“Demitore?” Evalyn groaned from her office desk, rays of morning sunshine gracing her accounting books, the number of zeroes adorning the sums certainly deserving of such divine treatment. “What does Demitore want with us?”

Iris listened in on the phone call as she swept the bookshelves with a feather duster. ‘A job’ was as far as she knew of their discussion, and she could never bear to know only a fraction of the story. She was nosy like that.

“Yeah, well, jobs coming out of Trepedite are sketchy in the first place. Can’t trust I’ll get paid after last time,” Evalyn protested as she sat on her desk, twirling the telephone cord with her toe. “Well, if you can guarantee my share, I wouldn’t mind it…can’t be too dependent on Royal contracts yeah, yeah. They’re stable money; you can’t deny that.”

Evalyn slid off her desk, her expression still dour as she paced across the red and gold trim carpet imported from Rodhisva, now thoroughly flattened after three years of service. She kept pulling faces and crinkling her nose as though sniffing off milk while her excuses to bow out of the offer became weaker and weaker. ‘But’ gave way to ‘fine’, yet her enthusiasm did not follow the same trend.

She ended the call and sighed, deflating into her chair as it took her for a ride three-quarters of a full circle, its protests to the age-old abuse weak but vehement.

“What did he say? What kind of job was it?” Iris asked, continuing from the bookshelf to her study desk in the corner.

“An annoying one,” Evalyn answered. “You know the Red Dome incidents that have been happening in a lot of human nations over the past few months?”

“Yeah, I keep hearing about them over the radio,” she said, shifting around her textbooks, lamps and stationery bins as she worked her duster. “Are you going to go investigate them?”

“I guess so,” Evalyn said. “Demitore, Sidos’s neighbour had one recently in their capital. They asked for Geverdian search and rescue teams for help, but that had the side effect of souring relations with more hard-line human countries. It means joint international investigations have ground to a halt, so the victims are seeking their own.”

“You’re being commissioned by their families then,” Iris guessed.

“Not quite. All the factories are owned by—” Evalyn began as a knock came from the apartment’s front door.

They looked across to each other.

“Shot not.”

“Shot—ugh, fine.”

Iris reluctantly dropped her duster as another knock came from the front door. “Coming!" she shouted as she slid into her boots lined up by the door before walking down the hallway. She shivered, forgetting how comparatively cold the hallway was. It was in such desperate times that Iris clutched onto her favourite field jacket for dear life, even taking up stockings underneath her pants as of late.

Tapping her outsoles and standing on her toes, she took a peek through the peephole. A Beak woman was waiting anxiously on the other side, mask glancing around the landing and the staircase while her heels tapped against the floor. She looked rich, the type of client who’d request a search for their exceedingly fluffy cat or the surveillance of their exceedingly flaky husband.

Evalyn said there was good money in the latter, especially if it resulted in a divorce.

Iris opened the door and poked her head through the crack. “Hello,” she said.

The Beak woman turned her attention to the door, having to adjust her sight to match Iris’s unexpected height. “Hello dear, um…is this the right address?”

“Yes, this is Excala International,” she said, a common query when she answered the door. “Did you have an appointment?”

“Uhm…no. Sorry, did I need one?”

Iris pretended to glance at her watch. “It is standard procedure, but since we have no appointments for the next few hours, we can take your request. Please come in.”

Iris opened the door and stood by it, ushering the guest in. “Very end of the hallway,” she said.

“Thank you,” the woman replied as she walked past. Her mask was stunning, a subtle gold trim woven into the edges of a snow-white finish. The voice box was expressive, and the eye holes seemed to carry small shutters that expressed emotions where the eyebrows would on a human. Never mind the silken dress or the masterfully crafted perfume; it was the mask that carried with it status. When compared to their humble office on the top floor of an Excalan residential complex, the juxtaposition almost felt criminal.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Hello, how are you?” Evalyn said as the woman walked in, the previously dour demeanour evaporating in the face of customer service.

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” the woman lied as Iris closed the door behind them. No one was ‘quite fine’ if they were showing up at their doorstep without an appointment. Iris took her place by the door.

“Please, sit,” Evalyn offered. “Would you like something to take the edge off?”

“Yes…please. If that’s all right.”

“It’s no problem whatsoever,” Evalyn said, opening up one of her desk drawers and drawing a bottle of liquified Aether and a small glass jar of beverage beads. “It’s nothing fancy, regretfully,” she said, standing and turning to the glass cabinets behind her, a more recent addition to the room made partly for more storage but mostly in the pursuit of the professional aesthetic. Evalyn would always joke about how she’d operate out of her living room if looks played no part in business.

