“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Detective Munchkin murmured while he watched the snow white kitten. Unconcerned with the towering officer’s attention, Margo the Cat sat primly upon Dax’s desk. There was a rapidly emptying plate of rice and steamed vegetables beside her. While Munch watched, she speared a piece of carrot with one claw and started eating it with a series of dainty little nibbles.

Elbows on his desk and head in his hands, a gloomy sergeant Dax mumbled his reply, “Olivia made three trips for cat food and the picky princess turned her nose up every time. We were about to send her out for fish when Rowan got here. She brought in take out from the place down by the harbor, ‘Wok’s Up.’ The little furball went ballistic until we put some on a plate for her.”

Licking her lips in satisfaction, Margo cast an unimpressed glare toward the sergeant. The kitten then lifted a foreleg and waved the back of her paw toward Dax with her middle claw extended. Munch’s rumbling laugh sounded like a landslide crashing through the ceiling. Lifting his head at the sound, Dax caught sight of the rude gesture directed his way. His eyes narrowed but Margo only stuck out her pink tongue in reply before returning to her lunch.

“The little beast flipped you off, Sarge. I say we take her down to the kennel and introduce her to some of the blink dogs.” Detective Rowan had been less than thrilled to share her lunch with the team’s newest member. The short, voluptuous, woman with shoulder length indigo hair glowered at the unconcerned kitten before directing her pale amber eyes toward her boss. “How long are we going to keep her here, anyway? This is a workplace, not an animal sanctuary.”

Before Dax could speak, Olivia replied, “We need to keep her under observation. There’s no way to know when this Tybalt character might strike again. Until we catch him, we have no choice but to keep her here in protective custody.” Olivia, who had drug a chair over to Dax’s desk so she could watch Margo, never saw the betrayed look Rowan tossed her way. The fae woman had grown accustomed to Olivia’s support as part of the female bloc within Dax’s department. Clearly that kind of support withered and died in the face of weaponized cuteness.

“Not to disagree with Olivia,” Nyq said, hesitantly, from his desk across the aisle. Dax was sure it was his imagination, but the rogue’s nose still looked a bit crooked. The resident redhead snapped her green eyes toward Nyq, a reaction that was met by the anxious man holding up a stack of files the way a knight would heft their shield in the face of an angry dragon. “But we do have other work to worry about. We can’t all sit here playing around with Lady Margo.”

“Tracking down this Tybalt maniac is only one of our cases,” the man continued as he slowly lowered the paperwork involving their ongoing investigations. “Rowan handled all the graffiti in the red district, so that case is closed, but we learned from the Duke that there’s a dwarf somewhere nearby peddling illegal arms. That is definitely something we need to look into. The last thing I want is some tweaker juiced up on pixie dust blasting off with a military grade wand of fireball.”

“Speaking of pixie dust, before I got pulled off the case to handle the graffiti, I was beginning to make headway on tracking down the capo of the new cartel that’s popped up in the harbor district.” Rowan paused to slurp up a thick noodle from the soup she was eating, an act that immediately had Nyq’s full attention. Dax rolled his eyes when the vivacious vixen tossed the rogue a saucy wink as she licked the soup from her lips. “They haven’t tried to break into the weapons market, yet, but the dust traffic has definitely picked up as well as exotic pets. Its all in my report, but in the last week alone we've rescued two griffins, a basilisk, and a wyvern. I had a couple constables send them over to the Ranger’s Bureau.”

“You're more familiar with the case than any of us, Rowan, so I’d rather keep you on it.” Dax leaned back in his chair as he spoke. What he didn’t say was that the fae was a natural expert concerning pixie dust. Like most of her kind, she had a special loathing for the criminals who corrupted the gifts of her tiny cousins. “Take Munch with you,” Dax continued with a nod toward the man who’s bald head nearly brushed the ceiling. “You’re very capable of taking care of yourself, but I know for a fact that the sailors down at the docks will be far less inclined to get handsy when you’ve got a moving mountain escorting you through the harbor district.

