by J. B. Garner
My words hung in the air for a moment. Bunny’s brow wrinkled, and I could see her struggle with herself for a moment. I couldn’t blame her. We all sometimes get so consternated by what should be an easy thing that we lose sight of what will fix it and start flailing. When you win all the time, you can forget how to correct things when you lose.
“So,” – her words started hesitantly but picked up momentum – “you got me out here so I could reset? Get clear of it all and rethink things after I cooled down?”
I let out a sigh of relief with the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Yes, that’s it exactly! There’s my friend Bunny.” Grinning, I put my hands on my hips. “I knew she was in there somewhere.”
Rolling her eyes, she groaned a little. “Please don’t turn this into an ‘I told you so’ moment. Aelfson would find out about it, and he’d never let me live it down.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I laughed. “The only person I usually do that to is Aelfie himself. A little shame is the best way to keep his ego from expanding too much.” Shifting into a more serious tone, I added, “Speaking of him, Aelfread is doing research on the possible magical connotations of the blue moon. Also, I found a lead in the information Mother gave us. It might be what we need to crack this thing wide open.”
The good news brightened Bunny’s blue eyes and put a faint smile on her lips. “Finally, things are looking up.” She pushed off the door and stretched her arms out over her head. “In fact, maybe this lead of yours is something I can use to make our friend in there crack.”
“Maybe,” I nodded, “but I think you should also try a different approach. It’s obvious he’s a kid, probably a scared one with what happened to his buddies. Now, on top of that, you’ve cornered him. Well, technically, you bowled him, but – “
“Your point?”
“The saying goes that a cornered rat is the most dangerous kind.”
Another flash of insight sparked off in Bunny’s eyes, right before she slapped her own forehead. “Gods, you’re an idiot, Reba.” She nodded at me. “I was so angry that I forgot the first lesson in making a suspect give up evidence. I didn’t give him an out.”
“Exactly. So, guess it’s time for you to be the good cop?”
Bunny nodded with a smile. “Yeah.” She let out a brief sigh and thrust her open hand down to me. “Thanks, partner.”
I took the hand and gave it a firm shake. “I thought I was a deputy?”
“Consider this a field promotion,” she chuckled. “Now, what did you find out?”
It only took a few moments to explain to Bunny what I had found in the messages and what Aelfread told me. Unsurprisingly, Klaus Smaragd was a known quantity to her as well. Her assessment was factually the same as Aelfread’s, but the connotations were less ‘fondly held old business partner and friend’ and more ‘scumbag to be nailed to a wall and sent up the river’. This didn’t surprise me one bit, to be honest.
Fully armed and recentered, Bunny led the way back into the storeroom. Poor Mr. Grey was in no better straits, his efforts at escape having tired him out to the point that he curled up in the bottom of the bowl. If I could ever call a rat resigned to his fate, this was that rat.
As opposed to the growling tongue of the Garou, Bunny began this time with soft-spoken English. “Look, how old are you? Maybe ten in human years?”
That question alone made a thousand more questions about the Garou explode into my brain, even as Mr. Gray squeaked a reply. Being unable to really assist here with the language divide, I merely tried to make myself look friendly and sympathetic.
“I thought so,” Bunny nodded. She sighed a little and smiled. “I was hard on you before because you guys threatened my friend here. You know what that brings out in us, right? The pack-slash-herd instinct is strong in us. All the same, I realize that one screw-up shouldn’t ruin your life and that’s what was going to happen. The Drachenreich would have locked you away for decades for assaulting and kidnapping a Hunter on assignment.”
The rat shivered at that, whiskers twitching madly, as he let out some more squeaks and snuffles.
“So, why don’t you help me help you?” she asked, walking over to the cart the bowl was on. “We know about Klaus already, and I know you have to be working for Frizzoli.” Kneeling, she looked Mr. Grey eye-to-mousey-eye. “If you can add anything to that, especially anything regarding Patches Sanderson or the blue moon, I think I can see it fit to write off your current offenses as the expression of some youthful rebellion. You walk, clean and free, and we hope never to cross paths again. How does that sound?”
