Our next stops were the Underhanded Society of Shapeshifters and the Wereblood Guild. Being somewhat unpopular minorities in the Magical Community, Shifters and Were’s tended to group themselves together as much as they could. They were close-knit and secretive, and very exclusive.

I decided that since I was a Shifter and known in the area that we’d go to the Shifter’s club. My logic was that I’d have less trouble there. Whilst I didn’t think we’d find a member of the ring there, I was hoping that we’d be able to plant seeds, get people in the Shifter community talking.

And if there’s one thing that the Shifter community is good is talking. They like nothing more than a bit of gossip, especially the birds. Drop a juicy bit of gossip near someone who’s a sparrow, or a tit – no, that’s not a curse word. This time. – and you’d hear the same rumour repeated to you before you left the bar.

‘Just so we’re clear,’ said Ragnhild. ‘You’re going to drop word that you’re after the killer, but that you’re also trying to find the victims, that you think they’re being hunted for some unrelated crime, like a money scam, and want to help them?’

‘Precisely. They’re running scared. They can’t call us for help, because if they do they have to explain why the killer is after them. Now however, they know that we know the killer is after them, but not for the correct reason. If they come in, they can try to play the odds, find out what we think they’ve done, confess to that, and get our protection.’

‘Sneaky, you are very sneaky,’ Ragnhild smiled, wagging a finger. ‘I’m impressed.’

*

The Underhanded Society of Shapeshifters was situated in a basement in Southernhay. As with all semi-secret societies it was fronted by a member only club, with a well-appointed bar. I was a paid-up lifetime member. Not that I went that often. Agents – well, me – don’t tend to be that welcome in such places.

‘Okay, so be chill,’ I said to Ragnhild. ‘Some of the older Shifters here are utter twats when it comes to Were. They can smell them a mile off and the smaller ones have a real chip on their shoulders. Someone as big and beautiful as you, is really going to put their nose out of joint. Doesn’t help I’ve Marked a couple of their family members.’

‘You just love to make friends, don’t you?’ she smiled, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in to kiss the top of my head.

‘Gerroff,’ I mocked growled, then opened the door and entered the dimly lit - naturally - room behind.

A weaselly-looking woman was sat behind a table. ‘Good morning, could I have your name and membership card?’

‘Jane Doe, with guest,’ I said as I held out the requested identification.

She stiffened at the name and then sat ramrod straight as her nose twitched like a rabbit’s. Which, from her scent, she was. Despite her looks. Normally this wouldn’t happen, Shifters from all walks of life rubbed shoulders every day without anyone getting eaten. But I had a reputation, and I was an Agent. Add apex predator to that mix, and she was going to be very squirrelly indeed. Her knickers must really have been getting in a twist.

‘We’re here on official business,’ I said, hopefully pre-empting any nastiness and showing my Agent ID as well. ‘No trouble.’

‘Of course. And do you have a warrant?’ I tried not to sigh too loudly. Thanks to Mundane television, a lot of our community thought that the powers-that-be needed to have warrants to take people in.

That’s not how things work in our community though. If I want to take someone in on a Mark, I do. If I want to enter someone’s house, I do. And unless the Mark specifically states I can’t, I’ll kill anyone getting in the way. Including the Mark. Fortunately, I didn’t need to go through all of that.

‘I don’t need one. I’m a member and as such have free entry, Doris,’ I said, picking out her name from the handy badge pinned on her left breast. ‘Not going to have any trouble, are we?’

She twitched, an involuntary hunching of the shoulders. From the smell of her she was having to fight her fight-or-flight instincts. And with prey, it was never fight. I could feel my nostrils flaring, filled with rank sweat of her fear. If she wasn’t careful, she’d need a change of underwear.

‘No!’ She squeaked. ‘No, trouble. Please go through.’ A door at the opposite end of the room clicked open. I smiled my thanks, and we left her to have a mini meltdown in private.

