After Andy left the club, Peter and Greg waited at the bar for their final witness to arrive. Peter, of course, spent the time putting the palm of his right hand against random surfaces. He went through almost an entire bottle of hand sanitizer in the process.

Most of what he learned was not related whatsoever to the investigation. He did learn a thing or two about Sarah’s less-than-honest business practices, but nothing too egregious. Peter used a bottle of expensive vodka - which his ability informed him had actually been reused, now filled with well vodka - to mix martinis for himself and Greg. Standing behind the bar, Peter looked at the club with new eyes as he tasted his drink. He didn’t need magic powers to know the vodka was not as advertised.

He tried to imagine the club as it might have been on the night Alyson disappeared. His mind provided images and music, neon lights flashing in time with the heavy bass. Fresh sweat overpowering the scent of stale sweat. A DJ in the booth probably wearing oversized headphones. The bar crowded with sweaty people, each jockeying for position. Drinks lining the counter, not in hands and not being watched. A man could walk right up unnoticed without great effort, Peter reasoned. Drop in a little pill, and then wait. But where might he have waited?

As Peter’s mind worked through the imaginary people moving in groups, dancing, laughing, and drinking, he realized that he could have waited anywhere. Anywhere at all and nobody would even think twice about him. Each focused on their own agendas, be it women dancing with their friends and trying to avoid creeps or men working their game in hopes of taking someone home with them, nobody would pay attention to a quiet individual just sitting quietly at the bar. Peter downed the rest of his drink, chewing thoughtfully on the green olive.

“We need to talk to Alyson’s friends again,” Peter said, eyeing his empty glass. He reminded himself that he probably shouldn’t have too much. They did need to drive home after these interviews.

Greg slid his empty glass across the counter and Peter mixed him another martini. One more couldn’t hurt, he thought to himself. He poured and mixed them each another drink.

“They weren’t that helpful before,” Greg said, swirling his martini. “What makes you think we’ll get more out of them now?”

“That was before we knew about neck-tattoo guy.”

The two men looked up when the club’s front door swung open. In walked Sarah, one elbow linked with a woman that looked very similar to the club owner herself - even from a distance and in the low light. In her other hand she carried a bag of groceries.

“Gentlemen,” Sarah said as the two women walked across the dance floor toward the bar. She eyed the bottle on the counter, and then the glasses. Her expression went flat. “Please feel free to have a drink. On me.”

“We’re happy to pay for the drinks,” Peter told her, reaching into his jacket to pull out some cash.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sarah said. She set down her bag, waving her hand like it was to be forgotten. “This is the love of my life, Tina,” she told them, gesturing to the other woman. “Tina, these are the guys I told you about. She was here on Monday, too. I didn’t put her on the list.”

Peter eagerly reached a hand over the bar. “I’m Peter.”

Tina, who could easily be mistaken for Sarah’s sister and not her partner, reached out and squeezed Peter’s hand gently.

Name: Martina Appel

Race: Demon - Succubus (31%); Human (69%)

Age: 21

Power Level: 2

Fun Fact(s):

1. Tina was a menace on the basketball court and was banned from highschool sports due to repeated incidents involving injuries to opposing players.

1. Most of the injuries were accidental.

1. Tina is really hoping to receive an acceptance letter from Caltech in the mail this week.

2. She equally hopes that Sarah won’t get upset when she picks up and moves to California if and when that letter does arrive.

3. Spoiler alert: Sarah will get upset.

Peter held in a snort at that. His ability, inconsistent and often sardonic, remained an ever-shifting mystery. Where the information came from and for what reason specific tidbits were fed to Peter, he could only guess. It was starting to feel intentional. Purposeful even. Not always, of course. Sometimes the fun facts he was provided were things he could discern with his eyes and deductive reasoning but, at times like this, Peter couldn’t help wondering if there was an intelligence of some kind guiding his ability. Or maybe guiding Peter himself, by proxy.

“Did either of you see a guy with an orange neck tattoo?” Greg asked, skipping his own introduction and getting right to the point.

“Tyler?” Tina asked, head tilting. “Tall guy, skinny, has a phoenix tattoo on his neck?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You know him?”

“He’s a creep,” Sarah told them. She plucked the bottle in front of Peter off of the bar and pulled a sip straight from it. “Ahck,” she said, slapping her lips together distastefully. “That’s the well vodka.”

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“I wouldn’t say we know him,” Tina said as Sarah made her way behind the bar. “I’ve seen him here a few times before. I only know his name because he took a swing at me last Friday.”

“He what now?” Sarah asked dangerously, stopping her search for better vodka to look up sharply at Tina.

Tina stuck out her chest, posturing like an over-confident alpha male type as she approached the bar. She leaned on the counter with one hand, hips thrust out obscenely.

“Hey baby. What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?” she asked with a deep manly voice. The question was directed at an invisible woman sitting on a stool at the bar. Were there actually someone sitting there, she would be practically on top of them.

Moving quickly, Tina resumed her normal posture and sat on the stool where the imaginary woman had been during her pickup attempt. She shrunk back, expression disgusted. “Fuck off, guy.”

Again she stood, hips thrust out, shoulders back as she leaned on the counter. “Come on, baby. Let me show you what a good time with a real man is like.”

Sarah’s anger turned to disbelief and disgust. “He didn’t actually say that. Tell me he didn’t say that.”

Tina nodded, lips pressed together and brows raised. “He did. I threw up a little.”

“So cringe,” Peter whispered in disbelief, one hand covering his mouth.

It occurred to Peter Mayhew then that, the same night this Tyler guy took Alyson, he’d come onto another part-succubus in Tina. The odds of that being a coincidence had to be astronomically low, didn’t they? He must have been targeting them specifically. Though, unless he had an ability like Peter’s, he didn’t know how Tyler could have identified them as succubuses.

