Hex Monroe: Warlock Actuary

This is an excerpt from a novel I am not working on. I do, however, have a tag line: "In the battle between good and evil, you can't put a price on life. Well, actually you can. If you hire Hex Monroe for all your actuarial needs!"

Hex walked into his office, and with a wave of his hand ignited the candles which filled the room. He was often told that he would be better off using the light switch, but he was oft misunderstood by his peers. He sat down at his large desk -- It was covered in futhark ruins carved by his own hands in order to protect his most valuable client files. In the distance he heard the roar of a dragon, and a smattering of gun fire. He wondered if any of those firing upon the dragon were clients of the firm. If they were, he mused, he was pretty sure the payouts to their heirs would be appropriate given their occupations.

Hex thought about scrying for some information on who would be stationed nearby in the ADC, but knew that he was just trying to put off thinking about the Henderson incident. Hex had been told that everything was on the up and up, and all the paperwork seemed in order. Still, the inconsistencies he had found in the previous days had him worries. If nothing else, why would there would be such a large pay out on a librarian who wasn't working in either the Eldritch, Developmental, or Forbidden branches. Hex stood up from his desk, and began to walk towards the filing cabinet containing the Henderson file when he caught the faint smell of blood.

He knew that I a new case was heading his way, and without thinking turned towards the opposite wall just as a scroll was delivered via the network of pneumatic tubes which Count Lockhart was so anachronistically fond of. Pulling the scroll out of the tube, Hex slumped his shoulders as he resigned himself to the reality that his investigation up to this point had been a waste of time, and he would be better off putting his talents to better use. Sitting back at his desk he solemnly opened the scroll, and invoked the spell of authenticity that he had customized himself many years ago. All but 28 letters in the declaration glowed green, which was no surprise. Nobody ever told the whole truth when they filled out the forms for a policy.

Hex was about to cancel the spell and begin the paperwork for processing the form when something about those 28 letters caught his eye. He sat for some time looking the document over. He recast his authentication spell to make sure a mistake hadn't been made. When he was sure he wasn't mistaken or hallucinating Hex jumped up and ran to grab the Henderson file. Flipping open to the initial calculations he had made, and cross referencing them with the charts he had attached to the back, Hex finally began to understand what was going on.

Back at his desk, Hex called unto him a piece of parchment, and his pen. He furiously scribbled a short note and, using a Photostat spell, placed it, along with a copy of the new case into an envelope. Hex turned around in his chair, and slid over to the window. Opening it up, he looked to the left at a gargoyle perched on the corner of the building.

"Greycloak!", Hex shouted with an uncharacteristic impatience.

The gargoyle remained motionless, and Hex felt his anger rising.

"You might look like stone, but I can see you blinking!"

Greycloak took a deep breath and turned his head towards Hex.

"Damn! What stupid thing do you want me to do this time?", He said with an exaggerated sense of burden.

Hex held out the envelope and said, "I need you to take this to the Department of Library Oversight, and personally give it to Doctor Riverblood. Go directly there, and don't give it to anybody else."

Without a word, Greycloak took the envelope and launched off the ledge of the building. As Hex watched him fly silently into the night, he feared it might be the last time he would see him.

You Never Know Until It's Over

We were laying down in the truck bed in a last ditch attempt to keep the chill coastal night air at bay. The fire we had built up on the beach was long gone, and we were more than a few beers to the wind. In silence we just stared up at the sky as the truck wound it's way back towards A.P.'s cabin (which was actually his parent's but he had the good sense to steal the keys and make copies). The sky blazed with millions of stars, the absence of city lights allowing them to manifest themselves as though they only existed for us.

In our semi-isolated state all we could see were those stars. The sky twisting and turning as though it had a life of it's own. Later in the evening would be boisterous laughing, more drinking, and juvenile pranks played on the first unfortunate soul to pass out, but for that one moment there was nothing to do but gaze upward with silent awe. The quiet was breached only once when A.P. lazily stirred for a moment before saying, "I think I'm having a flashback. I totally feel like I'm dosing right now".