As soon as the page opened the door to Marnoch’s chambers I pushed her aside and blasted the room with a Tornado Spell. Everything not nailed down was blown through the air, valuable ornaments shattering.

Marnoch squawked, raising her own Shield as furniture flew towards her. Cutting the Spell, I picked up a chair and set it upright before sitting down. Smoothing my cargos, I tried to calm down somewhat. Marnoch was powerful, and I didn't want to get into a shooting match with her whilst we were still inside a castle manned by her army.

What didn't help was the fact that we'd just killed three Were, three important Were if I was thinking right. I'd have bet on them hunting us right now. Not all Were are hunters, or capable of following scents, but there were enough Were who were predators in the UnderCity to hunt us down.

‘Hi, we’re back,’ I said, crossing my legs. ‘Ran the lead down. It was a dead end.’

'That was rude,' Marnoch said, tone cold enough to free ice cream. 'I don't like rude people.'

Her visible hand twitched like a gunslinger’s. She wanted to Pull, I could tell. My mouth turned dry.

'Tough,' said Dawn before I could reply, 'if you don't like people being rude, don't turn them into personal assassins. Tends to make enemies of them.'

'Oh ho, the pet is yapping. How sweet. Talk again, and I'll have your tongue,' snapped Marnoch.

'Please, don't ever threaten an Apprentice Agent again. It's not a good idea, as they tend to graduate to being full Agents. And full Agents, like me, have the full backing of the Merlins. And, like me, she bears grudges,' I said, now that I felt slightly calmer. My anger had changed from boiling rage, to a ‘I'm going to fuck you up in the future’-type cold anger. She was, in the words of my amazing Indian grandmother, ‘utterly fucked’.

'What are the Merlins going to do?' scoffed Marnoch, holding both hands before her face as if she was shocked. 'You really think that they can come down here and make any sort of difference?'

'They can make a difference to you, Marnoch,' I said, pointing at her, 'a very big difference. Bear that in mind next time you even think about doing something like this again.'

'Oh, I will. I was impressed at how well you handled them. My people have been struggling to bring those three down for a couple of weeks now. Lost a lot of good people.' The bitch actually smiled as she spoke, as if she was proud of us.

'I think that it's best we leave, Dawn,' I said, standing slowly so as to not appear to be too threatening. She'd had one hand behind her back the entire time we'd been speaking, and I knew it wasn't because she'd hurt it. Whatever she had there was something that I didn't want to scare her into using. Not right now at least.

'My Page will guide you out. Wouldn't want any misunderstandings as my people are very loyal to me. Love me, even.'

Yeah, I bet you’re a right Charmer, I thought.

'Thank, you. See you soon,' I said, walking backwards until I felt the door behind me. I wasn't going to wait for the Page to open the door. As soon as I found the handle, I opened the door and stepped through, still not taking my eyes off her. Dawn mirrored me, keeping my line of sight clear for as long possible before stepping into the opening. As soon as she entered Marnoch’ s line of sight, I activated my Shield, then placed my hand on her shoulder until she was clear of the door.

Footsteps behind us signalled the arrival of the Page. I pulled Dawn through the door, 'Close it, now.'

As soon as she'd closed it, we turned to the Page with a smile, and I deactivated my Shield. Gesturing with my hand, I let the Page lead us out of the Castle.

*

'Jane, Dawn. Good to see you survived,' said Marcus as he welcomed us into his house, 'any interesting leads?'

'None I'm afraid. We met the new Sherriff, Marnoch. She was especially happy to see us. So happy in fact that she used us to kill some of her political opponents. Told us they were viable suspects. I specifically told her that we were looking for predators. She gave us two names of Were in the remains of the Were district.'

Dawn picked up the story as I took a sip from the coffee that Marcus had just passed over. I’d have preferred tea, but he’d already made the coffee.

'One of whom was a bloody Werechimp. We killed him and three others. When we confronted her, she laughed, said the Merlins could go fuck themselves. Ta,' she too took a cup from Marcus.