The room beyond was everything you’d expect a semi-secret organisation’s room to look like. Lots of leather chairs, three roaring fireplaces, a mahogany bar, tables and lots of lights producing not much actual light. Men and women wearing smart-casual attire sat around reading newspapers, talking, drinking, and basically soaking up the ambiance.

‘Nice. I like it,’ said Ragnhild. ‘Bar?’

‘Sounds like a good idea,’ I was getting antsy, all the non-progress was starting to get on my tits. A drink would calm me down.

‘Ladies, how can I help?’ the barman was well-dressed in a lovely tweed waistcoat and trousers combination with a white shirt and red tie. Thankfully, he was some kind of dog Shifter. They often made good servants as they had a little bit of a dog’s instinct to please. That, and they were also good bouncers.

‘Sipsmith and tonic, please,’ said Ragnhild.

‘I’ll have a Glenfarclas 105, please,’ I said, dropping a twenty onto the counter. Not that I was expecting much change. ‘And some crisps, you want crisps yeah?’ I asked Ragnhild.

‘Yes please, cheese and onion. And some beef. Oh, and salt and vinegar. I’m peckish.’

Smiling, I picked up the bar menu. ‘We’ll have two of the pulled jackfruit burgers, with sweet potatoes, onion rings, extra pots of relish, coleslaw, and a side order of cheesy garlic bread.’

‘No meat?’ asked Ragnhild. The barman huffed out a laugh, turning way to cover his mouth.

I laid a hand on her arm, ‘No babes, not when some of the members Shift into animals that find themselves on menus.’

‘Oh. Yes. Well, I’m sure jackfruit will taste just as good as pulled pork,’ she frowned, clearly not convinced.

‘Trust me, it tastes a lot better than it sounds, and especially if you don’t view it as a meat replacement. It is what it is. What it isn’t is pulled pork.’

We took a seat at the bar as the barman placed our drinks on the highly polished top.

‘Food will be fifteen minutes or so,’ he said as he placed a few coins in change on the bar top. ‘Anything else I can get you?’

‘Just a chat. I’m working this killer that’s in the news, got a Mark on him. Trying to get him off the streets before the damn Mundanes cause too much trouble.’

‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘I’ve been watching the telly, and they’re really panicking. No leads though, according to them.’

A man, slightly built, wearing a checked shirt and chinos was stood at the bar, holding a note. ‘Can I get a pint of Avocet?’

It was a local brew, from a brewery down by the railway in Exeter. Tasted bloody good. The army knew it as Rifleman and at one point it was shipped across the English Channel on a sail boat. We waited whilst the barman served him, then moved back to us. He stayed. I shared a look with Ragnhild, he was either going to hit on us, or wanted to know what an Agent had to say about the killings. Was he just an interested bystander, or an interested party?

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

‘As I was saying,’ I continued, ‘we know that the killings are linked to some sort of vendetta. From what we’ve been able to put together, it’s to do with a money-laundering racket turned wrong. People crossed the wrong man, and now he’s making an example of them.’

‘Some example,’ the man barked.

‘Yeah, well, we’re not interested in them. The Mark’s been issued for his capture. What we’re hoping is that we can find them before he does. Get information on how we can capture him,’ I said, pointedly ignoring him.

‘All the Merlins want is for this to go away. If we can get them to help us, we can offer a deal you know?’ said Ragnhild.

Our new friend was lapping this up, nodding with every word. I was surprised that his tongue wasn’t hanging out. ‘So how can I help?’

‘Well, you get to speak to a lot of people,’ said Ragnhild. ‘If you see anyone acting odd or know of anyone that’s just dropped out of sight, give us a call.’

I passed over my business card. ‘There’s a reward for every name that pans out.’

We left him reading the details and went to sit at a table. I deliberately put my back to the bar.

‘He twitching?’ I asked.

‘Oh yes, practically inhaled his pint. Moving over to your four o’clock. Couple of others. God, they’re loving whatever it is he’s telling them.’

‘Excellent, our work is done. Let’s enjoy our food, and then head off.’

