She-Wolf and Lady NightRaven pulled up to Lawry & Sons Lending and Gold, resting in the shadows of the setting sun.

Lawry & Sons was a wide, squat building, done up in tinted glass and tasteful blacks. The logo “Lawry & Sons: Lending and Gold” was framed in marble and written in gold leaf. The cars parked around the place were nice, but not quite luxurious. High end models that didn’t brag too much, kept clean and shiny. A bell did not ring as She-Wolf and Lady NightRaven stepped inside, because this wasn’t some cheap gas station convenience store, and She-Wolf immediately felt underdressed. Everyone was wearing cleanly pressed black suits, and the air smelled like the tastelessness of quiet air filtration systems. Clerks looked down their noses at She-Wolf, wordlessly asking if she shed. It made She-Wolf’s hairs stand on end, an onslaught of not quite insults.

Lady NightRaven’s face twisted into a snarl, but for an entirely different reason. Night Walker was there. Night Walker, like Lady NightRaven, claimed to be a vampire. She-Wolf didn’t remember how the bad blood, or bad undead ichor as it were, between Lady NightRaven and Night Walker started. Night Walker thought that Lady NightRaven was a poser vampire because of her gothic victorian costume, and Lady NightRaven thought that Night Walker was a poser vampire because of his entirely black, entirely leather costume, and that stupid katana he carried, and those stupid sunglasses he wore. Night Walker thought Lady NightRaven was a poser vampire because she told people she didn’t drink blood or walk in the sunlight, he didn’t either, and Lady NightRaven thought that Night Walker was a poser vampire because he kept trying to answer questions with “profound” poetry, which was awful.

“Please don’t-”

“I need to go take care of something,” Lady NightRaven declared, sneering at Night Walker as she marched after him.

She-Wolf ignored this, and strode up to the receptionist, “Excuse me,” She-Wolf said, “I have a scheduled meeting with Jonathan Lawry.”

“Of course miss,” the receptionist said, her voice overly sweet for She-Wolf’s ears, “The door at the end of the hall on the left, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” She-Wolf said.

Jonathan Lawry was a stern, gaunt looking man. His office was softly lit and well decorated, bookshelves filled behind him, a fish tank set off to one side and filled exotic, colorful fish, red carpets, mahogany furniture, and the faintest smell of brandy.

“She-Wolf,” Mr. Lawry said, extending a hand from across his desk.

“Mr. Lawry, sir,” She-Wolf said, giving him a firm shake.

“I heard you were interested in gold?” Mr. Lawry asked, “It is a fine time to buy, but unfortunately I must say that if you’re hoping to sell we may not be able to accommodate you.”

“Actually, that’s what I was here about,” She-Wolf said, “I’m a private investigator-”

“I’m well aware,” Mr. Lawry said.

“And I’ve been trying to track down some stranger supers,” She-Wolf finished, “I suspect they may be the source of your recent downturn.”

“Explain,” Mr. Lawry said.

“A group of super powered individuals of unknown origin,” She-Wolf said, “The biggest lead I currently have is that they pay, exclusively, in gold.”

“She-Wolf, for the past week I have been receiving countless requests to sell gold,” Mr. Lawry said, “I’m well aware of the people you seek. I would not be able to give you a detailed list of what they bought with their gold, but if you’ll follow me there’s something I want to show you.”

Mr. Lawry strode over to a wall, gently pressed down against a wood panel that sprung open to reveal a keypad. Mr. Lawry waited for She-Wolf to look away, which she did with a huff, before entering a code so long that She-Wolf started tapping her foot on the floor.

“Security is important these days,” Mr. Lawry said, gesturing for She-Wolf to enter the hidden room, “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, Mr. Lawry,” She-Wolf said.

The room was a safe, built into the building. Gold ingots were stacked up on shelves, gold coins resting in felt lined boxes with more piled in metal shelves.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” She-Wolf asked, “You weren’t planning on trapping me in here, were you?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Mr. Lawry said, waving her over to the gold coins, “These coins here, I believe they are what your targets use to pay for various goods. They don’t come from any nation I know of, but the details and repetition tell me they aren’t custom work. Nobody would have time for it.”

“You’d be surprised,” She-Wolf said.

“Perhaps,” Mr. Lawry said, “If you’d fetch those two gold bars there. Lay them here and here.”

