Crescent City Mysteries

Crescent City Mysteries

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing15m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, May 25, 2020
Shyla Sommers decision to return home wasn't her own. She is the last of her kind, a Royal Gypsy so the powers that be uprooted her from her post in Iraq and now she is to be re-stationed as Forensic Coroner of the PCSI task force located in her hometown New Orleans known to the locals as the Crescent City. This highly classified paranormal crime scene investigation task force. PCSI for short was created to regulate, monitor and cover-up, but also to eliminate any problems that stemmed from within the supernatural community. The task force is vital because the mundanes don't have the power necessary to police the supernatural community without sustaining significant casualties. So in order for mundanes to go about blissfully unaware of what's right in front of them, the PCSI team is formed. Shyla's first day back to the City, before even unpacking, she is called upon to scout a body found in the street. The body retained no visible signs of blood, head arms, fingers, legs, and feet were severed and tied back together with fates thread. Eyes and mouth sewed shut. The dead woman was Fairy. Someone from the supernatural world had created a puppet out of this Fairy....but for what purpose and to what end? Honestly "nothing says welcome home like a dead body".
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WARNING: This story contains explicit material and some languages which may not be appropriate to everyone. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. This is my first story ever. I hope you enjoy reading every part of this psychological thriller. Comments and suggestions are most welcome. Reproduction of any part of this original story is prohibited. PROLOGUE Head investigator, Brent Sherwood found a very distraught young woman at the crime scene. She was hiding in the walk-in closet behind the hanging wardrobes of the dead man. Her eyes were wary and scared. He asked for her name. "Nikola", she whispered in thick Italian accent. Her voice was full of anguish and despair . "Are you the dead man's daughter?" Brent asked the young woman whose exotic beauty was covered with sweat, tears and great fear. She shook her head and mumbled, "Wife". There's a pang of regret that stuck in his throat. In that moment of disbelief, he immediately erased that first impression to console a bereaved woman. Whoever believes in love at first? Such foolishness should be deleted off his mind. His feelings must not cloud his judgement. He must act in accordance to his job even if it's his first time to admire a woman after 3 years in solitude. Did she kill her husband? That's the question he must unravel before focusing on his own personal motive.

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