Investigation One File One
Investigation One
Troubled waters
File One
March 14th, 20XX
Moe entered the office and flicked on the lights. She was the first to arrive and stood to look at the array of desks. Each offered a brief glimpse into the type of person each of her coworkers were. However, the employees at Rott’s Paranormal Investigations were more than what meets the eye.
Peadar tried to keep his desk neat, but it was usually covered with his latest fascinations. It seemed he was into tabletop role-playing game dice, currently, with three visible sets. He was a changeling, stolen from his home in Ireland by the fae several centuries ago, then dropped into the modern world when they grew bored of him. Peadar was skilled with a sword, and hired by Rott’s for his vast knowledge of the fae.
Rita's desk was neat, but only because she didn’t spend much time at it. Rita usually hung out on the chairs or couches of the sitting area. She came from a long line of sirens, half bird people from ancient Greece. She could persuade most to do out of character acts with just her words.
Ruben's desk was a mess of office supplies; papers here and there, pens strewn about and a coffee cup from yesterday. Ruben was originally from America, but settled in the Canadian town where Rott’s investigations operated, after finding the local support he needed as a werewolf. Bitten as a teenager, Ruben had been traveling consistently ever since.
Silas's desk, like Ruben’s, was a mess, but more random and sometimes unidentifiable items were present. Today his desk boasted a quill and a small stack of parchment paper, strange and arcane symbols scrawled across them. Silas was the last of Moe’s coworkers, and while he shared her title of “witch,” his expertise were nothing like hers. He worked with demons, making deals and exploiting loopholes to get what he wanted.
Moe wandered to the kitchenette at the back of the office to put on a pot of coffee. She didn’t like the bitter drink herself, but knew her coworkers would appreciate it being ready for when they arrived. Once the coffee was brewing, Moe took a seat at her desk and pulled her wild, red curls into a messy ponytail. White noise in her headphones, Moe opened her emails on her computer.
Junk, junk, not our focus, more junk and…
Moe frowned, looking through the last new email. It was from the police station. Moe knew that Rott’s employees would be contacted by the police from time to time, but in her few months of working there, it hadn’t happened yet. Moe reread the email a third time.
There had been an uptick of attacks in the downtown area, but the attackers, all men, reported having memory gaps or were not in control of their actions. In all the cases, the attackers had evidence of drug use— needle punctures, inflamed nostrils, and dilated pupils— though no known drugs were found on any of the screening done.
Moe hummed, chewing her knuckle in thought. She knew of some herbs that could affect a person like that, with proper dose and preparation. She stood up, headed for the back of the office again, but instead turned right into the library. With a quick look around, Moe pulled down some books she thought would be helpful. Soon enough, she was sat on the floor, books spread out around her. Two more books were open on each of her knees, as she flipped through yet another book in her hands. With a twirl of Moe’s finger, the books floated themselves back to their place on the shelves, leaving just the one in her hands. She stood up and pushed past the door to the library, nose still in her book, headphones blocking all noise.
Hot coffee splashed down Moe’s side as she ran into someone. She yelped and dropped the book, surrounded the burn with her hands and started to murmur to the skin. Moe's main focus was on healing and protection spells, having learned her craft from her hometown in Scotland.
“Its time for you to heal now, really, it’s going to be the best for everyone if you heal. It's okay,” Within a minute, the warm skin cooled itself as if a damp cloth had been set over it. Moe turned to whoever she had bumped into, apology ready as she pulled her headphones off and adjusted her circular glasses.
“I’m fine, Moe," Ruben said with a chuckle. He had a hand towel as he cleaned up the coffee spill. He looked up at his coworker, smiling. “You okay? That coffee was pretty hot."
“I’m okay, what about you?” Moe said, scrutinizing Ruben’s dark skin. He had many a scar, as werewolves tended to, and his right leg ended just below the knee with a prosthetic made for running.
“I’m great, didn’t touch me. Thanks for putting a pot on, by the way!” Ruben handed Moe her book. She absently nodded and muttered a response, before moving into the main room of Rott’s office, where Peadar sat at his desk.
