Chapter Text
Mr Magne, or Luci to his friends, due to his golden hair’s uncanny resemblance to the local weather girls’ Lucy Mayflower's hair. It was a source of great teasing but he always laughed with them.
“You’re all jealous you can’t get naturally golden hair like mine!”
The cigarette in his mouth was nothing but a stub, he still dragged on it hoping for just an ounce of flavour to help calm his nerves, but of course it didn't. He took it from his lips and pressed it hard against the ashtray on his desk, it hissed and twisted and joined its countless fellows. A hand ran through his short golden blonde hair, whilst the other massaged his weary eyes as he went over his notes one more time, perhaps there was something… anything he had missed that could help him now.
Mr Magne was tired and he was spending yet another sleepless night up, working. He reached a hand out to grip onto the glass tumbler and took a sip from the amber liquid that burned smoothly going down. He had lost almost everything now, his professional career was over, his reputation was in shambles. He had committed everything he had to his work and had become the laughingstock of every single journalist this side of the world, still he knew he was right… Deep down he knew. More than just crackpot theories and lunatics claiming to have seen the devil whilst dancing in the pale moonlight. He was going to find proof of the supernatural, and clear his name.
“Daddy?” He looked up to see a little blonde figure standing in the doorway rubbing her eyes sleepily. A tiny girl in a white nightgown was standing there blinking up at him, golden hair just like his running down past her shoulders and the rosiest little cheeks you could ever see on someone, his daughter who he cherished above all else.
“My darling Charlotte, why are you up? It’s very late.” Charlotte moved into the room, half shuffling in her sleepy state.
“I can’t sleep…” Her father smiled and moved over and picked up his daughter and cuddled into her, she instinctively wrapped arms around him and smiled up at his face.
“Well, that won’t do, will it? Let’s get you back to bed and I’ll sing you a song. Little Charlotte smiled and gripped tightly as her father carried her out and down the hall, to the small little bedroom that was all her own, paintings and drawings of fairies and unicorns littered the space and he made sure to step wide and over the princess castle she had set up in the middle of the floor, he would hate to be scolded for disturbing the royal tea party Charlotte was in the middle of hosting. He swooped her down and placed her back on the mattress before pulling up the unicorn embroidered blankets right up to her neck and tucked her in.
“Daddy! It’s too tight.” She cried out, her father smiled and kissed her gently on the forehead.
“I don’t want monsters to carry you off into the night!” She smiled and giggled.
“They won’t, you’ll scare all the monsters away, won’t you?”
“Every single one.” She blinked up.
“Could you sing me the one mom used to?” his face faltered as he remembered his cherished wife, he still mourned for her but it was easier with Charlotte around, she reminded him so much of her. He took a moment to blink back what might have been tears and nodded.
“Of course my darling.” He cleared his throat and sang quietly to his daughter whilst he ran a finger through her hair. Her eyes drifted closed and she rolled over to pull in her cuddly toy goat that inhabited the corner of her pillow at all times, tiny sequins covered his body, little Razzle and his brother Dazzle, although Dazzle was currently entertaining at the castle so wouldn’t be joining Charlotte for bedtime. Another gentle kiss on the forehead that made Charlotte snuggle down and her father moved out, turning the light off as he left. Back down the hall he entered his study once more and sat down with a weary sigh. He was tired, he knew he should sleep but the thoughts that he was missing something, something just out of sigh, just out of reach and he turned back to his dossiers that littered the table. Interviews and testimonials from those that claimed to have been contacted from the other side, it looked like rambling, most of it anyway. Apart from the same little pieces of detail that would constantly crop up, not always identical but enough of the same that it seemed far more than just coincidence.
A shadowy smile, offering deals in some form or another. There was something here and he couldn’t quite get it, like a word on the tip of a tongue. There was a disturbance and his papers gently fluttered from his desk and onto the floor, looking over the window across from him was open just a crack, he frowned, he had thought it to have been closed with the setting of the sun. He moved over to close it and then turned to pick up the discarded paper. It was going to be a long, long night.
