Chapter 4

The drive wentby quickly and not just because I sped a tad bit over the limit. My new partner actually kept digging for info while en route, his laptop balanced on his knees.

Even better, he wasn't afraid to search outside the box.

"I might have found something," he muttered, an hour into our trip.

"Anything would be better than the zilch we have so far." My reply.

"So while the regular internet doesn't have any deets on the chimera, turns out the dark web does make a few mentions."

"Wait, you know how to access the dark web?" To be fair, I'd never tried. I had this belief that the moment I did, I'd be outed as a narc.

"I've got ins with a few places; fairy court, dwarven caverns, even a contact under the sea."

"Impressive."

"Useful."

"So what did you find?"

"Our chimera has a bounty on her head."

"Well duh. She's an escaped criminal. Most likely the family of someone she killed would like to see her wiped off the face of the Earth."

"They don't want her dead. The bounty is for ten million if captured alive."

I'll admit I swerved. "Ten mil?" I whistled. "That is a lot of dough. Wonder why they're willing to pay so much."

"I can think of a few reasons. Personal zoo. Hunter safari. Experimentation. Revenge."

My mouth rounded. "All but the last are kind of depraved."

"But happen," his grim reply. "I have to wonder if perhaps the person offering the bounty is also the one wiping all traces of the chimera."

"Wouldn't that make it more difficult for anyone to find the chimera and claim the prize?"

"It would. Another theory is someone is trying to hide her so that the bounty hunters can't locate her."

"That seems a little convoluted."

"Just spit-balling," he replied.

My fingers danced on the steering wheel as I thought. "Is there a way to find out who's placed the bounty?"

"It's the dark web. Anonymity is the norm."

"Okay, but whoever is offering it surely has a way to be contacted when someone does finally capture the chimera."

"Contact, yes, but again, anonymous. Arrangements would have to be made to do a transfer."

"They might have info that could prove useful to us."

"They won't talk to CA agents. People on the dark web often don't want to expose themselves—or their secrets—to any kind of law enforcement."

"So we'd have to offer some kind of tit-for-tat to make it worth their while," I mused.

"The bounty thing is really bugging you," he added.

"I've got a feeling it's important." I just couldn't have articulated why, but I'd learned to trust my gut. It rarely led me astray.

We finished the drive without any more big revelations and pulled up to the sex shop just before dinner. It certainly didn't attempt to be discreet with its flashing neon sign titled Boobs and Butts Galore. I especially cringed that the double O in boobs were actually breasts with tassel-covered nipples.

Agent Whiteclaw stood beside me, a towering presence that stirred up all kids of steamy feelings that, surprisingly, I didn't want to smother. Yet.

Instead of walking toward the sex shop, I turned to look at the site of the arson. I'd already known there wasn't much left of the structure as I'd seen pictures of it in the file. Without solid structures, I'd be limited on how much information I might be able to glean from it.

Even so, I started walking towards it.

"Where are you going?"

"To check out the fire scene," I said, hurrying across the street, which was void of traffic at this hour of the night.

"I don't know what you expect to find," he said, catching up to me. "The CA went over it already."

"You don't work with witches very often, do you Agent Whiteclaw?" I gave him a teasing smile that I wasn't sure he could see, considering we stood in the dark. The fire had even taken out the parking lot lights. To remedy that, I created a light orb that bobbed in front of me.

Without waiting for him to answer, I walked the perimeter of the store's remains, touching each post that had stayed standing.

"Mind telling me what you're hoping to find?"

"Memories," I told him. "Unfortunately, I'm not getting anything, since almost everything is gone. The more of a structure there is—four walls, a floor, a ceiling—the more is available to hold imprints. But here… I got nothing." Not even an imprint of chimera essence. I still envied those other CA witches with that ability.

He waited for me to finish without asking any more questions. Defeated, I finally gave up and returned to our car in the sex shop parking lot, my stoic partner following.

"You okay going inside?" he asked when I hesitated.

Why would I have a problem going inside a store full of sex toys and lingerie with the hottest dude I'd spent time with in ages? Guess I'd soon see exactly what kind of guy I'd been partnered with. Would he be the sort of man who turned this into an opportunity for sexual innuendo or would Agent Whiteclaw remain a professional?

"Why would I have an issue? Sex is a natural bodily function."

"It is." He uttered deadpan.

"Shall we get this over with?" I demanded with more gusto than I felt.

While not a prude by any means, there was something about walking into a sex shop alongside a hunk that made my cheeks heat, especially since I had no idea where to look. Should I stare at the wall of dildos? The racks of bondage wear and lingerie? What about the triple X movie wall with its poster of I Want You Stretching My Ass, part seventeen?

I chose to focus on the register at the counter, behind which sat a guy with blond dreadlocks and a scraggly beard. The clerk, attention locked on his phone, didn't look over at us despite the bell announcing our presence.