“What is this?” She-Wolf asked, “Someone could make a custom press for the gold coins. Any idea what the faces mean?”

“No,” Mr. Lawry said, “But this should interest you.”

Mr. Lawry dimmed the lights in the safe, and it took She-Wolf a moment to realize what she was looking at. The gold Mr. Lawry pointed at shimmered and gleamed unnaturally in low light. It was gold that looked so much like gold that it made the rest of the gold look like cheap imitation.

“This ingot here is a recent purchase Lawry and Sons have made, the one next to it is something I’ve been holding onto for quite some time. I had a small handle of coins tested and weighed,” Mr. Lawry said, “Their weight and molecular composition is identical to gold.”

“But it-” She-Wolf said.

“I know,” Mr. Lawry said, “I’ve taken to calling it ‘Dragon’s Gold’.”

“Dragon’s Gold?” She-Wolf asked.

“For the unnatural shine and luster,” Mr. Lawry explained, “And I am quite certain people would kill for it.”

“I could take a sample,” She-Wolf suggested, “I have a few people who can make sure it’s not cursed pirate gold or something.”

“Very well,” Mr. Lawry said, passing She-Wolf a single gold coin. The werewolf weighed it in her palm before reaching for a regular coin with a “you mind?” Mr. Lawry nodded, and She-Wolf tested the weight of the regular coin in her hand.

“It feels- not heavier,” She-Wolf commented, “Just more, what’s the word, certain. I hope this doesn’t have mind affecting properties.”

“And why is that?” Mr. Lawry asked.

“Because I’m going to hold onto it, at least for a while,” She-Wolf explained, “By the way, would you be able to point me towards the people who sold gold to you?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Lawry said, “We take client confidentiality very seriously.”

“And you said gold has been devaluing?” She-Wolf asked.

“Most regrettably, yes,” Mr. Lawry said.

“Alright, well, thank you for your time,” She-Wolf said, pocketing the gold coin, “If there are any negative side effects to your shiny gold, I’ll let you know.”

She-Wolf sauntered out of Lawry & Sons Gold and Lending, smiling as she stepped into the cool night air with just a bit of a stench to it. Just enough to let you know you weren’t in some stuffy, uptight bank that expected you to choke yourself with your own tie. Grinning to herself, She-Wolf pulled up reviews for Lawry & Sons on her phone and scrolled down to the negative reviews. Oh my, would you look at that! So many people were coming into large sums of gold, and Lawry & Sons was turning them down! Those poor, poor souls.

As She-Wolf cross referenced the negative reviews, and a few positive ones, with business addresses, a concerning pattern began to shape. Either they were able to constantly warp around the city, or they had split into two teams. And somehow, somehow, there were no videos or pictures of them. Still.

But soon, She-Wolf would finally catch up to them, and then-

They weren’t cryptids, were they? Because in order for no record of them to exist, She-Wolf figured they either had supernatural luck or just plain couldn’t be recorded. Ehh, She-Wolf thought, maybe they were psychic and just incredibly paranoid? She decided to give her coworker a call.

“Lady NightRaven,” She-Wolf said, “Could you start a suspect list of people with loads of gold?”

“-Me a poser?” the vampire squawked, “You wear all black leather! And your stupid sword! And your stupid sunglasses!”

“You don’t even drink blood!” Night Walker barked, “You call yourself a vampire, and you don’t even drink blood!”

“You don’t even drink blood,” Lady NightRaven retorted, “Neither of us drink blood-”

“No! No. I- I tell people I don’t drink blood! About the strength it takes to resist The Thirst!” Night Walker said, “You just don’t go out in the sun and never sleep!”

“Oh, wow, you don’t commit crimes against humanity,” Lady NightRaven said with feigned joy, “I’m so impressed. That’s so impressive, not drinking blood. Incredible.”

“Lady NightRaven,” She-Wolf said, glaring down at her phone.

“Your dress is a-”

She-Wolf hung up. She-Wolf let out a slow, calming breath. Breathe in, breathe out. She-Wolf made a point of not slamming the door as she stepped out of the car, and started grinding bits of gravel into dust in her hand as she walked back into Lawry & Sons.

The rising cacophony of Lady NightRaven and Night Walker’s shouting match could be heard from the lobby. As She-Wolf looked about the place, a clerk directed her towards the arguing vampires.

“Lady NightRaven,” She-Wolf hissed, stomping over to the vampires, “What are you doing?”

