Elves have strange habits.  Their nature turns them compulsive to the point of physical distress.  No two share the exact same problem either.  Oh well.  Everyone has an addiction to something.

There were two at the far end of the bar, made obvious by thinner features, pointed ears, and a gaze that acted like others barely existed.  One was a blonde female with ironed in curls and giant pitch black glasses.  She wore an equally dark hat which extended circularly.

The male was more disheveled.  His suit was halfway tucked in and covered with fresh coffee stains.  Even sullied, those threads were worth more than my entire wardrobe.  He counted out coins from a child's piggy bank while taking up half the counter.  Both elves had almost ground down the bartender's patience.  As it was she could barely stop her eyes from rolling.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Jeff."  The bartender said.

Jeff was a new name for an old haunt.  False names would help keep me unnoticed.  Letting people know Jay Fields was back in town would surely bring unwanted attention.  I had been in lots altercations during my lifetime.  Of course the word altercations equated to punching people in the vitals.  Repeatedly.

A guy has to have a hobby.

"No rush, Julianne."  I answered while saluting her suffering with a raised shot glass.  Tasty caramel and cinnamon trickled down my throat bringing calmness to the late evening.

Drinking was glorious after my self imposed banishment from this bar.  Four years had passed since I sat here.  Those travels had ended less than a month ago.  Julianne turned up the next morning demanding two things.  A hug, and rent money.  She owned the bar outright and spent her nights behind the counter serving drinks to poor saps like me.  The apartment complex next door was also hers.

Tonight's amusement, the male elf, had lost count again and started over with his pile of change.  He had been trying to pay off some of his tab before Julianne would serve the sap another glass.

Elven addicts often got silly ideas in their heads.  This particular elf looked to be addicted to a beer that only Julianne could serve him.  For her, it meant revenue.  The fact that he had a change jar out in desperation meant that his family didn't know about his habit, or didn't support it.  Or part of his ritual was to steal the money from a kid's piggy bank.

"No, no, no, not again."  He was muttering while shakily moving coins back and forth.

Elves have a hard time focusing when the withdrawals hit.  This sap was one step away from throwing chairs.  If he turned violent I would do something.  Such as hitting him with a bottle.  Repeatedly.  Following that would be another name change and laughing.

"Look, leave that on the counter, I'll sort it out."  Julianne and the elf were both increasingly frustrated.

"Would you, please?"  He sounded desperate and groggy.

"Sure.  I'll serve it just the way you like it, but next time, you're settling the bill with something bigger than coins."

"I can do that."  He took a breath to steady himself.  Julianne tactfully lifted a painted eyebrow.  "I will pay you with something more than a piggy bank."

Julianne didn't waste any more time talking and poured out a beer.  She placed an olive inside with a little polka dotted umbrella.  For a final touch she threw in three ice cubes with a bit of grape soda.  It looked like something a trucker would drink mixed with a martini.  Their addictions always seemed like strange combinations.  Not just the physical, some craved certain situations, or places, or emotional rushes.  Living with a need to fulfill some ridiculous craving must be hard.

Who was I to judge? I tilted back another shot glass.  Only two more remained untouched on the counter.

Sipping his drink had a near immediate impact on the shaky elf.  The shrewd edge to his narrow features took over and he gave our bar a once over.  Elves became really touchy about their weaknesses.  Instead of panicking I downed the last two shots, hoping I seemed like another drunk.  Mumbling to myself might help sell the act.  Or singing along with the radio.  No, his sober blonde guardian likely had memorized my face.  It wasn't difficult.  Buzzed brown hair, a light tan, brown eyes with just a hint of amber or ruby.  Nothing else about me would stand out except my linebacker size and a nose that had been broken more times than I care to remember.  It never healed right.

