Chapter 2; Good morning
Zonner takes in the view of the now-emptier city as he makes his way home. The cold air is soothing on his exposed skin.
He slows his pace, once again pulling out his revolver. He empties the bullet chamber of the shells, the golden objects making a clinking noise as they fall to the floor.
He shoves his hand into another pocket inside his coat, holding three bullets between the spaces in his fingers. He pushes them into the allotted space before his hand repeats the motion, bringing out three more bullets and inserting them into the chamber.
"As Harrow says, better safe than sorry", Zonner says to himself before he carries on his walk homeward.
After a nice little walk, Zonner reaches the office building where both he and his brother live.
He produces a key from his coat, inserting it into the keyhole, opening the door in a smooth motion.
He notices the darkness of the main room, putting away the keys as he produces a lighter, illuminating the area a little more than the little thing should've been capable of.
"Looks like the chant's still lingering…" he comments offhandedly as he closes the door behind him, taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.
He goes to the couch and sits down in the darkness. The leather of the furniture is of good quality, his brother made a pretty decent wage, he was a genius after all.
"Let's hope my client doesn't bail on me this time", Zonner says hopefully. People were skeptical of the supernatural and often refused to pay him since they believed he was swindling them.
Zonner sighs before shaking his head dejectedly, "At least this gets me points with the lighter paths", he says out loud, attempting to convince himself that his previous unpaid contracts weren't for totally nothing.
Zonner gets up from the couch with a groan, walking towards the further hall where two opposing doors looked at each other.
One was his brother's office, and one was his. He puts his ear to the door, and hears calm breathing. "He's asleep", Zonner notes.
He backs up from the door and enters his own. The look of the room is a far cry from the neat and ordered office his brother keeps. His desk is littered with nonsensical notes, old books and too many types of ink. "Sigils are a precise craft after all", Zonner notes, a tinge of annoyance seeping into his tone.
His eyes move over the desk and he notices a plate, and upon it a sandwich. He smiles as he internally thanks his brother.
The paranormal investigator goes to sit down at his desk, his hand grabbing at a specific book, opening up one of its first pages.
An image spanning two pages is depicted in intricate detail, and beyond it, interlocking shards which form two semi circles around the wheel, one on top which has a black border, and one below which is filled with black and uses the page's color as a border.
All the sections in the wheels have different symbols. The corresponding shards have symbols which bear resemblance to the ones on the wheel. At the very border of the pages as truly intricate symbols which evoke divine aura.
This is the graphical representation of all the possible transcendental paths a human can walk in order to acquire supernatural abilities.
What Zonner had said to the gargoyle was true, he wasn't very far along on his path, because he hadn't started with any path yet.
His displays of magic were weak and took a toll on his body because of this fact. This was also the reason he relied on chanting, since that didn't need any innate abilities to work, but rather worked off of blessings from greater beings.
His healing trick was an expression of his lineage. A bunch of generations ago someone in his family had managed to get their hands on some angel blood, and luckily enough that blood had ended up in Zonner's veins.
"Angel blood doesn't dilute, it only travels in its entirety", Zonner recalled the fact from some scroll he had read in a church.
Picking a path was a crucial choice, since the choice was final and there weren't very many ways to change paths later, at least that was what he had heard.
"... I'll think about it later", he decided as he closed the book and placed it back down on the desk.
His hand moves to the plate as he savors the taste of the slightly bland sandwich. "Delicious", he says, swallowing the bite.
He makes quick work of the rest of the breaded deliciousness in his hands.
He props his feet on the desk as he leans back, looking out the window. "It's probably around one am now…"
He admires the roadside view, finding joy in the normalcy.
Time passes as Zonner slowly relaxes into his chair.
He notices a black bird at his window, looking at him with intelligent eyes just before he falls asleep.
———
Harrow makes an expression as the sunlight hits his closed eyes, slowly waking him up. His deep brown eyes flutter as his body shifts.
His eyes open completely, still looking drowsy. Harrow groans as he adjusts himself, sitting up from the chair he had fallen asleep on. If there was anything the brothers had in common, it was their refusal to use their beds.
Harrow looks at his neat desk, noting that he had completed his report for his client last night. Another wife cheating on the overworked husband, a heartbreakingly common case.
He had caught her visiting the house of the homewrecker directly, then he had seen what had ensued through the uncurtained window, as had a few passerby's.
His client's reputation was ruined, so a divorce was in order. He had been tailing her for a week so he had notarized the incidents in that time period as well, that would help his client.
Harrow gets up, stretching and straightening his back. He would go to collect payment in the evening, his client was probably busy either beating his soon to be former wife or grieving.
Harrow goes to wash his face and brush his teeth. He hums a tune he had heard in Tom's Diner, the live band that performed there was quite talented, rumour had it that they were soon going to have an opportunity to perform in the gala that was happening in two days.
It was a high profile event, many rich merchants, aristocrats and influential people were going to be there. The guest list was very exclusive as well. Surprisingly enough, he himself had gotten an invite courtesy of an old client of his. Having connections as a private investigator was very important, so he planned on attending.
He finishes up with his morning routine, going to the door to collect the daily newspaper.
He opens the door to a pleasant breeze, crouching down to collect the bundled up paper on the floor.
He goes back to the living room and sits down on the leather couch, crossing his legs as he gets to reading.
His eyes move slowly as he reads each word carefully, the articles aren't very interesting.
He reads over a section which reminds him of the young gentleman he had met in the establishment he had spent his time in yesterday.
A man named Roland Cirque had won the local riddle show, winning a substantial amount of prize money. "Good for him", Harrow comments uninterestedly.
Another section catches his attention. "Mysterious scorch marks and scratches found in alley after unknown man stops anyone from entering during prior week?" He says out loud, his tone confused.
He hums thoughtfully, his mind already getting to trying to solve the mystery. A local circus had passed through the previous week as well, maybe one of their animals escaped? That would be a good reason to stop anyone from entering the alley. The scorch marks could be from some homeless individual burning something for heat during the night, or maybe the circus staff used fire to scare the animal away from people? There were many possible scenarios and with each one, Harrow got more and more uninterested.
He moved on from the article, going onto completing the crossword puzzle on the backside. His vocabulary was extensive due to him dealing with higher class people daily.
He then read the rest of the articles, apparently a steam pipe had exploded, scarring a resident of a building. On the other hand, a steam locomotive had helped speed up construction for a big housing complex.
Harrow shrugged, every new thing had quirks which needed to be worked out. He was ready to move past but the steam pipe incident concerned him, fiddling with the controls which were often located outside of the house could cause immense damage to property and people. He would have to submit a complaint to the government, maybe bring this up at the gala. The quicker this oversight was fixed, the better it would be.
Harrow's hand instinctively reached for a pipe that wasn't there on the table, he had left it in his office. He felt a pang of annoyance at the absence of the item.
Harrow put down the newspaper and headed towards his office.
Before he entered his office, he turned towards his brother's room. His hand reached for the handle, but paused close to it. A complicated expression found its way into Harrow's face.
He stood like that for a few seconds.
Ultimately he decided to go to his own office, grabbing his pipe before leaving the building all together.
He grabbed his hat and coat, closing the door on his way out.
"Let's see if Mr. Harris is ready to deal with the crook yet", he said as he adjusted the hat on his head. The light illuminated his fair complexion as he walked off into the bustle of the city.