by Alex Rivers
“Quite clearly, she is not a normal person.”
“But there’s a method to her madness. ‘Winchester Geese’ was straightforward to you, only because you happened to know about it. To anyone else, it would have been a code. She wants us to figure out her code, to mull over her words.” I was already forming a mental picture of her. “She’s someone who was probably starved of attention, and now she wants as much of it as possible from us. She relies on her intellect, and it boosts her ego to know that other people will appreciate her cleverness. She’s desperate for affirmation, for approval.”
Gabriel leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Be that as it may, I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
I began pacing in the small kitchen, my thoughts whirling. “The Winchester Geese were alive… what, five hundred years ago?”
Gabriel’s eyes were closed. “Something like that.”
“So maybe she’s a history nerd. Is there anything in London’s history connected to bulls?”
His eyes snapped open. “A bull in the sun… yes.” He stared at me. “At the museum of London. There are relics from the Temple of Mithras. It’s a Roman-era ruin in the center of the city, left by participants of a mystery cult. He was associated with Sol, the sun god.”
“And the bull?”
“There were images all over the original temple—Mithras slaying bulls, then sharing a feast with the sun god. Some believe that actual bulls were sacrificed at the temple. Supposedly, the bull was sacrificed above ground, and the blood from the bull’s throat poured over the supplicants below. Something to do with astrology.” He pulled out his phone, scanning. His brow furrowed as he read. “Maybe the number four is significant. There are twelve astrological ages. Taurus, the bull sign, happens to be the fourth. The slaughtering of the bull might have represented the end of the Taurean age.” His gaze met mine again. “I’d say the Temple of Mithras is definitely our place.”
I could have hugged him. “Good. I knew you’d come up with something. So where do we find the boar?”
“I have no idea. But maybe we start at the temple.”
I checked the time. It was half past four. “We’ve got just over two hours.” I bit my lip. “Why do I feel like this won’t be a straightforward, run-of-the-mill, everyday London boar sacrifice?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t try to play her game,” Gabriel said softly. “We’re letting her control us. Maybe we should try to strike back instead of letting the puppet-master pull our strings.”
He was right, and I knew it.
I’d only handled one kidnapping case as a field agent, and we’d managed to return the child to her parents within fourteen hours. During that time, we’d had to constantly hold the parents in check. They wanted to do everything to make sure that the abductors were happy, and wouldn’t harm their daughter. At the time, I’d felt a mixture of sympathy and frustration with their behavior. We were the professionals. Couldn’t they see that letting us do our job was the best way to get their daughter back?
Now, I was the one frantic over a loved one. And instead of acting like a pro, following time-tested methods of handling these cases, I was acting instinctively, doing whatever I could to keep the abductor happy.
I tried to rationalize my behavior. I still had no direct line of communication. The abductor was fae, which meant all prior profiling research was out the window. I was treading new territory—one with magic. Who knew what would happen if I didn’t meet the demands of a fae? They didn’t think like humans, and I had no research to reference.
On the other hand, I could rationalize anything my heart wanted me to do. My heart was telling me to comply with the abductor’s demands, and I was doing everything I could to convince myself.
My fingers tightened into fists as I tried to get a grip. I had to talk with the abductor.
I leaned down, staring into Gabriel’s chrome toaster. I gazed at the surface, searching for Scarlett, thinking of her vibrant hair, her sparkling green eyes. The way she waggled her eyebrows after a dirty joke.
Nothing.
Then I tried to search for the woman I had glimpsed in the docks, thinking of her mocking voice, the hazy outline of her figure.
Again, nothing.
She hadn’t responded earlier, when I’d showed her the note, and didn’t respond this time as well. Maybe she didn’t have Scarlett at all?
I considered my options. The best way to gain control of the situation would be to ignore the abductor’s instructions and wait until she contacted us again. If I’d been acting dispassionately, that would have been my choice. But I simply couldn’t risk sacrificing Scarlett just to gain control.