While both elves wore clothes that screamed money, she gave off a different vibe.  Watchful, playful, and prone to sudden mood shifts.  Maybe it was the glasses.  It was hard to tell where she was looking with those monster shades.  Or my tipsy mind naturally assumed I was being inspected.  They made their way to the exit, leaving the pile of unsorted coins and a half empty jar behind.  As the blonde one passed by me she lifted the shades for just a moment, displaying a pair of purple and green tattooed eyes.  She stuck her tongue out and flicked it in my direction.  Her exiting stride demanded attention.  I would bet a grand on her addiction relating to bedroom activities.

"So Jeff, rent's past due."  Julianne snuck up on me while swaying hips caused a distraction.  Hopefully I didn't look guilty as my vision swerved back to her.  Small shot glasses clinked together as she cleaned.

"It is."  My unconscious lisp drew out the second word.

"Got my money?"  She asked.  There was a moment where I considered various excuses.  None would go over well.  Julianne disliked people getting between her and money.

"I take it that's a no.  Good."  She said.  Both my eyes crossed in momentary confusion.  Being unable to pay rent was bad, wasn't it?

"Good?"

"Good.  I need a favor instead."

"Hell."  I slid my face down to the counter with a groan.

"Relax, it won't be as bad as last time."

"That's what you said before."  Last time was nearly four years ago.

"Did I?"  She was too cute when she was playing confused.  Damn her tiny self.  I settled for glaring at Julianne with one eye, since my other was pressed shut against the polished top of the bar.

"So about my favor."  Her hands went onto the counter-top.

"How much is it worth?"

"I'll clear part of your tab and a month's rent."  My apartment was fairly cheap.  The small building consisted of three.  Mine had a top floor and a nice basement.  It was cool and dark and quiet, all things perfect.

"Two months."  I raised a finger.

"Two months, two jobs."  She countered and tilted her head.

"You call them jobs like you're paying me."

"More like paying off what you owe."  Which was a fair point.  I did owe, these shots weren't cheap like beer.

"Semantics."  My arm waved in the air while I tried not to slur.

"I'll make the second one an easy one."  Julianne offered.

"How easy?"

"Too easy."  She smiled, showing startlingly white teeth.  Julianne, now that I thought about it, looked a lot like the shot I just drank.  Short, and cinnamon tinted caramel.  Not a single serving woman though, she firmly rejected myself and half the other hopefuls who staggered in over the years.

"Too easy is no thanks, I'll take the first job."

She shuffled around some glasses behind her counter and unlocked a safe located behind the bar.  Seconds later she produced two tiny black velvet bags.

"You sure?  Easy second month's rent."  She lifted the second bag and tilted her head towards it.

I shook my head no and took the first bag.

"Too easy."  I threw the words back at her with a half smirk and went about fondling the bag she handed me.  She grinned back while waiting for me to open the pouch.  I eyed her and tilted the container out over the bar.

A lock of black hair wrapped in a purple ribbon fell out.  A lock that I recognized right away, if not for the color of the ribbon and hair, then for the scent alone.  Crushed peppermint leaves, not sweet like the candy, a bitter smell.

"No."  I pushed it away.

"Come on, Jay, you promised.  It's this or pay up."

"No.  Not doing it.’  My face was still planted on the counter-top and almost eye level with Julianne.  “Not worth it."

"I think it's worth it."  The little Indian girl was pouting with both arms crossed over her chest.  A bell noise from the door signaled more evening guests arriving.

"You sadistic bitch."  I muttered it to myself.  Julianne had already turned away.  She was busy getting ready for more customers.

I closed both eyes and tried to wish the lock of hair away.

That failed.

Julianne glanced my way between filling drinks.  I tried to plead the seventh, which had something to do with being too drunk for decision making.  Unfortunately she didn't buy my inebriated act.  The truth was I didn't have rent money and could use a chunk off of my bar tab, but I wasn't an addict twitching for a fix like the elf was.  I never let myself be driven to an extreme for money.

Making money with my skills was difficult.  Punching people.  Tracking down lost goods.  Getting a newspaper ad would result in uncomfortable questions once the government looked my way.  Questions about a Western passport or something about taxes.  Official licensing and forced government contracts.  Blood draws, DNA tests, none of which were topics I wanted to get into.  My family had never put me in the system.