“Could I ask how you heard about us?” Evalyn asked as she grabbed a whiskey glass from the cabinet. “My name is Evalyn, by the way.”

“Mallorine. Janice Mallorine,” the woman replied, and Evalyn’s ears seemed to perk up.

“Mallorine?” she asked. “Correct me if I’m wrong but are you a member of—”

“That Mallorine family, yes,” the woman answered.

Evalyn brought the glass to the table and sat down in her chair. She undid the bottle of liquid Aether, pouring a tenth of the glass before continuing. “Does this have anything to do with the Red Dome incidents, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It is related, yes. But I believe my brother-in-law…the head of the family, has already begun his own inquiries on why his businesses are being targeted…were you already aware, detective?”

Evalyn undid the aluminium cap of the small glass jar and took from it a single green bead which she dropped into the liquid. A small amount of Aether and a weak radiance of magic, not nearly enough for Iris to see from a distance but certainly enough to make her queasy up close.

“Well, it doesn’t take too much digging to figure it out,” Evalyn admitted as she searched her drawers for something. “Police or not, it’s standard procedure to look through stakeholders and money ties in such events to discern motive. The factories and businesses your family had rather large stakes in were publicly traded, and therefore that information is available to everyone.”

She opened a drawer, a light ‘ah’ flashing across her face as she revealed a small teaspoon, using the butt of it to crush the bead and the head to stir the concoction before offering it to Ms Mallorine. “My colleague who’s been hired by your family came to much the same conclusion.”

“I see,” Ms Mallorine said, accepting the glass and lifting her mask. Beaks weren’t particularly picky with where they absorbed their drink, but the gesture seemed customary in front of humans, especially amongst the aristocracy. Every mannerism was backing up the woman’s claim of her heritage.

Much to Iris’s amazement, she put an empty glass down with a sigh as the motors in Ms Mallorine’s mask flickered her eyebrows, the decorum barely hiding the desperation. “I am requesting your services in protective duties,” she said. “Police are not to get involved without sufficient reason, and as you know, investigations have not reached the country yet.”

“You’ve heard I perform protection duties?” Evalyn asked, raising an eyebrow. Ms Mallorine paused, clearly vacillating on whether her words had been incriminating or not.

“I’ve uh…we’ve heard from friends of ours of your firm’s experience in such matters. Mostly from government contracts, although much of it is hearsay,” she said, skirting around Evalyn’s cautious gaze.

“It is true,” Evalyn said, “but they’ll cost significantly more as it takes me away from other cases for a significant amount of time.”

“Money is no object, I assure you,” Ms Mallorine blurted. “We’ll pay whatever we need, more if you would like.”

Evalyn gave Iris a quick, sidelong glance. “More detail on the case, if I may.”

“It’s my niece,” she replied. “She’s beginning junior high school at the Excalan academy. The attacks have been getting closer and closer, and recently, my sister-in-law...her mother took her own life. I’m scared something might happen to her. Gods, if something happened to her I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Tragedy befalls the family one by one. They were omens for now, which was perhaps more horrifying to consider than the tragedies themselves. Like a laggard snowfront encroaching from the west.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Evalyn said, soon after nodding towards the glass. Ms Mallorine obliged, and Evalyn began the bartending process again. “There are certain laws pertaining to and surrounding the external protection of minors since ‘protection’ can easily double as surveillance, restriction and, by extension, child abuse. Since they can’t give consent themselves, nor are you the legal guardian, nor can I step foot in an educational institution without good—and legal—reasoning, things would be….”

“Off the books,” the woman answered as Evalyn fixed her another glass. “Are there any methods you could recommend? I understand homeschooling is the safest, but for some…abstruse reasoning my brother rejects it. Even my niece voices objections. Oh, bless her soul, she needs something to keep her mind off things.”

Evalyn leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips as she stroked her chin. “The Excalan Academy is already a decently secure place due to the clientele and all. I can’t think of anything we could do for you on this—”

Evalyn’s attention fell on Iris, much less discreetly compared to the last time. She squinted, contorting her lips as though mulling over the thought so obtusely even Ms Mallorine caught on. They both looked at her, one with confusion and one with consideration.

“I may be able to do something for you,” Evalyn began, exerting a frightening level of control over Ms Mallorine’s attention.

“Really?!” she cried. “Are you sure?”

“…depends on if you can fix us a very late enrolment into the academy, and obviously this fine young woman’s blessing.”