Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives

Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives

Casebook 01: Twins

oOo

Distantly, Nox could perceive several voices conversing beyond the smog in her vision and the pounding in her ears. Her legs felt numb, like blocks of ice weighted to the floor, and for a moment an irrational fear gripped her like a vice: what if she had taken a bad fall and broken her legs? Or maybe she had she been tied up and taken prisoner in that strange Weasley house where day was night and fashion fell beyond all comprehension. Not that she had any right to criticize another person's wardrobe.

Nox wondered vaguely when she had turned into such a pessimist.

"Yep, out cold," a familiar voice proclaimed.

"You don't say," echoed its twin.

A pair of footsteps rushed noisily into the room, each thunderous stride causing Nox's head to pound with a dull pain. She kept her eyes closed and listened intently.

"Fred, George!" cried a flustered woman. "I heard from Dedalus that you... what on earth have you two trouser-ferrets done to the poor girl?"

"Nothing much," replied George easily. "Just the usual."

"Dare I ask what the usual entails?" the woman asked.

"Only a tour," said the younger Weasley - the one, Nox was positive, who had been responsible for scaring her half to death.

"And a Jammy Dodger," added George.

"Those were mine, by the way," grumbled the other. "Hope you plan on reimbursing me."

"One biscuit! You can live without one mouldy biscuit, Fred."

"Cheers, mention the 'L' word," lamented Fred melodramatically.

"Sod off," George groaned. "Dead or not, I won't have an over-emotional cry-baby for a twin."

"Stop it, the pair of you!" the woman ordered hotly. "Now what is it exactly that you plan on doing with her? She is a Muggle, after all. The pair of you could get into a lot of trouble if you aren't careful."

"We're keeping her. I like this one. Daft as a brush, mind!"

"She is not a pet, Fred," the woman protested. "She is a human being."

"She's a funny looking Muggle. Look at her squinty eyes," said George, and Nox felt a finger prod her cheek non-too gently. "Her name's Nox."

"Nutty Nox," Fred corrected. "Collapsed the moment she saw me. Frankly, I'm a little offended."

"Saw you?" the woman asked in alarm. "That can't be possible."

"Well, Dedalus got it right for once, didn't he? He's finally found a Muggle suited for the job," George declared with a note of satisfaction. And perhaps Nox was mistaken, but he sounded quite relieved in addition.

"And what job is that, exactly?" the woman inquired hesitantly. "In any case, is it not up to her to decide? You're hardly going to convince anyone of anything by scaring them witless."

"Don't be a stick in the mud, Hermione," said Fred despairingly. "We've already got Percy in the family."

"Speaking of which, we're your brothers now," George reminded her. "And as such, we can treat you with the same decorum and level of respect we treat our other dear siblings -"

"- and legally get away with it," Fred added.

"You're both terrible!" Hermione hissed indignantly.

With a pained grunt of displeasure, Nox began to stir.

"Look now, she's coming around," said Hermione. "Fred, get back."

"Oh, cheers very much!" snapped Fred icily. "Donated all your sympathy to house-elves and kept none for the dead, ay?"

"Shhh!"

Nox slowly opened her grey eyes, wincing as the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window stung her vision. The newcomer was leaning over her and looking very concerned. She was a pretty girl, and younger than Nox had expected. Her bushy brown hair was gathered into an attractive, albeit slightly haphazard, pony tail, and her brown eyes revealed an intelligent but fiery character. There was no trace of the deceptive Cheshire Cat leer in this character's face.

"Where am I?" muttered Nox, not daring to look anyone in the eye lest they shove another Jammy Dodger (or another equally delectable confectionary) under her nose.

"Weasley Manor," grinned George. "Remember me?"

"Weasley..." She elicited a dry chuckle. "Guess I should be grateful. Thought I might have passed out at the King's Ransom again."

George's grin grew wider. "Great! We're renting the place out to a detective with a drinking problem. That's good stereotyping for you."

Nox covered her face with one hand and swore. "No, I must be having a bad dream."

"Come on, you can do better than that!" cried Fred suddenly, leaping forwards. "Give us something a little less cliché."

