-Ruarc Brennan-

I rolled my eyes at Harlen's words and moved my hand to Quan's shoulder, keeping him from moving any closer to my group of friends. They were all on edge and didn't take well to strangers. They weren't purposefully trying to cause anyone discomfort, except for maybe Harlen. I understood why they felt that way, but it didn't stop it from being inconvenient.

"There'll be no blood draining," I warned. "Quan, you can do what you need to do. Please don't go far."

He nodded mutely before using his cane to guide himself to the side of the road. He stepped down and then crouched, putting his hand on the tarmac. He then sat on the curb, his eyes sliding closed.

"What is he doing?" Harlen hissed in my ear. I hadn't noticed him come closer, but I remained unfazed. "He looks mad."

I sighed and turned my head to face him. His brown eyes were dark and cold. He looked almost ferocious with his beard and mass of hair. He was trying to make himself seem taller by straightening his back and legs, but he was still a few inches shorter than me.

"He's doing what he has to do," I told him. "You can only complain if he finds nothing. Even then, he's trying."

"Trying isn't going to bring justice to Simon," Harlen argued louder.

"Nothing will bring justice to Simon," Aubrey argued, stepping in the middle of us. "The investigator is the best chance we have. As long as he minds his own business."

"The investigator can hear you," Quan said from his place by the road. "I don't really care what you guys have going on. I really don't care too much about whether or not this is 'right'." He used air quotations with the hand which wasn't holding the handle of his cane. "I just care about gathering information against a potential murderer."

My friends were silent. I wasn't sure if friends was the right word to describe them, but they had been with me since I moved onto the street. They had a silly little initiation thing where they decided whether or not you were worth getting to know, thus letting you join their small gang of sorts. I had known Harlen for longer, as he managed to hook me up with my house.

They had varying views on whether or not I should have accepted Candice's offer to move. I felt as though they almost no longer viewed me as one of their friends, as I no longer lived on the street. It had been a thought which ate at my brain, but I hadn't the time to truly consider it.

Quan lowered his head again and rested his free hand back onto the ground.

My friends just watched in silence with perplexed looks on their faces.

"I didn't think that this was a valued method that the police force used," Harlen commented, but nobody paid him any mind.

There were no birds tweeting, or wind blowing. The street was still and dead. It had always felt like the street had its own little bubble, its own plane of existence where nothing could come in or out without undergoing some sort of test. And I had ruined that. At least it was for the greater good, for the sake of justice.

Quan coughed and brushed his hands on his trousers before standing up. "Right, so he didn't actually see anything."

"Wonderful!" Harlen exclaimed sarcastically and clapped his hands. "Top detective work everybody."

"He was killed in his house; he wasn't killed out here."

"But the marks on his body," Aubrey started. "They were-"

"Caused after his death. He didn't know anything about it. He didn't experience the pain of being ran over," Quan continued. "Did you look at his house?"

"I couldn't find anything," Sara stated and raised her head high. "I'm pretty good at these things; he had a lot of plants."

"That helps," Quan said. I could tell by his tone that he was brushing off her words and input. "Could I go into his house? Maybe even just to the welcome mat."

"Sure," I agreed.

"Absolutely not," Aubrey countered. "We are not invading his privacy like that."

"What about his family?" Luka asked quietly. "They've taken it pretty rough."

"Yeah..." I trailed off. I didn't feel like I had any authority on this street anymore. "But I know them, a little at least. Chances are that they'd be more than happy to figure out what happened to their son."

"I don't know, angels can be difficult sometimes," Sara said.

"Hey!" Luka exclaimed. "We're respectful, not difficult."

"Either way, I think that we should be checking out the house." I moved towards Quan and put my arm around him again, making sure not to touch him or make him uncomfortable, well, too uncomfortable.

"Fine, just don't upset them," Harlen said reluctantly. "We'll be right behind you."

I tried not to feel intimidated by Harlen and the rest of my friends as we walked down the pristine path to Simon's house. I felt like there were eyes following us the entire time, which there probably was.

I knocked on the bright white door which didn't hold a speck of dirt, and waited for a response. A fragment of a face peeped through the blinds that were covering my view of the inside.

The door opened slightly. "Hello?" a soft and feminine voice greeted. Their voice was a little hoarse despite the softness, as though the person had been crying. I immediately recognised the voice as Simon's mother.