With a sultry pucker of her ruby red lips, Rowan blew Nyq a kiss before her amber eyes shifted toward the sergeant. “Heard and understood, sir,” she replied with a crisp salute.

“Heard and understood, Sarge,” Munch murmured in his customary gravelly tone. The big man carefully stroked the top of Margo’s head, much to the Lady turned kitten’s delight. Olivia’s eyes grew round as saucers when she saw the reaction. With an air of hesitancy, she began to reach toward the preening feline as well.

“I, uh, need to go to the privy.” Nyq muttered as he hastily rose to his feet. Dax, being the fantastic detective he was, didn’t miss the awkward limp in Nyq’s step as he rushed toward the bathroom down the hall.

The rogue’s sudden departure had torn Olivia’s attention from the kitten. Looking at her expression of revulsion, Dax didn’t think he was the only one who took note of Nyq’s awkward stride and strained expression.

“He disgusts me,” Olivia said simply, her voice an interesting blend of acrid loathing and long suffering disappointment.

“Oh he’s gross as a snot slime in a blender,” Rowan agreed with a sagacious nod. “But it is hilarious to tease the perverted little shit. How long do you think he lasts in there, boss? A minute? Maybe two?”

“Anyway,” Dax continued, refusing to be drawn into the current topic. Gossiping about Nyq’s stamina sounded like a particularly egregious type of psychological warfare to him. “There’s been a rash of stolen carriages, particularly high end ones. Tourists driving self-propelled luxury carriages have been the primary target, but a few locals have had their vehicles stolen as well.”

“They must be some wealthy tourists,” Munch opined as Margo arched her back against the big man’s calloused finger. “I don’t know if you’ve looked into any of those, boss, but they’re pricey. Faithful’s 7th husband bought her one but she ended up selling it after the divorce because there are so few charging stations for the mana battery they use. She made enough off of it that she went four entire months before tracking down husband number 8.”

“I’m less worried about the value of the vehicles than I am the tourists that end up stranded here. Its a bad look, and we need it to stop.” Dax tipped his chair forward and began sifting through the stack of files scattered across his desk. Once he found the one he was looking for, he flipped it toward Olivia with a flick of his wrist. “Take Nyq with you. I know he still has contacts with the Lost and Found. If they’re behind this, tell them that its in their best interest to stop. If they’re not behind it, they should be sufficiently motivated to offer some help in tracking down whoever is boosting carriages. A rogue element in the underworld is as bad for them as it is for us.”

Like an adventurer avoiding the gaze of a medusa, Olivia refused to meet the sergeant’s eyes. “Does it have to be Nyq?,” the redhead whined in a rare display of pique.

“It does,” Dax responded with an air of finality. “Without you keeping him on a leash he’ll end up spending all afternoon at a casino pretending to work. Don’t literally keep him on a leash though. He might enjoy that.”

Olivia blanched and even Margo managed to make a disgusted cat face by drawing her lips back and sticking out her tongue. Thankfully, Officer Munchkin remained focused on setting the agenda. “We still need to put someone on the Prince of Cats case, boss. After the guys from the Spells and Sorcery Division looked Margo over they said that the fastest way to turn her back would be to find the item that polymorphed her.”

“I’m afraid the thirty year old virgins in the SSD are right, boss,” Rowan said, her loathing of those who studied magic instead of manipulating mana naturally was on full display. The fae’s attention drifted toward Margo with a look of consideration marring the otherworldly beauty of her face. “I could reverse a simple polymorph, but this was done with a relic. I don’t think there’s anybody in the city that can change her back without getting possession of that wand first.”

Munch tilted his head to the side in curiosity. “Do you really have to be a virgin to be a wizard?”

“Yes,” Rowan replied in a deadpan voice without batting an amber eye.

Dax spent five seconds staring at Rowan before he continued in a brisque tone, “Anyway, I’ll be taking Lester with me. That should be more than enough back-up for a simple fact finding mission.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Sarge?,” Olivia asked while she scratched a purring Margo behind the ears. “There’s a reason we keep him locked up. Besides that, who is going to look after our kitten?”

