by T S Paul
Agent Zusteller blinked at me as his brain processed what I actually said and he laughed. That particular form was for fingerprinting and had nothing whatsoever to do with the situation, but it was funny. If we weren't investigating, we were filling out endless stacks of paperwork.
"Understood. This is the number for the local taxi service. I will call them if I can't get back in time to pick you up. They are a tiny bit slow but reliable." The Agent handed me a card.
"We have transport coming with the rest of our team tomorrow. They're bringing our crime lab and the central unit. It was too big for the plane. Thanks for the lift Agent. If we need anything, I'll give you a call." He smiled, but I could tell from his expression that this was the last of the help from the local office. Unless they needed to arrest someone.
"Agatha, what was that all about?" Cat looked at me.
Shaking my head, I replied. "Later. We have observers." I motioned with my chin.
Two men were walking down the brick pathway from the main house toward us. The larger of the two had graying hair and a pot belly stomach. The young one resembled the older man but with blond hair rather than dark. Both didn't look all that happy to see us at all.
"Where'd the postman go? Are you the new team?" Both men asked different questions at the same time.
"Are you talking about Agent Zusteller? He had to go back to his office. I'm Special Agent in Charge Agatha Blackmore from Magical Crimes Division." I held out my hand to the older of the two.
The older man pursed his lips and smiled. "Blackmore? Any relation to Marcella Blackmore?"
"She's my grandmother. The local office's investigation has been turned over to us. Is there somewhere we can talk?" I put down my hand. He didn't look like he was going to take it.
"We told those other FBI guys that it had to be coyotes or something. Losses happen with herds all the time. There isn't a crime here. I know those tourists got all spooked by that dead Unicorn in the paddock, but those beasts fight each other all the time. Dead animals are the risk we take raising such a rare species. How about we just pretend it didn't happen and let it go?" I could feel a sort of pressure trying to punch its way through my shields. This man or the other one was some kind of Magick user.
"The information that we received was the remains were found at a neighbor's. Have there been more deaths that you haven't reported?" Cat took the lead and focused in on what he had said.
"I assume that you are Robert Magnus, the owner of the ranch? We cannot be persuaded by Magickal means, and if I feel what I just felt again, you will find yourself in Crowley prison so fast your head will spin. Magnus family or no Magnus family. Using Magickal influence is a crime in this country. Someone in your family pushed for this investigation to happen and it's happening. Stopping it now is impossible. Either work with us or get out of the way." I glared at the big man.
"Fine. Whatever. Walter here can show you around. In answer to your question, some of the recent batches of tourists found a dead Unicorn out behind of their cabin. It looked to have jumped the fence and was killed on impact. They have weaker bones than horses, and it happens sometimes. If anyone is killing anything, it's those jealous ranchers out there." He pointed toward the dead zone surrounding the ranch.
Glancing in the direction he pointed I asked. "Why do you say that?"
"The greenery. Unicorn magic is what makes all of this possible. Plain and simple. How else would it happen?" I only nodded.
"Do you have a place we can meet for interviews of your staff?"
"Walter get the keys to number nine." The younger man next to him grumbled but ran back to the main house. "Number nine is the last cabin on the end next to the main barn. It's set up as a lounge with tables and chairs. If you need to talk to me, come up to the house." He turned and walked away. Meeting the younger man on the way back, we could see him bark a word or two at him.
Glancing to my left, I looked at Cat with raised eyebrows. "He told him to do what he said or else."
"Thanks, Cat. Super hearing comes in handy." Bill remarked.
"That it does. When he gets here, we will interview the young one first. The documents the other team sent show that besides tourist 'dude' workers, there are four year-round workers." I turned back toward the main house.
"Here's the key to nine. Uncle Robert told me to give you a tour." Walter hopped onto a large six person golf cart and started it up.
I sat in the front with Cat and Bill behind me. "How long have you worked here, Walter?"
Walter looked over at me and then at Cat and Bill. "Fifteen years or so for Uncle Robert. My parents sent me here to learn the business."
"That's a long time for on-the-job-training. Why are you still here?" Bill looked him in the eye.
Walter winced. "My parents... I have a twin sister. They intended for both of us to learn the entire business, but she excelled at distribution and merchandising, so they left me here with Uncle Robert. One day I'll go back, but not right now. I'm not sure if the big city is right for me anymore. Everyone buckled up?" Putting the cart in gear, he stepped on the gas.
Chapter 4
Two hundred and fifty acres doesn't sound like a lot of space, but it is. That was only the main fenced part of the ranch. They had another five hundred acres pushing right up to the Canadian border. There was a fence running the length of the property, but wire cutters were cheap.