My partner didn't seem perturbed at all by our environ and strode straight for the fellow. "Afternoon, sir. Could I have a moment of your time?"

"Sure." The guy put his phone to the side. "What can I help you with? Looking for something to spice up the bedroom with your lady?" His gaze slid to me, and I had to retort.

"We're not here for your merchandise but to ask questions." I then flashed my badge. "Cryptid Authority, here on official business."

Some people got freaked out when they heard who I worked for. Not this guy. His eyes brightened, and his posture straightened. "You're here about the fire."

"We are. Were you the one who handed over the video footage to the police?"

"Yup. And I saw it happening."

"Wait, you actually witnessed it?" I couldn't help my surprise. The fact there'd been an eyewitness wasn't mentioned in the report.

"Yeah. Good thing, too, since the cops lost the recording I gave them. How do you accidentally misplace evidence?" The clerk shook his head in disbelief.

I totally understood.

"You don't have a backup of your surveillance?" my partner asked.

"Nah. Video files take up a huge amount of data storage, so the camera just deletes anything older than a few days to save new stuff. The few times we've had issues with shoplifters and the ‘you're-all-going-to-hell' folks, the cops come in with a hard drive, save the footage, and handle it all from there."

"Can you tell us what you saw that night?" I pulled out a pad of paper and pen more for show than note-taking.

"Sure. So it was late. Like almost midnight, and I'd just finished checking out this fine woman"—he gestured to the register—"and was treating myself to a look as she walked away. She had one hell of an ass, let me tell you—"

"Get on with it," Koda growled.

"Right, well I was watching her leave when I seen the woman coming out the cell phone store across the street."

"Do you have a description?" Whiteclaw interrupted.

"Not really. She had a hood on."

My turn to interject with, "Then what makes you call them a woman?"

"Because she had curves like this." The clerk mimed an hourglass figure.

"Did they have a limp or a strange way of walking?" my partner questioned.

"Nah. Looked one hundred percent normal if you ignored the fact that the place had closed hours before but she left with a store bag in one hand."

Which most likely contained a cell phone, given the store's business.

"You didn't see her going in?" I backtracked for more info.

"Not in person, no. But the tape I gave the cops caught her. She walked right up to the door and paused for a second with her hand on it before going inside."

I assumed the pause would be when she used magic to disable alarms and unlock the door. I nodded and made a note of it. "How long after she left did the fire start?"

"About twenty minutes."

"That long?" Another detail missing in the report. I glanced at Whiteclaw. Did he also wonder why it took so long before the flames really got going? Had she done something to delay the fire?

My partner had a different query for the clerk. "When did you call in the crime?"

"You mean the fire? Once I saw the flames. I didn't call in a B and E because, honestly, I didn't think much of the woman I saw. I mean, I thought maybe she was staff, leaving after a restock shift."

"A staff member using the front entrance instead of the back?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes ladies prefer the more well-lit exits and she didn't seem like a thief. No alarms were going off or nothing."

"Any other tidbits you can recall about the woman?" Whiteclaw pushed. "Approximate height? Maybe something distinguishing?"

The clerk rolled his shoulders. "Not really. Like I said, she wore a hood so her face was hidden and a long coat cinched at the waist."

Too vague to be helpful.

"How do you feel about magic?" I queried. Knowing the resistance I sometimes encountered from non-cryptids, I found it wise to lead with questioning before suggesting a magical visual recap.

"Depends on the kind. I got some magic-infused dildos that my girlfriend swears by over the battery-operated ones." More info than I needed to know, but it at least told me that he wasn't abhorrent to my craft.

"Would you be okay with showing me what you remember from that night?"

"How?" He finally didn't look so relaxed as he frowned.

"It won't hurt," I hastened to reassure. "I just need to hold your hand and have you think about what you witnessed, and I'll be able to project an image of it for my partner and me to watch."

"You're going to mind-read me?" His eyes widened, and I wanted to curse. People tended to get wiggy about the thought of people prodding inside their heads.

"Not exactly. It's more making visual what you'll be thinking loudly. I can't actually poke inside you for secrets or make you do things." A lie. Technically I could, but I wouldn't. That kind of dark magic could have serious side effects, like turning a person's brain into mush.

"Oh, I don't mind if you see my secrets, but you should know they're mostly dirty." He leered, and I did my best to not cringe.

"Ready?" I asked, holding out my hand.

"Fuck yeah." He immediately put his dry fingers against mine.

"Think of that night. What you saw," I murmured softly as I pushed out some magic, shaping the intent of the spell that it might grab his surface thoughts.

The storefront window and the glimpse out of it appeared as an image midair, but it then jumped around to various quick-flashing glimpses of strange things, like a breakfast sandwich then the face of a woman with pouty lips. The guy huffed, "Cool."

