The human
population lived in groups, which they called towns, on the outskirts of the
forest and for the most part, were unaware of the ungodly creatures they lived
amongst. Occasionally someone would disappear. The humans would talk about it
for a while but soon some other urgent matter would make them forget. In short,
the crime rate was very low. The humans were content.
Morrison
drove his vintage Pontiac convertible cautiously through town. He wanted to be
seen. He was doing his job. Tim Morrison had a unique job mostly found in just a
few Central European countries. He was an Investigative Magistrate. He was cop,
district attorney and judge all rolled in one. He could put you in jail without
bail if he thought it was warranted. You could appeal his judgment, though,
with the Magistrate in a city far away. Only that first Morrison had to let you
out of jail so you could get there.
The Keepers
kept all beings in line, mortals and the undead equally.
(To Be Continued.)
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