Lady NightRaven was fuming as she glared down at Night Walker.

“She’s feeling my wrath,” Night Walker said, typing away on his phone, “Can you feel it? My precise, vengeful wrath?”

“Lady NightRaven, what are you doing?” She-Wolf repeated, “I made a breakthrough on the case, and what did you accomplish? You spat and squealed with someone who isn’t worth your time. You hated Night Walker yesterday. You hate Night Walker today. If you keep hating Night Walker tomorrow, then one day you’ll wake up hating Night Walker for no reason other than it’s habitual. Is that what you want? A constant, burning hate, that’s only there because it was there before? Do you even remember why you started hating Night Walker?”

Night Walker and Lady NightRaven gave She-Wolf a long, hard look.

“He used to be a surgeon at the hospital that treated me when I contracted vampirism,” Lady NightRaven said, “He, and the public in general, blamed me when he grew fangs. He lost his job-”

“And I blamed you for it,” Night Walker added, still typing on his phone, “I had a good job, and I worked hard to get that job. I didn’t even operate on you.”

“Then, in an act of revenge,” Lady NightRaven said, “He lured me out into the woods when I first started out as a superheroine and ran me over with his car. I had to dig a hole with one hand while my body knitted itself back together.”

“Then, you stole my look,” Night Walker said.

“You stole my look!” Lady NightRaven said.

“You stole my name!” Night Walker said.

“I’d never call myself Night Walker!” Lady NightRaven said, “Do you even know what that is?”

“You’re thinking of Street Walker,” Night Walker said, “Which would suit you. Because then you-”

“Enough!” She-Wolf barked, “I get it, your hate is deep seated. What are you doing now?”

“Getting my revenge,” Night Walker said, still typing on his phone.

“He’s writing an erotic romance novel,” Lady NightRaven said.

“So?” She-Wolf asked.

“It stars us,” Lady NightRaven grumbled.

“Oh- come on!” She-Wolf cried, “We already deal with that all the time!”

“And the media will eat us alive if we call him out on it,” Lady NightRaven said, grinding her teeth, “Bloody circus.”

“Raven, head back to the car,” She-Wolf demanded, “I’ll handle this.”

“And what are you going to do?” Night Walker asked, eyeing Lady NightRaven as she left, “A diplomatic solution? Treat me with respect? Reach a common middle ground? My cold heart feeds on darkness, my hatred keeps it pumping.”

“So, first off,” She-Wolf said, pulling up a chair, “If that’s true, I suggest you seek immediate professional help. Secondly,” She-Wolf said, a growl edging into her voice, “Why are you doing this?”

“Officially? I was hired as a security measure against the kinds of things mortals can’t handle,” Night Walker said, “This was just a simple coincidence, a happenstance encounter, nothing more.”

“I meant why are you writing smut of me?” She-Wolf demanded.

“Okay, it’s not smut, it’s romance,” Night Walker said, “The pulse of two hearts that leads to a budding relationship, personal growth, and heart to heart conversations, not mere carnal indulgence! Although, I suppose that Raven’s heart doesn’t beat, so it’s the pulse of one heart. Eh.”

She-Wolf scowled down at Night Walker.

“Look, I just like writing, it’s a hobby.” Night Walker admitted, “Once I started writing about Raven, my muses sang to me.”

“Listen, and listen close.” She-Wolf leaned in to whisper. “I am allowing you to use my likeness in whatever shlock you’re writing-”

“Really?” Night Walker asked, taken aback, “I’d heard rumors, but I never thought-”

“If, and only if, you pay me eighty percent of the gross profit you earn from selling that,” She-Wolf finished, “If I do not receive my share, I will sink us both.”

“That doesn’t leave a whole lot for me,” Night Walker said.

“Exactly,” She-Wolf said, “Either I win because you write your trash, or I win because you don’t.”

“You’d destroy your career,” Night Walker said, “Over fan fiction.”

“I would, in fact,” She-Wolf said, pulling out her phone and showing Night Walker the screen, “I’d destroy your career. Eighty percent, and I don’t want to ever read, or hear, or touch, or smell your stupid book ever again.”

Night Walker looked at the phone. The mic was on, and judging by how long it had been recording for, She-Wolf had the entire conversation on tape.

“Hmm,” Night Walker said, looking back to his phone, “Eighty percent it is.”