Julianne offered a means for income, even if I hated the current option.  I waited for her to travel back my way before trying to escape impending doom.

"What was the other job?"

"Defaulted personal loan."  She responded quietly.

That was a not so clever code for someone who didn't pay on Julianne's second business.  Loans which revolved around sports gambling.  It wasn't the money lending that was illegal exactly, it was the methods used when someone slipped on payments.  Four years ago collections had been my job.

"Can I have that instead?"

She just stared at me for a moment and then went back to serving other customers.  I should be happy she gave me the legal job and not a potentially illegal one.

"Fine.  I'll need more drinks first."

Bless her.  Julianne was decent enough to stay quiet while loading up two additional shots.  I had a high tolerance for alcohol and an equally high bar tab.  She grinned from ear to ear in amusement.  My middle finger raised in response once she turned away.

Julianne half turned and I saw her face in the mirror that stretched along the back of the bar.

"Busted."  A patron near me muttered around his glass.  He drank his liquid while I downed both mine.  The burn sent a gasp through me.  

I reached for the locket of hair.  Who it belonged to was obvious.  Hell.  I should have contacted the owner a long time ago.  After all we broke up rather abruptly.  Mostly because she bit me.  The remembrance made me back up a step in my readiness meter.

"Do I have to?"  This situation reduced me to whining.  Julianne came back with a final shot glass.

"Last one."

I didn't even ask what she meant by that.

"Seven, seven drinks to get you to talk to her!  If I didn't know any better I would swear you were a little boy."

Little was a term that rarely applied to me.  My body housed more than my fair share of muscle.  The best part of being this big was the room people gave me at the bar.  Seats on either side stayed empty even when the place was busy.

"Heh, if you're looking for a man I'll offer my services."  My earlier eavesdropper opened his mouth again.  He had a hat on still and a belly that gave up trying decades ago.

"Honey, if I was after a man I would have had him."  Tiny Julianne could have her pick of any drunk in the city, and some part time drunks like myself.

"Sweet little thing like you, bet you could at that."  He responded.

"Flattery will get you nothing but a refill."  Julianne humored him with a smile and slid another drink over before wandering off.

"That'll do just fine."  He responded, hardly noticing the bartender's absence.

Me and the lock of hair stared at each other for a moment.  I had fled from the owner, then once half the Western Sector was between us it seemed safer to just stay gone.  But home was always here, always pulling me back.  I grabbed the hair and looked outside at the setting sun.

"Can I wait until morning?"

"Only if you want her to be mad."  Her being the person this hair belonged to.  "She knows you're back and is expecting some sort of explanation."

"I don't want to talk to her."

"You two were good together."  Julianne’s head rocked back and forth as she spoke.

"Maybe for you."  I responded.  "Why this way?  Why not a phone?"  Or a letter, letters required no actual contact.  Or a telegraph.  Or smoke signals.  Anything that wasn't so personal.

"I don't know.  Either way, do it now or the deal's off.  Easiest money you ever made, for basically a phone call."

"It’s more than a phone call."  My protesting sounded defeated.

What she wanted me to do was natural yet more personal than anyone knew.  Julianne and I had an agreement.  She gave me things to find and bring back, people, objects, and whatever.  I found them and got paid.  People I generally returned, items didn't always find their way back to their owner.  In fact some of my 'unsuccessful' fetches could be found in the apartment I rented from Julianne.

My ability to track usually worked best with something tied to the main object.  For people, hair or nail clippings became fantastic links.  Clothing was more difficult but depended on the style, size, and mostly how attached the person was.  The hair and the ribbon were put together with my needs in mind.  Recently.

Touching the link and changing my point of view was enough.  Viewing the object as mine, completely, with the intensity a two year old  ripping their favorite toy out a parent's hands.  Even if my belief was temporary.  Those two elements would form a connection.  From there I would hunt down the object.  Tracking was easy when someone gave me the item, easier still when I claimed it myself.  Ownership by conquest.