That seemed to perk the little rascal right up. Popping to his feet, he scrambled to the side of the bowl closest to Bunny’s nose, his forepaws pressed against the Pyrex. What flowed forth was an animated barrage of squeaks, whines, snuffles, and chuffs that lasted a good few minutes. As Mr. Grey ended what I assumed was his entire list of confessions for the month, he looked at the both of us with shining, expectant black eyes.
Bunny straightened up, and I have to admit that I was as focused on her as Mr. Grey was. She smiled and nodded. “Okay, John, I think that’s more than enough to earn your freedom.” She grabbed the tray and easily hefted it and the sack of flour along with it. “You’re good to go, kid.”
I was smiling myself, happy to see Bunny get her groove back and that this kid wasn’t going to have his life ruined in one go. We had enough troubles in this world without causing more juvenile delinquents to be born. Besides, if he was really only ten years old, that was way too early in one’s life to see it ruined.
Mr. Grey scrambled out of the bowl, sitting up on the edge of the cart. His eyes danced between us before chittering again.
“Sorry,” Bunny chagrined, rubbing the back of her head, “we don’t have any clothes we can lend you.”
The rat deflated at that and let out a rat-sigh. Still, his freedom seemed to buoy him enough to skitter down the cart with a spritely gait, hitting the ground running out through the open door. Before we could catch up to him, Mr. Grey (or John as his name was apparently) was gone, no doubt disappearing through some crack, crevice, or hole into the early morning darkness.
“I hope he didn’t go through the kitchen,” I mused. “Beaks would try to kill that kid before he got out of the storefront.”
“Hey, I did what I could for him,” Bunny grinned. “It’s out of my hands now.”
Glancing up at her, I arched an eyebrow curiously. “So, what did our friend have to say?”
The Huntress’s grin turned into a serious frown. “More than enough to get me worried. I’ll fill you in on the ride over to Frizzoli’s diner.”
“First, who is this Frizzoli person?” I put forth first. “Second, what ride? Your car, well, it’s kind of a lost cause.”
A long, depressing sigh echoed out from her lips. “I know, which is why I had to ask a favor from our esteemed Governor.”
The hairs on the back of my neck, my arms, and the littlest bristles of my beard all stood on end as I narrowed my gaze up at my friend. “Please tell me that he’s just sending some goon with a car. Please don’t tell me that he’s going to show up here.”
It wasn’t a definitive answer, but my heart dropped a moment later when Blythe’s neckless head poked through the door into the back hallway. “Ah, there you two are! The boss’s car is here for you. I would suggest not keeping it waiting.”
12
The car waiting for us was an extremely shiny, black BMW luxury sedan. It was a real thing of beauty, the engine purring like a baby as it idled in anticipation. What few people awake with the pre-dawn and ambling their way down the sidewalk rightly gawked at the car, somewhat out of place in this working-class neighborhood. I could feel the buzzing in my spine of Figments inside the thing, more than one. With how much of a mess Bunny and I were, I was almost embarrassed to approach the thing, yet alone touch it.
Still, best not to put off what was going to follow. We stepped up t
o the BMW and the moment we came within a foot of it, the driver’s side door facing us opened and a figure I didn’t recognize stepped out. He was a tall man, from the looks of him, painfully thin and dressed in a freshly pressed if old-fashioned chauffeur’s uniform. Even if the electric tingle of my Figment sense weren't sparking a rhythm in my head, I would have thought this man was odd from his deathly pale skin and rictus grin. If not for that, the chauffeur would have been handsome, with neatly combed copper hair and piercing, dark eyes, almost black.
The figure rose to his full height with stiff, measured movements and for the life of me, it seemed as if he did everything in his power not to tip his head in the slightest. “Huntress Kincaid, Lady Stone, Governor Sinclair would speak with you now,” he said in Truespeech, his voice a hollow, reedy sound that made my ears cringe.