'Marnoch will be getting a visit in the future. She's too powerful right now. Too paranoid as well. We need to let her get settled in before we properly visit. Unfortunately, whilst you were down there, a Shifter was killed. No ID as yet,' he said. I caught a catch in the tone of his voice.

'But they weren't killed by our Mark?'

'No. Poor sod was kicked to death. It was made to look as if Mundanes did it, but from what we could tell the victim was hit with a Stun bolt, then killed as he lay helpless on the ground.'

'Fucking hell. Suspects?' I asked, feeling sick to the pit of my stomach.

'The entire damned Magical community. People have been panicking since the killings, especially since Dunn was killed on the Cathedral Yard.'

'So, they're blaming Shifters?' asked Dawn. 'We haven't even released details of that kind. The Mundane coppers are saying it's a man and his exotic pet.'

'Even those with the lowest IQ have been able to put two and two together to equal five. They bloody know it's not a Mundane doing this. No Mundane would ever be able to kill a Merlin like that. A stabbing, or an ambush killing maybe, but there's no way that a Mundane and their pet, no matter how exotic could do this to a Merlin.'

'So now we've got vigilantes wandering the streets and attacking innocent people?' asked Dawn.

'Yes. We've got our police looking for them. They'll be low-level Magical, I can't imagine it being a Merlin. Not giving someone a shoeing.'

In my humble opinion, Magicians relied far too much on Magic. They always seemed to be surprised when someone resorted to good old kinetic violence. A well planted kick in the knackers would take anyone’s mind off Casting a spell if they weren’t used to such things.

It was the sort of thing that pissed me off about Harry Potter. The teachers were all aobut teaching Defence against the Dark Arts, but they never taught the kids how to actually retain their wands should shit get serious. Which was why Dawn and I trained so hard in the physical arts.

'Nothing to say that there won't be an upstanding member of the Merlins giving the orders though,' I said. 'Jesus, this is a right fucking mess.'

'Indeed. Makes your role a little more difficult,' said Marcus passing round a plate of biscuits. ‘Please don’t blaspheme. I am a member of a Holy Order.’

I shrugged an apology. He might have followed a patron saint, but I wasn’t a believer, and my ancestors most certainly weren’t. Magic and religion always had a bit of a confused history. Some even thought that early Magic users had passed off Spells and such like as miracles in order to not have been killed outright by the Mundanes.

'Not like it was bloody easy in the first place. Everyone hates Agents. They dislike Shifters that aren't from a Merlin family, and it doesn't help that I like ladies.'

'Twats,' muttered Dawn.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

'Yes, well, no accounting for people's prejudices,' said Marcus, turning as his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Mine did a second later, as did Dawn's. ‘Looks like this situation is going to have to wait. We have our own priorities. The real killer has struck again.’

*

'Christ, look at that,' said Dawn. That, specifically, was a tent erected in the middle of a playground in the Heavitree district of Exeter. It was half-way up a hill, beneath it was a paddling pool, the water turned red by the stream of blood running down from the tent. A line of police was slowly making its way across the playground, carrying out a fingertip search. It wouldn't do much good, since our Mark wasn't using a weapon, and the forensic scientists would never be able to identify a Were hair. Not as a Were that is.

'Challacombe's waving for us,' said Dawn pointing over to where he stood, 'I'm surprised they're still letting us assist on this case. it's not as if we're offering them anything.'

'Not true,' said Marcus, 'I've filed several zoological reports. Hair analysis, claw patterns, bite power. Everything and anything we can do to confuse the matter further.'

'We're going to have to bring him in at some point you know,' I said as we were waved under the police tape. There was a specially marked path for us to follow which led to where Challacombe was stood waiting.

'Let's just wait until we absolutely have no choice, you know how much paperwork that kind of thing involves. And if he's unable to cope with reality, wiping his memory is going to have a major impact on his home and professional life.'

I nodded. Some Mundanes were over the moon when the Trust was finally revealed to them. Most had suffered for years, noticing things were different, picking up on aspects of life which were inexplicable. They'd thought they were going mad, or that they were the victims of some government conspiracy - technically true - and were only too happy to find out.