"Hello, miss, I was wondering if I could talk to you?" I asked in a softer tone than I had used in the past few years. "I'm sorry for your loss. I wanted to ask you more about Simon, if you're willing to talk?"

"No," she stated. "Goodbye."

I held up a finger to Quan, who had since deflated. I had forgotten that he couldn't see what I was doing. When I remembered, I quickly put my hand down to my side and coughed awkwardly.

The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing what I could only describe as the embodiment of grief.

People mourned in different ways, some ate away their emotions, and others cried until boxes upon boxes of tissues were discarded. Some get on with their lives and pretend that everything's alright, and some spend sleepless nights wondering why it happened to their loved one.

I couldn't tell which one of those Mrs. Addams was, but she looked like a complete wreck. Her hair was tattered and in knots, as though she had been pulling at it. She wore her work clothes, despite it being several days since she was last working, unless something else happened which I hadn't heard about. Her eyes held dark circles underneath and her nose was red and raw, presumably from where she had rubbed it with tissues.

"What do you want to know?" Mrs. Addams said through sniffles. Her voice was as dry still as it had sounded earlier.

"We were just wondering if we could pop in?" I asked in the friendliest voice I could muster. "This is detective investigator Quan Leung. He is going to help us investigate Simon's death."

Mrs. Addams shoulders tensed, she looked sceptically at me and gave a small scoff. "And you expect me to believe that a person such as yourself is involved with the police?"

I resisted the urge to sigh before nodding my head. "I was offered a job within the police force," I admitted. I had to admit, it was extremely satisfying to see her eyes widen in shock. "So, I've gotten to know the system and officers well." I had only been there a few days, but I decided that it was best to exaggerate.

Mrs. Addams cleared her throat before backing away and opening the door so that the two of us could enter. "Please, do what you need to do."

I hesitated as I crossed the threshold. I didn't really want to intrude on their privacy, but I had been invited in a few years ago. I wasn't sure if Mrs and Mr Addams knew I had been invited in. Yet, I knew that they wanted me to enter, I would've been able to without any issues, even if I hadn't been invited inside before.

I almost didn't notice Quan's arm sliding through my elbow and holding on firmly. I had forgotten the effects of his magic after seeing him walk down the street so confidently.

"Sorry," I muttered to him and pulled my arm closer to me. "Are you okay in here?" I felt bad that I hadn't asked earlier.

"As long as I get my cane, and am able to touch something, I should be fine." His cane was moving in front of him quickly, as he moved his right wrist almost subconsciously.

I nodded my head and led him forward. "There's a wall to the right of you," I whispered to him. Even though he probably knew that, as his cane was hitting it every other second.

He put his gloved hand towards his face and pulled his glove away with his lips. I stared for too long, but I was curious to see his expression when he started to use his magic.

It was clear that the house belonged to angels as soon as you entered. The cream walls were light and not a spec of dirt or dust stood out against the surface. The floor was a light wood, and any rugs or carpets were a similar, pristine white. It was a bit stereotypical for angels to decorate their houses with such bright colours, but it also seemed to never fail. I couldn't quite fathom why they would want something so bright, but I reminded myself that not everybody gets a headache when faced with too much light.

Quan's hand rested gently on the wall; his ring finger twitched a few times. I supposed that he was also aware of the clean stereotype of angels, but I could be wrong. Given the fact that he worked with Jade, who didn't quite fit the stereotype.

Quan's eyes moved, as though he was watching a film beside his eyelids. He snapped his head towards the stares and started to pull at my arm.

"Quan?" I said reluctantly. I didn't really want him to go by himself, but he was pulling away from our grip. "What's wrong?"

He ignored me and continued to pull my arm. I didn't know why he couldn't just tell me what was wrong, but the urgency made my heart skip a little quicker.

Each stair was even, as though they had been made with magic. I didn't trip or stumble as I followed the witch towards Simon's bedroom, which surprised me greatly. Usually, vampires were perceived to have extremely good coordination, which is an utter lie. The only reason that people believe that, is the fact that we are quick to realise where we have gone wrong and correct ourselves. I didn't have the pleasure of stating that I was one of the quickest, that comes with practice and age. I have never had a reason to practise.

We passed glorious paintings, which I knew were Mrs. Addams' originals. Simon had told me all about his mother's passion for art, something that he shared.

Simon's room wasn't exactly how I remembered it. His twin bed had become a double bed, and the walls had changed from a light green to a light blue. Yet, that wasn't what stood out to me. It was perfect, too perfect, but it wasn't the perfect that Simon had created.

