Beginnings (1 of 5)

Dante tried again to wash away the acidic taste from his mouth. Failing, he gave up and stepped from the shower with the resigned sigh of a man used to hangovers. The fogged up mirror informed him that the last few years - in particular his efforts last night - had not been kind. His face looked ten years older then it should, the old scars across his shoulder and chest were still white and vicious, and this morning he was peppered with bruises and crisscrossed with scratches. He thought briefly about shaving, but then decided against it. After all, he mused, the stubble went nicely with the rest of the picture. Not having much in the way of choice, Dante pulled on a crumpled shirt and belted up the jeans that had been a tight fit six months ago, before heading downstairs in search of coffee.

The act of making coffee - or indeed anything - in the kitchen was akin to a game of tetris. To even open the fridge required either sitting in the sink or standing outside the kitchen all together. The first option at least meant Dante could get out a mug and a spoon at the same time. Naturally it was then that the bell above the front door announced a visitor, and hopefully his first client of the week.

In the forest of shelves, books and filing cabinets, the visitors were huddled together in the small clearing. One was what Zek Shelton had always referred to as "a true crime against humanity" - young, beautiful and wearing a habit. The other nun was even more of a cliche - in at least her nineties, she looked at Dante as if he was one of her 10 year-olds who'd never amount to anything.

Dante swapped introductions and small talk with the younger nun, and then asked The Real Question.

"Well Mr Harsher, we were told you knew about these things. You see, last night we found..." Sister Josephine faltered for a moment "we found an angel."

"Really?" Dante raised an eyebrow "well, congratulations. I'm sure it will be a great boost to Sunday's collection..." Dante's smirk faded as he glanced at the older nun's face. He hoped her look wasn't fading the wallpaper behind him. Remembering that he had bills to pay, he asked The Real Question again.

"Well Mr Harsher, the angel has been... Someone had..."

"It had been murdered" the other nun snapped.