The second option was to follow the abductor’s demands to the letter, resulting in a new demand. That was out of the question, too.
I had to find a third option. A negotiation without communication. Find a way to comply, while clarifying that she wasn’t calling all the shots.
“You’re right. Under normal circumstances, you’re right,” I said. “But I can’t get back in touch with her. If we wait for the abductor to contact us again, it might be after she’s slit Scarlett’s throat. We’ll have to follow the instructions, buy some time, and figure out a way to outmaneuver her.”
Gabriel frowned, mulling over what I said. “Fine. Let’s go to the temple.”
* * *
As Gabriel drove, his car crawling down Threadneedle street, I used his phone to look at some images near the temple. It looked like the center of one of the busiest parts of the city—by Walbrook and all the banks. At this point, I had no idea where the damn boar would come from.
“Maybe it’s not a literal boar,” Gabriel suggested.
My mouth went dry. We were clueless. “Do you have an idea as to how we can sacrifice a metaphorical boar? I don’t suppose they’d sell a boar in a pet shop, would they?”
“Are you joking?”
My heart thundered. “No. I’m just desperate.”
I pulled out my phone, glancing at the time. It was seven minutes past five. The car wasn’t even moving, stuck in London’s traffic. I considered dumping the car and trying to get there through reflections, but the mere thought made my stomach turn.
“What the bloody hell is going on with the traffic?” Gabriel muttered, honking.
“It’s rush hour right now.”
“Yeah, but we’re practically at a standstill.” He pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hello, Constable Taylor? Threadneedle Street is at a complete standstill. It’s been like this since Bishopsgate. Has there been an accident or—” Gabriel paused, his eyes widening. “Okay… who’s in charge? Wright? Yeah, thanks.”
He hung up and looked at me.
“A wild boar has been set free by Moorgate Station. Two injured. There is a blockade, and they’re bringing in a specialist to take it down.”
I grabbed Gabriel’s arms. “We have to get there before he does. We need this, Gabriel.”
“Right.” Gabriel nodded. He swerved the steering wheel, honking his horn as he slowly drove his car onto the sidewalk, ignoring the shocked stares from the pedestrians. Both of us jumped from the car, Gabriel pulling out his badge and waving around.
“Police business!” he shouted.
As we sprinted through the intersection, I asked, “How far?”
Gabriel moved swiftly, weaving through the traffic. “About fifteen minutes. Or less, if we’re fast.” He clamped his phone to his ear again.
“Wright? This is DI Stewart. I’m temporarily replacing DCI Wood… That’s right. Yes, I heard you were handling the wild animal situation…”
We careened into a narrow lane called Old Jewry and pounded down the narrow sidewalk. “Move!” I shouted at a group of pedestrians who were in our way. They parted in panic, and I ran past, jostling one of them, Gabriel close behind. A string of tuts and sighs followed our wake.
“Don’t let him approach the animal!” Gabriel shouted. “No, it’s
… Wright, listen to me, this is no ordinary boar… Fuck!” He shoved the phone into his pocket. “The specialist is already there,” he rasped. “The constable said he’s already past the blockade, and the situation is nearly over.”
“Is he about to kill it?” I asked, my breath ragged in my throat.
“Not sure,” Gabriel said. “Maybe they want to tranquilize it. They think it escaped from the zoo.”
I gritted my teeth, hoping that the English distaste for guns and violence would prevail. I needed that animal alive.
Chapter 17
In front of Moorgate Station, four police cars formed a blockade, with at least a dozen police surrounding the cars. Honestly, it felt like an excessive show of force for one wild boar. To the London police’s credit, handling wild hogs probably wasn’t in their basic training. I could envision a scenario where a fifteenth-century French king would have boar-wrangling experience, but for your everyday London cop, it just couldn’t be in the standard playbook.
Gabriel still managed to stride confidently forward, already flashing his badge as if he knew how to handle a wild boar.
“DI Stewart,” he said authoritatively. “Where’s Sergeant Wright?”
