There is a running theory, in most Urban fantasylands, that any statue of a troll, whether located in Seattle, one of the Dakotas, or Witchita,is an actual troll, having been turned to stone by daylight or running water or whatever particular means of petrifaction apply to giant trolls in your particular brand of folklore.

(Certain comedians, of course, suggest that trolls live on the internet and try to make people angry. If this ever -were- the case, they have largely been outbid by homegrown human efforts.)

In truth, of course, there are at least as many kinds of troll as there are varieties of Urban Fantasyland, from cupboard-sized garbage hoarders to particularly hirsuit, fat men, to honorable giants to, well, the sort of monster that’d get stuck under a bridge and grab a Volkswagon for a snack. This, of course, is a tradition going back to the earliest roots of the word, where troll was at times used as a generic word for humanoid monster, (including monstrous humans, such as the sort of witch who’d as soon curse you as look at you, or blood-maddened berserkers.) Indeed, even heroic figures were sometimes believed to have troll blood running in their veins.

In fact, if one were to ignore their classification as a species and instead focus on the “What sort of destruction might they cause to the plans of others”, well, a perfectly suitable synonym for troll might be protagonist.

-Quote from an internally circulated employee email at Mystery Play LLC, presumably not for public consumption.

The cast meeting was the usual rap; make sure you pick up everything you might have left behind, instructions on where to collect our pay (Main cast handle it differently than extras and temp cast) and congratulations on the job. Boss, of course, wasn’t physically present, just talking through the desk speaker.)

I noticed the guy who played Johnny Zats in the crowd, who I hadn’t seen with regular cast before, so I figured he had to be a new hire. I was about to go introduce myself when Moira found me and pressed herself against my hip. With the glamour gone, the size difference was a lot more obvious- I couldn’t really put my arm around her, but she didn’t seem to mind too much, anyway. I put my hand on her shoulder, and we stayed like that till the boss finished speaking and dismissed everyone.

“Rest up, and be ready for the wrap party tonight!”

Everyone gave a cheer, and then I heard the boss in my ear. “No you. We reached out to the Carrefours. They’ll be here soon. They’ll probably want to meet the man who found their son’s body.” I sighed. “Right.” I looked down to Moira. “I’ll meet you at the wrap party? Boss has last minute business for me.”

She smiled up at me, then poked me in the stomach. “Meet me an hour or two before the wrap party, if you get free in time. I’ll be in my suite.”

I headed down to the SFX workshop where Lawson had his cousin’s body on ice. “I assume we’re not telling them “I impersonated your son for a week so we could lure his killer out of hiding? I’m just there for, what, moral support? Being ugly enough that maybe they won’t burn the place down in case it makes me scarier-looking?”

“They’ll want your testimony as to how he was killed. Fortunately I recorded our assassin’s confession for added evidence.”

“Do you know who’s coming?”

“Not yet. I reached out to his father and mother; made sure -not- to contact his wife, under the circumstances…”

I stepped into the lab, Lawson was there, in his ridiculous wizard getup. The beard was a bit fluffier than normal, and he’d added fake eyebrows to the ensemble. “What’s with the extra effort?”

“Louis was my cousin. His folks may, uh, recognize me.”

I took that in. “Well. That’s not great. Are you...related to his wife at all?”

He sighed. “Half-sister. When I turned out the way I did, dad got a new wife who could guarantee a purer bloodline. Never actually met her face to face, though.”

“I ever tell you that your family’s kind of fucked up?”

“Slightly less often than I tell myself actually.” Something pinged on his desk. They’re here. Simone’s been asked to escort them in, in case they get wand-happy.”

“That likely to happen?”

Lawson was silent.

“...Is that likely to happen?”

“...That’s why Simone’s bringing them in.”

“Shit.”

Lawson placed the boss’s speaker on the nearest table. The boss said, “Fuck. Be ready for it to be bad. They brought his wife along.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Lawson and I looked at each other, and Lawson moved from standing next to the preservation coffin to his workbench, with an array of what was probably -mostly- fake weaponry.

Three women and two men came into the room. All of them smelled of power and money, except for Simone, who smelled as though she’d been borrowing Moira’s perfume, and took a sort of parade rest stance next to me, before announcing, “Magister London Carrefour, his wife Beatrice, their son Fortescue, and their daughter in law Clara.”

The boss’s speaker crackled to life. “Misters and Mrs. Carrefours. We as the senior staff of Mystery Play LLC wish to extend our most Heartfelt apologies. Louis Carrefour, your son, husband, and brother, has passed away due to an unforeseen event during his excursion.”

London purpled. “Heartfelt apologies, indeed, when you can’t even extend them in person.”

This is usually my cue, and I took it, straightening up to my full height. “The Boss doesn’t see people in person. There are logistical issues. Rest assured he is extending every effort, and his apologies are sincere.”

I got a dirty look, and then they turned their attention back to the speaker instead.