“Do you want my sweater, to cover that stain?” Ruben asked as he approached, frowning at the side of Moe’s shirt. She shook her head, went to her own desk and pulled up her messenger bag. It was shaped like a star, with colourful pockets sewn onto the outside. She reached in further than she should have been able to, up to her shoulder as she searched for something. With a smile at Ruben, she pulled out a set of fresh shirts.
“I come prepared," she announced, causing the werewolf to bark a laugh.
“I always forget about your magic bag.”
“It was a rite of passage, back home, making an item magic. I can explain more later, if you’d like.” Moe offered, headed for the bathroom.
When she returned to the main part of the office, Moe saw Rita getting settled at her desk. A pair of imps, each no bigger than a housecat, were puttering away at Silas’s desk, tidying the space. A sure sign the other witch would be there soon.
Rita turned in her seat to lean against Moe’s desk behind her.
“Already bumping into things, are we?” She teased, and Moe’s freckled face turned pink.
“Probably started back home, if we’re being technical,” she muttered quietly. Rita snickered as she turned back to her own workspace; her laptop booted on by now. Moe opened the book she had taken from the back, flipping to the table of contents. She didn’t look up as the door opened.
“Mornin’, Silas. Late again?” Peadar chirped cheerfully. Silas huffed as he went to sit at his desk, his personal imp, String, fluttering behind him.
“I could have been a client,” he grumbled and tossed his backpack to the floor beside his desk.
“No one comes in this early, and with Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb over there, we knew you’d be close behind,” Ruben said casually as he leaned back in his chair.
“Their names are Krat and Perkins.” Silas rolled his eyes but waved his hand at the two imps. They bowed and disappeared into a puff of smoke.
“Silas, have you heard of the Apollo plant?” Moe piped up, flipping through the book some more. Silas raised a brow, smirking at her.
“I’ll need more information than that, Mortimer,” he teased.
“Oh! Uhm… It’s a plant,” Moe started, frantically reading through a page.
“I gathered. What’s it do? Why are we looking for it?” Silas said, standing to lean against Moe’s desk. She paused, finger running along text as she quickly read.
"It's an old plant, one that was thought to be extinct, but I have heard of the herb being found dried and preserved.” Moe explained further, pushing the book so Silas could read. "It's known for being able to control people, with the right dosage. Or, at least, the leaves are.”
“Why are we looking for something that does what I do better?” Rita asked as she sat sideways in her chair to watch the other two converse.
“I have a hunch someone is using the leaves to try to control people. Or- well, the police department was asking for help. You should have the email.” Moe said slowly as she clicked back to her own email. “People not in control of their actions and attacking others.”
“And you think a plant is behind it?” Ruben asked, straining to see over his laptop to Moe’s desk.
“It would make sense. I've heard of the Apollo plant," Silas said, setting the book back down. “Each part of the plant does something different, like the roots are healing, but the flowers can be used to bring bad luck.”
“And the leaves, when used properly and with the right dosage, can get people to be your minions," Moe nodded.
“And so someone has gotten hold of some of this Apollo plant, and is tryin’ to get it to work?” Peadar asked, frowning. Silas hummed, running his thumb along his lips.
“String, check the archives- I think Aunty mentioned it once. Bring me any information that may be useful,” he said, pointing to the remaining imp, who saluted and disappeared.
Moe closed the book and stood up to return it to the library.
“Good work, Mortimer, narrowing it down so fast. The cops just wanted information, yeah?” Silas grinned at her as she passed, but Moe shrugged.
“My brother researches magical plants, it's what he excels at. Info dumps all the time. No big deal.” She murmured with a small frown. “And yes, that's what the email said.”
“Still, it's not common knowledge. I’m glad you remembered hearing about it. Saved me some work.” He winked at her, which caused the healer's cheeks to go pink as she pouted.
“It’s no big deal,” she repeated, turning back to her computer to write an emailed response about the Apollo Plant.