Nox peeked through a gap in her fingers at the ghostly head poking through George Weasley's chest. Despite its silvery and translucent appearance, she could not help but notice the family resemblance. Nox squinted at the protruding head, and her heart sank. Yes, there it was - the same Cheshire Cat leer. As she stared, her senses suddenly came back to her. In her sudden panic, Nox attempted to scramble across the floor on her backside, and winced when a crooked nail in the floorboards tore the back of her tights.

"Christ's sake, what are you?!" demanded Nox, pointing a trembling finger at the peculiar trio, one of which was still content to sit astride her legs.

Hermione tangled her fingers in her bushy hair and moaned, "Oh, for Heaven's sake. I knew there would be a situation the moment I talked to Diggle. You two are in a lot of trouble with the Ministry!"

"You're in trouble with the Police is what!" cried Nox furiously. "Is this some sick joke? Are you a -"

"Trick?" George supplied. "No. Light effect? No."

"Prank pulled for a BBC daytime game-show? No," Fred added, and shrugged his silvery shoulders. "I don't even know what a BBC is."

"How did you know what I was going to say?" asked Nox, bemused.

George only chuckled casually and said, "Trust me; we've been through this a few times."

Nox couldn't think of an intelligent reply, and instead remained on the floor, opening and closing her mouth and blinking quite stupidly.

"You look like a guppy," Fred remarked, raising his eyebrows, apparently unimpressed. "I thought you were supposed to be a Paranormal Detective. Shouldn't you be used to stuff like this?" he asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't be rude!" Hermione warned him severely, before turning back to a fairly terrified detective. "I am Hermione Granger," the young woman introduced herself, holding her hand out, "and I'm deeply sorry for the mess these two heathens have gotten you into." She leant forward in a somewhat conspiratorial whisper. "Believe me, from one woman to another, I know how it feels."

But Nox did not look convinced. "Really? Frankly, I'm caught between wanting to scream and wanting to pass out again - though God knows what you lot would try if I did! What gives you the right to lock someone in a house, terrify them out of their wits and then sit on them!" she shouted, glowering at George who was still sitting comfortably across her legs. "You rich folk think you can get away with anything!"

Fred beamed proudly. "See, isn't she great? Nutty Nox!"

"I told you why," George answered her, climbing to his feet. "We've got a business proposition for you."

"You know I could have you arrested just for saying that," Nox replied dryly.

George didn't look the least bit threatened. "You could, but then, you've already proved yourself nosey beyond all doubt."

Fred's laughter was near hysterical now. "Honestly, who just walks into a gothic old mansion and eats a dodgy looking biscuit from a strange bloke in a top hat?"

"I fail to see the humour," muttered Hermione.

Fred just grinned. "That's fine. I'll observe it for the both of us."

"Look, if you don't mind, Hermione," began George, who was ushering the other woman towards the door, "we need to discuss the finer details of our business arrangement with Miss Wolfe. You can tell Dedalus everything's sorted and that he can stop looking now. It'll save me a trip to the Ministry."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She wasn't in any great hurry to subject a somewhat naïve-looking Muggle to the twins, but as she was running late enough as it was, it didn't appear that she had much choice. "All right," Hermione conceded, "but I'll be in to check up on you later, at which point I'd like a full explanation as to why you're in such desperate need of a Muggle detective," Hermione told George, wagging a finger forebodingly in his face.

"Right. Well, your frequent visits are always an inspiration to us, Hermione," replied George, pushing her not too gently out the door.

"Don't know what we'd do without your subtly offered criticisms and patronising comments everyday," called Fred, with a cheerful wave. "You truly brighten my week, adored sister of mine!"

Before Hermione could retort, the door of the office was slammed shut in her face.

Nox stared at the twins in horror. "So I'm not special. This is how you treat everyone."

"No." Fred shook his head. "This is how we treat people we like."

"I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies," muttered Nox, edging as far away from him as was possible in the Weasley's office.

It was bad enough meeting George Weasley in all his flamboyancy and sheer strangeness, but to discover his twin - and not your usual flesh and blood twin, but a ghost (and one with a terrible, sarcastic sense of humour) - was far worse. Nox scrutinised him from a safe distance. What was more, she sensed the ghost twin was a level above his brother on the scale of cruelty and mischief-making.