“So what was this unforeseen event, exactly?” asked Clara Carrefour. She was pretty smooth about it, maybe figuring that she’d gotten away with murder by proxy.

“He was murdered. Murder most foul, my lords and ladies, for twas a hired killer who did the deed, under orders. Fortunately a small deception allowed us to catch the culprit alive!” Lawson was going full hammy wizard in an effort to disguise himself even further than his usual outfit would.

They looked at him. The widow in particular narrowed her eyes, but apparently the disguise passed inspection. He continued. “Would you prefer to view his mortal remains first, or see the one who killed him?”

All three immediately agreed on “The body.” The widow continued with “Please,” with a shimmer in her eye as if she was about to weep.

Lawson nodded, and waved a hand dramatically- the cold storage chest where we’d stashed Louis Carrefour’s mortal remains slid open, revealing him in all his faceless glory.

Fortescue frowned. “Is that...my brother?” His parents looked just as dubious, and Clara narrowed her eyes, then pointed out, “Look, he’s got his ring on.”

The boss explained. “Divination gave a positive ID as Louis Carrefour, and our technical expert confirmed that this was the man who signed the binding for our regular safety waiver.”

Lawson nodded. “I’m afraid these are the mortal remains of Louis Carrefour, as far as magic is able to determine. With your permission, we can do a DNA test to verify that it is your son.”

Beatrice broke down into tears, and London rested his hand on her shoulder in an apparently obligatory gesture of concern. “No, that’s fine. We’re…” He sighed. “Bring us the assassin.”

Clara looked shifty eyed, and I noticed her putting one hand into her purse. I gave Simone the side-eye, and she nodded slightly, having seen it too.

“Bring him in, Lorraine.”

Lorraine dragged our killer in by the scruff of the neck, holding him out with one arm as though she was slightly afraid of him making a mess on her clothes, which may actually have been her concern, who knows.

The Carrefours all immediately reacted, but not in the way I figured: They all drew wands, and pointed them at Lorraine.

London blustered. “An elf? You brought an elf? HERE?”

“Changeling, Mr. Carrefour. I let my voice run extra deep.. “Lorraine’s a Changeling. She’s never eaten anyone who can talk.” I stepped up, and they realized that the light in the room was being blocked out by me.“And she was instrumental in catching your son’s killer, so you all can stand down.”

Sometimes, only sometimes, I like to use my powers of looking like Lurch’s uglier bodybuilder twin for good. Fortescue swallowed, and put his wand away first, followed by his parents. The good widow Clara, of course, was quite eager to set fire to the assassin, and Lorraine along with him, if necessary, and was already chanting a spell when it was Simone’s turn to act. Her wand was designed to double as a collapsible baton, and she smacked it into Clara’s hand sharply. “None of that, please.” Clara scowled. “Why shouldn’t I kill the man who killed my husband?”

“I realize,” said the boss, “That the old families such as yourselves have a unique way of dealing with such matters. But you may want to know that our killer did have a chance to talk before he was captured and his words may be enlightening.”

His voice clicked off, and he played the assassin’s testimony. The other three Carrefours all whirled on Clara, with Beatrice hissing, “YOU.”

“Please do not be killing anyone in my laboratory.” Lawson nodded at the ceiling, and the stuffed Alligator hanging from hooks suddenly came to life and snarled at all four of them. “If you wish to carry out your idea of justice, you may leave. We have tendered our apologies, our part is complete.”

London recovered his composure first, pulling on the hem of his coat before taking a firm grip on Clara’s upper arm. “Quite. Let’s go. Fortescue, you handle the murderer.”

And with that, the Carrefours swept out of the lab and a bit later, out of the building, into the cars waiting to hurry them out of the Wainscotting neighborhood.

I looked to Lawson. “You gonna be okay? She is your sister.”

He shrugged. “Half-sister. But I expect she’ll be fine. They’re not going to kill her, just...probably punish her for getting caught at it. If she’d hired a middleman to handle all this we’d never have known about it. It’s her first intrigue, they won’t judge her too harshly.”

I tried not to stare, honest I did. Lorraine just muttered something about eating the rich, which, to be honest? Probably fair.

Lorraine asked, “So are we...actually done here? Really and truly actually done here?”

“Probably not,” said the boss. “There’s definitely going to be an inquiry, and maybe an injunction against us operating while higher powers investigate. But since the Carrefours are an old magic family, like Lawson said, most of the punishment will be in house.”

The body of Louis Carrefour was still with us, the Carrefours hadn’t taken it with them, because they hadn’t prepared to claim a body and we didn’t have an in-house funeral home. It was going to be shipped to them later in the day.

Naturally, as we were all being both worried about what was coming and relieved the Carrefours hadn’t murdered us all and burned down the Wainscotting neighborhood in the process, it sat up, and tried to say something, but it wasn’t completely understandable without a face. I’m pretty sure, though, that it said something along the lines of “Are they gone yet?”