The air was intoxicating.
Georgia hated that kind of smell. It smelled like winter flowers, but with an aftertaste of blood and, oddly enough, burned hair. An atmosphere that screamed ghosts.
Georgia had tried to make herself look a little more... classier, today. She was wearing a black ribbon on her head, wearing high heels, black socks and sporting her usual Black Persian purse.
The thick mist from two days ago, had barely left the town, but the ice-types had managed to clear it away. The sun was back and shining, and the air was 14 degrees warm.
Tirana had left her at Glauceous Tower. Morris rode them to the great tower of the Daily Rufflet, before leaving to a local pub. Georgia waited for Daston Silkster - her new (and rather irritating) companion, a most energetic linoone - on the outside of the tower.
As she waited for him, the sky started to get darker, and light rain started falling. It wasn't much at the start, but it increased, and Georgia could hear thunder in the distance.
York, the friendly Rhydon doorman, lended her an umbrella. "Just keep it, madame, I have plentiful! My wife works on an umbrella factory, you see."
"That sounds nice." Georgia answered politely. "Do you have children?"
"Yes!" He simply shone. "Two. A girl and a boy. The boy is a Kangashkan, like his mother, but the girl - Alicia, is her name - is a rhyhorn."
Someone coughed behind Georgia, and she turned around to face Daston Silkster. "I'm sorry to interrupt your nice little chat, but I think we should get going, shouldn't we?"
Georgia nodded, waved goodbye to York, before inviting Daston under the umbrella.
"Soo... Where are we going again?"
Georgia sighed. "We're goimg to the headquarters for criminal death sakes. Mr. Fangisson has booked us an interview with the forensic pathologist that is studying the corpse, and we'll get an opportunity to take photos of the victim."
Daston snorted. "Sounds fun. Where is it?"
"Lord Weeper Street."
"Of course. Cheery name for a cheery place."
They got a taxi, the driver being a female ledian. "Where a'ya two fellas headin' for?"
"Lord Weeper Street," Daston said. He smiled at Georgia, as if he had waited to say that sentence for a long time.
The car started driving, and after fourteen minutes, they arrived on the outside of Goldenvice City. Georgia paid the taxist, before the gothorita and linoone were left in a dark, windy street. The rain was almost gone here, but grey and brown leaves fluttered in the air.
They were standing in a street of dilapitated motels. The street lights were on (even if there wasn't need for them on this time of the day) and shone in vague, green light.
"There it is."Georgia proclaimed. At the end of the street, a huge, modern building dominated the area. It was dark grey, with huge windows, and a sign with the words Elmerhover Institute, written on the front of the building.
Daston shrugged. "That building looks creepy. Sure, it got style, but it looks too creepy."
Georgia began walking. "I guess they don't want all types of people coming here."
The linoone began whistling. "You know, we normal-types really like you psychic-types. You wanna know why?"
Georgia rolled her eyes. "Not particulary. But tell me."
"Well, fighting-types are our weakness, but their weakness is psychic-type. It goes in a kind of circle."
They arrived in front of the building. It was fenced, so they had to speak in the mic by the gate. In a few seconds, the gate opened up and Georgia and Daston were guided to the entrance and inside the building. It was highly modernized and technological inside, with electric bulletin boards showing the weather, temperature, time and schedule.
Behind the lobby was yet an electric bulletin board. The face of a pelipper, a silky voice from the board announcing he had built it. Georgia quickly recognized him as the senator - who know was rooting for president.
Behind the lobby desk, sat a jolteon reading a magazine. "Ahem," Daston said, and caught the jolteons attention.
"May I help you?"
Georgia answered: "Mr. Howland Fangisson of the Daily Rufflet booked a meeting with an forensic pathologist that was examining the dead body of an archeops."
The jolteon nodded and began writing on the computer. "Of course, of course." She studied the screen, before smiling. "Follow me, please."
The duo followed the jolteon thriugh a series of stairs and corridors until they reached a door (which the jolteon opened with a card) leading inside a big room. They were left there.
"This is even more creepy...!"
This time, Georgia agreed. They found themselves in a huge room filled with shelves and cabinets, all in white. The floor was black marble, and from the ceiling, a series of white lights lighted the room. A table on the middle of the room had... a corpse on top, covered by a white cloth.