“Margo is not our kitten,” Dax said to a suddenly abashed Olivia. “She is a grown elven woman of noble lineage.” The sergeant leaned forward to loom over the white kitten. While he held Margo’s blue eyes with his own emerald green, Dax murmured, “So. She can either stay here and behave herself, or she can come with me.”

With a dismissive sniff, Margo lifted her nose into the air and held her tail up straight as a flagpole. Tiny paws carried the feline away from Olivia’s touch on the way to a stack of files on the far side of the desk. The kitten crouched down, coiling like a spring before she hopped up onto the manila folders. Once there, she spun in a slow, tight circle, as if looking for the perfect spot to lay down, before finally collapsing into a carefully cultivated heap. Margo glared at Dax from her comfortable repose before she meowed something that was almost certainly obscene.

“And you kiss your mother with that mouth,” Dax grumbled with a shake of his head. As he rose from his chair, he addressed his team. “That settles that. I’ll expect progress reports on my desk in the morning.”

As he spoke, Nyq came strolling back in with a blissful smile scrawled across his lips. There was no hint of his earlier limp in the relaxed stride that carried him back to his desk. Before he reached it, the rogue’s steps slowed as he felt the attention of the entire office upon him.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?,” Nyq asked as he fidgeted to smooth out his uniform that looked even more disheveled than usual.

No one answered except Rowan, who burst out laughing.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

****************************

“Look,” Dax said with a hot edge of impatience cutting through his tone, “I really don’t give a shit what sort of arcane mysteries you were pondering, Lester.” The sergeant directed his peevish tone toward the staff he carried in his left hand. Made from a single ivory bone, the slightly curved staff drew more than a few curious glances from the people around him. Hurrying toward the church as best he could, Dax walked briskly down the busy street. “Your work with the Watch is the only reason you’re more than a cautionary tale about unlife.”

The fist sized dragon skull attached to the head of the staff in his hand swiveled so that it’s glowing red eyes were staring straight at Dax. An eerie, ethereal voice filled the air around the sergeant as the dragon’s jawbone opened and closed in time with its speech. “That is not my name, you ingrate! I am Lesteragilomorous, Emperor of Bone and Ruler of the Night!”

“Lester,” Dax said in a long-suffering tone, “The only thing you’ve ruled for the last five years is the coat closet we keep you in.”

“My kingdom has been significantly restructured, it is true.” Lester, the last remnant of a dracolich, replied magnanimously. “Nevertheless, the moths and fleas that call the closet home would have never forged themselves into a united kingdom without my leadership.”

“Wait. Did you say fleas?,” Dax said, aghast. “Gods dammit, Nyq.”

“Ah, I see you recognize the importance of my work. Perhaps, in the future, there will be a place for you in my growing army, Sergeant.”

“Yeah, if I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath for that.” Dax could finally see the church’s steeple in the distance when he rounded a corner and stepped onto Market Street. Foot traffic grew steadily more dense as he grew closer to the Grand Pavilion. Even this far away, several of the less affluent merchants had set up kiosks that sold all manner of knick knacks and baubles. From stylized paintings of the World Tree to Nessie plushies, all manner of things were on display for the myriad races and species that browsed the famous markets of Dalthan’s Rest.

“Hold my breath,” Lester said, its eyes shifting from an angry red to a deep orange. “Hold my breath! That’s hilarious, sergeant,” the staff wheezed as its jaw bone opened and closed in a macabre display of mirth. “If this police thing doesn’t work out you can always try your hand at royal jester. Hold my breath. What a hoot.” Lester’s spooky laugh eventually trailed off into what the undead dragon would have considered quiet chuckles.

“...It wasn’t that funny,” Dax grumbled, self consciously straightening his green uniform when he saw a small halfling child point at him in alarm only to have their hand slapped down by their wary mother. Dax’s hearing wasn’t good enough to catch what she said, but the expression on the child’s face transitioned rapidly from wonder to fear.