With that, he opened the door to the back of the car with that same otherworldly demeanor, never once moving his neck. The car had had custom work done, that much was obvious, with the cab and frame extended some to turn the passenger area into a compact limousine. The single bench seat I expected to find was gone, replaced by three separate leather-covered luxury seats, staggered like the teeth of a zipper. Two of them were smaller with their backs to the driver and the largest in the middle and facing forward.
It was in that large seat, a throne by any other name, Thyvian Dragonsong, better known as Mr. Sinclair, sat. The months since our last face-to-face encounter, the day he had finished paying his reparations to yours truly, had done nothing to change him, though I was surprised to see that he wasn’t wearing his illusory human face. No, the Drake was in his full reptilian glory under his bespoke silk business suit, the bright emerald color accenting the deeper forest green of his scales. Sharp golden eyes flicked over us as he smirked ever so slightly, splitting his draconic jaw just enough to show a hint of his razor-sharp fangs.
“Ladies, please,” the Governor of Saginaw said magnanimously, sticking to Truespeech. “Step into my chariot, and we shall discuss this current situation in its entirety.” One horned eyeridge arched a hair. “I would wish to know why I have to cover up for an automobile blown apart by magical lightning on one of my roads.”
I sucked in a deep breath, closing my eyes for a split-second, using every bit of my self-control not to scream. This was the last person I wanted to see, especially with our growing concerns as to the seriousness of the situation. Though Sinclair wasn’t the worst person to be in charge of the Figment community, he had almost caused a possible extinction-level threat before with his unchecked desire to become a True Dragon himself. His ambition wasn’t gone, even if we’d put a stop to it once. Letting him near anything big and magic-like was not anywhere in my ‘Top 50 Most Desired Things’ list.
In the end, though, what could I do but get in? For now, we had to rely on his help.
As I clambered into the far seat, Bunny sounded no happier as she climbed in herself. “While I appreciate the personal approach, Governor, you did not need to trouble yourself with a personal appearance in this affair.”
Tall, Dark, and Creepy closed the door behind us as Sinclair raised a clawed hand. “Now, Huntress, what kind of leader would I be if I did not deign to dirty my hands in such affairs? Besides, one could argue that this is a significant offense against certain laws asking for … discretion … in the use of magic out in the open.” His calculating gaze was right on me. “So, you understand the need, as the ultimate authority in this area of the Drachenreich, for me to ensure that the matter is being dealt with properly.”
“Let’s cut through the crap then,” I grumbled, dropping into English, my work bag on my lap with its runic defenses rearmed, just in case. “I’m sure Bunny told you that we were shanghaied by three ratweres with shotguns. In the course of that mess, one of the rats triggered some protections I have on my person.” Narrowing my eyes, I didn’t avert from Sinclair’s lizard gaze. “Sure, maybe the runeword touched off a bit too strong, but it was self-defense. I’m sure our laws on magic allow for that, right?”
The BMW pulled away as Sinclair inclined his head slowly, his hands steeping together, claws clacking as he did so. “As our Huntress could tell you, there is such a provision. All the same, I would impress upon you, Mary, the need for more, well, discretion in your work. Though you might scoff at me saying so, you are too valuable a member of the Saginaw community for me to see thrown in irons.”
The thing was that he wasn’t lying, not on that point at least. No matter our mutual opposition to one another’s aims, we shared a grudging and mutual respect. “Trust me, I intend to, but what about our gun-toting rat friends? Surely what they pulled is against Figment law.”
“Oh, it is,” Bunny added, entering the verbal fray. “And if we can get past this petty interrogation, Governor, we can concentrate on the big issue, namely that Mercutio Frizzoli is dealing in illicit magical artifacts again!”
Good, maybe I’d finally find out who this Frizzoli character was.
Mr. Sinclair had an incredible poker face that much I knew, but I could still see the faintest hint of increased interest as his eyes lazily shifted to Bunny. “Those are strong accusations. Need I remind you that Mercutio, an upstanding member of the Garou Council, has yet to be found guilty in any of the crimes he has regularly been accused of? In fact, I believe your last investigation into the matter turned up no substantial evidence of wrong-doing.”