Fred caught her eyes and smirked devilishly.

'Definitely the crueller twin,' thought Nox, narrowing her eyes at the silvery figure across the room. 'He looks like one of those fox tricksters in Aesop's fables.'

"Well, go on!" George suddenly exclaimed above her. "Get your arse off the floor and try your new desk out."

Hesitantly, Nox complied with his orders and walked around to the other side of the desk, where a large, comfy-looking armchair sat. She sat down, and pulled herself towards the desk, revelling for a moment in the wonderful feeling of authority which filled her. Nox had never had her own desk before, much less an entire office.

The Weasley twins exchanged a knowing smile.

"Does this mean you're actually going to answer some of my questions?" she asked bluntly. "Because believe me, I have a few."

"I'll bet you do," said Fred, rolling his eyes.

"Ask us any questions and we'll answer them to the best of our ability," said George, leaning against his own desk.

"All right, then," said Nox, putting on a very afflicted authoritarian voice. "Tell me who you are."

George looked puzzled. "I'm George Weasley and that's my brother, Fred. Thought we'd explained all that."

"No, I don't mean names," grunted Nox in frustration. "Who are you lot? What are you lot? This whole house is like a page out of a children's fantasy book! I might not be the greatest detective in the country ...I didn't even get past my probationary period...but I'm not blind."

"You are a bit stupid, though," Fred pointed out.

George spread his arms out as if he were about to plead with her. "We would've told you earlier, but the way things work with Muggles and ghosts - and then nosy old Hermione appeared and we're under strict orders to keep this in as tight a circle as possible."

"See, there was an event a few years back," Fred interrupted. "A few things happened, one being my current condition."

"Obviously," said Nox gawping. "But you stayed behind? Why?"

Fred goggled at her. "Merlin's pants, you are nosey."

George interjected. "Cutting a long story short, Fred recently upset the wrong person. Someone with a bad temper and a lot of clout."

"I can believe that," said Nox derisively. "What did he do, exactly?"

Fred cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed. "That's not important."

"What is important is this." George tossed an old newspaper onto the desk in front of her. It was torn and yellowing, and the publishing date read 1998. Nox looked back at the twins, utterly bemused.

"That's your dad, right?" said George, sticking his finger at the large black headlines scrawled across the page.

Nox gripped the paper in both hands, and her heart clenched.

'Psychic Snatched?!'

Mad Rozza, the Daily Mail's long-running psychic
columnist and infamous Paranormal Detective, was reported
as missing last week when his bike was discovered
off road on the M8 to Milngavie. "Mr McRozen has
always been renowned for his eccentricities," stated
Glasgow Chief of Police Douglas Thickley, "While it
is true that we have dealt with several disappearances
over the past year, I'm quite positive this latest incident
is completely non-related." It was implied that McRozen
may be purposefully keeping a low profile in order to
avoid insurance companies after his 1976 Harley-Davidson
collided with a silver Bentley outside of Glasgow city.'

Nox stopped reading. "How did you get this?" she asked quietly.

"Dug it up."

"We have our ways."

Nox sighed and pushed the paper away. "My father was a nut job. He's been missing for years. Either he's running away from all the debt he left behind, or he's broken his bloody neck somewhere. The only thing he left me was his failing business. So if it's him you're looking for, sorry to disappoint you."

"It's not your dad we're after," George said, his tone a little gentler now. "It's you."

"Believe me, we would've avoided involving mindless Muggles if we could have, but tragically, we can't, and you did find the house." Fred pointed at her. "You passed over the bloody threshold! Not many Muggles can do that."

"It's been a laugh watching them try, though," said George, reminiscing fondly.

"You keep calling me a Muggle," said Nox curiously. "What is that?"

"Non-magic folk," George answered.

"Toss-pots who can't hold a wand and generally can't see past the ends of their noses," added Fred jovially, oblivious to the offence he had caused to his host.

Nox glared at him. "Shouldn't have asked."

George grinned slyly at her. "I'd like to prove it, but unfortunately I am prohibited from performing any magic in front of you until you sign this." He produced a crumpled piece of parchment from the pocket of his green coat jacket.

Nox eyed the parchment suspiciously. "You still haven't given me a reason not to run out of this building screaming."

