‘Taxish is fine. He’s got a bit of a raspy throat, and a massive headache, but nothing else. You, on the other hand, had a spiral fracture to your femur, and he broke your check bone and eye socket with that punch. How the hell you remained standing I don’t know,’ said Marcus once I’d had the unit’s medic finish with his Healing.

‘I do,’ said Ragnhild, ‘stupidity and stubbornness.’

‘How much did we win?’ I asked, deliberately ignoring her pointed remark. Mostly because I caught a hint of pride in what she was saying. And she was right. It was sheer stubbornness that kept me standing and push through the pain to win the fight.

‘A cool thirty thousand. They practically bit my hand off when I put up the money,’ she grinned, baring her perfectly white teeth.

‘Well, I’m sure that’s made us some more friends,’ I laughed. ‘Stick it towards the families of Team Six. We owe them that.’

She nodded; smile gone at the memories.

‘That’s a nice gesture,’ said Marcus. ‘I’ll do the same.’

There was a knock on my door, and I called for the person outside to come in.

It was Merryweather. As usually she looked like she was chewing on wasps and drinking a pint of extra-salty piss.

‘Congratulations on your fight, Agent Doe, you’ve made quite the impression.’ The words were forced out through gritted teeth.

‘Thank you. I aim to please. I don’t expect that there will be any further challenges. Do you?’

‘Oh, no. In fact, a couple of them are already saying that they want to get some private lessons with you. See what sort of thing you’ve been taught in your famous academy.’

‘Well,’ I said, somewhat taken aback, ‘I’d be happy to show some of the stuff I know. I can’t show the full system, but what I can show, mixed in with some Gatka and weapons I’m happy to do so. Won’t we be a bit busy though?’

‘You’re correct. I’ll be assigning all of the humans to you for your street team. They’ll be going to the seedier pubs and bars, seeing what they can hear, picking up on those that seem to be particularly nervous about the killer.’

It was a good idea. Word was out that DuCrow was some sort of vigilante rather than a pure psychopathic killer. No-one had worked out the connection between him and the victims that we knew of, but those that did know the victims, would be sure to be in on their heinous crimes and so would be feeling nervous. Or just plain shitting themselves.

We’d also be looking out for those that had suddenly dropped out of sight, gone on last-moment holidays as well. Basically, anyone who looked as though they were running, or thinking about running.

‘Is there a Mark for any potential victims?’ she asked.,

I cocked my head over at Marcus.

‘No, not yet. There’s a parallel investigation looking into the crimes of the ring, but until that’s been properly set up and other members identified, there’s no Mark. I rather feel that by the time there is a Mark, all of the members will be dead. Whether that’s by our hand or DuCrow’s I’m not sure.’

‘There’s one thing we should clear up Colonel. We have no sympathy for these victims, but the Mark has been issued and must be met. The Mark doesn’t say anything about assisting future victims, only that a killer must be caught or killed.’

‘I’m good with that,’ smiled the Colonel. And by smile, I mean she actually smiled. It completely changed her face. It was like the North Pole had thawed and turned into a rainforest. ‘It wasn’t sitting well with my people that we were potentially going to be helping keep sex traffickers alive.’

‘Who knows, the circle might be well and truly closed by the time we get to DuCrow. Primary objective for me, however, is getting my apprentice back and cured if possible. Are you also good with that?’

‘Of course. We don’t leave our own.’ She held out her hand. ‘I believe that we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start again. Hello, I’m Colonel Merryweather and I’m here to help you catch the serial killer DuCrow and rescue your apprentice from his clutches.’

I smiled, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. ‘Good to meet you. Let’s go catch a bad guy.’

*

If we’d been in a movie, that would have been it. Fade to black and people hitting the streets. Mainly because audiences don’t want to watch three hours of meticulous planning and back and forth brainstorming sessions.

All of which followed our kiss and makeup with the colonel. However, once we did hit the streets, it wasn’t terribly exciting. Think montage of people going to vehicles, pistols being checked and holstered, driving out in convoy and then walking along Sidwell Street to the local pool hall. Yeah, on second thought it wasn’t even that exciting.