If I completed things fast enough she, the person this hair had come from, might be none the wiser to my actions.  Sunset was soon and I would need to move quick.  Hair itself wasn’t the danger.  Holding it and remembering more than a few nights together, holding her, the moments where I truly believe we had a real chance.  Together.  Us.  Those thoughts were dangerous.  It was very, very easy to think of her in that way, a way that wasn't healthy for my well being.  Thinking of her as...

...Mine

I closed my eyes for a moment and let the connection come.  It had been awhile since I tracked anything.  Each moment a brief capture of feelings.  Connections forming between myself and everything nearby.  Feeling each item's weight, density, pressures, all the sounds passing through them.  Anything that might disturb an object.  All of it serving to outline the world as I passed through.

Eyesight fails.  Touch expands.  Back itches.  Then twitches.  Great limbs reach out.  Feel air pass by.  Swirls and eddies.  The world leans against itself.  Each weight an object.  Each sensation a movement.  A voice.

I always felt an itch on my back while tracking.  As if I was spreading out something other than a set of arms, other than legs.  The sensation felt so commonplace that I put out of my thoughts almost instantly.  Mentally I grabbed onto the cord of energy connecting hair to its owner.  I imagined it as a crimson and purple chain.  It slowly pulsed in time with a heartbeat miles away.  Soon my mind was spiraling across miles at incredible speeds.  A world went by shoving snapshots of sensation into my head.

A world lay below.  Around.   Passes quickly.  Walls denser than air.  Concrete indifferent to the weight pressing down.  Feet press against floors.  Air stirs in response to moving bodies.  Each motion a ripple.

My senses slipped away from the bar towards the north across the city in a dreamlike rush of movement.  Each movement brought a new rush of sensations.  Feelings that brushed against me like I stood in the middle of a whirlwind of feedback.

Sounds assault objects.  Vibrations outline a world.  Conversations dull quick.  Babies cries pierce heavier.  Honks shake metal and flesh.  Pulses jump in reaction.  Living creatures warm the air with each puff.  Bloody cord pulls still further.

The distance felt like more than a day's walk.  Still, it was within my senses upper range of sixty, or so, miles.  Things slowed down as my mind approached one dark mansion in a rich neighborhood.  This was certainly posh compared to what I remembered of her.  Lights were slowly flickering on in conjunction with a sunset in the background.

Mine.  Closer.  Down.  Through sheets of grainy wood.

Traveling through objects is the most disorienting portion of a normal trip.  It feels like moving through panes of flowing water while senses flickered off and on.  The denser the object, the more intense the shock.  But until the link was released it would be difficult to stop drawing closer.

As my senses passed through layers of the building to the core I could feel myself growing both resigned and apprehensive.  The final layer was a dense floorboard.  Passing through this material was akin to a painful belly flop from the high dive.  Hinges could be felt on one side, all the locks on the bottom.  She lay in a dugout area just big enough to house a high quality mattress and ten feet of clearance.  This was a small room designed to be hidden and protected.

No light.  No warmth.  No whisper of air.  Difficult to feel the differences.  Wood to one side.  Fabric surrounds slumbering flesh.  Resisting urge to feel more.

Her black skin melded in with the darkness of the hiding space.  I had practice at finding her.  Here just before nightfall, from this sort of remote viewing, she felt almost peaceful.  Too bad the sun was setting.

I watched her in my intangible form.  Not hard with this many drinks in me.  Her hair was carefully maintained, tonight it was straightened out.  Clothes were tantalizing and failed to cover slender shoulders and legs.  Not an unhealthy anorexia, she had toned muscles across a tall frame.  She dressed in fabric that felt purple, even at night she wore her favorite color.  Purple also carefully wrapped around her wrist in a bow, something that covered an old scar which would never heal.

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Air shakes.  Vibrates me like rock tumbler.  Energy surges through, magnetized, from somewhere else, towards female's body.  Her eyes flutter.  Open.  Unaligned.  Unfocused.  No light.