*

Ragnhild stood looking at the building across the carpark from us. By the narrowed eyes, pursed lips and hands on hips (all very heroine-ish), she wasn’t that impressed with the Wereblood Guild building.

‘You okay love?’ I asked, placing a hand on her back.

‘Seriously?’ she waved her hand at the building.

‘Well, yes, perfect place for it all things considered.’

‘Pets at fucking Home?’ she hissed.

‘Yeah. All the staff, including the vets are Were. It’s why they’re so good with animals. And they get discount on all the pet food. Which, when they’re Were’d is perfect for them.’

‘Weres get Pets at Home, Shifters get a secret bar with leather couches?’

‘It’s not all that bad. They have good careers, and they do have a secret pad of their own at the back of the shop. Calm down, don’t want to get all the prey twitchy.’

‘I don’t get why weren’t even here. Didn’t we do enough at the Shifters’ place?’

‘Can’t help to spread the word a bit more. I want as many people as possible looking out for this bastard and Weres are incredibly good at sn … finding people.’

‘Sniffing. You were going to bloody say sniffing!’ she glared at me, leaning forward, emphasising just how bloody tall she was compared to me. ‘Not. Funny.’

‘It’s just a turn of phrase,’ I protested, giving what I hoped was a winning smile. ‘Seriously, slip of the tongue, but a common euphemism in this country.’

She stared. Well, glared. But if I looked at it as a stare, it was a lot less intimidating. Not that I was intimidated. No. Of course not. I’ve confronted a lot scarier creatures than a slightly pissed off Werebear in human form. Just that none of those creatures were around, and she was.

‘Fine. I’ll accept you piss poor excuse of an apology. Huh, my English is definitely improving around you.’ She gave a tight-lipped smile and stalked across the gap to the doors. ‘Coming?’

*

Gaining access to the rear of the shop didn’t really involve much mystery. We walked straight past all the pets waiting to see the vet, stopping only to stroke three puppies, and an amazingly large Merlin-owned dog called Mouse of all things.

Then it was through the pet toy aisle and to the fish tanks at the back. An employee was busily sweeping one of the cleanest patches of floor I’d ever seen. I flashed my badge, Ragnhild flashed her claws, and he slapped a small black button, opening up a ‘staff only’ door.

‘Mind how you go, Agent. People are shitting themselves,’ he warned as he brushed hard at the floor.

I nodded my thanks and entered the Weres’ lair.

*

‘Well, this is better than I thought it would be,’ said Ragnhild. We were stood in what would have normally been a stock warehouse for the shop behind us. Instead, we were in a room which must have topped four thousand square feet. There was a bar, comfortable chairs, big screen televisions, tables, another bar just for juices and smoothies, and an absolute plethora of dog beds, cat beds, rabbit hutches and even fish tanks.

Weres lounged in their natural forms all over the place, with members of staff moving between them with plates of various food types.

‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure what we’d find here either. I’ve only ever seen it from the shop side, never needed to enter it properly before.’ It was seriously bloody impressive.

‘Good afternoon, welcome to the Wereblood Guild,’ said a young, and partial Were’d woman. From what I could tell she was from a form of Bovine Were. By the looks of her, she was a Kankrej, an Indian cow from the Gujarat area. ‘How can I help?’

Whilst she smelt wary, there was none of the fear or open hostility I was expecting considering the fact I was a Shifter and an Agent. It made a refreshing change. Probably helped that I had Ragnhild next to me.

‘We’re here about the issue plaguing Shifters and Weres right now,’ I replied.

‘I thought you might be. The Lair Master is over there, the large flop-eared rabbit.’ She pointed over in the direction of the biggest rabbit I’d ever seen. It was currently engaged in eating dandelions as quickly as possible, whilst a large guinea pig was devouring carrots.

‘Thanks,’ I said as we walked over to them.

‘Sorry to interrupt your lunch, Lair Master,’ I said. ‘I was wondering if we could have a quick chat?’

Ragnhild nudged me in the ribs. ‘It’s rude to speak to someone when they’re Were’d. And even more so when they’re eating.’