“Right here.” A squat, stocky, square-headed man walked over, his face grave.
“What’s the situation, Sergeant?” Gabriel asked.
Sergeant Wright scratched his stubble. “We evacuated the station, shut down the tube, and sent in the specialist in fifteen minutes ago. I haven’t heard from him in seven minutes, when he said that the darts he brought were malfunctioning. He said he was heading back out, so I’m not sure what happened.”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “Malfunctioning? Did he say why?”
“No. He should have been here already, and we’re working under the assumption that he was hurt by the animal. We have an AFO team on their way. They’ll put down the animal and get the specialist out.”
AFO were the Authorized Firearms Officers, the equivalent of the American SWAT force—the only British police who carried firearms.
“The animal needs to be kept alive, Sergeant,” Gabriel said. “It is crucial that—”
“All due respect, DI Stewart, but this isn’t your unit, and you’re not in command of the patrol police. I have a possibly hurt man there, and I need to get him out. That giant bloody pig is out of control, and I don’t give a fuck if it’s a precious zoo animal, or if it’s on an endangered list, or even if it’s the prime minister’s pet. The thing’s got tusks the size of your arm. It’s going—”
“Sergeant.” I stepped forward, hoping no one would recognize me. I hadn’t spent much time with the patrol police, and in any case, the pink hair might throw them off. “I’m Fiona Tursten, the zoo’s vet,” I said, doing my best to fake a British accent. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll take care of the animal for you.”
He shook his head. “Miss Tursten, I can’t risk—”
“The AFO might not get here on time to save your specialist,” I said. “And without weapons, you can’t risk sending any more men in. I’m here right now.”
He glared at Gabriel. “DI Stewart, I hope she knows what she’s doing.”
Gabriel blinked. “Ms. Tursten is the best in her field. It’s why I called her. She knows how to…” He cleared his throat. “How to calm a boar.”
Wright turned to one of his officers, a tall man with a mustache. “Radio!” he shouted. “Our vet here needs it.”
The officer lumbered over and handed me the radio.
Wright arched a cautionary eyebrow at me. “Once the AFO get here, I’m sending them in, Tursten, and you’re coming out. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Of course.”
Wright turned, shouting at the other officers. “Vet’s coming through!”
With dozens of officers’ eyes on me, I crossed through the police blockade, Gabriel following close behind me.
Silence welcomed us as we crossed into the station, the fluorescent lights flickering. A strange energy hummed through the station, and the hair rose on the back of my neck. I could still hear the chatter of radio and the occasional shout from the officers outside, but inside, nothing but my own footsteps and a faint dripping noise.
“Stalking a boar in a tube station,” muttered Gabriel. “I feel like my life took a wrong turn somewhere.”
“You and me both.”
I scanned the abandoned space—the gates, the empty ticket booth.
Gabriel turned to me, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “Follow close behind me through the gates.”
We crossed to the gates, and he swiped his wallet over the scanner. The gates beeped, sliding open and breaking the silence. I stuck close behind Gabriel as we moved through, my body brushing against his.
From the wide stairwell in front of us, I heard a faint shuffling in the darkness. Someone had cut the electricity on the platforms.
I pointed. “I heard something down there.”
As we hurried down the stairs, faint yellow lights briefly flickered, and for just a moment, I caught a glimpse of something dark laying on the far corner of the platform.
Gabriel pulled out his phone, using it as a flashlight. “Look,” Gabriel said softly, pointing. The white sphere of light from his flashlight illuminated a motionless figure. As we moved closer, I could see it was a bald man, neatly dressed in black trousers and a corduroy jacket. A few feet away lay a long black case, probably his tranquilizer gun. A thick puddle of blood glistened all around him. Was he dead?
Gabriel knelt, pressing two fingers to the man’s throat. “Alive. Barely.”
