Marcus came through with the photo quicker than I thought he would. Ragnhild and I were just finishing off a nice Victoria Sponge and cup of tea in the hotel lounge when my phone rang.

‘Mumum?’ I said, having just popped a particularly large piece of cake into my mouth.

‘Jane? Are you tied up? Gagged?’ asked Marcus.

I gave up and tossed the phone to Ragnhild who was laughing at my efforts to speak. Flapping my hands, I somehow conveyed the fact that I needed her to speak to Marcus.

‘Hello, Marcus, it’s Ragnhild. Jane’s somewhat busy eating her calorie intake for the day.’

I could hear Marcus laughing on the other end of the phone before making some sort of inquisitive sound.

‘Exactly! Victoria Sponge. Good guess!’

There was more laughter, and I desperately washed the remains of the cake away with a gulp of tea. I needed to regain control of the conversation before they bonded even further over my taste for cake.

‘I’ll have that thank you very much,’ I said as I snagged the phone from Ragnhild. ‘Marcus, it’s Jane …’

‘Ah, so glad that you could find time to speak to me. I know how important cake is to you, so hopefully we can have a very quick chat about the case?’

His tone was less than impressed, despite the fact I could hear the humour in his voice.

‘Sorry boss. Got something for us?’

‘I do. One hit. A Markku DuCrow. English mother, Norwegian father. Parents divorced when he was five, his father winning custody as the mother was an alcoholic.’

‘Ouch. Doesn’t sound good,’ I said.

‘Precisely. Mother was part of the English Magical Community, father was a Druid. And a Were.’

‘A Were?’ I said, bolting upright, Ragnhild mirroring me.

‘Thought that would get your attention. Yes. Wolf. It was passed on to his son.’

‘So, what happened?’ I asked.

‘He was trafficked. I didn’t get into the nitty gritty. I have enough bad memories as it is,’ Marcus said grimly.

‘Understood,’ I said. And I did. In our line of business, bad memories were a given. ‘What happened?’

‘Magical Community was supplying Mundanes and Magicals alike with Shifter and Were sex slaves.’

‘Oh God!’ I exclaimed, fumbling my phone. Bile rose into my mouth, and I forced it down as Ragnhild scooped my mobile up.

‘Back to me Marcus. I gather you’ve just told Jane some details about my old case?’ She nodded as Marcus said something. ‘Okay. Send the photo and we’ll go back to Knowles. Speak later.’

Ragnhild hung up, then sat back in her chair. ‘You okay?’

‘No. God no. I need a shower. I need to strip my skin off and wash every single cell of my body. I knew the nature of the case, but not the nature of the case.’ I’d known the direction this case was taking, but somehow had still held out a sliver of hope that I was wrong. That although we knew the nature of a couple of the victims, there was something more mundanely criminal. But not this.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

‘We need to go back to Knowles. Will you be okay with that?’

‘You know. I’m not sure about this case,’ I said, a lump forming in my throat. ‘These fuckers deserve everything coming to them.’

‘Not our decision. Our killer is breaking the law,’ she sighed. I could see just how heavily the case was weighing on her. Especially now that she knew the sort of victim she’d been dealing with back in her home country.

‘So are the victims. And what they’re doing is far worse. He’s getting revenge, and potentially saving a load of others from the same thing that he went through.’

‘You know you can’t drop the Mark. Someone else will just pick it up and run with it.’

And if we dropped the Mark, then at best we’d face some very serious and uncomfortable questions, and at worst we’d find ourselves Marked.

‘But at least I won’t be saving scum from getting what they deserve.’

‘You could always try to work with him once you’ve arrested him. Get the names, hunt them down.’

‘They’ll be gone. I’m surprised they haven’t already legged it. Seems our vigilante knows how they work.’

‘My gut says that the circles are the same. Our vigilante was abused, got away from it, grew up, tracked down his abusers and killed them. Whilst doing so he found out that there was a circle here and came over to carry on his work.’

‘I agree,’ Ragnhild nodded. ‘We still need to go and speak to Knowles. You okay with that?’

‘Yes. You’re right. Whatever we feel, we still need to catch this guy. Who knows, he might kill someone not connected by mistake.’

‘That, and the trouble Shifters and Were are going through right now because of him.’

She had a point, as much as I didn’t want to acknowledge that. He might be ridding the world of people who deserved to die many times over, but his actions were also hurting innocent people. People that might get killed because of an over-eager mob. One thing I couldn’t bear to have on my conscience was the blood of someone who didn’t deserve to die.

‘Yeah. I’m cool. Let’s finish up here and head over.’

‘We’ll take my car. No offence, but I hate pillion.’

I laughed, clasping a hand to my heart, ‘I’m hurt. Don’t trust me?’

‘More like I don’t trust all the other idiots on the road,’ smiled, leaning forward to put her hand on my knee. ‘You, I’d trust my life with.’

*

‘That’s the chap. Ruggedly handsome if you like that sort of thing, what?’ said Knowles as soon as I handed him my phone. ‘Not that I’d know, of course.’

‘Nor me,’ I smiled as the old guy shuffled his feet.

‘Ah, well, jolly good for you,’ Knowles cleared his throat. ‘He had an air about him. I’ve worked with people like him before. Tightly wound. Little too fond of violence.’

I nodded. He’d told me all this the last time I’d spoken with him, but I wanted Ragnhild to get a feel for what he was saying.

‘Tightly wound?’ asked Ragnhild, tilting her head.

‘Ah, apologies, didn’t realise you weren’t from these parts. Like a spring. Ready to commit violence at the drop of the hat. Not uncontrolled though. Although from the way he spoke, he was angry. All the time.’

‘Monosyllabic?’ I asked. Anger and adrenalin often reduced people to monosyllabic statements as their brain dropped into a more primal state, shunting out extraneous functions such as verbose language. Which is why so many British swear words were so short. Fuck, shit, piss, cunt. All capable with being spat out in such a way that no-one could mistake the intent behind them.

‘Not quite. Clipped. Spoke only when he needed. Kept his questions and statements simple. Like this. He was focused. In control always but gave me the feeling that if I didn’t answer the way he wanted me to, or if it turned out I was some sort of threat, that I’d be dead before I knew it. Even with my skills, what?’

He smiled, eyes twinkling, but his face altered for a split-second and I saw the soldier he used to be – still was – for a split second, and it made me realise that his affable exterior was just that. A front. This was a man who was just as capable of violence as our subject if required. And if he was worried by DuCrow, that meant I definitely needed to be worried by him.

‘Thank you, Colonel. You’ve been very helpful.

‘This is the chap killing all those people, isn’t he?’ asked Knowles.

‘Yes. We think he is. He’s Were,’ I said. He’d been co-operative, given us valuable insights, I felt I owed him this.

‘It’s revenge isn’t it,’ the Colonel said. It wasn’t a question, but I nodded regardless. ‘Seems a shame you have to stop him.’

‘Agreed. However, people are panicking, and innocent Shifters and Were are getting hurt. So I’m focusing on that.’

‘Indeed. Better you than me. That man is dangerous.’