Serious Shit

Pink. Every subtle, delicate and nuanced shade of the stained-glass window had been somehow replaced with pink. It was by no means one solid shade, one colored blob of bubble gum pink. It was filled with more artistry than perhaps the Sistine chapel, all wrapped in the vast and varied shades of the color pink. The art of the glass wasn’t lost, it was accentuated somehow by its pinkishness. 

He looked up at the window as if a child staring at an adult for the first time. Every shade and hue he could think of from teeny bobby hair pink to really old dried bubble gum to the delicate rosy pink of a newborn baby girl's toe was in the glass. It made him smile. 

Nina Simone’s ‘I put a spell on you’ wafted from a nearby radio and somehow the smile faded slightly as he remembered his problem. She had put a spell on him, though he didn’t really mind seeing in pink, it was the grinning that bothered him. Here everyone knew and people would just chuckle but in the other world he kept having to explain why he was grinning like an idiot. 

My name is Jack Forst, and I’m a detective. People know me as the grinning detective for obvious reasons. It was a long story.

Harvey, a former detective and longtime friend of his, asked him once too many times he finally buckled down and told him the truth.

“Well,” I began. “There are a couple questions I have to ask you first.”

“Shoot.” Harvey shot in between drags of an Indian King, the local reservation cigarette.

“Do you believe in magic, or at least the possibility of it?”

At this Harvey stopped smoking and looked at me for a long moment before answering.  

“Yeah.” He kept his answer short, not elaborating.

“Good, because it’s real.” I said.

“Now,” He said, "what do you mean by that?” He puffed and flicked away the butt of his cigarette. “Define real.”

“Magic exists,”I began repeating a lecture that was burned into my brain, “and is regulated by a series of laws, taxes and penalties just like any other source of power that’s existed. Most of the laws are ancient and were set up by Merlin in 1272 to control society as a whole. It’s provable.”  

We reached the car, a flat black sedan and paused before climbing in. When we were inside the tinted detectives patrol car I dug around inside the bag I nearly always had with me when on duty and found an old container that had once held a balm of burt’s-bees lip balm. It now contained a purple goo. I held it out to him.

“Stick your thumb in this and then place it onto your belt. It won’t stain either your thumb or your belt.” I lied. “Just don’t get any onto your clothes or in your eyes.”

“What happens if I get  it in my eyes?” 

“Nasty business. Best not to dwell on it.” I said seriously.

“What about clothes then?”

“Polyester, wool or cotton blend?”

“Wool.”

“Explodes into shards of glass. Dragon glass specifically, nasty business. Best not to dwell.”

He gulped, thumb nearly inserted into the container.

I chuckled. “It’s a magical dye that, when combined with my magical ability and your oath, will allow you to see the true form of the world.”

“You're an ass.” He nervously chuckled. “What oath?”

“The standard oath for non’s, folks who don’t use magic. The official term is Non-Magical Natural Persons.”

“Natural persons? Meaning there are unnatural persons?” He looked both nervous and interested at the nature of the conversation. 

“Oh,” I nodded gravely. “Vampires being the most prominent among them.”

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Harvey Winters, detective for over twenty years, visibly gulped. “Damn you're a funny guy.”

“Not kidding this time Harv.”

“Shit.”

“Yup.” I nodded. “They’re responsible for most of the disappearances. Part of their contracts say they can do ‘Clean up.’ You know, drug addicts and prostitutes, that sort of thing. The dregs of society. But when a kid disappears, or the FBI or Homeland Security gets lucky and raids a human trafficking operation it’s usually Vamp’s that have broken their contract’s running the operation.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” I nodded again. “Look, there’s a lot of information that you’re going to have to, let’s say, readjust to. I’ve got a book for you, it’s a read but rather important.”

“Thanks Jack, but let’s get this oath going.” He was back to his serious face. This was standard Harv.

“Okay, but I gotta drive.”

He looked at me for a moment. Harvey always drove. Noone questioned this. The sky was up, water was wet and Harvey always drove. 

“Not kidding Harv.” My face was like Mount Rushmore, pure stone. 