"The thing is," Fred coughed awkwardly, "the person who was so briefly referred to earlier that I may or may not have offended-"

"The bloke with the clout?" said Nox, arching an eyebrow high in disbelief.

"Yeah, him. Well, it turns out that he's got a bit of a grudge against me." Fred put a hand on his heart and beamed with pride. "Frankly, I'm honoured! In any case, there's a task I've got to complete, which will get me off the hook."

Nox wasn't at all convinced that Fred did not deserve to get his punishment. He was obviously a character who either couldn't care less about offending someone or didn't notice at all. Which was worse she couldn't decide. 'What an old fox,' she thought.

"So where do me and my dad come into all of this?" asked Nox.

"Right, to the juicy bits," said George, rubbing his hands together. "Your dad was a Paranormal Detective, right? Well, he also dabbled in other darker arts, and wrote a few books on his findings too."

"He was a lunatic," Nox commented. "He never sold a book in his life."

"Ah, maybe not in the Muggle world!" cried George. "Actually, your dad was a bit of a genius, believe it or not. Especially for a Squib."

"Oi-oi, slow down: I still don't understand any of this," protested Nox. "I'm not even sure what it is you're asking me to do."

Suddenly, George banged his hands down on the desk and leaned far across it towards her. "Work here, and help us get Fred off the hook. That's all we're asking. Just a couple of trivial, menial tasks," he said in his most persuasive tone of voice.

"It's good karma," said Fred, who, Nox realised with a start, was leaning far over the back of her chair. "And I'll be ever so grateful." He smiled charmingly.

Nox shivered and slunk further into her chair, away from the leering ghost above her. "Thanks, but I don't think I could handle your gratitude."

"Think about it, where else in London are you going to rent out cheap offices and a place to crash?" George implored her. "Give us a week's trial at least."

"No, I don't know..." Nox trailed hesitantly. She could hardly believe that she was even contemplating agreeing to the Weasley twin's proposition. The whole story, indeed, her entire situation, was completely ludicrous. Nevertheless, so was turning down cheap rent and offices in central London. 'God, I can't be this shallow,' Nox thought shamefully. 'This city's really dried up my ethics.'

Just then, a terrible shrieking, like that belonging to an old steam engine's whistle, filled the room. Fred, George and Nox clamped their hands over their ears to shut out the awful, high-pitched noise.

"Something's got to be done about that," muttered Fred irritably, when the din had ceased at last.

"What was that?" asked Nox, rubbing her ears.

"Someone's at the front door," George exclaimed, looking quite surprised.

It was an odd look for his face, one that didn't quite seem as though it belonged. Although Nox had only known him for a little over an hour, she hadn't thought anything in the world could surprise George Weasley. His confidence and self-assurance was so complete that he gave off an aura that felt nothing short of inhuman - an impression perhaps responsible for her feeling more easy in the twin's presence than she should have felt (all things considered).

Fred glanced at his brother askance. "Who? It can't be Hermione again already."

"Don't be daft," replied George. "Everyone we know either Apparates here or uses the Floo Network."

He began to stride purposefully out the room and down the main stairs, Fred and Nox following from a distance. Nox finally came to linger at the foot of the broad marble stairway, making sure to leave a large gap between her and the form of Fred's pearly-white ghost.

George opened the door.

On the garden path stood a slight, fair figure in a pale green summer dress. Her round, willowy eyes appeared just as surprised to see George as he was to see her.

"Oh...hello," said the girl distantly. "Have I found the right place?"

George looked a bit flustered. "That depends what you're looking for."

She reached her arm out to George, depositing a small business card in his hand. George took the card, noting with interest that the girl would not come any closer to the door.

"The instructions on your card lead me here," she explained earnestly.

George stared at the card, and for a moment, he was too lost for words.

"My sister is missing," the girl continued in a trembling voice. "She has been missing for a whole year. I have to find her, please. You must be able to help me."

"Sorry, but are you sure you've got the right place?" George asked. "We haven't printed any cards. And besides, we're not exactly in the business of searching out living relatives."

"But this must be the right place!" the girl cried, her pale cheeks flushing in her sudden distress. "This is the address given," she said, and pointed at the blue writing on the card.