"Bill, do you have any contacts with the Mounties?" I stared across the Milk River. From what I could see, the property curved a bit before entering Canada. Some of our evidence might be on the far bank or upriver. Once Chuck got here, I would put him on it.
"I know a guy. You will have to contact Washington regardless though. They don't like us talking to foreign nationals without their knowledge." Bill pulled out his cell phone and started typing.
"Does Magnus own any of that land over there?" I pointed to the river banks.
Walter peered in the direction of my finger and shook his head. "See the fence line down there. That is as far as the property line goes. We just put that fence up maybe five years ago. The state of Montana wanted to tax us more money for river encroachment or some shit. Uncle Magnus took them to court and won. We were ordered to define the property lines more accurately. We have the plots back at the house. He can show them to you. Do you want to see the rest of the ranch now?"
I nodded to him and walked back to the cart. My shields released as soon as we moved away from the main part of the ranch. But I could feel a buzzing in my head every time I got near Walter. It was starting to get on my nerves. It was maybe time for a bracelet conference again. With luck, the two of them would talk to me this time.
The difference between this ranch and the surrounding area was drastic. Lush green grass covered the land along with shrubbery and dense tree cover. Even the rough hills near the river were more overgrown than the others. The Earth was tired and cold over there. Here it was alive and energized. Why? If we could understand why it might help explain what was happening to the Unicorns. Or I was taking us down a giant badger hole. Maybe it was time to wake the beast and force him to help us. I wonder if they deliver pizza this far out?
"This is the primary Unicorn field. Males live out their lives here except when breeding or as young foals. Those stay in the main barn until weaning." We could see a herd of white animals in the distance.
"Why are their manes different? I saw reds and greens on the group of females up front."
Walter pursed his lips for a moment. "It's a breeding thing. Certain traits carry forward with individual gene lines. We track and record which Unicorn is crossed with which. On occasion, we have had to bring in a new male or female from Canada to enhance the lines."
Glancing at Walter, I asked the question that was bothering me. "What about Unicorns with blue manes? Do they exist as well?"
"Blue?"
"Yes, blue. Do you have any of those?" Both Cat and Bill carefully watched Walter.
"At this time,
no. That is a rare line. We haven't had one of those in more than ten years. I think. Robert would know. Why do you want to know?"
"No real reason. I just saw one of them recently, and the color surprised me that's all. How many Unicorns are here on the ranch?" I tried to change the subject.
"Several hundred. This blue you saw, was it at the British Columbia site?" Walter peered at me allowing the cart to slow down.
"No. It was in private hands."
Without thinking, Walter blurted out. "The only blue not on the farms is Ferg..."
When my eyes widened, he shut right up in mid-word. I felt a faint tickling at the very edge of my shield as they came slamming down! What was with this family?
My hand felt warm, and a fireball formed in it lighting up my face. "No one touches the Witch!"
Walter recoiled backward almost falling out of the cart. "Sorry!"
"I warned your Uncle, and I will warn you. Manipulative Magick is against the law in this country. I will send you to Crowley prison in a heartbeat. Stop it." Bill grabbed him and set him back into the cart.
"Finish the tour please." Cat laid a clawed hand on Walter's arm shocking him.
The rest of the tour was very quiet. We arrived at cabin nine, and Walter practically threw us out of the cart. "Start sending the hired hands to us please, Walter. It's just an interview. We are investigators. Talking to people is what we do."
Cabin nine was what you imagine a dude ranch would be. Rustic is the word my grandmother might use. It sounds better than a run down shack in a field. I think the paint was what was holding it together.
"People pay real money to sleep here?" Cat was trying to avoid touching anything.
Seeing the grease covered floor and windows, I didn't blame her. It looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in a century. "They do. According to my briefing material, they pay a couple of thousand a season, and they work for free as ranch hands. Sort of like that old movie City Folk. The one about that comedian Willy Clear?"
Bill perked up. "That's one of my wife's favorite movies. She just loves how they adopt the cow at the end."
"Exactly. They come here and work for free, earning more money for the Magnus family. It was a group of the tourists that reported the deaths along with the missing Unicorns." I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out our little protester setting him on the cleanest looking table.
"We know you've been listening to us this whole time Fergus. It's time for you to talk to us. Please. If not for us, do it for the Unicorns that have died." I looked down at him. He just stood there staring at his feet. "Fergus, did you hear me?"
"Sacrifices don't come back. I told you that. They aren't my herd anymore."
"Don't give me that. I saw how you reacted when we went to that museum with Jack. You hated that a Unicorn died to make that display they created. We all know that you aren't a dumb animal. Help us find the killers or whatever it is that is making them disappear. Only you can talk to the herd."
