Introducing Jason Dane

July 12, 2008 at 12:00 pm (Jason Dane) ()

So, here’s the first two and a half pages of The Good, the Bad, and the Blond. Let me know what you think. And if it’s bad I’ll scrap it.


I’d like to say I was in Southern California. San Diego, maybe, zooming confidently across the vertigo-inducing Coronado Bridge. Chicago would work, too. I could just picture myself striding down the streets of the windy city with my hair whipping behind me wearing some big, badass sunglasses—because, hey, why not?—as I arrived on the scene. Or New York, even, expertly weaving in and out of taxis and careless pedestrians, honking my horn and swearing it up with the best of them.
But, no. Unlike the cop shows on TV, as I attempted to enter a murder scene my situation was nothing so glamorous. The jaded cops from the shows didn’t usually get blocked from saving the day before they’d even begun, for one thing. It happened to me all the damn time. Of course, the fact I wasn’t actually a cop might have had something to do with that. No, I wasn’t a savvy New York policeman. I did swear a lot, though.
“What the hell are you doing here, Dane?” barked Lieutenant Mason of the Boise Police Department Paranormal Defense Squad.
This little feud was old hat, and I wasn’t overly phased. Our mutual animosity had been immediate and inevitable. Besides belonging to two totally different worldviews, he had inherited the job I’d been unjustly ejected from. It hadn’t endeared the man to me.
“What’s a private detective doing at a murder scene?” I put my finger to my chin like I was thinking. “Gosh, I dunno. Detecting, maybe?”
This exact situation cropped up with depressing regularity. I was currently face to face with my arch-nemesis Lt. Blake Mason. Fortunately for him, he had a much better view than I did.
At just over six feet tall, I already cut an impressive figure. More impressive was my figure itself. My slim—but muscled, thank you—torso tapered to a cool twenty-nine inch waistline. That combined with my thirty-two inseam made pants shopping a bitch. I would never be a big man, per se, but my regular workouts gave me some weight. My hair was just dark enough to be truly blond and not an unfortunate canary yellow. Streaked throughout were perfectly spaced, perfectly sized white-gold highlights. Every goddamned one of them was one hundred percent natural. Several old flames had told me my eyes were the first attraction. They were a green so vivid and bright everyone thought I’d had them enchanted. I hadn’t. Set between and a bit below them was a nose just bold enough to give my face some masculinity without detracting from the scenery. It was a good thing, too; without it I’m pretty sure my sloping cheek bones would have made me slip those last few notches into the girly kind of good-looking. Rounding it all off was a set of teeth white enough to show up in my reflection on a pair of sunglasses.
I could see them in a pair right now, as a matter of fact, as Lt. Mason of the PDS tried to kill me with his eyes.
Although we stood eye to eye, Mason gave an impression of being taller simply because he was so much bigger. He had muscles in places that I didn’t even have places. It made his neck look like a log, though, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. His stomach was wide, much wider than I hoped mine would ever be. In my more charitable moments I had described his nose as “very Gallic.” A big honkin’ snoz is what it was. As I glared into eyes I’d never seen the color of, I realized Mason was one of the few people who met my gaze without flinching. It was far too late in our sterling relationship to have this fact impress me.
At first glance there wouldn’t have been much separating the members of the Boise Paranormal Defense Squad and myself. Oh, they were in uniform and I wasn’t, of course, but even this difference wasn’t that obvious. The members of the PDS wore all black uniforms instead of the dark blue of the mundane cops. My black jeans, blue t-shirt, and dark leather jacket weren’t all that different. They were cut more fashionably, I must admit.
Even our equipment was similar. Around my waist was buckled a belt that contained three slots for my wands. The PDSers had more things than I did on their belts, like a gun, but I didn’t like to get that bogged down. It dragged on my pants. Most of my tools I kept in a black duffel. It was currently resting by my feet.
Grinding out words like a bulldozer crushed gravel, Mason said, “You can ‘detect’ somewhere else. There are no laws in Idaho that say I have to treat you as anything other than another punk civilian.”
Undeterred, I responded, “The family contacted me personally and said they wanted me in on this, so you can kiss my lily white ass, Mason.”
He scoffed as I heard the crackle of a police radio in the background. “I wouldn’t go anywhere near your fairy ass.”
This wasn’t an attack on my sexuality, as far as I knew. Most witches got the term fairy lobbed at them at least once in their lifetime. It was an ancient misconception that all witches were descended from elves, but what can you do?
“You know what, Mason, you can blow me.” Oh, my stunning repartee.
I was disliked enough in police headquarters that Mason could probably have brought me in for sexual harassment over that, and had the idea occurred to him I’m pretty sure he’d never have hesitated. But Mason simply wasn’t the type of man that would have considered a sex based insult harassment. It just wouldn’t have crossed his good ole’ mind.
Whatever Mason might or might not have done became purely speculation when the quaky voice of an anxious officer broke into our routine.
“Sir, that was the Chief.” I don’t think he could have looked more nervous if he’d been sporting urine stains on the front of his slacks. “She said to let him in.”
I don’t know which of us was more surprised, Mason or me. We both fell silent instantly and turned to look at him.
“What?” Mason bellowed at him, though he wasn’t far away so it was probably an anger thing.
The mousy man gave the quickest shrug imaginable. “She said to follow his lead. Anything he wants. Sir.”
There was open incredulity on Mason’s face when he turned back to me. I tried to keep my own carefully blank. If the Chief of Police viewed me with anything other than contempt, it was news to me. Her telling off Mason for stonewalling me was a three-sixty from out of the blue. But hell if I wouldn’t take advantage of it.
A broad grin broke over my face, revealing my perfect teeth. “You heard the lady. One side, sasquatch.”
Shoving past him with barely contained glee, I snagged my duffle bag and headed up the paved pathway to the house in front of me. It wasn’t like I had a reputation to ruin, but I restrained myself from skipping anyway.


  1. Zappaz said,

    More, more! I love it already! The whole thing was glorious, but that line about ‘killing with his eyes’ made me crack up in particular. XD And, yay, Idaho!

    Did find one typo, however:

    Fortunately for him, he had I much better view than I did. “A”, I think.

  2. Yahrlan said,

    Hahaha! It made me lulz. ^_^

    One more typo:
    But Mason simple wasn’t the type of man. simply?

  3. Seth Gray said,

    Glad you both enjoyed! I’ve had the title in my head since about a week after I started DC and only about a week ago did it finally start forming. I’ve got most of the world structure planned out already, and I’m having a blast writing Jason. He has a worse penchant for nicknaming people than I do.

  4. jekloneo said,

    I particularly liked the display image for this chapter (?). Loved the font.
    And yeah, Jason loves nicknaming people, doesn’t he?

  5. Seth Gray said,

    Glad you commented on that, jekloneo. I searched for quite a while for the font that looked the most like I imagined Jason’s handwriting to look.

  6. jekloneo said,

    I’d like his handwriting then.

  7. charisstoma said,

    Please tell me that you are still working on this too. It’s almost a year since this was posted. There is more of it somewhere else? *looks hopeful*

    • Seth Gray said,

      I have about seven chapters written of it, and that’s it. I would like to say I’ll come back to it at some point, but I promise nothing.

      • charisstoma said,

        WHERE? *pleading. tries to look cute and adorable*

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