"It seems I have gotten some guests."
Daston let out a little scream, and Georgia jumped. They turned around to see a floating mismagius smiling at them. Her eyes where wide open.
Georgia fastly began speaking. "I'm Georgia Clairvoice, this here is Daston Silkst-"
The mismagius interrupted her. "I know who you two are. Journalists for the Daily Rufflet. I was drinking some coffee, would you like some?"
"N-no thank you..." Daston said. Obviously he was afraid of ghost-types. Georgia shook her head when the mismagius sent her an asking look.
"Well, I should introduce myself, shouldn't i? Wouldn't that be great?" It seemed as if the mismagius spoke to herself. "Melany Shadeswings. Call me Mel."
"Nice to meet you Mel... Could we please get going?"
Mel flinched, before she smiled even more. "Sure. Come, the corpse is still fresh."
Daston shrugged, his eyes wide open. Georgia elbowed him. "Don't be silly."
Mel took them to the operation table. With it's cloth-like hands, she took away the white cloth, revealing the grotesque body of the dead archeops. Daston looked away, but Mel seemed unfazed. "Death is so interesting, is it not? In one moment you live, in the other you die... Some, live on, some do not." She giggled shortly, before opening a shelf in the cabinet under the table. She took out a series of surgery knives and scissors. "I am the chief forensic pathologist in this institute." Mel explained. "And you two have been so lucky that you get to see me do my work!"
Georgia followed the mismagius as she began plucking some feathers off from Gaspard's right wing. "You don't mind if we take a few photos, Mel?"
"Of course not, of course not. But don't take a photo of me... I hate photographies."
Daston, who had the camera around his neck, took a few photos, before turning away and trying to act as if the diplomas were interesting.
Georgia took out a notepad from her purse, and a pen. "So... Uhm... Do you have any information about Gaspard LeBlux' death you'd like to share?"
Mel turned the archeops head on the other side, eyeing it's neck. "Homicide, obviously. He has got a cut on his neck right here, if you can see it."
Georgia saw it, and began writing. Daston took a fast photo. Mel continued: "I do not believe Gaspard was killed by a weapon. Rather enough with a move... Maybe shadow claw, but it is not that powerful. I believe maybe night slash. The cut is deep... and black... "
Georgia sucked in every word and wrote it down on the notepad. Just when she was about to raise her head from the notepad and say something, she noticed a piece of paper caught between three feathers under Gaspard's breast, barely noticable. "What is that?"
Mel hovered by Georgias side, and Daston looked over their shoulders. "Let me see..." Mel hummed, and used the scissor to lift the feathers and pulled out the piece of paper. It opened up in the middle of the air, and Mel read it within seconds before giving it to Georgia and Daston to read it too.
Mr. Gaspard LeBlux,
We have made an reservation for you, and will be happy to see you friday night.
Under the words of ink a sigil of a black butterfly with the the words: The Black Dahlia, written on.
Daston wrinkled his snout. "B-but that's a nightclub... I wrote an article on it. A woman was found dead there..."
Georgia eyed Mel. "Thank you very much, Melany. It's a pleasure to know you, but now we'll have to go."
The mismagius flinched. "Did I help you enough?" Georgia nodded. "Would you like a lollipop to take with you?" Mel asked.
Daston was about to say 'yes' but Georgia dragged him out of the room.
When they came at the outside of the Institute of forensic pathology, Georgia called a taxi. As they waited, Daston began asking: "Shouldn't we have stayed longer?"
Georgia shook her head. "I don't think we could get more information than we had. We're journalists, not investigators."
"I almost believed we were, for a minute." Georgia suddenly noticed that Daston had an irritating habit of patting his foot at supersonic speed (well, almost) to the ground, and his tail swishing back and forth. "Where are we heading for now?"
She raised her shoulders. "I have no clue, really... We'll have to write down what we have found out so far, and when ut happened. We've got an interview with the forensic pathologist, and the cause seems to have been a move called night slash..."
Daston nodded. "Mhm-mhm... But we know that Gaspard LeBlux worked in the Aviary. Shouldn't we investigate to see if there are any signs of the murderer? We have a huge head start, unlike other gazettes..."
As they stood there waiting, a black car in the back of the building - who had been stalking the two journalists - growled and began driving. The driver had what he needed.