***
The policeman who had been on the scene had seen a lot of shit in his years on the force, but nothing tugged at the heart and made you feel sick more than cases involving children. It had been a couple of days and Charlotte Magne had failed to turn up to school, with no leave of absence or sickness offered, now her father, the oddball journalist/detective that he was, could be agreed was a little off. However, it was clear to anyone that met him that he absolutely treasured his daughter, so the school had alerted the police when they failed to get hold of him too. Just a simple assignment on his routine patrol, check up on a kid and her dad who hadn’t been seen, he imagined they probably just went on holiday somewhere, off season… you know to avoid the crowds. It could get you in trouble with the school board. They didn’t like the pupils being absent but it was all too common.
Simple plain looking house with a car in the driveway. So they weren’t on holiday. Moving up he knocked on the door.
“Hello? It’s the police here… the school has raised some concerns about Charlotte. Is anybody home?” He waited a few minutes and knocked again. Stepping back on the porch and waiting, no one came. Something itched at the back of his neck and he couldn't help but get a dreadful feeling staring at the house. Moving to a neighbour he had more luck.
“Sorry to disturb you this morning ma’am, but do you happen to know if your neighbour has gone away?” The women blinked up in surprise.
“Mr Magne? No, I don’t think I’ve seen them leave… he usually asks me to watch over the place when they go on holiday…”
“Thank you ma’am, sorry again to have disturbed you.” The lady shook her head.
“Oh no that’s alright… they’re both okay right?” She looked worried and he had to put his best diplomatic smile.
“That’s what I’m here to make sure of.” Stepping back and moving again towards the house. He had cause to enter now and he couldn’t just let this go. He knocked once more.
“Hello, it's the police. Please if you’re in, could you answer the door.” there was silence and he tried the handle. Of course the door was locked, he paused, he needed to get back to the station and get the paperwork for a search warrant put together. As he stepped in his ears pricked and he could have sworn a little girl's voice inside the house. He froze, that was it. He would pay for the door himself if it came to a lawsuit but there was no way in good conscience that he was leaving this property now. Brining the radio to his mouth he dialled in.
“This is officer Johnson, I’ve got a suspicious missing persons' situation, requesting back up before entering the property.” It got buzzed through and twenty minutes later he was joined by another policeman, unfortunately the neighbours had come out to watch. He both wished and didn’t wish that this was legitimate, he would look like a fool breaking into a house if it turned out to be a wild goose hunt. But of course he wanted Charlotte Magne to be safe and healthy too. With a sharp kick, the lock caved in and he moved inside.
“It’s the police. If you’re inside please stay where you are and keep your hands visible.” He called out. Moving slowly throughout the house, he heard it coming from upstairs, a quiet crying. Carefully stepping on, officer Johnson moved up the stairs and down the hallway, a door open at the far end seemed to be where it was coming from and his stomach had begun to sink, there was no way this was going to end well, turning the corner he stopped dead.
A tiny figure in a soiled nightgown was gently shaking the corpse of an adult male.
“D-Daddy, please wake up… p-please.” His eyes were shut, but the room's contents showed anything other than sleep, bloodied handprints had been dragged everywhere and papers were scattered all over the floor, there had been a clear struggle and a lot of blood.
Officer Johnson had seen a lot of shit, but you could never get over a little girl losing her father.
She was silent during counselling, and had nothing to say when the investigator gently tried to get anything out of her that might lead to evidence of her father's killer. Despite it being such a visceral scene there was no evidence left behind that anyone else had been in that room, apart from the hand prints that didn’t match Mr Magne’s hands and were obviously too large for Charlotte. The only time she really spoke was to ask to be called Charlie, it’s what her teachers and friends called her. Charlotte was something used by her father and she didn’t want to hear it ever again.
With no family left, the poor little blonde girl was sucked up by the social services and found herself in an orphanage, she was put on a high watchlist for potential self harm and was constantly being monitored. She would just sit in the common area by herself quietly and hold tightly onto the two things she was able to bring with her, Razzle and Dazzle. Everything else apart from some of her clothes had been sold, including the house as per Mr Magne’s will and everything was left to Charlotte in a fund that she could access on her 17th birthday, to help with university if she decided to go, or to help start her life.
Well she already had one life, but that seemed to be over. Now Charlie just had to suffer the rest.