The tint of her eyes wasn’t tangible.  Her irises should be a deep ruby color, surrounded in a pool of pure white.  If I didn't know who she was, or what she was, I might have guessed her eyes were a dark brown like the rest of her skin.  Her gaze stayed unfocused for only a moment, then locked onto the area where I floated.

Words brush by.  Shudder against walls confines.  Sink in.  Meaning lost at first.  Then vibrations of sound are understood.

"Welcome home, Cat-nip."  The curve of her lips as they moved.  Her words triggered flashbacks of kissing her lips and nuzzling the space between ear and neck.  The memories were intense enough to smell a teasing scent of peppermint.

It was impossible to tell if she was angry or excited, her expressions for both were often the same.  A hungry smile framed exaggerated incisors.  Those very teeth had nearly killed me years ago yet somehow I was conned into looking her up again, like nothing happened.

Distress lanced throughout my body while a panicked heartbeat grew in intensity.  My incorporeal mouth wouldn't move.  Here I was, watching over her like a love struck dope.  What a joke.  No part of me wanted to get sucked back into whatever we had been.  To risk that result again.  She knew I was back and that was enough for Julianne.  Every thought of belonging shattered and I mentally snapped across the distance back to my body.

Senses shatter.  Last glimpse of her face.  Trail a finger down her jawline.  Feel her smile.  Last touch of lips.  I am drawn in even as link falls.  Eyesight returns.

The aftereffects of a return trip were terrible.  I could feel myself winding back onto my frame.  Those extra limbs settled down along my back.  Folding up and under each other.  Tactile senses were on overload giving feedback from everything around me.

Creature down the bar feels cool wetness on calloused hands.  Pool balls slam into each other.  Collisions crack spikes through air.  Heels tap concrete near front door.  Voices chatter, too many voices.  Building walls alive with sound.  Music thumps under everything.  Pulses realign to heavy noise.

"Janne!"  I was angry and using a nickname that would get me punched.  The others in the bar were either too polite to notice, or know better then to make eye contact.

"What,Jay?"  Which was an older name of mine.

"The other one.  Now.  I'll do it."

"Running already?"  She asked.  There was a mocking smile on her face.  Julianne had won whatever battle we were having.

"Hell yes."  My head hurt.

The phone behind the bar started ringing, the number that only those close to Julianne knew.  She eyed it for a moment and then pulled out the other velvet pouch and tossed it at me.  I felt for a moment at what was inside, not a lock of hair certainly.  Round, cylindrical, hard.  A lipstick container?

"You'll be coming back, right?"

I nodded.  It had been bad enough leaving the first time, leaving again would be worse.  Even after four years I never felt like I belonged out there.  Only here was close enough to call home, to call mine.

"Usual percentage of whatever you manage to bring back."

"How much?"  I asked.

"Just over ten."  Thousand, not a huge debt, but enough to make someone's night bad.  Hell.  I really wanted to ensure someone else was having a worse night.

"Done."

My percentage wouldn't cover rent for the extra month she promised.  Julianne had just been trying to sweeten the pot in order to make me contact my almost, but not officially, ex-girlfriend.  Because four years of no interaction hadn't been clear enough.  Vampires, even partial ones, didn't track time the same as normal people.

Waiting around the bar or quibbling over the price of rent was no longer an option.  Distance, quick distance, was required at this stage.  Kahina, my ex, could cover ground a lot faster than I if she felt inclined.  Living with that kind of money meant she could have someone drive her down here first thing.

My surroundings were still overdosing tactical senses with feedback.  Bits of movement here.  People rearranging in seats, sliding coins into a machine.  Beyond that I felt Julianne's words.  "Yeah, he just left."  Controlling my drunken swerve was difficult as I sped for the door.

Kahina would take thirty minutes, if she was serious.  That provided me twenty to get clear.  An unheeded voice nagged at me.  Part of my mind thought that avoidance wasn't an answer, that perhaps we should sit down, say hello, and catch up.  Such a wonderful idea would never occur to sober me.  Maybe with a regular girl I could have done it, but she was far from regular.  Regular girls were human.