Kneeling down on the filthy floor I got down on his level. "Will you help us?"
"Whatever. I heard that guy start to say my name. I didn't know they knew it." Fergus looked up at us.
"Yes, that's interesting. Agatha, didn't you say that someone must either understand Unicorn or speak human here on the ranch?" Cat looked at me.
"It's what I think. How else would Fergus be able to describe things on the ranch to my grandmother and get the names correct? You would think an operation such as this would number the animals, not give them names. So where do the names come from?" Cocking my head, I stared at Fergus.
"My mother said I was named after my uncle Fergus who escaped and terrorized the town. That and that it was the name of a King."
"A human King. There's a Celtic King Fergus in our history as well as a cartoon one." Bill pointed out.
"Didn't you mention elders to Grandmother?"
Fergus trotted to the left and then the right. "I might have. It was a long time ago. They are the oldest of the herd. They teach us the rules, language, and our history. Elders are supposed to know everything."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A loud almost pounding on the door made all of us look up. "Our interviews are starting. Fergus, can you listen to what they have to say? Let us know if you catch anything."
"Sure." He hopped onto my hand.
I stuck him back in his pocket space in my shirt. The seamstress the Grandmother uses is owed a huge hug from me when I see her. "Go ahead and let them in."
Bill opened the door. Two men that could only be described as rough-hewed stood staring at us. "Hello, we'd like to interview you about the Unicorn deaths and mutilations. We are aware that others have already talked to you, but we just want fresh eyes on everything. Is that OK with you?"
Both men shrugged and nodded. Taking one at a time we let the first man inside.
Cat conducted the interview. I just sat on the sideline taking notes.
"Can you state your name for the record?"
The first worker was thin with blond hair. "Charlie Wiggins. I'm the ranch boss here."
"Charlie, how long have you worked for Magnus?" Cat turned on the charm and was trying to get as much information as possible from the men.
The interviews went on for a couple of hours. There were six, year-round workers and an ever-changing roster of dude workers. That was the name Charlie gave the tourist ranch hands. Surprisingly, working as a ranch hand was a very popular pastime for bored city folk. We were getting much more information than the local office provided us. It could be that we weren't local and didn't understand the ins and outs of running a ranch. But I was happy with what was coming out of the men's mouths.
What we learned so far was this ranch raised Unicorns for money. They bred them carefully to enhance certain bloodlines and eliminate others. Collectors in Europe and in Canada wanted certain colors and temperament in the 'corns they raised. While females were the primary trade product, some adult males were occasionally sold, but only after their usefulness was expended.
The animals were kept separated on the ranch. This allowed for fewer accidents both to the Unicorns themselves and the workers who fed them. By doing this, they lived twice as long as in the wild, and it kept the stallions from being too possessive. It also kept their aggression in check.
Unicorn products were the other form of currency. Only the herd stallion was allowed to mate with females directly. Other males were collected by using a fake mare or hobby horse. The one here was named Charlene by the workers. If an animal died, the skin, horn, hooves, and teeth were sent to the Ultra facilities in Washington state and Oregon for processing and packaging.
Genuine Unicorn products were very popular in Asia for use in aphrodisiacs. The Ultra Corporation was where Walter Magnus's part of the family lived and worked. Some few Unicorns were selected for special dispensation by the owner Robert Magnus, but the farm hands claimed to not know anything about that.
Several times Fergus kicked or bit at the inside of my pocket during the interviews. He has been particularly upset during the mention of selling Unicorns and breeding selections. While I knew some of the stories from talking to Grandmother, it was his to tell.
As soon as we finished the last interview, I took Fergus from my pocket. Placing him on the table, I could see he was very upset.
"Why are my people being taken advantage of so much? Why?" It was actually the first time I had ever seen the little guy cry.
"Profit. Most people don't think of you as intelligent beings, Fergus. Horse ranches have operated like that for centuries." Bill waved at the walls.
"It needs to change then. We aren't stupid horses!" He stamped his little hooves on the table.
"Fergus I agree with you. That's why we need your help so much here. The other Unicorns might know what is killing them. Only you can talk to them." I looked down at him.
Cat turned toward me. "Didn't you say there was a spell that let you talk to animals?"
Inwardly I groaned. "Sort of. To trigger it, you need the essence of the animal or animals you intend to speak to. You remember what I said about Black Magick?" Both Cat and Bill nodded. "Black Magick scars the soul of the user. While I can make the essence, it requires the blood, bone, and spirit of the animal you wish to speak with. It results in death before you even begin. It skates the line between white and dark Magick. Not really something I wish to do."
"Why would anyone do something like that? It's horrible!" Bill looked aghast at me.