‘This pool hall has been here for years. And by years, I mean it appears to have been here for as long as living memory,’ I said as we went up the stairs to the hall. It was above a row of shops, including a sweet shop, Greggs, roleplaying centre, and an NHS walk in centre.

‘Who’s the proprietor?’ asked Merryweather.

‘Well, the name on the licensee’s plaque above the entrance is a front. It’s a Mundane who’s aware of our Community. The real owner is the somewhat disgraced younger son of a lesser Merlin family.’

Merryweather sighed, ‘Why is it always a younger son of a privileged house that ends up running these places? It’s like they can’t help but meet every meme and trope.’

‘Lucky it’s not a Werewolf,’ I laughed.

‘Let me guess, you have a nightclub run by Vampyres?’

‘We did. I had to close that one down once they started eating the clientele. Like they always do. Shame, as it was a bloody good club.’

‘How do you want to do this?’ she asked.

‘We’ll just go in and see who’s there. No matter what time of the day it is, there’s always someone playing pool. Watch out, though, the lights aren’t the best and it can take some time to adjust.‘

‘This isn’t my first rodeo Agent Doe.’

And with that, we went through the door at the top of the stairs.

*

‘Jesus, it stinks of farts,’ coughed Ragnhild, covering her nose and breathing through her mouth.

‘Actually, that’s not farts, it’s those guys over there. Wyrm-kin,’ I said, nodding in over to a group of lanky, goth-like kids. None of them looked to be any older than 16 but, as with anything in the Magical Community, looks could be deceiving. Wyrm-kin were the descendants of men and women who had copulated with Dragons in human form.

Shunned by their Dragon kin, and driven away by their human kin, the race that came to be known as Wyrm-kin started to draw together, eventually creating a new race of their very own.

Whilst they were able to Mask their appearance, usually through the liberal application of make-up, they were never able to mask their smell, sulphur.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

‘Anyway, just ignore them, they’re usually harmless. Not the sort to make trouble.’

‘There’s our man,’ said Merryweather, touching my arm and pointing.

I looked over. ‘That does not look like the scion of a Merlin family.’

‘Could his hair be any greasier?’ asked Ragnhild. ‘And his jumper … cardigan? It’s got more holes than his string vest.’

‘Looks like he likes to culture shabby-chic,’ snorted Merryweather. ‘And I bet he puts a right dent in Gregg’s sausage roll stocks.’

‘Agents,’ nodded the manager. ‘I’m Mantic. Yes, I look like a slobbish Mundane. It’s a skill.’

He smiled, baring yellowed teeth. I was a little sick in my mouth at the sight of green plaque in his teeth. Thankfully, I didn’t get the pleasure of smelling his breath. From the looks on Ragnhild and Merryweather’s faces they got the full benefit.

‘Good job. Very well done,’ I smiled. ‘Convincing in the extreme.’

‘Fuck off. Get to the point,’ he said, smiling again. I’d have punched his teeth if I wasn’t so worried about catching something.

‘We’re investigating the vigilante. Anyone been talking about him much? Too much?’

‘What do you mean, too much?’ he shrugged. ‘Every man and his gran’s talking about the killer.’

‘What she means,’ interrupted Merryweather stepping up into his face. An action I couldn’t help but admit. ‘What she means, is has anyone show an unhealthy – twitchy if you like – obsession with the vigilante?’

‘I don’t like what you’re insinuating,’ he said. Then poked her in the chest.

‘Oooooh,’ said Ragnhild.

Mantic was on his knees in the blink of an eye, making ‘ah, ah, ah’ noises as Merryweather took his finger to the point of breaking. ‘Don’t touch me again. Ever.’

She threw his hand back in his face. ‘Answer the fucking question.’

‘Fine, fine. Yes, Sunbed Raymond,’ he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. I looked over. The lighting was pretty poor, but I could just about make out a lonely figure hunched over a pint glass.

‘Sunbed Raymond?’ asked Ragnhild.

‘Yeah, covered in fake tan. Uses the sunbeds too much. Looks like he’s used Trump Factor 10.’

‘And he’s been acting odd?’ I asked.