“She said,” Lester’s eyes shifted from vibrant orange to pale teal. When it spoke, its voice lost its token echo and rose a half dozen octaves. “The reason Bobby’s dad never came back from buying milk that day is because he pointed at an evil sorcerer. If you love your dad, don’t be like Bobby.” Dax had never heard the halfling woman speak, but he knew from experience that Lester’s imitation was pitch perfect.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Dax offered lamely as the appalled woman gathered the frightened child to her side. One look at her face told him there was no saving this introduction so he quickened his steps to hastily move down the crowded street before they attracted even more attention.

“Lester, you are such an ass,” Dax hissed in barely repressed fury. “The next time you pull a stunt like that, I’m going to give you to Ranger Twisted Pine’s cerberus. A few months as a chew toy will change your attitude.”

“Why are you getting angry with me?,” the skull whined indignantly as its eyes shifted to a flickering green hue. “The woman paid you a compliment. It would have been rude not to tell you about it. She called you a sorcerer, Dax! An evil sorcerer. Those are the best kind!” The dracolich’s voice trailed off into what would be a petulant tone if it didn’t sound like the wail of a timid banshee. “Being an evil sorcerer is a damn sight more prestigious than being in the Watch of some backwater resort town.”

“Lester,” Dax began threateningly, “By all the Gods and Goddesses, I am in no mood to put up with your shit. Now focus and tell me if either one of those conmen are Reverend Fraud.” To emphasize his impatience, Dax waved the chatty relic toward two beatific clergymen greeting citizens from the steps of their sprawling church.

The light smoldering in the skull’s empty eye sockets took on a vibrant azure color before its jaw clacked with a simple, “Nope.”

“Just my luck,” Dax muttered darkly as he began ascending the gleaming marble stairs that led to the entrance of the church.

The Church of Tangible Benefits was far more than a simple house of worship. Situated at the very edge of the Grand Pavilion, the sprawling complex took up most of a city block. Four tennis courts, two swimming pools, a hedge maze and a frozen pond for ice skating were the amenities fenced in by an imposing wall of seamless granite. Likewise, polished granite also formed the walls for one of the largest structures in Dalthan’s Rest. The church itself was a massive building with a sloped room that gave way to a spire that rose toward the heavens. Arrayed around the main building were smaller indoor amenities that included, bowling alleys, a gym, a daycare, and a five star restaurant named ‘The Communion.’ All these creature comforts surrounded the largest building that held a chancel that could, and regularly did, seat thousands of church goers that flocked to Reverend Fraud’s bombastic sermons. With titles like ‘The Golden Touch,’ ‘Take the Money and Run,’ and, the ever popular, ‘How to Buy Happiness,’ the Reverend always performed in front of a packed house.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the good Reverend ran the city’s largest casino out of the church’s basement.

Dax hated being near the place. Just walking up the steps made him feel like his skin was covered in the greasy residue of greed mixed with vice and indulgence. It was a sign of how desperate he was to solve Margo’s dilemma that this is where he began his investigation.

“Watch Sergeant Dax!,” one of the black robed priests said with a smile so perfect that it must be the product of months of practice in the mirror. “How good to see you on this glorious day!”

“The only thing that will make it more glorious is cramming your teeth down your throat.” Dax flashed the wide-eyed priest a smile that was every bit as fake as the one he’d been offered.

“Damn Dax,” Lester said as the skull swiveled left-to-right to study each of the clergymen talking to sightseers on the steps. “You need to get out more, my friend. Your people skills are worse than mine.”

“Fraud?,” Dax asked curtly.

“Nope,” the skull replied. “Not out here.”

The sergeant sighed. Not because of Lester’s observation, but because he had garnered the attention of all the priests scattered across the steps. As one, they moved to intercept him before he could reach the yawning double doors of the church’s entrance. He knew they wouldn’t stop him, but they would discreetly send word to the Reverend if he let them slow him down. That would make an already difficult task next to impossible.

“I’m Watch Sergeant Dax,” he said in a clear, authoritative tone. “I’m here on official business. Stand aside.” Unsurprisingly, the priests continued to maneuver themselves into the best position to bar Dax’s way.

“What can we do for you, Watch Sergeant?,” asked an older priest who’s face was etched with solemn wrinkles. “We are always eager to do our part in the service of our fair city.”