The light moved down his leg, and I caught a glimpse of the blood pumping from his wound, and I thought I glimpsed a bit of bone. Taking in his deathly pale face and his mangled left leg, I wondered if he’d survive. Without immediate help, he’d probably die of blood loss within minutes.
My fingers clenched. “We need to get a tourniquet around his leg.”
“Right.” Gabriel rose. “If you can get some cloth, I’ll find something to apply the pressure. Do you have anything to use as a light?”
“Yeah.” As Gabriel ran off, his footfalls echoing off the ceiling, I reached into my handbag, pulling out the mini flashlight attached to my keychain. I rested it on the floor to illuminate the man.
Then I knelt by his torso and pulled the cursed iron knife from my bag. Immediately, the blade whispered in the depths of my mind, Bathe me in blood. I ignored the knife’s macabre glee and grabbed the man’s jacket. Using the blade, I sliced through a large strip of corduroy.
With the twisted blade, it was clumsy work, yielding a ragged and tattered piece of cloth. Still, it would work for what I needed. I twisted it several times, forming a makeshift rope. As I worked, I tried to keep my ears attuned for the sound of animal grunts and footfalls. If I wasn’t careful, at any moment, the boar could come hurtling out of the shadows and gore me to death.
Moving to the man’s leg, I wrapped the cloth rope just below the knee. His blood soaked my fingers.
I tied the rope tightly, and goosebumps rose on my skin. From another part of the station, I could hear a snuffling noise, and something like the smashing of tile. I swallowed hard, energized by my own fear. From what I could tell, the boar was around a corner. I tried to keep an eye on that direction as I worked.
I tightened the rope, pulling as hard as I could. The man groaned, the pain penetrating his unconscious mind. Footsteps echoed through the station, and I caught a glimpse of Gabriel moving toward me, gripping something in his hand.
As he approached, I held out my hand, and he thrust something like a broken broomstick into my palm.
I slid the stick between the rope and the man’s thigh, then snatched my knife from the ground. “I heard the boar. Just around the corner, I think.” I looked up at him. “Can you twist it? I’m gonna cut more cloth.”
While Gabriel knelt, twisting the stick, I worked the knife through another strip of the man’s corduroy jacket.
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Gabriel tightened the pressure, and the man let out a whimper. Then, Gabriel held the stick firmly, and I used the second strip of cloth to tie the stick in its position. I shoved the knife back into my bag.
Around the corner, the boar’s grunting and heavy footfalls were getting louder. The damn thing was probably panicking, trapped in a dark subway station. How it had managed to get beyond the ticket gates was beyond me.
I rose, wiping my bloodied hands on my jeans. “Get this man out of here. I’ll handle the boar.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I can’t leave you—”
“He’ll die if he doesn’t get help, Gabriel. And I need you to run back to the temple for your car. We’re going to need it to get this boar back there. I can handle one fucking pig.” At least, I thought I could handle the boar. Right now, I felt the thrilling rush of my own fear, and I wasn’t entirely sure how accurate my perception was. “Once I get the boar, we’ll need to get to the Temple of Mithras as fast as we can. And I don’t think we can take him in a police car.”
In the dim light, I could see a struggle flickering across his features. It wasn’t in his nature to leave a partner in danger, but he knew I was right. If he didn’t get the victim medical help immediately, he’d die.
At last, Gabriel nodded. He grabbed the man by one arm and hefted him on his shoulder, grunting in effort. He took a step, nearly slipping in the puddle of blood. Then, catching his balance, he walked away, leaving behind him a trail of bloody footprints.
I walked over to the black case and opened it, using my flashlight to illuminate the contents. Inside, I found a long gun, three darts, a plastic bottle of liquid, and a syringe. The bottle probably held tranquilizer fluid, and the syringe could be used to fill the darts. When I held the darts up to the light, I could see that the specialist had already prepared them—each half-filled with clear liquid.
In the dim light, it took me a minute to figure out how to load the darts into the rifle—just one at a time. Carefully, I slid a dart in the rifle, then slung the case over my back.