The first stop was home.  There was no use hiding where I lived from her, and it was worth the trip.  I wanted a little protection against my ex's anger if things went south.  Getting home required travel through a coded security gate.  Numbers were easy for me.  My door was the third one down.  I opened the front and received a rush of cool air.  The place was a tiny two floor apartment.  Up top was a kitchen and living room that made sparse sound like an overstatement.  There was a couch, workout bench, and a privacy screen that ran along ceiling hooks.  There used to be a grill on the back porch but it had been stolen during my travels.  Eventually I would track it down.  

Near the sliding door that went to the back porch was another cubbyhole that could be mistaken for a closet.  It led downstairs.  I opened this door  just enough to slip into the stairwell.  Opening it too far would knock over a rock set on the top stair.  My simple and hopefully clever trap would let me know if my inner sanctum had been invaded during an absence.  I flicked the light switch on without hesitating and looked at the wall.

There were more than a dozen crosses, horseshoes, carefully pressed clovers.  I even had and rocks with holes worn through the center.  The collection covered any warding charms that superstition might allow.  Each one placed carefully on the wall in a descending pattern to the bottom of the stairs.  Some actually worked.  My favorite was a tiny cross made of pure silver.  Dual function.  Next to that was a set of knuckle covers.  Iron underweight, coated in silver as well.  The metals combined in a slightly mushy exterior when fighting certain races.  Not my most violent tool, but effective, quiet, and legal.  I grabbed both.  Being ready with the right equipment had allowed me to succeed years ago.  Tonight's armaments weren't needed for a reputation.  One was in case my ex managed to find me and was unhappy.  The other in case tonight's job wasn't as easy as I hoped.

Habitually I roamed the entire bottom floor.  Each room got a once over for disturbances.  Nothing felt out of place.  A lot of the items were still in boxes from my four year exodus.  Others were on shelves for display.  Dust and webs piled up in untouched corners.  Everything seemed secure.

Fourteen minutes had passed.  Dawdling now would put me face to face with my greatest worry.  A cab should be available outside Julianne's.  Seven shots meant escaping without a car would be difficult.  I might run into a wall in panic.

Twenty blocks to the east things were looking a bit better.  The cabby hadn't talked beyond asking for a fare.  No rain threatened to ruin the walk.  More importantly, Kahina was no where in sight.  She could have been truly happy to see me, or satisfied that I finally dared to return home.

I had been pacing on the sidewalk since leaving the cab.  Vehicles never sat well with me.  Most of my traveling took place by walking or a bus.  Hell.  Buckling down and keeping busy would serve me well.  Even if the hasty escape required sitting in a car.  Tonight wasn't the best night to try and track someone down.  Panic induced adrenaline couldn't completely cancel out my inebriation.

One hand brought out the small pouch.  The other fidgeted in a jacket pocket with the silver coated knuckles, slipping them off and on again.  I undid the button and pulled out a cheap brass lipstick tube.  Its top popped off easily so I could peer inside.  Rather than the hue of pink or red smear-able paste there was a tiny rolled up picture.

Fine, pictures were usually a better focus than the tube.  Even if it had been used until the lipstick was gone.  Well, both might serve.  A moment of concentration later I felt a pull at my left shoulder.  Not too far away, not too close, it seemed an hour out by foot, which was good.

Eastward I went, wandering the late night with a fuzzy cloud over my vision.  Sobriety should be closer by the time I found whoever it was these items connected to.  In my haste Julianne hadn't gotten a chance to give me the name.   Still, the pouch never lied.

Hell.  I somehow left without my prepaid phone so calling back to the bar would be tough.  That was just another sign of how inebriated I was.  Or of how much modern technology annoyed me.  An hour or two later, depending on the delay from my drunken stagger, I was smack in the middle of an L shaped apartment complex.  Real low class stuff, a barely sanitary pool on one side, overstuffed parking lot on the other.  Cars were crammed into spots that didn't really exist along the grass and near trees.  My tracking vision had led me up to one of the apartments upstairs.

