeat and lively. Chatter of gossip and business scattered around the grand hall and the ballroom. The great chandelier was lit by hundreds of candles, illuminating like crystals under the sun. Attendees mingled, talked, and drank. Lavishing gowns twirling around the golden dance floor as couples danced to the music.
I took a sip from my wineglass, staring fondly at the heavens. My cheeks were cold as the cool air brushed against my skin. Shivering, I decided to come away from the balcony. However, before I could turn my heel, a warn coat was put over my shoulders. A brunette man was standing beside me, he averted his eyes from my gaze as he showed me the back of his pocket watch.
The intricate design of the watch was of a Grim Reaper, it's scythe was over its head preparing for a death blow. A sign of the underworld. A sign that would always find me when the smell of death corrupts the air. The sign of my family, the Shayde Grim.
“ Who sent you?” I asked, gulping down the last of my wine.
“ Miss Shayde, I suggest going back inside. Tonight’s air is as cold as death,” he answered.
I understood what he meant. Death. Its something inevitable. Its a doorway no man wants to pass.
“ Of course,” I replied, taking off his coat and shoving it to his chest, “ I was planning on it before you came.”
_______________________________________________
“ Which is it then?” I asked when we finally entered a secured room. “ Homicide? A suicide? Or does Scotland Yard want information again?”
We were in the west drawing-room of Grand Duke Sauer's manor. A maid had poured me tea and bowed before disappearing behind the white wooden doors. I looked at the man. He blinked twice, “ R-right to the point Miss Shayde? You don’t even know my name...” he trails off, tugging his collar. I raised a brow, He must be new, I thought, a new innocent lamb...
I took a sip of tea before answering, “ Oh, I already know who you are Detective Sammael Morningstar. I thought since you already know who I am, formalities would be pointless.”
“ Oh. Yes, yes of course,” he hung his head, muttering something incoherent. I noted his awkward demeanor as he reached for something from his case. He handed me a file, his pale hand dusted with freckles.
“ Its a murder, Miss Shayde,” he stated, “ It was Countess Hera Del Morte.” Detective Morningstar glances up at me, “ I suppose you knew her, Miss?”
I nodded, flipping through the file’s pages, “ Of course. Who wouldn’t know about the childless wife of Count Del Morte,” I replied, “ Related to the French crown? Many seem to believe that the Count married her for the French lands in her dowry. How fitting,” I eyed the detective.
“ What do you mean, Miss Shayde?”
“ How fitting is her name. Hera. The Greek Goddess with a casanova for a husband. Both seem to be left to bear the scandal and embarrassment,” I continued, “ So, she was finally murdered?”
Detective Morningstar's alarmed eyes immediately looked at mine but averted his gaze quickly, “ What do you mean, ‘ finally murdered’?”
“ Since you came all the way to Germany to find me, detective, I suppose you came to in list my help in this case?” I asked.
" W-well, yes. This case could use your expertise. A-and, " he fiddled with his fingers, still looking at the floor, " We found o-one of the G-grim watches at the s-scene of the crime."
Hesitant, I thought, and completely unprepared. Oh, I wonder how long you'll survive this twisted, brutal game of the reaper, little lamb?
My eyes wandered to the grandfather clock by the windows. “ Detective, its getting late. We better discuss this matter tomorrow,” I said, standing up. Sammael followed me, clumsily grabbing the file from the table.
“ B-but, Miss Shayde. This is a very urgent matter. We should discuss this now. We could go to my office in Scotland Yard,I--”
“ Detective, this case is very delicate. I reckon that Count Del Morte doesn’t intend on telling the public soon. And,” I leaned closer to his freckled ear,” We may never know whose listening in the other room,” I whispered.
He froze at my statement, looking at the walls of the room. “ Yes. Tomorrow it is, Miss Shayde. And, Thank you.”
“ Tomorrow in London. 6:30 at the Cerenadell restaurant.”
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts from books I will never write
PoetrySometimes there are sentences, chapters, ideas, and poetry that never meet the eyes of an audience. They are burned, forgotten, forced to be tucked away in the minds of the author. This book is for those words that never met ink and paper.