He sighed and we got out of the car to switch places. He lit up another Indian King as he walked around. The smell was familiar and for a moment a flash of memory hit me, one of me and my father. Then it was gone.

I sat in the driver's seat and for the first time in eons, ancient motors began to readjust the seat's position. I had to move them all the way back, I was as Harvey described me when we first met, ‘one lanky son of a bitch’.

We drove all the way out to JFK and when we got to the gate Harvey started eyeballing me. Maybe he was starting to think I was kidding. Shit was about to get real for Harvey.

I drew out my wallet and as we stopped at the gate I took out my detective's badge, flipping it over to display my other, just as real, just as authentic Silver Cat’s headed badge.

“The hell…” Was all that escaped his lips before the guard came over. It was someone we both knew. Domingo Florez was a cop that had a side gig working at airport security for homeland security. 

“Hey guys,..” Dom started before seeing the cat's headed badge gleam in the evening rain. A severe thunderstorm had rolled in as the night progressed. “What can I do for you, Captain.”

“Cap..” Harvey started before shutting up at the look Dom gave him. 

“Harv is taking his oath tonight.” Was all I said.

Dom’s expression changed and his face was beaming. 

“Finally! Such a joy to welcome one into the fold!” He let out a laugh and looked at Harvey. “Enjoy the view, you won’t see such a glorious sight again!” He turned and started walking away. “Drinks are on me tonight boys.” He finished, giving a two finger salute.

He returned a minute later. 

“I cleared lucky #7 for you Harv,” he handed me an airplane sick bag and I tossed it to Harvey. “Good luck!” 

He didn’t know it, but Dom had done Harvey a solid. I owed him one. Lucky seven would likely mean that things would go smoothly.

The gate opened and I started driving towards runway seven. 

***

We were sitting at the end of runway #7, not another soul in sight and one nervous detective sitting in the passenger seat next to me. 

“So,” I began. “Place your thumb into the purple spell adhesive lightly but firmly and then onto your belt. Do not remove it from your belt until the car comes to a complete stop.”

“What the hell do you mean, complete stop?” Harvey blurted.

“I did fail to mention one little thing.” I grinned. “The oath has to be sworn at 88 mph or above.”

“But..”

“I get it, lots of questions. The book answers most of them. I’ll answer the rest over drinks tonight.”

He nodded and I grinned a wolf's grin. He placed his thumb into the tub, a drop of which fell onto Harvey’s tie, turning the entire thing the loveliest shade of purple.

When the purple spell adhesive hit the leather everything seemed to pause for a moment and Harvey looked on as a sparrow, stuck in flight, gave him the finger.

I revved the engine and the tires began to squeal. Smoke poured off them and I held the wheel tight as I looked at harvey. 

“Cigars please.” Harvey, now on autopilot mode, handed me the two cigars he always carried with him. He called them his just-in-cases. Just in case shit hits the fan and he needed more nicotine than a cigarette could provide, he had a cigar. 

If he had to go tell a family their six year old son wasn’t coming home, or a cop didn’t make it back to base you’d find Harvey with a cigar. He didn’t hand them out to anyone. Cigarettes were a different matter. 

I occasionally smoked cigars myself, having had a grandfather who smoked them, I knew what to do. They always made me think of him and it was him I thought of as the car’s engine revved higher and higher, smoke billowing out of the back.

I cut them both and did a poor job of lighting them both. I was short on time and would take the tongue lashing that Harvey would give me later for ruining the smoke's flavor with a smile. Right now I needed something Harvey could focus on and that was the cigar. 

“Now,” I quickly spoke. “Swear after me, repeating every word no matter how strange or what phrase I utter. Smoke the cigar and try to enjoy yourself.”

He nodded wordlessly.

“Oh,” My shit eating grin resurfaced and I looked at him taking a puff of the cigar; he looked back nervously. “When this baby hits eighty eight miles per hour,” I fingered  my sunglasses down as was the tradition. “You're gonna see some serious shit.”

I took my foot off of the brake, the car flung itself forward, the bird gave Harvey two middle fingers this time and the sky shattered like glass, revealing a brilliant kaleidoscope of color.

Harvey had learned one thing about magic so far I thought as I grinned. Birds were jerks.

End Prologue.