?When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. And that?s my religion.?
-Abraham Lincoln
Prologue
?Who is behind the Red-Faced Murders?
?June 4. Police continue to be baffled by a string of bizarre murders in the East Village. The body of restaurant owner Omar Sorias, recently revealed as the notorious Underworld leader Osiris, was found yesterday morning in an alley near Astoria Place. The body was grotesquely shrunken and misshapen, with a reddish tint to the skin, but no identifiable signs of injury. Mr. Sorias is the third victim in what police have dubbed, ?The Red-Faced Murders.? Although the commissioner insists they are following every lead, no suspects have been identified. Efforts to unravel this mystery have been complicated by the disappearances of three detectives and two investigative journalists assigned to the case. The commissioner has requested anyone with information relating to either the murders or the disappearances to contact the nearest police station??
?WHAT THE HELL?S GOIN? ON HERE??
Harold Shades stared down at the shreds of newspaper in his hands, his face contorted into a crimson fright mask as the paper scraps sparked into small flames. The little bald man with wire-frame glasses clenched his hands into tight fists, scattering the smoldering ashes across the floor. He bent over his desk, curling his fingers around the corners of the desktop, panting. Wisps of smoke drifted from the back of his neck.
His head snapped up, his eyes widened, and the air in the room crackled. He spun, sending papers flying off his desk, as he drew in breath to release a torrent of rage upon whoever had dared step into his office. He caught himself in mid-roar as his gaze fell upon his wife. The color drained from his face when he saw the look of disapproval on Persephone?s beautiful face.
?Now, Harold, calm down. Everything will be okay. I?m here now.?
Harold looked wildly about the room, as if he had just awoken from a dream.
?Harold, look at me.? When he managed to focus properly, Persephone continued. ?You?re okay. It?s all okay.? A hint of a smile crept across her face. ?Well, your glasses might not be okay.? She reached out and carefully removed the twisted molten wire and glass from the bridge of Harold?s nose. Looking behind him, she sighed. ?Or the desk.?
Harold turned around and saw the impressions of his fingers smoldering deep in the heavy oak desktop. His face flushed a different shade of red and he cast his eyes downward.
?Now you see?? Persephone continued. ?You know Dr. Sclepius told you to control your anger. You remember how long it took us to rebuild this office the last time, don?t you??
Harold nodded as if he were being scolded for scribbling on the walls with crayon.
?Okay,? she said, her hand on his shoulder. ?Why don?t you sit down and I?ll make you a nice cup of tea.? She winked. ?Extra-hot, just the way you like it.?
He smiled, but then his eyes widened and a frown spread across his face. ?But ?Phone, don?t you see what?s goin? on? First Thanatos, then Tuoni, and now Osiris. That?s no coincidence! It?s just like we were told: I?m next!?
She patted his shoulder. ?Now, sweetheart, you know they weren?t exactly gentlemen. They had a lot of enemies and I?m sure??
?Enemies?? he interrupted. ?Ya think I don?t got enemies??
?Well, yes, but you have friends as well. Friends who would do anything for you, and a wife who loves you. I hardly think the others could say the same.?
?But??
?I won?t hear any more about it. You need rest. Everything will work out.?
?But, ?Phone!? He looked up at her with tearful eyes. ?You?re right, those other guys, they didn?t have anyone but themselves to worry about. But I do.? His lip trembled. ?If anything happened to you?? His words choked off and he swallowed hard.
She smiled and drew him close, wrapping her arms around him and patting his back. ?Oh, Harold, we?ve been through worse. We?ll just have to trust in the Fates that help will come.?