Angels liked to be orderly, that was a fact which nobody could disagree with. They couldn't handle chaos, despite that being some of their jobs. They were meant to put any chaotic or imperfect situation back to its proper, perfect state.

Despite Simon's room looking perfect at first glance, his alphabetical order of books had been rearranged so that it was reverse-alphabetical order. I would've let this pass, had his clothes rack been placed in his regular rainbow order, instead of darkest to lightest. Or had his statues been placed in order of favouritism instead of height.

Quan pulled me over to the side of the bed and started to examine it. I couldn't quite tell how he could get any information from it, as he was just rubbing the fabric between his fingers, but I reminded myself, for the tenth time that week, not to question magic.

"I was right when I said he died in bed," Quan stated. I had the feeling he was only telling me out of courtesy, so that I knew he was doing what he said he would do. "He didn't know anything about it, but the person approached whilst he was sleeping."

"Who was it?" I asked. I almost clamped my hand over my mouth in frustration. Surely, Quan would tell me if he knew who it was. I was just so used to having secrets being hidden from me, I had to ask if I wanted to learn anything.

"They are very good at hiding." Quan's hand moved to Simon's pillow. "How many times have you been here?" he inquired.

My brain became blank as I tried to answer. "I've been here around four times," the words slid from my mouth as I counted the amount of times I had entered Simons' room. We hadn't done anything serious, but he wanted to show me his statues, or to show me certain books he was so proud to own, and on one occasion, he had asked me for fashion advice when he was clearing out his wardrobe. "Yeah."

"Did it look like it does now?"

I shook my head, but mentally slapped myself and uttered, "no."

He stood up straight and stretched his arms above his head. I could've sworn that I saw light grey lines surrounding his wrist, but it could've just been the light hitting his veins a certain way. He had been using his magic a lot recently, and I wasn't going to ask questions.

"So, you know that everything's been rearranged?" he said as he lowered his arms and walked over to the bookshelves, without even using his cane. I suppose that he knew the route well by now, after seeing it from many different perspectives.

"Yes, but Simon could've done that right before he died?" I offered. I knew that I wasn't being helpful, Simon wasn't the kind of person who would change something like that. He had the same arrangement since he was a child, if you were to go into the living room, then you would see the exact same arrangements.

"He didn't," Mrs. Addams declared in a soft tone. Her eyes were filling with tears once again. I didn't know what happened to angels when they died, but I'm not sure anyone else did either. It was a secret that was only known by a few, same with vampires and werewolves, or any other creature that walked the earth. "He wouldn't change anything like that, if he did, he would tell us."

I nodded my head and stepped further into the room. "So, whoever killed him knew him well I'd suspect," I muttered under my breath. They at least knew him well enough to find subtle ways of showing something happened. It made no sense as to why they've done something so tedious.

"Not to mention the fact that he wasn't in his room when he was found," Quan continued. "He had obviously been hurt badly, but why go to all the effort after you've killed someone?"

"For attention," I answered. I hadn't had to think like this in years. I hadn't wanted to go back to thinking like someone who needed to hurt others, or who wanted to cause harm. This person, whoever they were, was doing it for the attention of someone. They didn't want to hurt Simon, or so it seemed.

"Probably," Quan agreed, skimming his hands over book covers. "Impressive collection."

"Simon would be thrilled to hear you say that," Mrs. Addams said with a sniffle. "He was so proud of his statues and books, He wanted to run a bookstore when he was older." A handkerchief seemed to magically appear in her hand. And she blew her nose, before dabbing under her eyes. "He loved those books and animals."

"I can tell," Quan said. He strode over to the glass cabinet which was filled with statues of animals and angels. I found it ironic that he had angel statues on display, but he had just laughed at me. "He liked these too."

I nodded and started to pull open his bedside drawers, nothing here had moved. It was only the objects which were on display.

"So, we've agreed that it's someone who was wanting attention. Someone who didn't want to cause harm to Simon. Has anyone else been in here?" Quan asked Mrs. Addams.

She shook her head.

"Strange," Quan muttered. I wished that I could hear what he was thinking. I didn't think that it was strange at all, us being here ourselves has been invasive and extremely awkward.

"What's strange?" I asked. I was quieter than normal, as though I were afraid to spook him.

"Well, there's been more than one person here."