George certainly couldn't argue with her against that. Across the card was printed, in very official looking navy blue letters: 'Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives.' George frowned. He and Fred had only just devised the title that morning.

"Please." The girl reached out a hand to his and touched it gently. Her fingers were like ice. "No one else has been able to help me, and I haven't much time left."

Her large, pale eyes were beginning to fill with tears. George's face flushed red. He wasn't much good around weeping women.

"All right," George resigned at last. "We're just finalising things here at the moment, but I'll see what I can do. We should be up and running within the week. Have you got a contact number or address?"

The girl shook her fair head solemnly and clasped both his hands between her own icy ones in earnest. "Oh no, that won't do any good at all. You must come and visit us immediately, please! I will pay any sum you ask."

Before George could reply, he was shunted out of the way by an uncharacteristically animated Nox, who was shaking the girl's hand excitably.

"Hello there," said Nox very pleasantly. "I'm Nox Wolfe, the proprietor of this great establishment. Would you care to discuss our business over lunch, perhaps? Or maybe tea? I'm sure my partner here can prepare a pot right away, if you'd just like to step inside."

A gust of wind whipped up the street towards them, blowing through the trees and the bushes in the garden. The pale girl shivered and began to dig deep into her bag. After a moment of rummaging, she pulled out an ornate picture frame with a photograph of a country road leading up to a beautiful old estate building hedged by blossoming rosebushes. The sign on the gate read 'Rosewood Estate'.

"I'm sorry, I haven't any time left. I must get back." The girl enclosed Nox's hands around the picture frame. Nox reluctantly accepted this strange gift. "I'll expect you tomorrow afternoon. Three rooms will be prepared for your stay," she said hastily, and then bowed deeply before walking back down the garden path and joining the stream of people along the busy main street.

"Sudden change of heart?" George turned to scowl at Nox. "Tea boy?"

"I did you a favour," said Nox crossly. "That's Audra Beckinsale. She's practically royalty, you great big muppet! Do you have any idea how much money she is? I mean, worth? I mean... oh, do you have any idea how obscenely wealthy her family is? Even her pets have servants!"

George shrugged his shoulders and turned inside. "We've got other interests. Besides, does it look like we're short on cash?" He grinned wickedly at her. "Of course, you on the other hand could probably do with a steady cash flow."

Nox narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you bribing me, Mr Weasley?"

George raised his hands defensively. "Not at all!" he laughed. "But money does seem to have a hold over your character. Wouldn't you say so, Fred?"

"I'd definitely say so, George. Leopards can change their spots after all," chuckled Fred, "given the right incentive."

"Well, when you haven't seen much of it, you tend to appreciate it more," replied Nox sheepishly. "How is it that you already have a client, anyway?" She peered at the business card which George had handed over to Fred. "Hey, hold on - my name's on that."

"Yeah, I know," muttered Fred, staring at the card with grim curiosity.

Nox bristled with anger. "Who the hell gave you the right to -"

"I didn't," he replied stiffly.

George looked equally as puzzled. "But if you didn't, then who did?"

"I don't know," Fred replied, honestly. He looked quite troubled by the whole event.

Nox watched the ghost's profile for a moment, attempting to read his thoughts. "Will you take the job?" she asked.

"That depends," he replied slyly. "Are you in or out?"

Nox had never felt so put on the spot before. She didn't want to make such a big decision rashly - it all seemed too good and too strange. Instead she glanced around the circular entrance hall in search of something, anything that could help her make a decision, when her eyes once again fell upon the portrait of the old bearded man whose eyes twinkled kindly out at her.

Nox sighed. 'Well, it's not as if I've got anything to lose. The rate I'm going, the business is going to go bankrupt anyway,' she thought, thinking back to her cramped and dingy one-bedroom apartment. 'Maybe this is a change in fortune.'

Nox stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Well... that girl really did look like she needed our help, didn't she?"

The twins whooped and cheered, and even attempted a flying high-five, which only resulted in George crashing head-first through his brother's translucent body.

"Hey, hey! Wait! I'm in, but only for a trial week," said Nox sternly.

The Weasley twins turned to her in unison, identical Cheshire Cat leers upon their identical fiendish faces, and said, "We'll see about that."