Others couldn't cope. It was too much. Too frightening to learn that every single horror story, all the tales written by the Brothers Grimm, every single urban legend was true. That nightmares did indeed walk the streets. So, we wiped their memories.

We tried to be as careful as we could to preserve the person they had been, but it was difficult. All too often the procedure resulted in too much being lost. They were the ones you found muttering to themselves under the bridges, drinking and taking drugs to get rid of the memories they still had, and to capture the memories they’d lost, but only remembering nightmares. I didn't want to see that happen to Challacombe.

'Dominick, very good to see you,' said Marcus shaking Challacombe's hand.

Dominick? mouthed Dawn. I was surprised to hear Marcus call Challacombe by his first name, and to see how friendly they appeared to be. I shrugged and gave her an eye roll. Marcus had a knack of expanding his network of contacts with consummate ease. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he and Challacombe were members of the same club.

'Thank you for coming out. It's the same thing. They've given up with arranging the body, much like we expected. That was never part of the modus operandi. It was staging. Crude staging at that. After the second killing our behavioural specialist had put it onto the back burner. The third victim confirmed it, they've taken less effort to stage than the time before. This one well, you'll see for yourself once you've got your coveralls on.'

'Still using an animal?' I asked as I donned the paper suit he handed me.

'Yes. Although with this one it's hard to tell whether the victim was killed by the creature or not.'

'What's different?' asked Dawn.

'Skull was caved in. That's why we've got a fingertip search going on in the playground. If we don't find anything there, we'll be searching the whole park. It's going to cost a fortune in overtime payments.'

As soon as we were properly suited, he led us into the tent. This time it was hard to tell that the victim had ever been a human. I could see nothing I recognised.

'Did they ..' Dawn paused, 'did they explode?'

'Rather looks like it doesn't it?' said Challacombe. 'My initial impression is that the victim was killed quickly. Had to have been. No doubt you saw just how close the housing is? Lot of kids hang around here as well, just mooching about. We've got uniformed officers door knocking, but I doubt that anyone would have heard a thing. One or two hard blows that rendered them incapable of calling out, and then they tore the victim into pieces.'

I felt absolutely no need to go any further into the tent. My nostrils were full of the stench of blood and human remains. Yet again I'd exposed myself to something I knew would come back to haunt me.

Maybe I should try wiping my memory, just start again, I thought.

'Any paw prints?' I asked.

'None that we can find. The grass has been well and truly flattened down. There are claw marks on the climbing frame, and there's even blood up on the frame as well, about seven feet up. It doesn't look like splatter so we're hoping that it either came from the victim, or the killer. Either way, we might be able to get a print. Maybe,' said Challacombe, not sounding at all hopeful.

'Thank you. I don't think that there's any point in us attending any further murder sites,' said a distinctly choked-sounding Marcus. 'Just send us any casts if you manage to find any prints. Hairs et cetera. We'll do our analysis and send you any findings.'

'Appreciated,' said Challacombe, opening the tent and letting some much-welcomed fresh air in. We said our goodbyes, stripped off the suits and then walked back down to the tape.

'I need a drink,' said Dawn once we were out of the playground.

Glancing at my phone, I saw it was eight o'clock. The nights were drawing in with winter coming, and the air was chill. 'Late enough, or early enough I reckon. Marcus, coming?'

'No, thank you for the kind offer. You ladies go ahead. I hear they've got some new cocktails at Dr. Ink's.'

'Oh great, I bloody love Dr. Ink's!' said Dawn, grabbing hold of my arm. 'Come on boss, not like you to be backward in coming forward when it comes to drinks.

*

Our new favourite watering hole, Dr. Ink's, was less than quarter of the size of the Book Cover as was. Mrs. Lebowski had tired of seeing her bar getting smashed up, and she'd made enemies of the Fae due to helping us keep the Hell Hound down. She and her father had also had some form of reconciliation which - from the look of it - had seen a rapid change in ownership and re-branding to the First Edition, and shortly after that it had become some sort of a Rugby bar. Crying shame. She'd actually sold it to a Mundane, and so Dr. Ink's had become the watering hole of choice for the Magical community.