‘Yeah. Keeps talking about the latest killings. Seems to know everything about them. Always wants the news channels on. Twitchy as fuck. Twitchier than normal anyway.’

‘Okay. Anyone else?’ asked Ragnhild.

‘Two Jags,’ his thumb jabbed in another direction. ‘But he’s always reading those true crime magazines. You know, the shit ones which cover how to get away with melting your granny.’

He chuckled at that, halitosis wafting over me. It was worse than I’d imagined. Still, ever the professional, I managed not to puke. Although I might have flinched. Recoiled.

‘Okay,’ I gasped, breathing through my mouth, and trying not to vomit at the fact I could actually taste his breath. ‘I’ll take Raymond. Merryweather, if you could please take two Jags. Ragnhild, guard the door.’

‘Now, now, I don’t want any trouble,’ Mantic frantically waved his hands. ‘We’re on our last warning with the Council. We could lose our licence!’

‘That would be a shame,’ I replied. ‘We’ll pay for any damage.’

‘Damage?’ he squeaked.

‘Yeah. Fire. Lightning. Bullet holes. Damage.’ I replied.

‘Fuck.’

I stepped past him, only daring to breathe through my nose when I was halfway over to Raymond. I could see he was watching me out of the side of his eye. One hand had dropped to his lap. I hoped to God it was because he had a weapon.

‘Raymond? Agent Doe. I’m investigating the vigilante killings.’

He looked up. A jerky movement. My hackles rose. I slipped a foot back, blading myself, setting my stance so that I was ready for trouble.

‘What’s that got to do with me, Agent?’ he asked, turning in his chair to face me. I still couldn’t see his hand.

‘Well, if we can have a quick chat, I’ll be able to know,’ I said. ‘What do you know about the killings?’

‘Not much,’ he glanced sideways, avoid my eyes. ‘He’s going around killing people.’

‘That’s clear from the news reports you keep watching. Mundanes are good at news. But what have you heard?’

‘Nothing,’ he avoided my gaze once more. ‘Just that he’s after pervs.’

‘Yes. The Mundanes are claiming he’s a psycho. But you know the rumours our people are talking about. Don’t you.’ I didn’t make that a question.

His shoulders twitched. Could have been defensive, could have been a shrug.

‘We haven’t been able to stop him from killing anyone. All of them butchered. They all took a very long time to die. He’s very good at keeping them alive. Until he’s bored that is,’ I said.

A shudder ran down his back. ‘I’m not good with gory stuff.’

‘So, you don’t know any of the victims?’

‘Why should I?’ he hissed. ‘You think I’m some sort of perv?’

I Shifted slightly, just enough to change my face, and then struck what I hoped passed for a saucy pose. ‘What, you don’t like this?’

He licked his lips, just a flick of his tongue. ‘No, like I said. I’m not a perv.’

Shifting had served two purposes. One was to tease him. The second was enhance my ability to scent. And, aside from the stench of the place, I could smell his sexual arousal.

‘Score!’ I called out.

‘Shit!’ Raymond moved, faster than I thought possible. I flinched back, Iconed a shield, just in time to block a Lightning bolt as it erupted from the Wand he’d been concealing. Electricity sparked all around me, my hair standing on end.

Closing the distance, I knocked his Wand aside as I slipped an arc-hand into his throat. For a supposedly absolute nobody he recovered quickly. Ignoring the pain he must have been in, he snaked his wand over my Shield and let off another bolt.

Ozone, and the stench of burnt hair filled my nostrils as the bolt blasted close to my head.

I’m going to have bloody sunburn, I thought as my face heated whilst my blood ran cold at just how close I come to dying.

Raymond twisted, moving as if to run away. I reached for his shoulder, and then what felt like a sledgehammer slammed into my guts, my kidneys feeling as though they were trying to escape through my back.

Falling to the floor, whooping in pain, I realised he’d thrown a jumping back kick to my stomach, compressing all of my internal organs. It felt like his foot had hit my spine. Through tear-blurred eyes I watched as he sprinted for the fire escape, crashing through it, the door slamming shut as I tried to get at least a modicum of breath back into my lungs.