"Focus," I chided. "Show us what you saw."

I ignored the main focus of the memory—the backside of the female customer in a white crop top and black leggings—and focused on the mobile phone store. The streetlights illuminated enough to see across the road to the store that in present-times stood as a charred husk.

The door to the other business opened, and the clerk's memory shifted toward the figure that exited. They wore, as previously described, a flowing trench coat made of a dark material belted at the waist, with a deep hood that hid facial features. I could see why the clerk called the figure a woman given their hourglass shape, but that didn't mean much these days. The supposed burglar-arsonist didn't pause or hesitate but strode off briskly, bag swinging from their hand.

"That's it," the clerk stated. The random thoughts in his mind once more began to seep; flashing lights from a fire truck then the cops who came to question him.

It led to me guiding him to another memory. "Show me what you remember of the fire." Probably not useful, but years of investigating meant I knew every tidbit helped.

The clerk's memory of it started when the window blew out across the street. One moment he stared at his phone—with images of big-titted women—then he heard an explosion. He whipped his head around to look out the window and he saw smoke and fire billowing from the store across the street. The flames undulated and stretched outward into the night, violet-hued, not red or orange, making them magic and not propellant-based. A detail also not in the report, but not too surprising seeing as the file had damn near nothing in it anyway.

I would have let the clerk go at that point, but my new partner had one more request. "What do you remember of the video you gave the cops? Specifically the part where it showed the woman going in?"

The clerk's slack expression showed him shifting thoughts, the next recollection showing the screen of a monitor as he scrolled back through video footage, too far, then skipped forward, stopping as the suspect walked into frame. They paused with their hand on the door and glanced over their shoulder, just for a second, then quickly entered the mobile phone store. They weren't inside for long before emerging with the bag. The memory then revealed the clerk jumping the video forward, stopping twenty-three minutes later when the window exploded and the fire began, confirming his story.

"That was great. Thank you," I murmured. I went to pull my hand free, but before I did, the clerk's memory changed to something that had never happened.

Me, wearing something widely revealing, my lips full and pouting as I kneeled and looked up seductively.

Oh gross.

I quickly broke contact before I could see what the clerk would visualize next. The guy didn't even have the decency to look abashed by his lewd thoughts. He grinned.

I stayed focused on business, least I give in to my urge to punch him. "The customer who was leaving your place as the suspect was leaving the mobile store, do you have any info on her?" She could have a better description of the other woman, considering she'd been right across from her.

The clerk gave his head a shake. "Nope. We don't collect customer info. And before you ask, she paid with cash. No credit card to trace. We can go back in my memory if you want to see what she looks like from the front, but that'll only be helpful if you're good at identifying people by tits." He laughed, and the itch to slug him grew stronger.

"That's alright, we're good," Koda answered while I seethed. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"If you need anything, and I mean anything, I'm here until two."

I practically raced out of the store, Whiteclaw on my heels.

As we emerged onto the sidewalk, I heaved out a breath. "I need to wash my hand."

My partner snorted. "I don't blame you. That guy was slimy and, on top of it, didn't even give us a good lead." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer, squeezing some into my hand when I reached my palm out.

"Thanks." I rubbed the liquid into my hands, grateful for it, though still feeling it wasn't enough to cleanse myself of the clerk's taint. "But I wouldn't say we didn't get a lead. It was a good call asking him to remember the early part of the video." I unlocked my car door and slid into the driver"s side.

Whiteclaw seated himself on the passenger side before asking, "How was it good? It didn't really give us anything we didn't know."

"Wrong." I twisted my hand and reproduced that last vision, only I paused it at the moment the suspect turned their head to look over their shoulder. I then zoomed in on the hood, which had the right angle to show me most of a face. A woman's face, the ageless kind that showed maturity but no wrinkles. Lips thin but shapely, nose straight and narrow. Her eyes remained partially shadowed, but one definitely glinted ice-chip blue, and a hank of long hair peeked, the same electric blue.

My partner whistled. "We have a description. Nice job."

The praise warmed until sobering reality set in. "I'm not sure what to do with this information since we're both in agreement that there seems to be a cover-up."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, normally I'd update my boss on the mission progress."

"Abe's not part of a cover-up," Koda quickly said. "He's a good guy. I've known him a long time."

"Yeah, but he assigned us to look at local fires, not go back and poke at this one. He might not be involved in a cover-up, but that doesn't mean he'd be pleased we went off-task."

"Right. So we keep all this between the two of us. Tell no one else. For now."

"Agreed."

I couldn't help a nagging sense of unease as we drove back.

With good reason, as it turned out. When I hit the precinct the next morning, it was to find a grim-faced Whiteclaw.

"What's up?" I asked.

He handed me his phone. The screen showed a bold headline.

Sex Shop Owner Killed in Overnight Robbery.

The eyewitness had been eliminated.