It was the same deal as the Book Cover, only Dr. Ink's had a lot more pocket universes than the Book Cover. Dave Crowe was the owner. Young - mid-20s - and a fifth son from a fairly powerful Merlin family. He'd acquired Dr. Ink's from its Mundane owner the very day it was announced that the Book Cover was changing hands. I’d had my suspicions that Crowe wasn't necessarily on the straight and narrow and had added him to my Black Book of Bad. Definitely one to keep an eye on. And what better way to keep an eye on him than to frequent his bar as often as possible?

Only this evening we felt less than welcome. It had started with the bar staff in the Mundane section. As usual it was rammed with Mundanes getting royally sozzled, and it took a while for us to catch the eye of the barmaid.

I hadn't seen her before, Dr Ink's tended to have a lot of staff on rotation between the pocket universes. There were twenty that we knew of, and rumour had it that there were far more for those who could afford to know. We could afford to know, but I wasn't going to splash out hard-earned cash on exclusivity when I could just make my way through the other twenty or so bars. Each one had its own theme, drinks list, even menu and that was more than enough for me.

She was in her mid-20's as well and was stunning. Short brown hair, one side shaved whilst the other side hung down to her jawline. A small nose piercing, glyph tattoo on one well-defined cheekbone and sparkling green eyes. Definitely my type.

'I'll have a Crowe Special, with a twist,' I said in a low voice, leaning forward so that she could hear over the hubbub. This was the one downside of the bar. Unlike the Book Cover there was no password system, and so things were slightly trickier when it came to getting to where you actually wanted to be.

'We going to have any trouble?' she asked, eyes narrowed.

'Um, no?' I said, bemused as to why she would even ask such a thing.

'Good, but just in case, Jake's going to be watching over you both,' she said, looking over my shoulder. Turning, I was surprised to see a man who couldn't have been shorter than seven feet standing behind us. Flicking on my Sight I gasped I as I realised he was an Orc, Glamoured. A beautiful specimen. His skin was Royal Navy blue, every single muscle standing out in perfect definition. Grinning, he bared his canines. Jewels sparkled on both top ones, signs of the kills that he had made. There were a lot.

'Thanks, I think,' I said as I turned back to her, 'but we don't need a bodyguard.'

'Well, let's not be too hasty there boss,' said Dawn. She was practically drooling. The Glamour that was disguising the orc made him look like a Viking. I was more of a Lagertha-kind of girl, but Dawn was unapologetically straight.

Be still my aching heart, I thought. I still loved her, but the passion I’d had had faded over the months since I'd first taken her on as my Apprentice. It was impossible to keep a love like that burning when the person you loved didn’t - and never would - reciprocate. Sure, she loved me, but only as a close friend and mentor. She would never love me the way I needed, however. Sometimes it would hurt, especially when she had a fling which looked as though it might be serious, but overall, it was now just a twinge.

'Sight,' I said, nudging her hard in the ribs.

'Ooof ... what ... oh, shit,' I laughed at how crestfallen she looked.

'He's not here to guard you. We don't want your type making trouble. He's here to make sure you don't,' said the girl. On second thoughts, that glyph made her look like a chav, and her roots didn't match her hair colour. Bitch.

'You know what, I don't think we'll be drinking here tonight. Jake, lovely to meet you, but if I had teeth like yours, they'd all have gems, and you'd be bearing my quaich.'

Jake stiffened, I'd basically said that I could kick his arse anytime, and that he'd be my bitch. Which was all true. I didn't care how muscly or well-trained he was. Just by looking I could see that he had a dodgy shoulder, favoured his right knee slightly and was a user of mushrooms. I got that from the smell of his breath and the slight discoloration of his teeth, they weren't dark enough. Orc teeth are black, with white lightning-like forks running through them. Heavy use of mushrooms often saw the teeth start to whiten, since the mushrooms were chewed rather than inhaled or smoked. I'd already run through five fights in my head before he'd even thought about one.

'Anyway, as I was saying, we're off.'