“We’re pretty sure he drugged Alyson,” Greg said.

Both women looked at him sharply, eyes narrowed.

“We’re pretty sure he drugged somebody,” Peter amended. “Probably Alyson, but we can’t be certain of anything just yet.”

“Any idea how we might find him?” Greg asked.

Tina shook her head. Sarah, fuming, opened the right bottle of vodka and poured four shots.

“If he shows up here again,” Sarah said, “I’ll kill him. Case closed.”

Peter knew beyond any doubt that she meant that literally. A creep like this Tyler guy should be in prison, if what they’d heard about him today was true. Peter’s moral compass said the man deserved far worse than a prison cell. A quandary concerning what level of shit-baggery was required for Greg to consider a non-human to be a monster that needed to be put down entered Peter’s mind. He’d thought about that a lot as this investigation continued, but hadn’t brought the subject up yet. Now wasn’t the time to do so either but he would have to ask the big man later.

Peter was about to plead with Sarah to not kill the man. He could be responsible for Alyson’s disappearance, but Peter was becoming more and more certain with each new puzzle piece that something much bigger than a single kidnapping was going on. If Sarah killed Tyler they wouldn’t be able to ask him questions. Thankfully, it appeared that Greg felt the same way.

“I’ll do worse,” the big man said menacingly, a twisted smile on his face. “If he does show up, call me. Then keep him here somehow until we show up.”

“Worse?” Tina asked, head tilted. “I mean, he deserves it. All of it. No doubt. But what’s worse?”

“If you had to choose between death and living the rest of your life cockless, crippled, and with every bone in your hands mangled to the point of uselessness,” Greg said, accepting the shot Sarah offered him with a dip of his stubbled chin, “what would you choose?”

“Ooo,” Tina purred with amusement. “Sarah, I like your new friends. Can we keep them?”

The deal was struck and sealed with a shot of expensive vodka that left Peter starting to feel a little buzzed. He was impressed with Greg. Surprised and impressed. Greg was great when it came to hurting, killing, violence of any kind - of course he was. The best. Convincing people with words, at least in Peter’s dealings with the man, was not his strong suit.

“Oh,” Peter said. “I almost forgot. The night Alyson was taken, did you have a new bouncer working?”

“Kevin,” she said, frowning. “I hired him a couple days before. He showed up for his first shift then disappeared half-way through it. Haven’t heard from him since.”

Peter matched her frown as he considered what implications that bit of information may or may not hold. “Same night?”

“Mhmm,” Sarah mhmm’d thoughtfully. “I didn’t think much about it. Figured that was just his childish way of quitting. I got some hard lives-at-home-in-his 30s vibes from Kevin.”

“We’ll need his address,” Greg said. “Won’t do anything painful to him. Probably. Just ask a few questions.”

Sarah shrugged. “I’ve got his new hire paperwork. Remind me to give it to you before you take off. You think he’s involved?”

“Pretty big coincidence if not,” Peter said. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the time. The final witness they were expecting was supposed to be here a half-hour ago. He excused himself to step away and give the man a call.

Back in Sarah’s office, Peter left a voicemail. “Timothy, this is Peter. Peter Mayhew. We’d planned to meet at Club de Tac, just wondering if you’re running behind. Greg and I will wait here for another 15 minutes or so, then we do have other business to attend to. Give me a call or shoot me a text if you need to reschedule.”

Peter ended the call and walked back to the bar. “I think Timothy is a no show. Left him a voicemail saying we’d hang out for another 15 minutes.”

“Shot?” Tina asked, looking at Peter. She turned to Sarah. “Shot?” And then to Greg. “Shot?”

Peter laughed nervously. Greg grunted his agreement. Sarah poured the shots. It was 45 minutes and 4 shots later when Omacatl padded up to the front door. How she let herself in, Peter didn’t know. She wasn’t an ordinary cat, of course, so he didn’t think much about it. For all he knew, she could open it with telekinesis. Or walk straight through it as though it weren’t there at all. Sarah and Tina, both cat people judging by their reactions, immediately rushed the god cat as she moved gracefully across the dance floor.

Upon seeing the two women approaching, Omacatl postured menacingly. She arched her back, fur standing on end as she walked almost sideways toward them with a threatening hiss. Peter didn’t know whether or not demon hybrids had some kind of preternatural danger sense, but both half-demons took a step back from the tiny creature.

“They’re friends,” Peter told the cat, who looked up at him questioningly. Omacatl projected the feeling of uncertainty into Peter’s mind. Suspicious uncertainty. He sent back calm assurance.

“Andy do anything terrible?” he asked her.

Omacatl flicked her tail. That was a no, but she did project an image into Peter’s mind. It showed Andy approaching what looked like a gated business park of some kind. Peter didn’t recognize the place, but it couldn’t be too far from here considering he walked the whole way in less than an hour. Omacatl returned to the club when Andy passed through the gate. The gate that was manned by armed security guards. Peter didn’t dismiss the guy entirely. How could he based on only an hour’s observation? Still, he wasn’t overly suspicious of the part-fairy.

“Your cat…” Sarah said, her head turning to Peter without her eyes leaving Omacatl.

“She’s a god,” Peter told them casually. He’d been trying to keep his own ability and the true nature of his pets a secret but, as it often did in Peter Mayhew’s case, the alcohol was beginning to loosen his lips.

“A god,” Tina repeated, clearly doubting Peter’s claim.

By way of demonstration, Peter increased Omacatl’s mass to its maximum. Suddenly as large as a bear, Omacatl tilted her head threateningly at the half-demons. She raised a paw, showing off the dagger-like claws tipping it.

“A god,” Tina said, this time nodding rapidly. She turned a pleading look to Peter. “Peter, can I pet your god?”