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Chapter 1: A Dashing of Hopes
She looks out her window, it's still raining. It had been raining sense about 9 o'clock yesterday. A steady sleeting sort of rain. The grayness of the past day or so continued to were almost everyone down, almost everyone. It wouldn't, couldn't touch her. It wouldn't be able to touch her if it continued a week or even a year. She turns from the window. She still could not believe that today she would marry her love, Jonah Lenvel. He's a an artist, a painter, that's how she met him.
He sales his paintings on the street, he'd seen her going by several times and felt that he had to paint her. She'd agreed to sit for him when he asked. That was just the beginning. She poised for him there, were he was selling his work. He was, like most painters, poor in his art. Later on in the romance she had diner with him in his humble flat.
She could just see what there life would be like. He would always paint and she would supplement there income with waitressing. They'll stay at the flat until the art community realized what a great artist her Johan really is. The sale of his art will pick up, then they'll be able to have children.
Before she met him she would have laughed at the idea that one could find
happiness in such an environment.
Mixed with her happiness is a certain amount of anxiety. Johan had asked her to leave the details of the wedding to him and all that she knows is that she's to met his mother at 978 Stans street. She found the place last night and now as she reaches her destination all of the anxieties she had merely set aside were coming back at her in full force.
The building is an elegant two story town house with a lovely verandah in the front. She's early even 'thou she's not quit sure why she'd come when she did. It's a puzzle that she can't answer any more then why she had come the night before.
As the chill from the wind begins to seep in to her bones she enters. The house is quit and still as if it's a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce. Johan had given her a key so that she could get in, if she got there before his mother. She calmly enters the house. As the room is dim and filled with shadow she scarcely notices the one that moves in on her as she turns towards the lamp.
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A shadowy figure slips down the street. The day is dark and dismal. Not once had the sun shown her face. He doesn't mind. The sun is his mortal enemy forcing him to stay indoors during the day, or most days. The weather is working on his side giving him one last chance at a most desired possession, the dark haired gem, Colera Jensen . He'd known that he had to have her from the day he'd first laid eyes on her.
Her ebony hair flowing around her shoulders adding to her strong supple body giving her the appearance of perfection. The sum of her features make her seem like some long forgotten goddess that no mortal man dared to dream about. They are those of one born to great status tempered with the harshness of the street that is her first home. No common or mortal man deserved the likes of her, but then he is neither common or mortal.
It was over 200 years ago that he had chosen his life. He has no qualms about what he is or the things he does. These things, the murderous need, the dreamless sleep, and the lose of the sunlight, he feels, are after all a small price to pay for his immortality.
He will have his goddess, no mater who gets in the way or what she feels about it. He wont even go threw the rigmarole of asking her. As if she would go with him, she's all set to grow old with that pitiful Johan Lenvel. He would kill that one, money or not, if necessary.
He finally reaches his destination, an old house belonging to the Lenvel family. Now all he has to do is wait. If luck is with him she will be the first one here and he can take care of the necessary details with out any problems.
His wait isn't long and luck is with him. She comes up to the front of the house were she pauses for a moment before entering. As she turns toward the lights he makes his move. She doesn't even have a chance to scream.
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She stands by the window watching for the cab. Her niece, Anna, sits patiently finishing the embroidered table cloth she has been working on for weeks. Anna always does such beautiful work. The cab rounds the corner.
She surveys the room. The gown hangs in quit splendor in the doorway, an elegant testimony to the value of old money.
Her son is getting marred. When he had first gone after her hart, as he put it, she was of two minds. She wants her son to be happy, but, she knew that if he let the girl know she would marry him for the money. Something he also knew, so he had rented some dreadful place in which he wooded her. After the girl had agreed to marry him she'd gone down to the square, were the artists sold there work and her son insisted he start, under the pretense of buying a cheap painting in order to meet this street tramp her son had decided to marry.
The girl turned out to be one of the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, a virtual princess. Her long velvety hair just shimmered in the sunlight and her deep lustrous blue eyes sparkled like a star. She has a tall, supple figure that belonged on a screen. The plainness of her dress only accented the rarity of the grace and beauty that are hers naturally.
After looking around at the paintings that were set up, the ones her son had painted. She choose one she liked and asked the cost. The girl drove a hard bargain showing that she also had good business sense. Given time the girl, Colera, would fit as well into society as thou she were born there.
The driver finishes loading the cab and Her niece gets in after her. As the cab turns out of the driveway she has a sudden thought. If that son of hers failed to mention his status to that poor child, she's not the sort who would read the society page, she's likely to go into shock upon seeing the gown and such. Anna says as much. Johan has a tendency to be forgetful of such small details as money, details that Colera, a lovely name, would consider extremely important.
She decides to go in first so as to prepare the girl before the cabby brings in the packages. As they get out of the cab something slips away into the gloom. They see the body as they enter the house, she faints.
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At the police station the telephone rings, Detective Toron answers. "Northward police, Detective Toron speaking." "Mrs. Lenvel what can I do for you." Picking up a pad and pencil. "Oh. Yes, I see." Writing on the pad "Of coarse we'll get over there right away." Over his shoulder, "Send an ambulance over to the Lenvel townhouse, we have a possible homicide." back to the phone "Calm down, we'll be right there." He hangs up. Grabbing his coat on the way out, he mutters "possible my foot." His partner, one Leen Corben, comes up beside him speaking "Come now Staens, Its not our place to speculate. It could be accidental." Toron glances at his partner " When was the last time it was an accident."
Lets take this time to look at our officers... The first detective, Staens Toron, is tall, a towering 7'. He has deep slate blue eyes, slightly hidden beneath thick, dark eye brows. which, along with his sooty black hair, give him a look of extreme gravity. Not only is he tall, he is also rather thin. Over the years he has developed a reputation for psyche tendencies, his feelings are almost always right. Do to his stern appearance most people avoid him opting to talk with his partner instead. Detective Leen Corben, contrary to his first name, is a stout man with a kind face. The older of the two his hair is slightly gray. His eyes, under his almost white eyebrows, are a pail, gray green, as thou his years on the force had washed away all of the color. A few years from forced retirement, he has an all around grand fatherly look that people trust.
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