Full on trance mode wasn’t needed yet.  The weaker the link, the harder it was to get a solid fix.  This picture was of two boys at some sort of camp.  One an elf, grumpy looking, the other an excited human.  Both with sun drenched blond hair and the same closely cropped haircut.  Ears and their expressions were the only things different.

The lipstick tube was completely separate in its impression, though it still went to the same spot.  It was almost like tracking through triangulation.  Both items tied to the same person for different reasons.

First was a lap around the house to check for alternate exists.  Some people bolted when you tried to collect bills.  

Others fought back, trying to make it too difficult to push the issue.  Occasionally they just sobbed.  The only exit was in the form of two parallel windows that likely went to bedrooms.  Nothing to be concerned about, if he squeezed out and fell two stories catching up would be easier.  He also left me with an entire house of things that linked back to him if I needed something fresher than what I had.

Hopefully he wasn't the elf in the picture.  Some played dirty, with illusion and deceit I couldn't keep up with.  Luckily they were a limited breed, not like some of the other species Julianne sent me after.  The official statistic was that one in twenty elves could do illusions.  From personal experience it was even less than that.  I was only human, sure I had one of the rare spin off gifts of tracking and other things, but it wasn't a substitute for raw speed or power, or both.  My abilities were all situation dependent.

Both focuses went into my front pocket.  I hiked up the stairs.  The cheap half rusted railing rattled as I traveled.

Breaking down the door had its uses for scare factor, but there were too many neighbors and one would likely call the police.

Four minutes of knocking had an effect.  Two people yelled at me to shut up and finally the space behind the peephole lit up.  A brief flash of darkness over the hole meant someone was looking out.

"Who is it?"  The voice was tired, male, timid sounding.

"I’m here to talk to you about some business ventures."  I never thought negotiation was a bad tactic to try first.  It avoided unwanted attention and sometimes they ran.  In running they sometimes ended up in an area without any witnesses.  Sometimes they shot at me, and that made everything I did to them justified.

"Are you sure?" It almost sounded like he was expecting someone else.  "What for?"

"A debt."

"Go away."  No denial, and the objects in the pouch pointed this way.  The little guy sounded firm now.  I'd lay money on him not being older than eighteen, unless he was the elf in the picture.  Years are hard to tell on them.

"I've got all night, and I don't mind shouting."  It was as close to voicing a threat as I could safely get.

"Leave me alone."  He said.

"Hey, I'm here to help you."

"You are not here to help, you are a thug who wants to break my kneecaps."  The idiot, what did he think I was?  Some sort of old fashioned vampire gang member?  Then again it was near midnight.  I was increasingly likely to break one kneecap.

"No need.  I can find you anytime, anywhere."  Talking through the door was annoying.

"What?  She has her tracker back?"  He sounded strangely hopeful.

"Maybe.  Let me in, we’ll work something out."  I didn't need to take it all back by force.  Anything of value could be pawned for a partial repayment.   That kept the debt open and collectible, and no one needed to get hurt.

"No, I would rather not."  He said.

"Suit yourself."  Plan B, I started knocking louder.  “Davie, Davie I know you're in there."  I had no clue if his name was Davie or not.  "I saw what you did to my little sister you raping bastard."  My voice wasn't exactly loud, but it held a tone like I was restraining myself.  It was the kind of comment people tended to hear but ignored, letting things sort themselves out.

"If you don't open this door, Davie, right this minute, I'm calling the police."  I almost gave the impression of shouting the last part.

"Davie!"  The door opened and I could see one of the blonds from the photo.  It was hard to tell which one since his hair was longer and a downright mess.

"What in creation is wrong with you?"  He asked.