She Were’d, faster than I thought possible. God she was glorious. A bear of truly gigantic proportions with the thickest, shiniest coat of fur. I just wanted to bury my face in it.

Whilst I gawped and fantasised about hugging a bigger-than-life version of Paddington Bear, she bent her forelegs, essentially bowing. Nothing was said. He nibbled. Guinea Pig crunched. She remained bent. I remained silent. I didn’t need to be told twice.

Just as I was about to explode with impatience, the Lair Master Were’d into human form, giving himself a quick shake before grabbing a dressing gown and donning it. Something I was most thankful for.

Well, there’s a memory I won’t be revisiting in a hurry, I thought. The Lair Master was an octogenarian, possibly older. And corpulent. So fat that his belly had fortunately hid his genitals from sight. Still, fat and saggy, with liver spots and what looked like a particularly nasty skin condition was more than enough.

‘Agent,’ he spoke with an impeccable RP accent. It was like we’d been transported into a Pathe news reel. His voice was smooth, like velvety chocolate. I don’t know why I even thought of it like that, but it was the first thing which sprang to mind. Putting aside my first impressions, I realised that he would have slain the ladies when he was younger. Probably still did with his fellow oldies.

Ragnhild changed back as well. ‘Apologies for my companion’s rudeness. She’s not as au-fait with Ways of Were. She meant no offence.’

‘Have no fear, sister,’ he said, clasping her hand with both of hers. ‘It is an honour to have a specimen so fine as you visiting us.’

She blushed. He reached over and gently closed my mouth. ‘How can I, or we help?’

‘It’s about the killer. So-called normal members of the Magical Community are blaming both Shifter and Were alike. I’m hoping that you and yours will be able to help us,’ I said.

‘What’s it in for us?’

‘If I complete this Mark, he won’t be on our streets again, which means that your people ...’

‘And yours,’ he interrupted.

‘Of course,’ I bowed my head and carried on as if he hadn’t just interrupted me, ‘and mine won’t have to worry about vigilante gangs.’

‘No more than usual,’ he waved us over to some chairs. ‘Which I agree is better than the current state of affairs. How can we help?’

‘We’re looking for anyone who seems particularly nervous, too interested in the case. And anyone who’s dropped out of sight recently. We don’t know if we’re finding all of the victims,’ said Ragnhild.

‘Wouldn’t the Mundane police have reports of missing people?’ he asked.

‘We can’t count on that. You know how some people are about approaching Mundanes for anything,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘Our in-built superiority complex, mixed with the fear of the Mundane’s ability to wage a genocidal war and consequences-be-damned.’

Our history was stained with the blood of Mundanes and the Magical Community. For some reason, Mundanes were far more fertile than us. Probably because we had much longer lifespans. Nature ensuring that we didn’t breed too quickly and fill the planet. Oh, the irony.

‘Here’s my card,’ I handed one over. ‘Please, feel free to spread my details around. We’ll even offer a reward if that will help.’

He held his hand up. ‘No need for rewards. Catching the killer will be reward enough. And you’ll owe us a favour too. Which is far more bankable than mere money.’

Ragnhild laughed, slapping her thigh. ‘Marvellous! Well played Lair Master. Well played. I’ll add my own favour.’

‘One which I accept, with honour,’ he replied. ‘You are always welcome in our lodge, sister.’

‘Before we take our leave and let you get back to your dandelions, is there anyone who springs to mind? Or anyone that’s arrived in the area recently?’

He considered the question for a minute or so, counting off on his fingers, lips moving, face screwing up now and then. ‘No.’

I couldn’t have asked for a more definite answer. There was no equivocation, no sign that he was trying to protect someone, or sandbag me so that he could work what he knew to his advantage.

‘Okay. Thanks for that. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if anything changes.’

‘I will. Pleasure meeting you Agent, you’re everything I heard you to be, and nothing I expected you to be.’

And with that slightly confusing possibly back-handed compliment we took our leave.