“The first one of you mooks that gets in my way is going to get their last five years of tax returns audited.” The wave of warm, welcoming smiles rolling his way broke. Soul stricken horror spread through the clergymen like a venereal disease in a dockside whorehouse.

Dax tried not to feel a sense of righteous satisfaction as he stepped past the priests stumbling desperately to get out of his way.

The entrance immediately opened into an enormous worship hall with countless wooden pews arranged meticulously across the floor. A deep red carpet, the color of drawn blood, stretched from the center aisle all to the raised dais that the pulpit sat upon. An upper balcony circled the entire chamber, the nicer seats divided into VIP boxes where politicians and oligarchs could enjoy a modicum of privacy while they attended Reverend Fraud’s sermons. Above it all, on a domed ceiling, a motif of a dragon’s hoard or treasure vault gave the impression of riches literally raining down from the heavens.

It all made Dax nauseous.

“Where is he?,” the sergeant murmured as he slowed his steps to a more casual stroll.

Lester made one pass across the chancel, then a second before abruptly stopping with his azure gaze focused on a young clergyman emerging from a stairwell in the company of a man dressed in silk robes.

“That’s him, boss,” Lester quietly wailed. “Business must be good because he doesn’t look a day older than he did the last time I saw him. I know for a fact that Potions of Youth are not cheap.”

“Only the finest will do for a man of the cloth like Fraud,” Dax growled as he turned toward the chatting duo.

The tall ex-military man’s purposeful strides chewed up the distance between his target and himself like a rolling storm surging across the sky. The man who looked like an average junior clergyman took note of his advance and directed a brilliantly guileless smile Dax’s way.

“How auspicious! I did not anticipate having the chance to introduce you to one of the wonderful members of our famous city Watch, Emir. What can The Church of Tangible Benefits do for you today, officer?” The young blonde priest seemed perfectly at ease as Dax approached.

“Cut the shit, Reverend. You know me, and I know you. I don’t have time for any of your nonsense today,” Dax snapped, coming to a halt just beyond an arms length from the priest.

Wealth and scorn seemed to roll off the Emir like smoke from an oil lantern. When the bald man began to speak, Dax merely held up his palm without ever taking his eyes off the cleric. “I dealt with an elven Duke yesterday. Trust me when I say I’m not impressed by your name, your money, or your power. So save whatever you were going to say for someone else. Unless you were going to thank me for saving you from a scam.”

“Officer! That sort of slander is totally uncalled for,” the priest bristled.

“Drop the glamor, Fraud. You’ve got till the count of ten,” Dax said as the fingers of his right hand twitched reflexively toward the wand holstered against his thigh.

“Reverend Fraud entered secluded prayer earlier this morning,” the priest tried.

“One…two…”

“Officer, I must insist that you calm down so we can sort out this misunderstanding,” there was an edge of desperation in the cleric’s voice that caused the Emir to edge away from the confrontation.

“Three…ten. Break the enchantment, Lester,” Dax said with a smile on his lips and a note of triumph in his voice.

“No! Don’t you…” the priest hastily lifted his hands, but it was far too late to negotiate.

With a sinister cackle, Lesteragilomorous’ jaw opened wide and emitted a wave of distortion aimed at the priest. A sound like shattering glass filled the air as the glamor draped over Reverend Fraud like a second skin evaporated in a mist of multicolored mana. No longer was a simple, unassuming priest standing beside the Emir. Though the black robe was the same, now it was filled by a short, stocky man with a meticulously sculpted black beard. Numerous earrings hung from his ears, cascading down to the countless necklaces arranged artfully around his neck. Each of his fingers wore a gaudy ring, except for one. The only digit bereft of jewelry wore a circle of black soot instead.

“What the hell, Dax,” Reverend Fraud said as he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Five more minutes and I could have closed that deal. But you just had to interrupt, didn’t you. And my ring! Do you know how much a Ring of Improved Glamor costs?!”

“Shut up, Fraud,” the Sergeant said with a dangerous gleam sparkling in his green eyes. The Reverend wisely fell silent and let Dax continue without interruption.

“I’m here to talk about money.”