I walked inside by shouldering his thinner frame out of the way.  Practiced eyes wandered through his house gauging items for value.  Anything worthwhile and mobile might take a trip home with me.  The elf trailed behind me, barely awake.  He was muttering to himself in elvish.  The accent sounded different from the normal waterfall noises elves spoke in.

A brief search of the house revealed he had less than I did, at least my upstairs.  There was little luck of solving this tonight unless he had a debit card with a hefty savings tied to it.  I kept one hand around the knuckles and the other checking drawers for rolled bills or a jewelry drawer.  Oddly the thin man didn't fight back.  He wasn’t even nervous as I wandered about the apartment getting no where.  Maybe he just had nothing, or was too tired.  While his skin and voice seemed young, the eyes looked worn down.  I settled in the living room after taking one last scan.

"Ten thousand."  Blond bastard didn't even blink but he wasn't making eye contact either.  Good, my brain wasn’t firing in one direction due to drunkenness.

"Ten thousand dollars."

"I do not have it.  Tell her I can not pay yet."  His words were painfully crisp despite his exhaustion.

"What do you have?"  I asked.  Turned out the elf had a lot of silence.  My mind was too far from this whole thing to get into a properly intimidating role.

"Alright.  Here's the friendly version.  By tomorrow night, have something.  Anything to pay towards your debt.  Tonight I'm peaceful."  The alcohol on my breath must be terrible.  Hopefully, it was more fun if they thought I was a crazy drunken bill collector.

I looked around for something to cut with.  A better link would be needed for tracking him again.  There was only one solid option.  A kitchen knife sat on the counter.  Scary, and effective.  Poor guy was too meek and worn to deal with my nighttime intrusion.  I wasn't feeling it either, this whole thing had been a poor excuse to get out of the area.  Still, work was work.

"Stand still."  I grabbed the knife off the counter top.  His eyes went to the blade's edge.  A sane person would have thrown up arms, backed up, protested, the elf just put off a confused air.  He must have been sheltered by his clan until recently.

"Just taking a sample."  I lifted a swath of hair and sliced away.  Scalp was rudely yanked but the elf only winced.  He seemed almost sad.  Clearly I was not what he expected.

It only took one hand to get a good feel for the weight of the knife.  A quick heft of the cheap item and it was lodged into the far wall.  Blades weren't my thing, but they were intimidating in the right hands.  That little trick had taken a long time to get down right.

"I could call the cops."  The blond man finally found a measure of backbone.  His voice more emotionless than it was a moment ago, perhaps it had something to do with me cutting off a chunk of his grimy hair.

"Go ahead, call the puppies, you're the one with debts."

The best way to turn a bluff around was reminding them they could crash and burn too.  It helped that he didn't know my name.  I wrapped the bit of hair around itself and put it my other pocket.  My free hand went to the set of knuckles, keeping it slipped on just in case things got crazy.

"My neighbor..."

"Doesn't owe ten grand."  I cut him off.

"Is one of those things you called a puppy."

A low growl crept through the thin walls, broken up by snorts and snores.  Hopefully the neighbor was asleep and assumed my loudmouth was part of a dream.  Nothing bothered the wolves like talking trash.  Rarely did they have a sense of humor with non pack.  Elves just ignore insults and tripped a descendant for the grandparents slight.  Vampires bought out entire businesses just to ruin someone's career.  Wolves settled for kicking the offending ass all over town.

Prime time television had a show based on two real life wolf lawyers.  Producers put reinforced cages around the jurors and judge.  The show's gimmick was getting both wolves wound up and letting them fly.  They threw around chairs, tables, and started swinging at each other while reciting legal jargon.

"Tomorrow night,"  I grabbed now uneven hair and jerked his head up.  "I'll find you if you run."  He looked confused then made a motion to ask something else.

 I put one giant hand in his face to shush him and walked off.  His question would be the same pointless whining everyone spouted.  My brain was fuzzy beyond caring.  The drunken swerve to my steps was proof enough.  I exited through the maze of parked cars, not caring at this point about the rest of the neighbors or what the debtor did behind my back.  Tomorrow I would be sober and careful.