One Hell of a Mongrel (Book 1)

Chapter One

It was a quiet night. Everything seemed peaceful. An empty street in London was only livened by the warm glow of it's lanterns.

A true travesty death would ruin such a lovely evening...

Earlier that day had been fairly average. The city had been busy and bustling with common folk, making there way to and from place to place. Errands and businesses were being run by the people who made just enough. You wouldn't be seeing any ladies in silk on this side of town, that was certain.

There was, however, a fellow who stood out from the crowd. Grell Sutcliff, with his shoulder-length, vibrant, crimson hair, was practically strutting down the center of the avenue, ignoring the peculiar looks he was receiving. With his pale, clean complexion and his unusual, spectacle framed, chartreuse eyes, he was a sight never seen amongst the slums. His attire was also grabbing a great deal of attention, being that his pants looked to be made of real leather and his loose, white blouse of Egyptian cotton. He also wore a pair of bright, red shoes, adding almost three inches to his height.

Quite frankly, he liked the stares. They made him feel like a celebrity, being ogled for his excellent taste in fashion. He'd just graduated from the Reaping academy, passing his final exam. He would be partaking his first mission that night, and he could not be more excited. A grin tugged at his lips, exposing his rows of shark-like teeth. One mortal woman caught a glimpse and let out a cry of fright before quickly averting her gaze, only making Grell's smile grow maliciously.

As the sun began to set, Grell grew closer to his destination. A small apartment building that appeared to be ripping at the seams. It was really a run down little place, hardly large enough for one person to live in, let alone multiple tenants. Stopping at the foot of the steps, Grell snapped his fingers, summoning a small, black book out of what seemed to be thin air. Opening it to the first page, he double checked the name given to him:

Reaping List-

1. Scarlet Monnet Nightlock

2.

3.

4.

5.

The book was already numbered for his future cases, but at that moment, his main focus was Scarlet. She was supposedly going to be robbed while she slept.

"What a pity," Grell sighed as he let the book slip from his grasp and vanish the same way it had appeared, sounding almost bored with her death, "My first assignment and it's not even a massacre.."

A scream echoed through the night from within the building, slipping out the window where a man escaped, carrying a large sack of tinkering metal things.

Grell had been waiting in the shadows of an alleyway, expecting the murder. He silently left the darkness, going into the building and to the door with the broken lock. He pushed it open, unsurprised by the mess of broken things on the floor. He moved at a comfortable pace, not in any particular rush. It wasn't like he intended to rescue his target.

His expression remained stoic upon hearing a gurgling sound from the bedroom. He followed the noise, snapping his fingers to summon a plain, black handled scythe. In the shadows, he grinned, eager to get to work, but as his eyes adjusted, he was stopped in his tracks.

In the room that obviously belonged to someone with little money, there was only a small bed with a chest at its foot. The wood floor, where the victim lay, was drenched with blood. It appeared she had heard the robber pilfering her home and had gotten up to investigate. He'd stopped her at the door and here she lay, stabbed in the stomach, bleeding out.

Grell thought she was beautiful. Not the glamorous kind of beautiful that he admired, no, she was a simple type of beautiful. Her long, black curls fell in magnificent waves, and her bright, green eyes looked as though they had never seen sin. Her face was like porcelain, the mug of a doll. Her petite framed, dressed in the plainest of nightgowns, was stained red by her demise.

Her beauty brought a faint flush to the Reaper's cheeks. He'd never known to feel much for a woman, but then again, he'd never tried. She made him curious and as she stared up at him with those round, innocent eyes, he felt a tug of a frown at his mouth. He pitied her.

"You're here to finish me... Aren't you...?" Scarlet whispered as blood trickled from the edge of her mouth. For a moment, she looked calm, as if she'd already come to terms with death. Like she was ready to just get it over with.

Grell felt a hitch in his breathing he couldn't explain. Soon, he discovered he had no words to give, so he simply lifted his scythe, shut his eyes tightly, and swung.