I cast a sidelong glance at Bunny myself. “Well, that explains why you don’t like them very much.” I wanted to press about why she hadn’t mentioned this whole ‘hardened criminal’ aspect that was coming out but not in front of Sinclair. We had to present a united front here.
“While I understand that you and Frizzoli are best business buddies,” Bunny shot back at Sinclair, her eyes narrowing, “that doesn’t mean you should try to shield him on this. He’s gone over a line, ordering some of his goons to kidnap a Huntress, not to mention he might very well be involved in a Garou’s disappearance.”
Sinclair might have been Bunny’s boss for all practical purposes, but the Huntress had a bigger commitment to her principles. She was more like a rabbit-y Batman than a lazy civil servant and wouldn’t back down to the Drake’s pressure.
Not that he applied it, not this time. In fact, he ran his fingers down his long chin with some concern. Sinclair did care about the community in his charge, even if his overwhelming ambition and ruthlessness did cause him to interpret that in creative ways. I decided to press that concern while I had the opening.
“Governor, there’s a fine, upstanding family tonight missing one of their number.” I let my feelings out, my own hardships of family lost adding passion to my words. “There is a wife who doesn’t have her husband lying next to her and children with no father. Even if you could ignore what this Frizzoli character tried to do to us, you can’t turn a blind eye to the Sandersons.”
That arched eyeridge popped a little more as the Drake listened to me before letting his eyes flit over to Bunny again. “Are you sure that you’re not letting personal feelings color your investigation, Reba?” Gone was the rigid formality and there was a … warmth, ever so small, that I’d never seen in Sinclair before.
Bunny’s jaw set as she shook her head ever so slightly. “No, not now. When the call came in …” That jaw worked a moment with raw emotion before relaxing. “But not now. This is serious, Thyvian.”
Generally, using Sinclair’s real name would turn him sour in a hurry. At first, I thought it was because he wanted to become the human his illusion magic usually cloaked him as but it was more that he wanted to be a Dragon instead. This time, though, he didn’t start to growl or even show teeth. He let out a soft hiss of a sigh, leaving me to wonder just how far back and how deeply did Bunny and Sinclair know each other.
“I hate to break up the moment,” I said softly, tugging on a braid in my beard, “but can someone bring me up to speed?” Glancing between the two, I added, “I’m in this mess now and
deeply. I deserve to know what this whole deal with Frizzoli, the Council, and the Sandersons is all about.” I focused my gaze on Bunny. “Like, all of it. I’m sorry I have to pry like this but …” My other hand went to the bandaged gash in my head, letting that do the rest of my explaining for me.
Bunny could only hold my gaze for a moment, her eyes flitting over my wound, before looking to Sinclair.
The Drake nodded slowly. “You know how tight I am with information, Reba, but I must agree with our Dwarf friend. There is no harm in sharing, not with one you value as a friend and, well, I already know.”
“I’m sorry, Mary,” the blonde sighed, casting her eyes down on the plush purple carpet. “I just thought this wouldn’t turn into … this mess. I was going to tell you when we were done, I promised that, didn’t I?”
“You did, and if I could wait …” I shrugged, trying not to wince from my bruised shoulder.
She laughed a little and nodded. “Yeah.” Bunny titled her head towards me, a little red around the cheeks as she scratched behind an ear. “Well, as you figured, I’ve known the Sandersons for a long time. We were all friends back in our college days, well, apprentice days for me.”
Ah, I could already see where this was going. “Let me guess, you and Mother both had your sights set on Patches, so things were rocky after they got married?”
Of all people and all things, Sinclair let out a snort of a laugh. Bunny shot him a glare to which he apologetically waved his hands in front of him. “My apologies, Reba, but you have to admit – “
“Oh, ancestors, I’m so sorry, Bunny!” It all snapped into place. Gods, there had been hints and clues and so many little things I should have noticed over the months, since we first met, and it only now came together. “It wasn’t about Patches.”
Bunny sighed. “No, it wasn’t. Patches and I were both in love with Mother. I, well, obviously I lost that little contest.” She cleared her throat, reddening even more. “And if you weren’t so stuck up Aelfson’s rear …”