‘Fuck. Was he one?’ Merryweather knelt next to me, hand on my back.

‘Uh huuuuuuuurrr …’ I said, vomit spraying over the already badly stained carpet.

‘Dammit. He was fast.’

I tried to answer but could only throw up again.

*

Tasking Merryweather with tracking Raymond down, Ragnhild and I – once I’d done a quick Heal on my guts - hit the streets. Our first stop was Captain Jesus, so called because he looked like a Pirate Jesus, eyepatch and all. He’d helped Dawn and I on a previous case and proven to be reliable. He and Ragnhild hit it off straight away, especially once we’d sprung for a full English with all the trimmings.

‘You man is causing a lot of ructions,’ he said around a mouthful of sausage and beans. ‘We’re getting a lot of people down our places saying that he must be hiding with us, that we’re the ones to blame.

His mouth turned down as he swallowed. ‘We’re always the ones to blame you know. It’s always our fault that we’re homeless, and anything bad happens, it must be us.’

‘How did you end up on the street?’ asked Ragnhild, placing a hand over his.

‘I was in a car accident. Lost my eye, had a traumatic brain injury which meant I forgot who I was and who my family were. I was in a coma for a few weeks. We were never able to reconnect; I was still suffering massive migraines and pain at that time which didn’t help. Lost my job, and then I got addicted to the painkillers, which led to other drugs. My wife kicked me out, stopped me from seeing the kids and I ended up sleeping rough after fighting in a couple of the shelters. Been sleeping rough ever since.’

There was a moment of awkward silence before Ragnhild asked, ‘What’s keeping you there? You seem to be clean.’

‘One look at me and the job offers dry up. I don’t have a permanent address, no bank account. I can’t apply for a proper job because they’d want to be able to contact me, pay me a proper salary. I’m forced to do what I can for cash in hand.’

She nodded, and said nothing else, taking a sip from her coffee.

‘Well, we can’t stop the arseholes from giving you trouble. We’re not allowed to confirm what the real reason behind the attacks is. If we did that, we’d lose the people he’s rumoured to be after, and then we’d lose him. People don’t like Shifters and Weres as it is. With the rumours that it’s some kind of Were on a crusade for justice they like us even less. Imagine the outcry if we confirmed what the issue was,’ I said.

‘It’s a shit sandwich all around,’ he said.

‘Couldn’t have put it better. Now, how many people can you put on this? Trustworthy mind, I don’t want to go paying people if why’re going to go and get pissed, or worse,’ I warned.

‘I’ve got fifty good people we can use. Pay will be half up-front mind. Got to show them you’re serious,’ he met my eye at that, almost like a challenge. And like he’d been offended at my suggestion that his people would take the money and use it to get pissed or high. I realised I was being as judgemental as others.

‘I can manage that. I’ll pay £100 a day each person.’

He coughed, spraying food all over the place. Ragnhild reached over and gave him a hard pat on his back. Each clap drew a heartfelt wince.

‘That’ll be fine. Fuck. You really want this guy!’

‘He’s got Dawn. I want him bad.’

Face firming, he nodded. He and Dawn had got on well the last time we used him.

‘Okay. Give me your phone.’ I passed it over and he typed a number into it. Then sent a text to his own phone.

‘This is my phone number. I’ve got your number. If I get anything, I’ll message you. I can get my people briefed and on the street in an hour. WhatsApp okay?’

I nodded, realising that he probably had a call tree, and that his people were far more organised than I had ever given them credit for.

Definitely going to make sure I use them more in the future if I can, I thought as I scrolled through my photo library, selected two images and texted them to him.

‘That’s the best pictures of Dawn and the Mark. £500 bonus to the person who finds them. Do not engage. Watch and report only. I don’t want any of your team being ripped apart as a result of working for me.’

‘Understood,’ he said angrily, looking at the two photos. ‘Dunno why, but he seems familiar. Get to see a lot of people though, so I could be mistaken.’

I had the feeling that he wasn’t but didn’t push it. His subconscious would be able to come up with the answer at some point.

‘Okay. Well, let’s have a nice breakfast and pretend we’re normal people and not on a hunt for a vigilante serial killer.’