Broomstick - The Inspector Wolfe Tales, #1 - Part One

My name is Wolfe. You’ve probably heard of me as Big Bad. Indeed, I did infiltrate the Nocturne gang with the title “Big Bad Wolfe”. Two months later, the gang was shut down by order of Faeraway Law, due to my extraordinary blackmailing abilities, and eighty-seven members were acquitted of various crimes. Several other of my exploits have been rumored, such as my arresting of two of the Three Pigs Brotherhood. The third, my arch-nemesis Oinkiarty, slipped away however. I have yet to confront him directly, although I have recognized his hand in several of my more shady investigations.

This case, as anyone involved could tell you, was by far one of the most exceptional ones of my career. The case of the Donshire witch was my very first success. Thus I wish it to be known to the public.

This was eight years ago. I was bleeding money trying to get a proper degree at Peacelock College of Criminal Investigation. It was all I wanted. I lived in a shabby apartment across from the main campus, and I had a job at Muffin Man Bakery, on Drury Lane. The pay was enough to keep me comfortable, but I needed more if I was going to get into that university. I got the cheapest rent in town, in the inn “Sleazy Fox”. It was owned by Woody, a fox who was, as one might guess from the inn’s name, sleazy. But he put me up for barely any money, and the space wasn’t all that bad.

I looked myself in the mirror and studied the dark brown fur on my face. It was sticking out in all directions, and I knew I needed to get a haircut soon, whether I liked it or not.

My yellow wolf eyes stared out at me with a calculating look, as if scrutinizing my soul. I stared back. And then something strange happened. My reflection reached out to the surface of the mirror. I looked at my arms. They were still.

My reflection was pointing, I realized. And I turned.

The ghost was a wispy girl, with long strands of hair strewn all over her shoulders. Her deathly eyes sparkled like moonlight. I did my best to keep my composure.

“Who are you?” I asked gruffly.

“Who I am is not important.” The words were breathed like cold sharp icicles. I shuddered. “Who I was, however, I shall tell you.” She faded into a pale cloud of mist, which soon dissipated into nothingness.

I turned back to the mirror. My reflection, the wolf that I was, stared back at me. Beside my reflection was the ghost girl. In the mirror her whole body, clothed in a white gown, looked cracked and fragile, like an old forgotten teapot. Her face was very pale, and radiated a white glow that probably wasn’t good for my health. Her eyes were strikingly alive, though, and fierce, compared to the rest of her body. They were a deep blue color, like oceans were contained deep beneath the rippling surface.

“Inspector James Hamilton Wolfe, at your service,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say and the silence was getting kind of awkward. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“I know who you are,” she said, quietly, as if she didn’t have enough air. Fair enough, I reasoned. Not much air in a mirror, right?

“My name is Alice,” said she. “Or it was…until I was trapped in the Looking Glass.”

I frowned. “Trapped in the Looking Glass? But you’re the Looking Glass Explorer. It’s impossible for you to get trapped; you know every inch of the Mirror Realm. I’ve read about it.”

“Well, I am trapped. And my name is gone.”

“Your name? You mean you’ve been turned into one of the Nameless?”

“Yes. I don’t have any essence anymore. Something took my Name.” Her breath was icy and seemed to unravel into words as it hit my chilly ears. “I don’t know what, but…” The glow around her began to pulse and fade. She began to shrink, and her form seemed misty. “I’m fading,” she said. “Quickly! You have to help! Go to the King’s Men! My brother Aleck…” She disappeared into mist.

It seemed I had an investigation on my hands. I had to save Alice, and her brother Aleck had something to do with it. I waggled my eyebrows in excitement. A job offer, from none less than Alice herself!

I got my coat on, grabbed my walking stick, and raced downstairs, my bushy tail thumping on the floor as I raced into the common room. Woody was in there, at the bar, talking with a large man in black clothes. Lizzie, his little fox pup, was sweeping the wood floor. I ran past them and opened the front door. I sped out of the inn before Woody had a chance to say hello, into the street.

Someone was spread-eagled on the ground across the cobbled street. I rushed forward, heedless of a carriage rolling past, and a horse shoved me to the ground with a nervous whinny.

I got up, dizzy, and ran to the person on the ground at the side of the road. Under the shadow of the inn across from the Sleazy Fox, the golden rays of the morning sun lighting the morning up, I turned the man over onto his back and checked for a pulse. Nothing. And the face looked familiar. Wait…who was it? My mind raced and my heartbeat sped up. And then, quite suddenly, it hit me with a jolt, and I staggered back up onto my feet. Aleck.

The pale face stared hollowly out at me; those sharp cheekbones and the blond tousled hair-do that would have melted any maiden’s heart in life now appeared terrifyingly frightening in death. Aleck was dead. It couldn’t be coincidence.

I had a murderer on my hands, and an abductor of Names. And already my mind was sprinting to find the solution.