My Luck

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I stared at the body lying not ten feet away from me and sighed. I carefully scooted back up the slope to the sidewalk and sat there.


Why me?


There was no voice from the sky answering that question, so I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. The half-whine bounced around my mind as I heard the familiar spiel. "You've reached 911, what's your emergency?"


"Hey, Hazel. It's me."

I didn't get nervous calling emergency services anymore. That might be a bad sign. I pushed my short dark hair out of my eyes. The action reminded me I needed to add more red highlights. It would give it some personality.


"Oh, Cori. What now?" Hazel's voice held a mix of exasperation and worry, probably because out of the almost hundred times I'd called 911 over the last few years, she's gotten at least half of them. Not my fault she worked the shifts when I was out and about. But it meant she fussed over me even when I saw her on the street.


"Dead body. Male, late thirties, at the intersection of…" I rattle off the nearest cross streets. "The shaded area. He's under the trees a bit."


"You know I have to ask, so let me run through the questions. Are you sure he is dead?"


"Oh, yeah, I'm sure." I glanced at the body and repressed a shudder. It took a fair amount of gore to make me queasy anymore, but this almost did it.


"How are you sure, no pulse?" 


I rolled my eyes at Hazel, even if she couldn't see me. If I said he was dead, you could be guaranteed he was dead. "Heck no. I didn't touch him. Not about to touch him. Even with my training still in progress, I'm positive he's dead." I was intimately familiar with death. He was very, very dead.


"Cori, are you purposefully being a pain?" Hazel sounded frustrated, and I fought a smile. Maybe I was being a bit of a pain, but dang it, I was going to be late to work so I might as well have some entertainment to make up for it. "Check his pulse, please. I already have the ambulance and police on their way."


"Please tell me the chief isn't coming." I might have whined that part. Laurel Amosen and I didn't get along, though I wasn't sure why. She was strong, smart, a mage, and she should have been a role model. Instead we both brought out the worst in each other. 


"Cori! You know I don't request specific people, I just put out the call. Now, pulse?"


"Hazel, his head is a good three feet from his shoulders. There isn't a pulse." I sighed as I heard the sirens wailing their way towards me. Soon I'd be the one in that vehicle coming to help. In one more semester I'd be the paramedic. Not that there was any chance of helping this guy. Not even a merlin could save him, though they might be able to figure out what killed him. Because I couldn't see a darn thing that might have separated his head so decisively. The left side of his head facing me didn't have a mage tattoo on it, but most people had them on their right side. I couldn't see any jewelry, but all of that meant nothing. Hedgemages didn't have to wear markings.